it. No one had regretted the break with Jolie more than Marcus had, but since the family had been mended, he’d have the joy of officiating at his sister’s wedding ceremony. Wanting to look his very best on this momentous occasion, he had gone to the barber shop that morning for a professional shave and cut.
“Just think,” he’d said as he kissed Connie’s cheek before walking out of the door of the house they shared, “one day I’ll be doing this for you, too.”
Connie doubted that very much. Marcus, bless him, was so good that he couldn’t understand that most men would hold her past against her, at least the sort of man that she would even remotely consider as a father for her son. Jolie, on the other hand, deserved a kind, caring, upright man like Vince. Connie had cheated herself of that privilege, but she couldn’t be too maudlin about her situation; if she hadn’t made certain mistakes, she wouldn’t have Russell.
Thoughts of her eighteen-month-old son woke a quiet yearning for the sight of his sweet little face, and Connie glanced at her wrist to check the time. If she hurried, she ought to be able to give Russell his dinner in the kitchen at the parsonage before she had to start getting ready for the wedding.
As if she could read her thoughts, Sharon announced, “I think we’re finished here.”
“Better be,” Olivia said, gathering up her decorating supplies. “Mom’s hair appointment is in thirty minutes.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Helen gasped. “We’d better swing by the fellowship hall and pry her out of there ASAP.”
“I don’t know what she’s been doing over there all this time anyway,” Donna said. “All she had left to do was arrange a few relish trays.”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “That’s like saying all Genghis Khan had to do after he conquered Asia was ride a horse across it. She’ll have rearranged the serving tables and had the baker redecorate the cake by now.”
“She’d better not,” Olivia declared, heading for the door.
Olivia had spent hours that morning arranging those serving tables just the way she wanted them, but Connie wasn’t fooled into thinking that anything but the most best-natured arguments would ensue. The Cutler clan loved and treasured one another. They teased mercilessly, but since Jolie and Vince had gotten engaged at Christmas, Connie had not witnessed a negative expression stronger than a grimace from any member of the Cutler family. Nevertheless, Olivia made a hasty retreat in the direction of the church’s fellowship hall.
The other sisters followed her in rapid succession, waving at Connie and saying that they’d see her in a little while. Connie smiled, genuinely admiring the Cutler sisters, each in her own way. As the last one hurried off, Connie took a final measure of the chapel.
The white of the antiqued walls had aged to a soft butter-yellow, which complemented the gold carpet and pale, natural woods in the room. Tall, narrow stained glass windows glowed vibrantly in the afternoon sunlight, while brass gleamed overhead.
The altar had been draped in an ivory satin cloth and topped with a basket of bloodred roses and a gold cross. The canopy of ivory ribbon and greenery elegantly draped the brass kneeler before it.
A tall, heavy glass pedestal decorated with twining ivy stood to one side, holding an ornately carved unity candle. The Cutler sisters had crafted unique bouquets of greenery with lengths of red satin cloth gathered into soft, billowy clumps, which now adorned the ends of the pews. Connie found them especially appropriate for Jolie, who, though very pretty, was not, as Olivia put it, the “girly” type.
The final touch was an artful scattering of almost two hundred tiny votive candles in simple, clear glass containers, which Vince’s older nephews would light at the beginning of the ceremony.
The attendants’ dresses were a shade of pale yellow trimmed with green ribbon, which, oddly enough, brought the whole scheme together perfectly. When Jolie had first chosen that particular shade, all of the sisters had protested, but it hadn’t taken long for everyone to realize that Jolie had not only her own distinctive style but also a gift for putting colors together.
It truly was going to be a beautiful wedding.
Smiling, Connie went to pick up her son at the church’s day care, situated on the back corner of the grounds.
Rather than erect a shiny new building, the congregation had opted to purchase houses surrounding the historic old church, link them with covered walkways and renovate them for administration, education, fellowship hall and day care spaces. In doing so, they had created a quaint campus reminiscent of a gingerbread village with the chapel at its center. The result felt more like a community than a church, and Connie would be forever grateful for the haven she’d found here.
Snagging her tan wool coat from a peg in the foyer, Connie shrugged it on over her straight-legged, brown knit slacks and matching turtleneck sweater. She felt that the monochrome color scheme made her look taller that her mere five-foot-three frame and balanced her top-heavy figure.
In actuality, her neat, curvy shape was well proportioned to her height, giving her ultrafeminine appeal that her taller, leggier older sister had often envied. Connie, however, remained unaware of this fact, just as she remained unaware that her wispy, golden-blond, chin-length hairstyle often garnered more appreciative glances than her sister’s long fall of straight, thick, golden-brown hair.
The one trait that the two sisters shared, other than their jade-green eyes, was a simplicity of style. In Connie, that translated into an almost-elfin elegance that made her seem vulnerable and quintessentially female, as opposed to Jolie’s earthy, Amazonian womanhood.
Unfortunately, like many women, Connie tended to concentrate on her shortcomings. When she gazed into the mirror, she saw not a pert nose but a childish one, not a classically oval face but a too-sharp chin and wide cheeks, not a full, luscious mouth but a mundane one, not arresting, gold-fringed eyes like jade glass but odd-color eyes and lashes that were too pale.
As she tugged open the door and stepped onto the covered walkway, a cold gust hit her with the force of an icy slap. The wind had a wet, chilly feel to it, but the sky remained blue and clear overhead.
February usually yielded an ice storm that would paralyze north central Texas for at least a day or two, but so far so good. It could ice up tomorrow, she thought, right after Jolie and Vince head off to a beach in Mexico for a honeymoon.
She was thinking how lovely that beach was going to be as she walked up the ramp to the day care center and pulled open the door.
A late-model, domestic luxury car was parked beneath the drive-through cover, but Connie thought nothing of it. Parents came and went all day long, and from the sound of wails in the distance, some little one had either fallen ill or gotten injured. Of course, if it had been serious, an ambulance would have beaten the parent here.
Connie smiled at Millie, a spare, quiet, attentive woman whom everyone referred to as “The Gatekeeper,” and jotted her name down on the pickup sheet beneath that of Kendal Oakes.
Ah, that explained a great deal, she thought.
Mr. Oakes was a new member of the church, having just recently moved to the community, although he did not reside in Pantego itself. Sandwiched between Arlington and Fort Worth, Pantego, along with Dalworthington Gardens, was regarded as a small bedroom community. Landlocked by its larger neighbors, it had little opportunity for growth. As a consequence, many of the church’s members came from outside the
