Jane smiled. “Yes, that’s probably about right.”

  Belle clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Perhaps the cookies will lure them down,” said Jane. “And since it’s nice and warm today, I think I’ll go whip up a pitcher of lemonade as well.”

  Jane was just putting ice into the pitcher when she heard a voice calling, “Hello,” from the back porch.

  “Come in,” Jane called back, wiping her damp hands on a dish towel.

  “Hi, Jane,” called Sylvia Songer as she let herself in. Sylvia was Jane’s best friend in Acorn Hill and the owner of Sylvia’s Buttons, a fabric and needlework shop. She was a gifted seamstress and a fabric artist. She held a folded quilt. “I just had to show this to you, Jane. I finished it last night. To celebrate, I had Justine come in to watch the shop for me this afternoon.” Then Sylvia unfolded a quilt of intricate sunflowers against a geometric background of varying shades of blue.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful, Sylvia.” Jane fingered the fine craftsmanship. She reached over and hugged her good friend. “It’s so great to see you. I’ve been about to call you dozens of times these past few days and—”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  Jane shook her head. “Something always comes up.”

  Sylvia pushed a strand of strawberry blonde hair off her forehead and made a funny face. “Like the guest Lloyd brought into my shop yesterday?”

  “Belle?” Jane whispered, nodding her head toward the dining room to warn Sylvia that a certain guest might still be in there.

  “Want to run out for a cup of coffee?” asked Sylvia as she began to refold the quilt.

  “Sure,” said Jane. “Just let me put this lemonade out and I think I’m good to go.”

  Belle was sitting at the dining-room table with a wedding magazine. “Maybe the twins will like some of this,” said Jane as she set the pitcher on the sideboard. “You might even want to take it out on the front porch, it’s so nice out.”

  “What a lovely idea.”

  Jane almost suggested to Belle that she hide the wedding magazine from the twins, but Belle was in command of her campaign, and maybe the magazine was part of it. “I’ll see you later, Belle,” she called as she went back to the kitchen and rejoined Sylvia. The two of them slipped out the back, and Sylvia put her quilt safely back into her car before they headed toward town on foot.

  “So what did you think of Belle?” asked Jane after they were a block from the inn.

  “Besides her being odd?”

  “She is awfully sweet,” said Jane. “It’s hard not to like her.”

  “I suppose. But all that wedding mumbo jumbo, and she doesn’t even have a fiancé?” Sylvia shook her head. “What’s with that?”

  “Did she tell you about the dream?”

  “Sort of, but it still didn’t make sense.”

  “No. I don’t think it makes sense to anyone,” said Jane, “except for Belle.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, the bachelors in this town are starting to run when they see her coming. The word has spread that she’s on a manhunt. Craig Tracy actually ducked into my shop to hide this morning when he saw her walking his way.”

  Jane laughed. “I can just imagine him crouched between the bolts of calico and baskets of yarn.”

  “Yes, it was pretty comical. I told him he was being silly and that Belle wasn’t going to grab him and drag him down the aisle. But he said she was a formidable force that he’d just as soon avoid.”

  “I’m worried about her ordering those wedding flowers from him,” said Jane. “I mean, what will she do if there’s no wedding? Will Craig be stuck with them? Or will Belle have to pay the bill?”

  “I say have the girl pay up front. Speaking of which, did you know that Belle asked me if I could make her a wedding gown as well as four bridesmaid dresses and have them all ready for her by the first weekend of June?”

  “Are you kidding?” Jane turned to look at Sylvia as they paused at the corner. “Does she think you’re some sort of a magician? How could you possibly get all that done in such a short amount of time?”

  “I told her it was impossible.”

  “I wonder who her bridesmaids are supposed to be.”

  Sylvia chuckled. “She suggested that they were all related to one another, some new female friends that she’d made here in Acorn Hill. Any idea who she might mean?”

  Jane gasped. “Ethel did mention that Belle had hinted at including her in the wedding, but I thought that might’ve been wishful thinking on my aunt’s part.”

