Several days later Sophie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom at the Vanders’. “Why am I so worried about this?” she asked aloud, tossing her traveling suit onto the bed. It was dinner in the kitchen, after all, not her wedding. Yet her heart fluttered nonetheless.

The last few days had been torture, and she wished she could keep her heart in check. But it was too late – the traitorous thing had flown the coop and gone straight to Fletcher as soon as he announced he wanted to court her. They’d have had their dinner sooner if she hadn’t been so worn out from her new job. Most days, she could barely keep her eyes open after her shift ended and she trudged back to the Vanders’.

But today she’d switched with Darcy and worked the breakfast and lunch shifts to free up her evening. Tonight was the night.

“You staring at that dress isn’t going to make it any prettier,” Betsy remarked from the doorway.

Sophie sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I know. I just wish I had a better one.”

Betsy entered, carrying a rose-pink bundle. “You may not, but I do.”

Sophie stood, her eyes riveted. “Oh, Betsy … is that what I think it is?”

“Mm-hmm. This here’s one of Ammy’s old dresses. It’s a little out of fashion, but it’s still pretty. Why don’t you try it on?”

Sophie smiled in relief then suddenly sobered. “But Betsy, do you think she’ll mind?”

“Nah – this has been hanging in the other guest room for years. I can’t even recall why she left it here in the first place. Besides, after having all them babies, it probably don’t fit her like it used to.”

“Most of her children are practically grown. Just how old is this dress?”

“Told you it was out of fashion.” Betsy approached the bed and held up the dress.

It was indeed beautiful, and indeed old, but unarguably nicer than anything Sophie owned. She smiled, took it from Betsy and held it against her. “I can’t wait to try it on.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Betsy said with a grin. “What sort of shoes you got?”

Sophie went behind a changing screen. “The ones by the bed are the only pair I have.”

Betsy reached down and picked up Sophie’s worn brown shoes. “Mm-hmm, just as I thought. These won’t do.”

“What choice do I have?” Sophie frowned at her words. It seemed like she’d been saying them her whole life. “Can you help me with the back of this dress?”

Betsy went behind the screen, looked her up and down and began buttoning her up. “Don’t you look pretty. Wait until Fletcher sees you.”

A thrill went up Sophie’s spine, and she fought an urge to clap her hands. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh, honey, I know so. What I’m wondering is how are you going to react to him? You’ve been awful funny around him lately.”

“Oh, that.” Sophie sighed. “I like Fletcher, I do. But …”

“Did he do something stupid? Or did someone say something to you?”

“Both, actually.”

“Mm-hmm. Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Which part?” Sophie asked with a lopsided smile.

“Both parts. That man does some strange things – I could tell you stories that would turn you white as a sheet.”

Sophie’s knees wobbled and her heart sank to her toes. The last thing she needed to hear from this woman was that everything Priscilla Holbrook said was true. She’d spent the last few days convincing herself the woman had spoken out of spite or jealousy. Yes, Fletcher had kissed her, but she’d kissed him back just as eagerly. And all his other actions depicted him as a man of good character. He was protecting her, she could tell. If Betsy was about to show her otherwise …

“Once I caught him making some sort of fireworks for the Fourth of July. Merciful heavens – I thought he was gonna blow the house up!”

Sophie put a hand to her chest. “Blow up the house?” She hoped Betsy kept talking, preferably about things that had nothing to do with lechery or dishonesty or any other such vice. Childish pranks, she could handle.

“That was one of the worst things he ever did. I think he was twelve at the time. Fletcher always was a risk-taker.”

Sophie felt a wave of relief wash over her. “What else?”

“Well, one day he tied a string of tin cans to the tail of the neighbor’s cat …”

“Oh no! He didn’t!”

“He was eight, and I don’t think it was his idea – some boy at school dared him. His parents scolded him something awful. As did his grandma and grandpa, seeing as how he did it in the house here.”

Sophie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Oh, the poor kitty.”

