“You have a gazebo!” Billie said with a smile.

“Warren built it for me a couple of summers ago,” Bernice said. “Makes for a nice shady place to read.”

“It’s lovely,” Billie commented. A small table and two chairs sat in the center of Bernice’s private sanctuary. A folded quilt hung over the back of one of the chairs, a book sat on the other. “You must read here often. You left your book.”

“I’m here as often as I can. Once Warren and I have children, I don’t imagine I’ll be able to, but who knows?”

Billie nodded. Bernice was the second woman she’d met in Nowhere who was still childless after marriage. Was it an affliction? Something in the water? Or divine providence? Would she suffer the same? She shuddered at the thought as she sat in the chair with the quilt. “What a lovely place.”

“I think so,” Bernice joined her, picking up her book – The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. “I thought we might set up some food tables here for the picnic, but I’m not sure that’ll work. The space might be too small.”

Billie studied the gazebo. “I agree. Maybe under those shade trees over there?” She pointed at several large evergreens bordering the barnyard.

“We could fit a few tables in here for folks to eat, then others around it on the outside. That can be our picnic area.”

Billie stood. “And the food tables wouldn’t be far away. Did Warren have any ideas?”

Bernice laughed. “My husband’s idea is to wait until I tell him where to put things. He likes leaving the planning to me.”

“He didn’t want to take charge of this?”

“Merciful heavens, no – he’s too busy managing the farm. Besides, it’s not that much work. The last couple of times we visited town, I asked a few ladies to get the word out about what food to bring.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Nowhere is small. We handle the town Harvest Festival the same way,” Bernice studied the yard. “We could put another table over by the house for the punch and lemonade.”

Billie followed her gaze. “It’s shady enough. Will people bring chairs?”

“Some have volunteered to, others will bring blankets to sit on.” Bernice stood. “Why don’t we check on our latest batch of pies?”

Billie smiled and followed her back to the house. Once in the kitchen, they took two pies from the oven and set them on the worktable. “Is this it for the day?” Billie asked.

“Yes. I thought we might relax a little before we make supper. Are you looking forward to seeing Lucien?”

Billie blushed. “Yes, I am. I’m getting excited about the wedding too.”

“So am I, and I’m not the one getting married,” Bernice said with a giggle. “I’m glad you’re finally excited. A week ago I would have sworn you didn’t want to get married.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your eyes,” Bernice said then smiled. “All right, your eye …”

A remark like that would have made her gut tighten before. Now she saw the humor in it. “You should’ve seen me when I had two. Father said he always knew what I was thinking.”

“And he was right,” Bernice said as she closed the oven door. “I’ve gotten good at reading people over the years. Some speak to you with ulterior motives. You have to know the difference.”

“Are you talking about Nellie Davis?”

“Actually, I’m talking about my mother. I got a lot of practice reading people by studying my own family. But I hear she’s getting better.”

Grandpa entered the kitchen before Billie could comment and went straight to the worktable. “Oh boy, pies! When can we have one?”

“Tomorrow at the picnic, Grandpa. Hands off.” Bernice batted at his hand.

Grandpa cackled with delight and winked at Billie. “Maybe I’ll sneak one out to the barn. Care to join me?”

“Maybe you’ll pull back a stump where your hand once was.” Bernice wagged a finger at him.

Billie laughed. “I’d be careful if I were you, sir. She does have access to knives.”

Grandpa and Bernice laughed. “Hey, little Missy,” Grandpa said. “Is your betrothed joinin’ us for supper?”

“Yes, he is.” Billie’s cheeks grew hot.

“Great. I want to see if there’s any news about that harpy Ferguson’s niece.”

“Grandpa!” Bernice said in shock. “Don’t be name-calling.”

“Mrs. Ferguson has a niece?” Billie said, ignoring Bernice’s scold.

“Yep. I heard down at the livery her niece is comin’ for a visit. Supposed to be a right pretty gal. Be good for that gossipy busybody to have some kin around. Ever since her husband died, she’s had nothin’ better to do but poke her nose into everyone else’s business.”

“Grandpa, stop it.” Bernice waved a fork at him.

