sucked in a breath, but she couldn’t really argue. She’d told lies. She’d kept secrets. Nick Jameson was wrong about her sister, but right about her. She couldn’t be trusted, despite how careful she’d been the past eight years to always do the right thing. She couldn’t trust herself not to do something foolish again. Like fall for a man who didn’t believe in love…
FAIRY LIGHTS IN RED and white cast a romantic pink glow, disguising the worn linoleum and painted paneling of the American Legion Hall, which everyone in Cloverville used for their wedding receptions. The biggest facility in town, the hall also hosted anniversary parties, graduation open houses and funeral luncheons.
Funereal described the mood of the wedding party, or at least Colleen’s mood as she stood before the gift table. Her eyes misted and all the vivid colors of the wrapping paper swirled into a kaleidoscope. Molly had asked for time alone to sort things out. But selfishly Colleen wanted to see her sister, to talk to her, so that she could sort things out, too. Like her feelings for a certain blond doctor. His noticing her, finally, had intensified those emotions, so that they couldn’t be dismissed like a harmless crush anymore. And as Colleen had learned in high school, there really wasn’t anything harmless about a crush.
An arm slid around Colleen’s waist and she received a gentle hug. She turned toward her mother. “We should have canceled the reception,” she told Mary McClintock.
Yet Colleen understood her mother’s reasoning in insisting they not cancel. Cloverville’s only caterer, Mrs. George, who was the sole provider for her family, had been cooking for days. She’d had help from Brenna’s parents, the Kellys, too. Regret filled Colleen at the thought of all their hard work going to waste. In addition, her mother had pointed out, the whole town had been looking forward to a party.
“And let all that food go to waste?” Her mother tsked, then shook her head, tumbling soft brown curls around her face.
“Your brother would have a fit, since he paid for it.”
Colleen’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “He’s probably having a fit about paying for it now.” Since their mother, the minute everyone had arrived at the hall, had turned the reception into a welcome home party for Abby Hamilton, the girl Clayton had always considered a bad influence on his sisters. Her smile slid away as guilt took hold. If he only knew that the real troublemaker had been his little sister.
Mom’s arm wound tighter around her waist. Did her mother know? Over the years Colleen sometimes had suspected that she did.
“Ah, it’s good for your brother when everything doesn’t go exactly according to his plan.” Once he’d realized there would be repercussions if he canceled the reception, he’d planned to turn it into an open house for the town. But his mother had had other plans. “Abby would be good for your brother.”
A smile pulled at Colleen’s lips. “Subtle, Mom.”
“You disagree?”
Colleen shook her head. “No.” Her older brother had always fascinated and infuriated Abby Hamilton and the reverse was equally true. “But throwing a welcome-home party for Abby doesn’t guarantee she’s actually going to move home.”
She sighed, thinking of the night before and their impromptu slumber party/bachelorette party, during which she’d tried to convince Abby to come home for good. Abby was looking for a location for the next franchise of her employment agency, Temps to Go. Colleen’s argument that Cloverville, which was growing rapidly, would be the perfect location had fallen on deaf ears. “In fact, she’s pretty set against moving back.”
Mary McClintock’s smile didn’t slip, and her dark eyes twinkled. “Then we’ll have to change her mind, won’t we?”
“Okay.” Colleen had learned long ago that it was easier to agree than argue with her mother. “I’m not going to play matchmaker with you, though.” Probably Abby and Clayton were both too stubborn to ever admit to the attraction that had always simmered between them. “But I want Abby and Lara to move back to Cloverville.”
And not just so Colleen wouldn’t continue to feel so guilty over her leaving. She’d missed her friend. E-mails, phone calls and letters weren’t adequate to fully convey the force of nature that was Abby Hamilton in person. Poor Clayton…
“I want Molly to come home, too,” Colleen admitted. “I’m worried about her.”
“Who says your sister isn’t home?”
“I called the house,” Colleen admitted. “No one answered. Do you think she just went home?”
Her mother shook her head. “She’s not at our house.”
“You know where she is?”
“I think we all know where she is.”
With Eric. He had always been the friend to whom Molly had turned for comfort and support. Maybe she’d backed out of her wedding just because he hadn’t been there.
“She’s okay,” her mother assured Colleen. “She just needs time, like she said in her note.”
Colleen narrowed her eyes and studied her mother’s carefully blank expression. “You talked to her,” she accused. Colleen, as well as Abby and Brenna, had tried Molly’s cell, but it had been turned off. They’d even tried Eric’s, but he’d claimed Molly wasn’t with him. But then, no one had ever been able to lie to Mary McClintock except Colleen.
“Look at all these gifts,” her mother said, suddenly changing the subject, as she gestured at the crowded table. In addition to the gifts, cards overflowed from a wishing well that Colleen had constructed out of cardboard and wrapping paper.
“We’ll have to send everything back.”
“I’ll have Clayton make an announcement for people to pick up their presents before they leave.” Her mother sighed.
“Or maybe I should do that. He has enough responsibility.”
“Clayton thrives on responsibility.” While he might grumble about paying for the reception, he would not allow anyone else to assume the duty he considered, like so many others, to be his. Dr. Towers had already said that he would pay for the reception, but Clayton had insisted.
Mary McClintock shook her head. “He needs more in life. He needs a wife. Children.”
Colleen snorted, well aware of the fact that her brother shared Dr. Jameson’s views on marriage. He had no intention of ever having a wedding of his own.
Her derision didn’t faze her mom, however, who continued, “The same things you need.”
“A wife?” she teased, used to dealing with her mother’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking. Mary McClintock refused to accept that Colleen wasn’t ready for marriage—not now, and maybe not ever.
Mom squeezed her waist. “A husband.”
An image of Dr. Nick Jameson, standing at the altar, flashed into her mind, and Colleen’s pulse quickened. “I’m only twenty-three.”
Her mother smiled wistfully. “I was barely twenty when I married your father.”
And
