“Why, Miss Baxter, what’s the matter?” Bernice Johnson asked as she approached. Sophie, unsure of where else to go, had fled straight to the church.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“You don’t look fine to me, if you don’t mind my saying. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Sophie shook her head. “It’s just …” She shrugged. “I’m in such a fix.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Bernice asked quietly. She glanced around, took Sophie by the arm, steered her toward the nearest pew and sat them both down. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but I know Fletcher and Sheriff Diamond will do their best to help you.”

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. Fletcher was only making matters worse, but did she dare tell Bernice? “I wish I’d never come to Independence. I wish I’d never become a mail-order bride.”

Bernice put an arm around her. “I was a mail-order bride, remember? It wasn’t easy for me either, and I didn’t go through anything like what you have. But you still have options.”

“Options?” Sophie said in surprise. “What options?” Her eyes darted around the sanctuary to make sure no one was within earshot. Thankfully, most of the women were gathered at the front, while she and Bernice sat in the back. “I have no money, no family. I can only rely on the Vanders’ kindness for so long. I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do.”

Bernice smiled. It was almost irritating. “Yes, you do.”

That was even more irritating.

“But before you do anything, you have to realize that this town is very close-knit and we help our own. What you have to decide is if you want to become a part of us.”

“A part of you? I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the first mail-order bride to come here and wind up in a tough situation. But you can still be happy here. You don’t have to leave just because you’re not getting married.”

Sophie stared at her. She did want to stay. The little town had grown on her in just a few days. What she didn’t like was the discovery of Fletcher’s philandering ways. If she did stay, could she stand seeing him until Mr. Munson’s murder was solved? More importantly, could she stand seeing him in church every Sunday or in passing on the street? And where would she stay in the meantime? Who would give her a job?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bernice said. “And the answer is yes.”

Sophie blinked a few times. “Yes to what?”

“The café needs help, so you could work there. Or maybe at the bookshop – the Professor talks sometimes about bringing someone on. In the meantime I’m sure the Vanders wouldn’t mind you staying with them until you got on your feet, and the boardinghouse doesn’t cost that much. I’m sure you could afford it on what you’d make. And do you sew?”

Sophie went blank, her mind reeling. Of course she’d thought of some of those things already, but her pride was so pricked she hadn’t acted on any of it yet. Blast that Fletcher Vander!

“Sophie? What do you think?”

Sophie shook herself, trying to get Fletcher out of her head. “Yes, that might work. I guess I just didn’t know where to start.” That was the problem with infatuation: it muddled the mind. Well, she wasn’t going to let Fletcher muddle her anymore. So what if he’d kissed her senseless? She was over it … she hoped.

“Wonderful! Why don’t we go to the café and speak with Mr. Gruber the owner?”

“Now?”

“Of course – you don’t want someone else to get your job, do you?”

Sophie shook her head. “But … you mentioned the bookshop. And are there any other jobs in town?”

“That’s the one I’m sure of – the Professor never seems to make up his mind on whether he wants somebody. Now, you could always take in mending for extra money. If by chance you’re a really good seamstress, the town needs a new dressmaker – the old one retired and moved to Portland to live with relatives. But you’d probably need a loan from the bank to get started.”

“My sewing is passable, but I’m nowhere near good enough to be a dressmaker.”

“Too bad. The café’s your best bet, then.” She stood. “Shall we?”

Sophie stood as well. “Are you sure it’s all right to leave?”

Bernice glanced at the women chatting away at the front of the church. “I don’t think anyone’s going to miss us. Besides, they don’t look like they’re working on anything right now.”

“No, they don’t,” Sophie agreed with a tiny smile. “What do you suppose the topic of conversation is?”

“Jasper Munson, of course,” Bernice said as she motioned Sophie into the aisle. “Let’s go.”

