A Gentleman for Dry Creek

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“There’s a fire going,” Sylvia protested as she shook the snow off her hair. She looked around the room. Francis looked as friendly as she remembered. The teenagers were grouped around something in the dining room. A few squeals from the girls told Sylvia she wouldn’t get their attention soon. “It will be fine—”

“I don’t want the girls to be uncomfortable,” Francis said worriedly. She put the plate of cookies down on a small table near the door. “I know how girls like nice things.”

“They like cookies even better,” Sylvia said. She doubted the kids had had homemade cookies in years. Most of their mothers worked long hours. Cookies were a luxury.

“You’ll have one?” Francis offered the plate. “I haven’t made any since Tavis—that’s Garth’s son—is away. I put in extra raisins. Kids generally like raisins.”

“Thank you.” Sylvia took a cookie. “And thank you for the warm welcome. You’ve gone to so much extra trouble.”

“I’ve been looking forward to everyone coming since Garth first called.”

“And you’ve been busy. I saw that all the cots were made up.”

Francis smiled. “We worked on the girls’ bunkhouse first. I had Garth do some rewiring so they have more outlets for blow-drying their hair, and he even put in a telephone that goes between the bunkhouse and here.”

“A telephone?” Sylvia said in surprise.

“I told Garth you might feel more comfortable that way.” Francis looked more relaxed than she had in December when Sylvia had lain unconscious on the living room sofa. “That way, when you’re in the house with us, you’ll be able to call down and see that everything’s all right. That is—” Francis looked shy “—I’m hoping you’ll stay in the house with us. I told Garth he was to ask you. We have so much to plan—with Glory’s wedding and all—”

“Wedding! The last I talked to Glory, they were going to go to a justice of the peace.”

“Oh, not for our angel! Well, they are going to a justice for the wedding, but not for the reception. Not with Mrs. Hargrove around.” Francis smiled. “When they said they didn’t have patience for the details, Mrs. Hargrove told them she’d organize it all for them—this Saturday night. The whole town is in on it. I’m baking the wedding cake and you’re to be the maid of honor.” Francis hesitated. “I know you haven’t had a chance to talk to Glory since you’ve been driving here, but she told Mrs. Hargrove you were the one she wants to stand beside her when they repeat their vows here. I’m to help make you a dress—so you see, you need to stay in the house with us. I told Garth he was to insist.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” Sylvia bit off her words. Garth hadn’t mentioned anything to her earlier about staying in the house. He might not want her there. They were renters, after all. Not guests. “I couldn’t leave the girls alone.”

“But with the phone you can call anytime,” Francis protested, the disappointment evident in her voice. “And later when you hire more camp counselors.”