Plum Pudding Bride Read Online Free Page B

church, crowding the too-small building to overflowing.
    Sashaying closer, Kitty pressed her hands together and fixed an enraptured gaze on Mrs. Clinton. “I would so love that. And I was thinking that your peonies would be in bloom this June, if you would help me decorate the church with them.”
    “Of course.” Mrs. Clinton slammed a bulky hand down on Kitty’s shoulders. “Anything for such a delightful couple. You really have caught yourself quite the man. And you so young too. I don’t approve of all the suffragettes these days delaying marriage. They’ll become old maids and no mistake.” She glanced back pointedly at Patience.
    A woman sitting in the pew in front twisted around to smile at Kitty. “I didn’t know congratulations were in order. You’ve found yourself a good man.”
    “A shopkeeper’s wife. All the latest fashions, and you’ll never want for groceries. Now that’s my idea of marrying well.” A tired-looking woman with four dirty-faced children clutching her skirt spoke to her neighbor a pew back.
    “I’m getting married.” Patience moved across the aisle to announce it. “She’s not.” Patience pointed to her sister.
    She was so close now. Peter could have touched her elbow if he’d reached out. The scent of peppermint clung to her wavy locks. What he’d give to see them down, cascading over her pretty shoulders.
    “Not technically. Nothing’s official.” Kitty looked up dreamily into Peter’s eyes. “But we’re so in love that I’m sure things will move swiftly.”
    Why did Kitty keep doing that? If only there were a trapdoor in the church floor, he’d be using it right about now.
    “He’s only been coming to call for four days.” Patience’s eyelids stretched and her voice rose loud enough to carry over the heads of the clustered women to where the reverend stood at the pulpit in front.
    “Five actually, sister.” Kitty’s shoulder popped out of her wide-necked pink dress as she shrugged prettily.
    He’d never understand why women chose so poorly attached clothing.
    Patience dressed much more sensibly. Her brown velvet dress curved around her beautiful figure and kept out the cold by buttoning up to her neck and wrists. Her red wool coat was warm too, unlike Kitty’s frilly crocheted shawl.
    If he let Kitty freeze on the walk home from meeting, Pa Callahan would have his head.
    “I’ve been saying since spring this would be the year Peter Foote found himself a wife.” A wrinkled older lady immersed in a plaid cloak patted Kitty’s hand. “You’re a blessed girl.”
    “Oh, I know.” A dimple popped out on Kitty’s cheek.
    Patience’s lips pressed together.
    “You must give me a discount at the shop when you’re Mrs. Foote. You’ve been my dearest friend for forever.” A girl still in pigtails wrapped her arms around Kitty’s waist from behind.
    “Of course.” Kitty clasped the girl in an embrace.
    “I’m marrying a Montana rancher.” Patience hopped up on the pew behind, giving even her petite frame a few inches’ height above the crowd.
    “Not a good idea, my dear. He probably lives in a freezing soddy that leaks water every springtime.” Mrs. Clinton tsked and then turned back to Kitty and the admiring knot of women, who all offered very enthusiastic, premature congratulations.
    This was exactly what he had been saying. Peter’s one hand rose.
    “He’s a very successful rancher. Used his bare hands to build a two-story pine house with store-bought windows, most likely.” Patience crossed her arms.
    “You’ll still catch your death of cold. Montana’s like that.” Mrs. Clinton rotated to Kitty. “Now about those peonies. Are you thinking the pink or the blue for a June wedding?”
    “Speaking of bare hands, my groom, Mr. Dehaven, wrestled down a bear once.” Patience stood on her tiptoes on the pew. Her brown skirts fanned out, filling the row.
    “It’s not brawn. It’s character that counts.” The woman with the four