They walked to Main Street and straight to the café. Thankfully there was no sign of Fletcher anywhere, for which Sophie was eternally grateful. He had her so flustered earlier she didn’t think she could take seeing him again so soon, especially since all she could think about was that he’d fooled her into thinking he was a man of good character – and that kiss. Clearly he knew what it took to sweep a girl off her feet, the cad. She fumed just thinking about it.

In fact, she fumed right until she heard the words … “You’re hired!” Mr. Gruber, the owner of the café, said with relief. “We’ve been swamped for weeks! Poor Darcy’s on the verge of collapse by the end of her shift.”

Sophie looked at Mr. Gruber in shock. “You mean, I’m the only one to apply for the position?”

“Yep. Everyone in town that needs a job has a job. Anyone else old enough to work here is only around for the summer months, then they head back to college or farm work.”

“My goodness,” Sophie said. “I had no idea.” Indeed, luck was with her.

They spent a few more minutes discussing the details; her first shift (which would start tomorrow morning) and when she’d be paid. She was happy to discover Mr. Gruber provided his employees with one meal a shift, so she’d eat for free. She wanted to be out of the Vanders’ hair as soon as possible, and if that meant one meal a day was all she got at first, then so be it. At least she wouldn’t be a bother anymore.

Okay, that wasn’t it – why lie to herself? At least Fletcher wouldn’t be a bother to her anymore. “Thank you Mr. Gruber!” she said happily. “Thank you very much! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Come to think of it, can you cook?”

She looked at Bernice, then her new employer. “Yes, but I don’t know if I’m good enough for your customers.”

“I’ll be the judge. I do most of the cooking, but if you could help me out that would be a godsend. I’ll even up your pay.”

Sophie smiled at her good fortune. Thank the Lord! “I’ll do my best.”

“Perfect! Until tomorrow.” He smiled, turned and headed back to the kitchen.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bernice asked.

Sophie shook her head. “I have a job,” she said in wonder.

“Yes, you’re on your way. Next, you’ll get yourself a place to stay. But first let’s speak with your hosts and let them know.”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, of course. I hope they’re all right with it.”

“Of course they’ll be. The Vanders are some of the nicest people I know. They’ll be delighted to hear that you’re staying here.”

Yes, but will Fletcher be happy about it? She closed her eyes against the thought. Why worry about what he thought? He didn’t want her helping him at this point anyway … until he’d decided to work his wiles on her. Well, she’d just have to make sure he didn’t work on anything else but Mr. Munson’s murder. That ought to keep him busy, with or without her help. Now that she had a job, she wouldn’t have the time anyway. Thank Heaven for small favors!

“We’d better get back to the church,” Bernice said.

Sophie suddenly straightened. “The church! Oh dear, I won’t be able to be on the decorating committee anymore.”

Bernice laughed. “Why, because you have a job? Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily. Trust me, Mercy Vander will have you doing something to help out. Remember, you’re still staying there.”

“Oh heavens, yes.” Sophie giggled. “The woman is a dear, and I do still want to help out. I just hope I’m not too tired after working all day in the café.”

Bernice took her hand and gave it a pat. “Knowing Mrs. Vander, she’ll have you painting decorations from bed if she has to.”

Sophie laughed and tried to picture herself cutting out paper flowers in her nightdress. Things were looking up and she had a feeling everything would be fine now. All she had to do was make sure she avoided Fletcher Vander at all costs. That, unfortunately, would be easier said than done.

* * *

By the time Sophie and Bernice returned to the church, Mercy’s small army of volunteers was in full swing. But it wasn’t the Fourth of July Celebration’s colorful decorations they were working on – it was signs. “What’s this?” Bernice asked as they entered the sanctuary.

“Oh, there you are,” Mercy said as she spied them. “I’m so glad you’re here. We need all the help we can get.”

“Mrs. Vander,” Bernice said as she looked around. “What is everyone doing?”

“Oh, just a little side project. My grandson’s running for mayor.”

“Fletcher?” Bernice said in shock.

“That’s right, he is,” Sophie said absently. “The sheriff’s suggestion, but his grandfather’s supporting it.”