Grandpa chuckled. It was obvious he liked riling Bernice up. “If she gets into town right quick, she can come to the picnic. And that means another lady friend for you, oh granddaughter of mine.”

Bernice smiled and rolled her eyes. “That’s all well and good, Grandpa. But you can’t keep referring to the girl’s aunt as a gossiping busybody harpy.”

“Regardless of the truth of it,” Billie added before she could stop herself.

“Billie!” Bernice objected. “See, Grandpa? You’re a bad influence on her.”

He shrugged and poked one of the pies. “Ouch! Still too hot.”

“Serves you right – I said they were for tomorrow,” Bernice said. “Now get out of my kitchen. Find Warren and see if he needs help with anything.” She shooed him toward the back door.

“Oh, all right,” Grandpa headed for it. “I think he’s in the barn.”

“He was last I saw him,” Bernice said. “Now get.”

Billie giggled as the old man left the house, cackling all the way. “He’s quite the character.”

“Is he ever,” Bernice agreed. She cocked her head. “Have you heard anything about Mrs. Ferguson having a niece come to visit?”

“Until now I didn’t know she had a niece. I wonder how old she is.”

“I should have asked Grandpa. I will at supper.” Bernice glanced around the kitchen. “I think we’re done for now.”

Billie smiled. “I’ll put on the kettle for tea.”

Lucien stared at Billie across the table, as he’d been doing throughout supper. She wondered if she would ever stop blushing.

Tomorrow was the picnic. She was excited about that, but not as excited as she was about the drive home tonight. A week ago she’d fought with herself over whether Lucien had any real feelings toward her. How could he, given what she was? But as the truth emerged, so did her heart. In a couple of days they would be husband and wife. She could really let her heart soar then.

“Lucien, would you like more pot roast?” Bernice asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He reached for the serving fork. “So things are ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as they’re going to be,” Warren said. “I’m sure you passed a few folks on your drive out.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Folks were bringing chairs, tables, that sort of thing. Grandpa and I will get them set up tomorrow morning.”

“Would you like some help?” He looked at Billie. “I don’t mind coming out early if you don’t.”

“I don’t,” she said. “Whatever is needed.”

“We could use the extra hands,” Warren said. “Thank you, Lucien, Billie.” He took another bite of his supper.

Billie did the same. Bernice’s pot roast was very good, better than she could make. “Don’t forget to write down the recipe for me,” she reminded her.

“I will, right after dessert.”

Lucien’s head came up. “Dessert?”

Billie smiled at the excitement in his eyes. The man did love his food. “We made sugar cookies.”

“No pie?” Grandpa whined.

Bernice rolled her eyes “Grandpa …”

“I didn’t touch them!” He held his hands up for emphasis. “I’m innocent!”

“He threaten to stuff himself with pies in the barn again?” Warren asked, and eyed his grandfather.

“Yes,” Bernice said. “And asked Billie along to help.”

Billie giggled. After she and Lucien were married, she planned on spending more time with her new friends. The other women in town were nice to have tea with and chat about this and that, but Bernice was teaching her practical domestic skills – cooking, sewing, mending. Especially cooking – it wouldn’t do to have her husband famished.

“How does the dress look?” Lucien asked.

There went the blushing again. Was this going to happen every time he spoke? She felt like a silly schoolgirl. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

He smiled over his mashed potatoes. “What if I can’t wait?”

“You do realize,” Warren cut in, “that we’ll have to stop the picnic cleanup and come to town for your wedding?” He sliced into his pot roast. “The things I do for friends.” Everyone laughed.

“I’ll come too,” Grandpa said. “This young pup’s bound to forget the cleanup and go straight to the weddin’.”

“Stop it, you two,” Bernice said. “Everyone will pitch in after the picnic. There won’t be anything to do the day after except attend the wedding.” She nodded curtly to end the conversation.

Billie laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Bernice asked.

“You. You could captain a ship.”

“Captain Bernice?” Warren said. “Heaven help us all.”

“A pirate captain, maybe,” Grandpa muttered, then straightened in his chair. “Oh wait – that’d be your ma. Since the woman don’t share pies with anyone, she’d never share her buried treasure.”

