Her Necessary Husband. Sharon Swan
Again, she might have added. At the moment she was torn between a knee-length, cream-colored dress she could wear on other occasions and a floor-length model made of rosy silk that wouldn’t be as practical in the long run. She’d already tried on both at one of Harmony’s downtown boutiques. Neither was expensive enough to give her much pause, but she hadn’t been able to make a final choice.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, “I’ll show up wearing something appropriate. If I didn’t, my father, who can be a stickler for the proprieties when he wants to, would refuse to walk me down the aisle.”
“Then I take it you’ll be decked out in more than a paper bag.”
That had Jenna laughing out loud. Thankfully, while he could still rattle her with a casual touch, and far too easily as far as her nerves were concerned, he also had a sense of humor she had no trouble enjoying. “My father will insist on it,” she assured him with mock gravity.
It won her another low chuckle. “He sounds like a sensible man. I’m looking forward to meeting your family.”
She could have responded in kind—but didn’t. The truth was, she could have done without meeting a whole group of Ross’s relatives at the same time, especially when many of them had to be wondering about the hasty marriage.
“I’m sure the Lorenzos can’t wait to meet you,” she said instead.
If he noticed the lack of any mention of his own family, Ross made no comment, and the conversation ended seconds later.
Before Jenna could resume her seat at the table, however, the front doorbell rang. She smoothed a hand down the front of the oversize teal sweatshirt she wore with matching cotton pants and went to answer, walking with characteristic purpose. She didn’t amble often, certainly not when there was work to be done, and she still had those invitations to finish.
Opening the door, she found someone standing there who looked much the same at eighty as she had back when Jenna had been a member of her first-grade class. Hester Goodbody’s silver hair might be even more wispy now, but nothing had dimmed the good-natured intelligence gleaming in a pair of memorable blue eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses.
“Hello, Jenna,” the older woman said with a soft smile.
Jenna had to smile herself as she took a step back. “It’s great to see you, Miss Hester. Please come in.”
As she shut the door behind them, Jenna noticed for the first time that her visitor had a long cloth garment bag draped over one slender arm clad in a skillfully crocheted sweater.
“I won’t be staying long,” Miss Hester said. “I know you must have many things still to do for the wedding.”
Jenna led the way into a small living room that didn’t seem to get much use in the O’Brien household. “Please sit down.”
Accepting the invitation, Hester Goodbody sat on the beige brocade sofa and placed the garment bag beside her. “You’ve grown into a fine-looking young woman,” she said as Jenna sank into a nearby chair.
Fine-looking—not beautiful. Jenna didn’t miss the distinction. Trust Miss Hester to come down on the side of simple truth.
“I hope I look half as wonderful as you do years from now,” she replied with total honesty.
The veteran teacher studied her for a second. “You will. You have excellent bone structure, and nothing withstands the test of time as well as good bones.” She paused. “I assume that good behavior has also won out with you.”
Jenna rolled her eyes, well up to speed on the reason for that comment. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve learned to be a lady, although I imagine you doubted you’d ever see the day.”
“You certainly could be a scamp, but a likeable one with so much zest for life.” The small features of the older woman’s face settled into more serious lines as she continued. “Which is why I’m delighted that you’re marrying Ross. I’ll think you’ll be good for him.”
Good for him? Although far from certain on that point, Jenna was positive of one thing. “I intend to be the best wife I can,” she said with determination.
“I’m glad to hear it.” A thoughtful frown creased Miss Hester’s finely lined brow. “Ross seldom misbehaved in school, you know. It might be that he felt he had the Hayward name to uphold, and if that was the case, I suspect it was more of a burden than most people realized.”
“I suppose you could be right,” Jenna conceded after a moment’s consideration. Not many would easily note a downside to being a member of a well-respected family, but the sharp-eyed teacher who probably saw more than most just might have a point.
“Anyway,” Miss Hester said, “I, for one, am pleased with the coming marriage, although from what I understand you’re having a little trouble deciding what to wear for the occasion.”
Jenna didn’t ask how that understanding had come about. News traveled fast in small cities. She remembered that well from her earlier days in Harmony. Given Hester Goodbody’s long-standing residency, this woman probably had more friends—and thereby sources of information—than anyone in town.
“I’ve narrowed it down to two choices,” Jenna told her. “I plan to take another look tomorrow and make up my mind.”
Miss Hester sat forward. “I have a third alternative.” She patted the garment bag with one thin hand. “I’m hoping you’ll give it some consideration.”
And that was how Jenna found herself viewing a wedding gown made of delicate ivory lace moments later. Long-sleeved and high-necked, it was snugly fitted through the bodice, with a narrow skirt that fell straight from the waist. A floor-length satin slip in the same ivory shade peaked through the lacy fabric and provided a subtle hint of sheen.
“It was my sister’s,” Miss Hester explained. “She was taller than I am—about your height, in fact. And it’s close to the same size as those dresses you tried on.”
Jenna arched a brow, unable to resist the urge to tease. “Which you just happened to hear about?”
“No, which I made it my business to hear about,” Miss Hester cheerfully confessed. “My sister wore this dress when she married Ross’s grandfather, but both her daughter and her son’s bride, Ross’s mother, chose not to wear it for their own weddings. So she added it to some other belongings she left me when she passed away.”
And what about another bride?
Jenna’s silent question was answered in the next breath. “Ross’s late wife also preferred to go with a newer style,” Miss Hester said, “which may have been a prudent decision on her part. This gown would have had to be altered extensively, given that Cynthia was taller than average and very slim. And I must say that she was a vision in pure white during the summer ceremony held on the outdoor terrace of the Founders Club. With your creamier skin tones, however, I believe ivory would better suit you,” she told Jenna, and demonstrated the truth of that by holding a lacy sleeve up to her former pupil’s hand.
“Yes, the color probably would be better for me.” Jenna couldn’t deny what seemed so evident as the delicate fabric brushed across her fingers. But how could she explain that the chance to wear what could be considered a Hayward family heirloom was something she’d never expected to be offered? And maybe never would have been offered, she thought, if Miss Hester knew the circumstances behind the upcoming marriage.
“I wasn’t,” Jenna said as diplomatically as possible, “planning on wearing a traditional wedding gown.”
“Nevertheless, it is lovely, isn’t it?” the other woman wasted no time in asking.
“Yes.” Jenna could hardly contend otherwise. The gown was indeed lovely, and somehow the fact that it was from another era only added to its gracious beauty.
Miss Hester straightened to her full height, which wasn’t very high. “I would consider