“Right you are, dear,” Mercy replied.

Bernice gaped as she watched Mahulda Brock dip a paintbrush into a bucket and continue painting a flag on a poster. “Who is he running against?”

“No one, so far,” Mercy said with pride. “Horace is getting too old to be mayor, and no one else wants the job. Anyway, who’s going to run against a Vander in this town?”

“Yes, of course, but what does he know about politics?” Bernice asked.

“He’s a lawyer, for Heaven’s sake – what else does he need?”

Sophie put her hand over her mouth. She wondered if Fletcher’s grandparents knew of his ways with women. Come to think of it, would he be elected if the townsfolk of Independence knew his true character? Should she say something? If he could so easily lead women astray, what kind of mayor would he be?

“Well, will you lookie here?” Mayor Vander bellowed behind her.

Sophie yelped and almost jumped out of her shoes. Embarrassed, she quickly took a step back and brushed at her skirts.

“A little tense?”

Sophie closed her eyes in resignation. Fletcher. She turned around and opened them, and they automatically locked on his. “Mr. Vander.”

He swallowed hard. “Miss Baxter.”

His voice was soft, compelling, and worst of all, sad. She wanted to throw her arms around him, comfort him – and caught herself just as she started to lean toward him. “What are you doing here?” she said, too sharply. And good grief, what a stupid question – why wouldn’t he be here?

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

Sophie did her best not to grimace. “So you’re really going to do it.”

Fletcher saw the women happily painting campaign signs and forced a smile. “Yes, I am. It’ll be a nice change from law.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What about Mr. Munson?”

“You needn’t worry about that – I hope to solve his case before I take office.”

Her eyebrow went up even further. “You sound awfully sure. What if you don’t solve it? What if you’re not elected?”

“Oh, he’ll be elected, all right,” Grandpa Vander said. “I’ll teach him everything I know. That way Independence will be getting a younger version of me.”

Fletcher rolled his eyes and smiled. “If you say so, Grandpa. But I think I’d rather stay the version I am.”

Sophie had to smile at that. He seemed so genuine, so real. But how much was just an act? Why did he really want to become mayor? What was in it for him? Men with questionable character put themselves first, not others. She would have to keep reminding herself of that, lest she be swayed into thinking he was anything but what he really was. A cad, if she were to listen to Priscilla.

Speaking of which … “Oh my goodness!” Priscilla said as she entered the church. “Just look at all these busy ladies!”

“Miss Holbrook,” Gran Mercy said with a little clap of her hands. “When did you get back in town?”

“Just a little while ago. How are you, Mrs. Vander?”

“Perfectly fine and looking for volunteers – it’s that time of year, you know! Would you like to paint or hand out flyers?”

Priscilla glanced around the sanctuary. “Fletcher Vander for Mayor?” She looked at Fletcher with a huge smile. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“On the contrary – I’m being practical and logical about this,” said Fletcher. “It’s time I settled down.”

“Running for mayor is settling down?” Priscilla asked, amused. She glanced at Sophie. “If you say so, Fletcher.”

Fletcher stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth. “I admit, the more I think about it, the more excited I get.”

His grandfather slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit, my boy! First you become mayor, then get yourself settled. Worked for me.”

“Isn’t he a little young to be mayor?” Priscilla asked.

“Young?” Grandpa Vander boomed. “I wasn’t much older when I took the job.”

“Actually, Grandpa, I think you were a lot older,” Fletcher argued.

“I was?” his grandfather said in surprise.

Sophie tried not to laugh as she watched them go back and forth. Oh, why did Fletcher have to turn out to be such a …. Such a …

He turned to her, a warm smile on his face, his eyes nervously roaming over her, making her tingle. Drat, why did he have to appear so wonderful? Why couldn’t it be true? And why couldn’t she stop herself from falling for him?

Sophie’s eyes widened. Oh dear, she thought. She already had, hadn’t she?