“Poor kitty, my eye – that tabby was a hellion too. I know, ‘cause Cecil and me had to catch it. I’m amazed Fletcher didn’t get his eyes clawed out.”

Sophie shook her head, the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. But her laughter wasn’t due to Betsy’s story, but out of relief at the lack of debauchery. They were just about a boy being a boy. “What about when he was older?”

“Oh, he calmed down considerable, much to his parents’ delight. That’s when he started to get interested in law. He’d see a wrong and would go right at it until he made it right. Tenacious, he was – wouldn’t let go until the job was done.”

Sophie took a deep breath, let it out. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“No, ‘cept it got him fired.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “What?”

“That’s why he’s home. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, I remember him telling his father.” Which begged the question, why would a law firm fire someone for doing the right thing? She’d have to ask him. Regardless, if he hadn’t been fired and come home to Independence, she never would’ve met him, nor had him on her side. And without Fletcher, she wasn’t sure how she could’ve handled her situation. Other than the kiss, he’d been like a knight in shining armor.

But what was a knight without a kiss?

“Best thing that could’ve happened to him, in my opinion,” Betsy went on. “I think he’ll make a fine mayor. So would his father, but everyone knows he doesn’t want it.”

“True,” Sophie said, “he doesn’t.” Her eyes wandered around the room. She wanted to hug Betsy for setting her mind at ease, but it would probably confuse the woman. Also, she didn’t want to tell her how she felt about Fletcher – she might think it improper. “I’m sure he’ll make a good mayor too.”

“Mm-hmm. And that’s not all he’ll make.”

Sophie looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Betsy put the last button in place. “You might not think it’s my business, Miss Baxter, but you’ve put a spark in that man’s eyes.”

Sophie blushed. She went to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and studied her reflection, unsure what to say.

“You know what I’m talking about. Once he sees you in this dress, we ain’t gonna need no fireworks at this year’s Fourth of July. Fletcher will more than make up for them.”

Sophie turned to her, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Betsy!”

“What’s the matter now? Why the waterworks?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been so worried.”

“About what … Oh, I see,” she said with a nod. “Wipe those tears from your eyes, honey and just let nature do the rest. That is why you’re crying, isn’t it? You’re in love with Fletcher.”

Sophie gasped.

“All right, maybe I spoke out of turn, but why else would you be so upset?”

Sophie took a breath and held it in an attempt to calm down. Should she tell her?

As if reading her mind, Betsy said, “All right, let’s have it.” She put a hand on her hip and stared Sophie down.

“Yes, it’s true!” she blurted. “I’m not sure when it happened or why, but you’re right. I am.”

Betsy cupped a hand to her ear and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re what?”

Sophie gave in. “I’m in love with Fletcher.”

Betsy lowered her hand with a smile. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Do you really think he has feelings for me?” Sophie said, not sure she should’ve let that horse out of the barn. Too late now.

“Like I said, you put a spark in his eyes I’ve never seen before. He’s feeling something. But maybe you’d best keep your feelings to yourself for now.”

“That’s getting harder to do, I’m afraid.” She turned back to the mirror.

Betsy picked up the shoes again and glared at them. “Men are always a little slow. You just need to give him time to catch up.”

“He wants to court me.”

“Mm-hmm, I knew that. At this point I think the whole family knows. Why should that bother you?”

Sophie shrugged. “Because I’ve heard … things.”

Now Betsy glared at her. “Things? Who you been talking to?”

Sophie gulped. “Um … Priscilla Holbrook –”

“Oh dear Lord! See here, young lady – don’t go listening to that low-down trifling little harpy. That woman likes nothing better than stirring up trouble.”

Sophie felt like a complete ninny. “She does?”

“Mm-hmm. Priscilla is one smooth talker, but if it was high noon and she said the sun was up, I’d know it was raining. I’ve never seen a woman lie so much or cause division so fast. If meddling was a sport, she’d win the pennant every year.”

