“Ah...” For the life of him, Glen couldn’t think of a single way to start the conversation.

Dovie regarded him expectantly. “I’ll have you know, young man, I have my money riding on you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you think only the men are in on Billy D’s lottery?”

“Oh, that.” Glen had forgotten all about that silly lottery. He stood just inside the door, arms tight against his sides, for fear one wrong move would send hundreds of fragile little things tumbling to the floor.

“Come on inside, Glen,” Dovie encouraged. “You aren’t going to break anything.”

He took a few cautious steps, then glanced anxiously around the store and back at Dovie.

“Is there a problem?” she asked with concern.

Glen had always liked his mother’s friend. It was Dovie who’d suggested the bed-and-breakfast idea and who’d helped his mother decorate the old Howe Mansion.

“I need some advice,” he finally said. The last time he’d been this unsure of himself—not counting the day he proposed to Ellie—was when he’d roped his first calf in the Brewster rodeo at the age of ten.

“The advice is free, but the tea will cost you a dollar.”

“Tea?”

“I think best when I’m sitting down.” Smiling, Dovie motioned toward the assembled tables and chairs in one corner of the shop.

“All right,” he agreed.

“I take it this all has to do with Ellie?” Dovie asked, leading him to a small table covered by a pretty floral cloth.

“You know, then.”

“I know you and Richard made first-class fools of yourselves at the dance.”

Glen wished folks would forget about that. “It’s gotten worse since.”

Dovie carried a blue-and-white china teapot and two cups to the table. “I was afraid of that.”

“Cal suggested I talk to you about Ellie. You see, I want us to get married. I tried asking her and it didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. Can you help me?”

“I can try.” Dovie poured him some tea, then served herself. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon?”

Glen shook his head mutely. He generally sweetened his tea, but he wasn’t willing to do it with one of those miniature silver spoons. He already felt like an oversize buffoon in this dainty little shop.

“How would you like me to advise you?” Dovie asked.

“Can you tell me what I can say to convince Ellie to marry me?”

Dovie frowned slightly. “Perhaps you should tell me how you proposed the first time.”

Glen recalled what he could of their conversation. “Best I can remember, she started getting hostile when I mentioned I felt responsible for embarrassing her at the dance.”

Dovie nodded, and Glen continued, “I told her I admired her and I wanted to marry her. That was when I brought out the diamond ring I borrowed from Cal.”

“You borrowed an engagement ring?”

“Just so I’d have something to offer. I wanted Ellie to know I was serious, and a man doesn’t get more serious than diamonds.”

Dovie was frowning again.

“Was that so terrible?” Glen demanded. “All I want is for Ellie to know how much I love her.”

“Why don’t we start with telling her that this time?” Dovie suggested.

“Ellie already knows how I feel about her.” It was incomprehensible to him that she wouldn’t. He’d made himself the laughingstock of the entire town over her. When she’d rejected his marriage proposal, he’d swallowed his pride and wished her happiness, even at the cost of his own. A man didn’t say those kinds of things to a woman he didn’t love. “She’s got to know,” he added.

“A woman likes to hear the words, Glen.”

It was that simple? Of course he loved Ellie, and if all he had to do was tell her how much... He reached for his hat and got eagerly to his feet. “Great. I’ll let her know right now.”

Dovie grabbed his shirtsleeve. “I’m not finished yet.”

“Oh.” He sat back down.

“Is there anything else you plan to tell Ellie?”

Glen wasn’t sure he understood the question. Perplexed, he gave it a moment’s thought. “Just that I can’t get married next Tuesday because the farrier’s coming.”

“Oh, dear.” Dovie briefly closed her eyes.

“That’s the wrong thing to say?”

“Well...yes.”

“Thursday’s not good, either. I play poker at Billy D’s on Thursdays, but I’d be wiling to give that up if Ellie decided she wanted to get married then.”

“Have you considered that Ellie might want a church wedding?”

He hadn’t, and the mere suggestion made his blood run cold. All this time he’d been thinking they’d fly off to Vegas and get married the same night. A quickie wedding, because now that the decision had been made, he was ready. Strike while the iron’s hot, as the farrier might say.

“Besides, I think you might be getting ahead of yourself,” Dovie murmured. “First you’ve got to convince Ellie to be your bride.”

“Right.” If the truth be known, he’d given more thought to the honeymoon than the wedding. He was in love, and damn it all, he wanted to make love to Ellie. “Why does this have to be so complicated?” he wanted to know. “I love her, and she’s already confessed she loves me.”

Sighing, he took a careful sip of his cooling tea. “When she was going through her father’s things, she found this old Bible passed down from his family,” Glen said, thinking out loud. “She showed it to me and turned to the page where her family’s names and dates are listed. Weddings, deaths, births—you know. All day, I’ve been thinking about Ellie and me entering our names in that Bible, and someday, God willing, writing down the names of our children. I love Ellie, and it’s a love that’ll last all our lives. Maybe a hundred years from now one of our great-great-grandchildren will come upon that Bible and wonder about us. I’d want them to know—just from the way we lived—that despite everything life threw at us, our love survived.”

“Oh, Glen, that’s beautiful,” Dovie said softly, and squeezed his hand.

“It was?”

“Tell Ellie that.”

“About putting our names in her family Bible?”

“Yes. Speak from your heart and don’t mention the farrier, all right?”

“I’ll do it.” Glen felt immeasurably better.

***

Grady relaxed against the back of a molded plastic bench in the bowling alley. Lloyd Bonney had asked if he’d substitute for him the next two weeks while he was on vacation. It’d been ages since Grady had last bowled, but Lloyd was a likable guy and he hated to turn him down. That wasn’t the only reason, either; for the first time in six years, he was able to indulge himself with a few leisure activities. He used to enjoy bowling and had been fairly good at it.

He was a bit rusty, but he’d bowled a decent series tonight. It felt good to be with friends, to laugh again. Finally he had the financial security and the extra time to make it possible. This evening had whetted his appetite for more.

He was on his way to Billy D’s afterward when Max Jordan followed him outside.

“Grady, you got a moment?”

“Sure.”

Max shifted his gaze away from Grady. “Listen, I realize this is a bad time and all, but I need to talk to you about Richard.”

“Yeah?” Grady didn’t like the sound of this.

“He charged a few things at my store—clothes and boots—when he first came back to town and he hasn’t paid me and...well, it’s been almost three months now.”

Grady’s grip tightened on his bowling bag. “How much does he owe you?”

Max stated an amount that made Grady’s stomach clench. His brother must have picked out the most expensive clothes in the store.

“Earlier this week he charged a new suit,” Max continued. “It’s a pricey one, and—”

“You let him do that even when he hadn’t paid you for the other things?” Grady was furious with his brother, and with Max, too.

Max lowered his eyes to the pavement. “I feel like an old fool now. Richard stopped in the store and told me he was getting married. I was pleased for him and Ellie. It wasn’t until later that I learned they weren’t engaged, at all.”