  “How is she anyway?”

  “Better. But, according to her, still not fit for public viewing.”

  “Poor Ethel.”

  “Do you really think Belle is going to ask my sisters and me to be in her wedding?” Jane cringed inwardly, imagining herself and her sisters lining up at the Grace Chapel altar for Belle’s pink wedding.

  “I’ll tell you this much, Jane, after seeing the photo she gave me for the bridesmaid dresses yesterday, well if I were you, I’d decline the honor.” Then Sylvia described a dress with a tiered full skirt trimmed with lace. “And the shade of pink …” She shook her head sadly.

  “Let me guess?” said Jane. “Pepto-Bismol?”

  “Exactly! How did you know?”

  “That’s the color of her car and, obviously, her favorite.” “Oh my.”

  Now Jane felt guilty. She hadn’t really meant to be mean about Belle. “She really is a sweet person. I don’t completely understand her, but she means well.”

  Sylvia frowned. “Do you think I should help her with her dresses if she persists?”

  “Oh, Sylvia, I don’t know. You said yourself it’s probably not even possible.”

  “True. But I did give her the name of a bridal shop in Potterston. I told her if she got ready-made dresses I might be able to do some minor alterations and help her with her veil, just small things.”

  “Well, I guess it’s like Craig and the flowers. As long as Belle pays for everything up front, and as long as you have the time and you want to help, well, I suppose it can’t hurt.”

  “Unless it hurts Belle.” They paused to let traffic go by.

  “But what if she’s right? What if her dream was authentic and she really does get married?”

  “Get real, Jane.”

  Jane chuckled as she pointed down the street. Sylvia, as usual, was good medicine. Although a little younger than Jane, they seemed to speak the same language. “How about the Good Apple for coffee?”

  “Justine told me they have orange-ginger scones today.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Once they placed their order and were seated, Jane knew this was her opportunity to ask Sylvia for advice. Now that both her sisters were aware of Justin’s impending visit, it seemed right that Sylvia should be in the loop as well.

  “Something weird happened this week,” said Jane after their coffee and scones were served.

  “You mean Belle?”

  Jane laughed. “No, no. Let’s put the subject of poor Belle to rest for a moment. This was something else, Sylvia. Something from my past.”

  Sylvia leaned forward with interest. “Ah, tell me more.”

  “I received a letter from Justin on Wednesday.”

  “Justin, as in your ex-husband-the-jerk Justin.”

  “Oh, Sylvia, he’s not really a jerk. I think we were both just a little mixed up and misguided. Really, I’ve put all that behind me. I don’t think ill of him. I just don’t wish to see him.”

  “See him?” Sylvia’s head cocked to one side. “Is there a chance of that?”

  Jane explained his brief letter, followed up by the phone call.

  “Oh my,” said Sylvia. “What a position to put you in.”

  “I guess …” Jane broke off a piece of scone and examined it. Fluffy, light, yet rich and buttery and, oh, the scent—scrumptious. She took a bite. As Belle would say, it was heavenly.

  “Why do you think he’s coming, Jane?”

  “That’s the $64,000 question.”

  “He didn’t give any clues in his letter?”

  “No. But it sounded urgent. He mentioned the cross-country road trip that he’s been wanting to make since he turned fifty, which was a few years ago.” “Is he having health problems?”

  “You know, that’s exactly what Alice asked, and I’m beginning to think it’s a very good question.” She leaned back in the stiff metal chair and mulled over this idea. What if Justin was seriously ill? How would she feel to learn that, say, he was dying? What if this road trip was his last big hurrah and he felt the need to reconnect with his former wife? Naturally, she would be kind and understanding, not to mention terribly sad. After all, he wasn’t a monster. She had loved him once. But, on the other hand, what if he was perfectly fine and healthy?

  “Feeling conflicted?”

  Jane nodded. “Exactly.”