“Oh, Betsy!” This time Sophie did hug her.

“The waterworks again? Good heavens, child!”

But Sophie let her tears flow, not out of anguish but joy. Fletcher wasn’t a cad! Yes, he had kissed her with near reckless abandon – highly improper, but she was just as guilty. Now, though, she felt no shame over it. In hindsight, that single kiss was so, so right. It was all a matter now of what she was going to do about it.

And with the burden of Priscilla’s lies lifted, she was starting to get some ideas.

* * *

Fletcher paced nervously in the kitchen, Cecil watching in amusement. “You do realize I just mopped the floor this morning?”

Fletcher glanced up at him. “What was that?”

Cecil shook his head and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Fletcher asked, perplexed. When Cecil didn’t answer he rolled his eyes and continued pacing. After a moment he stopped. “That obvious?”

“At this point, it’s beyond obvious.”

“Then how is it that Miss Baxter can’t see it? No matter how hard I try to convince her, some … I don’t know, invisible wall stands between us. I’m might have to face that she just doesn’t like me.”

“She’s having dinner with you, isn’t she?” Cecil pointed out.

“True, but perhaps she’s just humoring me. I haven’t exactly been the perfect gentleman around her, I’m afraid.”

Cecil took a batch of biscuits out of the oven and set them on the worktable. “Well, that’s a bit of news. What did you do?”

“Before you condemn me, I’ll have you know there was a witness.”

“You’re not in court, son.” Cecil bent to take out another pan from the oven. “Who witnessed what?”

Fletcher frowned in guilt. “Grandpa caught me kissing her in the parlor.”

Cecil snorted. “Is that what this is about? For Heaven’s sake, son, a kiss is just a kiss.”

Fletcher’s face reddened. “No, Cecil – this one wasn’t just a kiss. It was … A Kiss.”

Cecil’s laughter cut off. “Oh dear. You mean …?”

“Exactly. By all rights I should be forced to marry her after such a kiss.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Forcing yourself?”

Fletcher ran a hand through his hair and began to pace again. “No … well … I don’t think so, but …”

Cecil sighed. “Years ago, if your father had kissed your mother in the way you described, they might’ve had a shotgun wedding. But it’s not 1872 anymore. We’re about to embark on a new century. Times have changed a little.”

“I almost wished they hadn’t. A shotgun wedding might have been easier on me.”

“Why? To save you the heartache if she decides she’s not interested? Come now, son, you’re more man than that.”

Fletcher stuck his hands in his pockets. “What was it like with you and Betsy? When did you realize she was the only woman in the world for you?”

Cecil thought a moment. “We were doing the dishes together and talking about pie recipes. Your parents were in the other room – the parlor, I think – speaking with your grandmother. I noticed Betsy’s eyes and got lost in them. I knew then that I wanted to be able to look into her eyes every day for the rest of my life.”

Fletcher absently kicked at a leg of the worktable. “That’s how it is with Sophie. But it happened so fast. I just want to make sure it’s not because I’m … well …”

“Lusting after her?”

His guilty look was back. “Yes.”

Cecil put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Son, ask yourself if you’d be going through all this trouble to court the woman if it was just lust. Wouldn’t it be simpler to go to Salem or Portland and find yourself a harlot?”

Fletcher gasped in indignation.

“Exactly. You’re not that type.”

Fletcher pulled out a pocket watch, flipped it open and checked the time. “She’ll be down any minute.”

“Gads, man, pull yourself together. If there’s any question about whether or not you’re in love with the gal, then this certainly decides it.”

“In love with her?”

Cecil harrumphed and shook his head again. “Young people!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do yourself a favor, son, and propose tonight.”

“Propose?! The only thing I’ve proposed so far is that we court. For all I know she’s planning to turn me down and say she wants nothing more to do with me.” Fletcher stalked out.

Cecil looked to the ceiling as if imploring the heavens. “Love is wasted on the young,” he grumbled.