The Wedding Cake War. Lynna Banning
and marry, have a family, a home of her own. Now, as she approached her thirtieth year of virginity, she’d given up on the fall-in-love part. She just wanted to get married and have a family, like other women.
But a competition?
“What kind of competition?” She tried to use her Kansas Quaking voice, to no avail.
The lace ruffles at Minnie’s neck shuddered with excitement. “Oh, dearie, I’m so glad you inquired. Our competition—”
“Let me tell it,” Dora Mae interrupted. “First, the candidates will—”
“I thought up that part,” the third woman chirped. “Let me tell it!”
“Candidates?” Lolly whispered. Candidates?
“Of course,” Dora Mae exclaimed. “What is a competition without competitors? Ruth, you didn’t make that part at all clear.”
Ruth Underwood’s round, pleasant face fell. “Oh, of course, the competitors.” She tipped her head toward the two young women seated against the wall. “Miss LeClair just arrived yesterday. And—”
Dora Mae raised an admonishing hand and took over. “And our own hometown candidate is Miss Gundersen. She’s the schoolteacher, so we thought…”
Minnie’s hands took flight. “We selected our schoolteacher to represent all the other women in Maple Falls, the ones who—”
“Who have been pursuing our prize bachelor, Colonel Macready, for years. The ladies of the Helpful Society thought it best to avoid infighting among our native population.”
Lolly needed to sit down. Her head spun, and her undergarments were beginning to feel squishy against her hot skin. Worst of all, she wanted to laugh. Papa always said if something funny went by, notice it. Well, now she was noticing it like crazy. This whole idea was ludicrous.
She had been duped. She’d sold the newspaper office and vacated her room at the boardinghouse in Baxter Springs and come out to Oregon to…to…well, not to marry, as it turned out. To compete for the groom!
It was too much. Simply beyond the pale.
At that moment a disturbing idea flitted into her consciousness. “What is wrong with Colonel Macready?”
Three pairs of eyes widened in consternation. Dora Mae’s pencil catapulted out of her fingers and clicked onto the floor. “Wrong?”
“Oh, dearie, you can’t be serious?” Minnie fanned her face with her fingers.
“That man is God’s gift to the feminine gender,” Ruth added. “Why, even my old heart quakes something terrible when he as much as walks by, and I’ve been—”
“Married for thirty-four years,” Minnie finished for her.
“Thirty-five years, Min. Makes no difference. That man is a man.”
“I see,” Lolly said. “And we, the three of us—” she glanced at the two young women now perched at the edge of their chairs “—are supposed to…”
She couldn’t say it. Something inside her rebelled at the thought of having to compete for a husband. By all rights, in a civilized world, it should be the other way around. He should fight for her. After all, Cinderella did not chase after the prince, did she?
On the other hand, Cinderella wasn’t counting the days until her thirtieth birthday. A lump of hot coal plopped into her chest.
Lolly’s gaze traveled over the trio of Helpful Ladies to rest briefly on Hank Morehouse, slumped in decided disinterest over her satchel, his eyes shut. She forced her attention to the other two candidates.
Both young. Twenty at the most. One, dressed in a stylishly cut emerald-green silk with matching shoes and a fringed parasol, looked the perfect Southern lady. Miss LeClair, no doubt. Even in the wilting heat, not one hair straggled from her crown of golden ringlets.
The other woman, seated next to Miss LeClair, looked even younger in a pretty blue-checked gingham with pearl buttons all the way to the hem. Her soulful brown eyes were set in a rather plain-featured face.
Lolly knew exactly what had driven herself to this step. What, she wondered, was wrong with them?
Perhaps, a voice whispered, they are as desperate as you are.
She eyed the younger women again. Both held her gaze for a brief moment, and in that instant Lolly recognized something. Whatever their reasons, whatever their differences, they were all sisters under the skin. They all wanted to get married.
“It’s for the school, dearie. You do see that, don’t you?” Minnie’s sugary voice floated to her over the buzzing in her ears.
“For the children,” Dora Mae added. “Twenty-seven students will attend the Maple Falls school come the fall term. They simply must have a new—”
“All right, all right,” Lolly murmured. “A schoolhouse is a fine thing in a community.”
Dora Mae thrust the pencil at her. “Just sign right here, Miss Mayfield.”
“And then,” sang Minnie, her hands stroking the air, “you can meet the other brides.”
Chapter Two
Dora Mae smoothed the creases in her royal-blue skirt, captured Lolly’s hand and tugged her across the floor. “May I introduce Miss Fleurette LeClair, from New Orleans. Miss Leora Mayfield.”
The green-silk-clad woman tipped her head. Her face wasn’t the least bit welcoming. It wasn’t even friendly. Her green eyes shot ice chips up and down Lolly’s plain black travel ensemble. Lolly tried to smile.
The perfect lips opened. “Wheah you from?”
“Um…well, I’m from Baxter Springs, Kansas. I used to run a news—”
“Oh,” Miss LeClair sniffed. “That explains it.”
Lolly’s mouth opened of its own accord. “Explains what?”
“All that black,” Fleurette drawled. “And, my heavens, yoah shoes.”
“What’s wrong with my shoes? They’re brand-new. I ordered them from Bloom—”
“It’s summertime, honey. Or have you not noticed?”
“And this,” Minnie interrupted with a flutter in her voice, “is Miss Careen Gundersen. Most everyone calls her Carrie, and she was born and raised right here in Maple Falls.”
Carrie extended her hand and enfolded Lolly’s in a firm grasp. “I don’t in the least object to black in the summer,” she murmured. “It’s quite elegant.”
Lolly smiled at her, then turned her gaze to include Miss LeClair. “I am pleased to meet you both, even under these rather odd circumstances.”
Her remark met with a prolonged silence.
“I mean, it is a bit odd, don’t you think? All three of us competing for the same—”
“Decidedly,” Miss LeClair acknowledged with a little nod that made her ringlets bounce.
“Perhaps just a bit,” Carrie allowed. “But you haven’t met Colonel Macready yet. He—” she drew the word out on a long sigh “—makes it all worthwhile.”
“Really,” murmured Miss LeClair.
Carrie beamed. “I’ve been calculating the odds. I’m quite good at mathematics, being a school-teach…”
Her voice trailed off as Miss LeClair pivoted and headed for the doorway, unfurling her parasol on the way.
“I am not interested in mathematical odds,” she said over her shoulder. “It is a lady’s breedin’ and accomplishments that will tip the scale.”
Her