  “I understand. You love a person and prepare to spend your entire life together, and then everything changes. You have to build a new life and you try to put that person out of your mind, but sometimes you still wonder how it might have been.”

  “But I’m happy here, Sylvia,” protested Jane. “I love my life with my sisters at the inn. I know I was in a slump recently, but that had to do with the weather.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Jane shrugged. “I think I’m sure.”

  “So, you have no problem with Justin making this unexpected visit?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Jane grimaced. “When I heard Louise booked him a room, I threatened to leave home for the weekend.”

  “Louise booked him a room?” Sylvia looked shocked.

  “Well, it wasn’t her fault. He caught her off guard, and I hadn’t told her he was coming.” Jane frowned. “But you know that’s like him. He works people sometimes. I went to a counselor once, and he said Justin was passive-aggressive. I’ve never been certain just what that’s supposed to mean.”

  “Ooh, do I sniff a trace of bitterness?”

  Jane made a face at her friend. “No, not really. I’ve just been remembering old stuff. Stuff that’s best forgotten. It’s funny how you can forgive someone, or at least you think you have, but then a reminder intrudes and you remember something that happened long ago, and it’s like you have to do the whole forgiving thing all over again.”

  “Seventy times seven?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Have you thought about the possibility that Justin might regret losing you, Jane?”

  “I’ve tried not to.”

  “But you know it’s possible, don’t you?”

  “It doesn’t seem likely, Sylvia.”

  “What would you do if that was the case?” Sylvia leaned forward, her eyes wide.

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I feel pretty conflicted just thinking about it, which is why I have tried to block it out. I mean I’m aware that we made vows.”

  “Have you told Kenneth about Justin coming?”

  “No.”

  “Will you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really sure why I should trouble him.”

  “Because he’s your friend? Because he’s your pastor? Because he has a lot of wisdom about this sort of thing?”

  Jane chuckled. “He’s also got a lot on his hands with Belle Bannister. Maybe I should leave the poor man alone.”

  “Belle is chasing after our good pastor?”

  “She did admit to me that he was at the top of her list. I foolishly invited him to breakfast the first morning of Belle’s stay. I think she thought that was a sign.”

  “You mean as if God had dropped him from the heavens?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Do you need anything else, girls?” asked Clarissa Cottrell, the Good Apple’s owner. She stood by their table, rubbing her elbow as if it hurt.

  “Clarissa, is your arthritis bothering you?” asked Jane.

  “It’s been troubling me something fierce,” admitted the older woman. “I’m just hoping that this weather change will improve things some.” She adjusted her hairnet over her gray bun as she looked down at the table.

  “These scones are killer,” said Sylvia.

  “Killer?” she frowned.

  “Meaning really, really good,” translated Jane. “They are superb.”

  Clarissa smiled. “Why, thank you.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation, girls,” she said, “but could I ask you for advice, Jane?”

  “Me?” asked Jane. “Sure.”

  Clarissa pulled a chair from another table and sat down next to them. “It’s that Belle Bannister.”

  Jane suppressed a groan. “Yes?”

  “Lloyd brought her in here yesterday.”

  “Yes?”

  “She expressed an interest in a wedding cake.”

  “I guess that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “So, she really is getting married?”

  “Well, Clarissa, she’s booked the inn and the church and ordered the flowers and—”

  “And she wants me to make her wedding dress,” injected Sylvia, “and her bridesmaids’ dresses too.”

  Clarissa nodded with a curious expression. “So, this is for real then?”

  “For real?” queried Jane.

  “For real as in should I go ahead and plan to make her wedding cake?”

  “I think as long as Belle orders and pays for a wedding cake and you have time and want to make it, then you can go ahead and do it.”

  Clarissa leaned forward with a puzzled expression. “But is it true there’s no fiancé yet?”

  Jane nodded soberly.

  Clarissa looked from Jane to Sylvia and back to Jane again. “Rather odd, don’t you think?”