Laughter filled the table as Billie took another bite of pot roast. Her life had changed dramatically over the last week, and all because she now saw the truth. Beauty really was in the eye of the beholder. Each time she looked into Lucien’s eyes, she saw the truth more and more, and she liked what she saw.

A good thing, too. She still wasn’t fond of what stared back at her in a mirror. But so long as Lucien was, she could be happy. In time, maybe she’d like what she saw, especially her face. Her poor face … would her scars fade over time, or just start hiding behind wrinkles? She didn’t know. She only knew that to make their marriage work, she would have to learn to look in the mirror and like what looked back. How could Lucien love someone who didn’t love herself?

That was the conclusion she’d come to, but it was easier said than done. She still had conflicting emotions, still woke up in the middle of the night sometimes wondering who she was. Lucien’s attentions were so foreign, so out of place. But they were real.

Two more days, Billie, and you’ll be married. Let your love grow naturally. Stop being afraid – you’re already in love …

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered.

“What?” Bernice asked.

Billie met Lucien’s gaze. Good heavens! I am in love!

“Billie?” he said with concern. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Billie swallowed hard and smiled. “No, not at all.”

The day of the picnic dawned clear and bright. The morning air was crisp and Billie wondered if she shouldn’t run back upstairs and fetch her shawl.

“You’re up early,” Mrs. Ferguson said as she took up her post behind the hotel’s front counter.

“I’m waiting for Lucien. We’re going to help the Johnsons set up for the picnic.”

“Yes, the picnic. I’d help, but I have to wait for my niece. She’s coming in on the morning stage.”

Billie smiled. “Is she staying long?”

“Depends on whose head she turns,” Mrs. Ferguson said with a smile of her own. She pulled out a pen and ink and opened the register. “She’ll be helping me here in the hotel. Even after she marries, she can still help. I plan to teach her everything I know, so she and her husband can take the place over.”

“A sound plan. I’m sure your niece will be very happy here.”

Mrs. Ferguson arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Billie’s brow furrowed. “Of course.”

Mrs. Ferguson smiled again and went back to writing.

Billie watched her a moment, suddenly worried. Did the woman still plan to spread gossip about her? But almost everyone in town knew her story by now. What would it matter?

Lucien walked into the hotel, eyes bright. “There’s my future bride. Ready?”

Billie smiled. Mrs. Ferguson, she noticed, didn’t. “Is it very cold?”

“Hmmm, yes. Give me your key and I’ll fetch your shawl for you.”

“Thank you, but I …”

“I don’t mind.” He held out his hand.

Billie smiled, pulled her key from her reticule and handed it to him. He bounded up the stairs as she giggled in response.

“My my, someone’s in a hurry,” Mrs. Ferguson commented.

“Yes,” Billie said, still watching the staircase.

“In a hurry to get through the day, no doubt.”

Billie looked at her. “Perhaps,” she said. After all, tomorrow was their wedding day. She wouldn’t mind if the day hurried along.

“People sometimes do when they’re faced with something they dread.”

Billie’s stomach tightened. “I beg your pardon?”

Mrs. Ferguson shrugged. “When I’m faced with something unpleasant, I want to get it over and done with, don’t you?”

Billie faced her. “What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Ferguson glanced at the staircase. “Come now, my dear. Really.”

Billie opened her mouth to comment when Lucien hurried down the stairs, shawl in hand. “Here you are.” He wrapped it around her shoulders. “Shall we be off?”

Billie continued to glare at the proprietress, who busied herself with the register once more. “Yes, let’s.”

They left, went to the buggy and Lucien helped her up. Billie fought the seeds of doubt that Mrs. Ferguson had tried to drop into her heart. She’d obviously been talking about their wedding, and how dare she? Who would say such a thing?

“You all right?” Lucien asked as he sat beside her.

“Yes,” she said, dredging up a smile. “Mrs. Ferguson was just being … herself. Let’s go.”

He smiled, slapped the lines and they were off.

Billie glanced over her shoulder at the hotel, still pondering Mrs. Ferguson’s words. Grandpa was right – the woman really was a gossiping old harpy. But Nellie Davis had been too, and to some extent Charlotte. The latter had clearly reformed, and the former was working on it. Maybe a long visit from her niece was just what the woman needed.