A Wedding on Lilac Lane Hope Ramsay (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

gauge her daughter’s reaction to this suggestion. She was relieved and delighted to find Ella smiling. “I think that would be great,” Ella said.

“So at least that’s one detail of the party we’ve nailed down,” Brenda said.

“Mom, I know this is stressful for you, but I’m trying my best.”

“Oh, honey, I know you are.” Brenda gave her daughter another hug. “And when it’s over, we’ll all be one happy family.”

“It’s just that I’m not sure what you want when it comes to the party.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure what I want either. I guess I know what I don’t want. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. So, besides the yacht club, anything else I should be aware of?”

“Nothing that comes immediately to mind.” She paused a moment, thinking about the preacher’s words this morning. “I guess that puts you in a bad place, huh? I mean, you are working hard and coming up with ideas and I’m being difficult.”

“Yes, honey, you are,” Momma said. “But you’re the bride. So it comes with the territory. I’m sure Ella will figure something out.”

“I’m working on it. Dylan and I had dinner at that new Italian restaurant on the East Side, but we jettisoned that. Too expensive, and the food isn’t all that good.” Brenda could have sworn that Ella was blushing. What was that all about?

“When did you have dinner there?”

“Last night. Dylan came to tea at the inn.”

“He did?”

“Mom, stop frowning.”

Brenda relaxed her facial muscles. She had been frowning. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not sure I trust Dylan after what you said about him yesterday.”

“I don’t really trust him either. But you know, you have to give him points for being honest about his feelings. I made him promise me that he wouldn’t screw up the party planning. That’s progress, right?”

“I guess. Thank you for trying to work things out with him.”

“Sure.” Ella tossed off that word in a weird way that sent up warning flares. Had Ella worked things out with Dylan, or was Jim’s son bullying her? Dylan could be so unpleasant at times.

“So anyway,” Ella rushed on. “We talked about some other places.”

“Good, because time’s a-wasting,” Momma said.

Ella turned toward her grandmother. “I know, Granny. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Momma, you don’t think Dylan is trying to delay things, do you?” Brenda asked.

“I have no idea. I’m just stating the obvious. But if y’all want my opinion, I think you should invite some friends over and grill out on the beach. Don’t you remember how much your daddy loved that sort of thing?”

Momma’s wistful tone carried Brenda back to her childhood memories of Daddy grilling shrimp out on the beach. Those had been such happy times. Maybe Momma was right. “It would be nice to have a small, informal thing on the beach at sunset,” Brenda said.

“I like that idea. I’ll put that on the list,” Ella said. “But if it rains, it could be a disaster.”

“True,” Momma said. “But that’s why God invented tents.”

“Good point, Granny.”

Momma nodded. “Y’all really need to get on it and decide one way or another.”

“By Easter if possible,” Brenda said. “Actually, that brings up another thing. Momma has invited all of us to Easter dinner at her condo.”

“Great,” Ella said with false enthusiasm.

And Brenda’s heart wrenched one more time. Was it ever going to be possible to make a family out of Jim’s son and her daughter?

Increasingly it seemed like an impossible task.

*  *  *

Ashley was on call to supervise the fellowship-hour this week. She’d organized most of the refreshments before services began, but she’d still ducked out of the back of the church before the recessional, using her responsibilities as an excuse to avoid the usual after-services meet and greet.

She wasn’t in a mood for socializing with anyone, least of all Micah St. Pierre. She checked the coffee, straightened the paper napkins and plastic forks, and tried not to cry. What had he done? Used her as some kind of inspiration for that sermon?

That whole bit at the end where he’d started talking about letting things go, like grief. She didn’t have to be a genius to know that he was sending messages.

She just wanted things to go back to the way they had been. She didn’t want him prying into her feelings. She didn’t want him using her as some sort of inspiration for sermons. Who did?

But she didn’t mind feeding him every morning. In fact, she liked feeding him. His preference for oatmeal had changed her menu offerings. But he hadn’t been to the inn for breakfast since Thursday. And he rarely missed the continental breakfasts on Sunday morning.

And here she’d made oatmeal for him every day and no one had eaten any of it, except for Ella, who had been forced to eat it. So her efforts hadn’t been entirely wasted.  If only oatmeal could set Ella back on course. But it couldn’t, and she was skating on some seriously thin ice with Dylan.

The congregation was finally making its way to the fellowship hall. She poured herself a cup of coffee and chatted with Sandra and Karen about the sermon and the quality of the choir’s performance. The atmosphere changed the moment Micah entered the room, divested of his priestly robes and back in his workaday suit and Roman collar.

A lot of people had liked his sermon today, so it took him a while to make it across the room. But at least one thing hadn’t changed. Micah had a sweet tooth. He might give her grief about baking for the Piece Makers, but he’d never turned down leftover cake.

And she’d made his favorite coffee cake today as a peace offering.

“Coffee cake,” he said when he finally reached the refreshment table. “Did you make this for me?” He seemed so pleased.

And for some unfathomable reason, his enthusiasm for the cake didn’t please her at all. Maybe because she had to face the truth:  she’d baked this coffee cake for him. And that seemed…wrong or selfish or something. Because the