  “Time will tell,” said Jane, knowing full well that she was quoting Belle, and it wasn’t the first time she’d done so.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Jane and Sylvia strolled back to the inn, Jane noticed Ethel’s good friend Clara Horn walking Daisy, her miniature potbellied pig. Clara was about half a block away and slowly making her way toward them. As Clara recognized them, she waved and smiled, moving a little faster as if to catch them before they crossed the street. She was tugging on the leash attached to Daisy, urging the hefty pig to hurry. No matter how many times Jane saw this elderly woman with her pig, the sight always made her smile. Clara not only treated Daisy like a baby, she dressed her like a baby as well. Today, Daisy sported a pale yellow sweater with buttons shaped like daisies down the back. It really was a sight to see, and Jane couldn’t help chuckling.

  “Hello, girls,” said Clara breathlessly when they finally met.

  They both greeted Clara and Daisy.

  “Clara, those buttons look wonderful on that sweater,” said Sylvia.

  “Oh yes. I was so glad you could order them for me. Daisy is so hard on her clothes. I just don’t know how she lost three of the original ones.”

  “Well, there’s hardly anything one can’t find using the Internet,” said Sylvia.

  “Yes, well you are so clever about those things, dear,” gushed Clara. “Oh, Jane, I’m so glad that I’ve bumped into you. It’s simply providential.”

  “And why is that?” asked Jane as she reached down to scratch Daisy behind the ear. The pig grunted in appreciation, then flopped down on the sidewalk as if finished with her walk.

  “I just had a phone call from my favorite niece, Janet, and it seems that she and her son Calvin who just got home from the Middle East, want to come to Acorn Hill for Memorial Day weekend. Apparently Calvin has fond memories of visiting here when he was a boy, and it was on his list of things to do when he was released from the service.”

  “That’s nice.” But Jane still wasn’t quite sure how this news pertained to her. Of course, she also knew that this chatty woman sometimes took a bit of time to get to her point.

  “Well, as you know, my house is too small for both Janet and Calvin to stay with me, and since Calvin has been so loyally serving our country these past three years, I thought it would be a nice treat if I put him up at the inn.”

  “Oh.” Jane nodded.

  “So, I was so happy to run into you just now. Would you please check to see if you have a room available for Friday through Monday?”

  “Wouldn’t it be simpler if you called Louise and asked her yourself?” asked Jane. “She’s the one who takes care of reservations.”

  “Oh my.” Clara waved her hands as if she were caught in a flurry. “I would do that, Jane. But I am just in a dither. I have so much to do now, and I don’t want to lose out on a room, and it’s a holiday weekend. By the way, I’m having a barbecue after the Memorial Day ceremony and naturally, you’re all invited. Tell your sisters to plan on it,” she told Jane. “And right now, I’m on my way to see Lloyd Tynan. I just got the most marvelous idea. It occurred to me as I walked past the cemetery that my grandnephew Calvin would be a perfect candidate to raise the flag at the Memorial Day service. Don’t you think so too?”

  “That’s a lovely idea, Clara.”

  “And anyway, dear, I would so appreciate it if you could take care of that little detail for me with Louise. I have so much to do right now, I hardly know where to begin.”

  Jane smiled. “I’ll be happy to check with Louise and have her call you to confirm.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Clara looked down at the reclining pig and frowned. “Come on, Daisy, up and at ’em.” But the pig just looked at her from one half-shut eye and grunted sleepily. “Come on, Daisy,” said Clara more firmly. “There is much to be done, girl.”

  “Nice seeing you, Clara,” said Sylvia. They both stifled giggles as they walked away, glancing back from time to time to see Clara shaking her finger, then tugging on Daisy’s leash as she loudly urged her willful pet to get up. Just as Sylvia and Jane were about to return to help Clara, the pig finally lurched up from the sidewalk.

  “Can’t say that I blame Daisy,” said Jane as they turned onto Chapel Road. “I wouldn’t mind taking a nap in the sun myself.”

  “This weather really is divine,” said Sylvia. “I think we probably appreciate it even more because it’s been so late in coming.”