Ready to Wed

Chapter One

G
ood grief, Jane!” Ethel Buckley exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “You are covered in dirt.”

Jane Howard peeled a sodden garden glove from one hand, then pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes and sighed. “I’ve been mulching some fertilizer into the flower beds.” Jane peered up at the leaden gray sky. “Not that it’s going to do much good if our weather doesn’t cooperate a little.”

“It’s been a strange spring indeed,” said Ethel, who was Jane’s aunt and neighbor.

“It’s hard to believe it’s mid-May. It feels more like March to me.”

“Yes, my joints have been aching. I hope it’s not arthritis.” Ethel’s tinted eyebrows arched, then she pointed a finger toward her niece’s feet. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Jane looked down at her bright orange rubber shoes. “Crocs. They’re very popular.”

“Well, I can’t believe anyone would pay good money
for those silly looking things.” She shook her head with firm disapproval. “They remind me of duck feet.”

Jane held out a foot, pointing a toe upward. “I happen to like them.”

“Tsk-tsk.
It’s bad enough you wear those overalls, but why do you want to walk around in duck feet?”

Jane shrugged. “They’re comfortable, Auntie.”

“You are a strange girl, Jane Howard.”

Jane had to control herself to keep from rolling her eyes. “I’m not exactly a
girl
, Auntie.”

“You may be fifty years old, but I still think of you as a girl. And you’re so pretty, Jane, such an attractive young woman … and to be out in public looking like …” She held up her hands as if this was a hopeless case. “Like
this.”

“Working in the garden isn’t exactly like being in public.” Jane studied Ethel for a moment, taking in her styled and sprayed Titian Dreams red hair, her carefully rouged cheeks and tinted lips, her neatly pressed burgundy wool jacket and knee-length tweed skirt, her faux alligator shoes and matching bag. It wasn’t a look that Jane would choose for herself, but it suited her seventy-something aunt. And her aunt was right. Jane hadn’t taken much care in her own appearance this morning. She had simply pulled her long, dark hair back in a ponytail and put on her gardening clothes. But one didn’t usually dress up to spread fertilizer.

Ethel gave her hair a pat. “I would think you’d want to play up your looks more, Jane.” She actually giggled in a coquettish way. “Goodness knows none of us is getting any younger, dear … and you just never know when Mr. Right might come ambling along. You might want to consider putting your best foot forward.”

Jane stuck out a big orange Croc. “Here it is, Auntie.”

“Just my point.”

Jane forced a smile for her aunt’s sake, then nodded toward the sky. “Those clouds are getting darker. Looks like the weatherman is going to be right about rain again today.”

Ethel stood straighter, adjusted her purse and glanced upward. “Yes. And if I’m going to make it to town before it starts pouring, I’d better be on my way.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

Ethel frowned at her. “I do hope you plan on cleaning yourself up. I’d hate to imagine what your guests might think if they saw the inn’s cook going around looking like a farmhand and walking like a duck.”

“We won’t be having any guests for … let’s see, this is Wednesday … for a couple of days,” said Jane. “Not until Friday.”

“More cancellations?”

Jane nodded. She and her two older sisters, Louise Howard Smith and Alice Howard, owned and operated
Grace Chapel Inn, which they had opened in their family home. The truth was Jane felt somewhat relieved for this lull at the bed-and-breakfast. Of course, at the same time, for her sisters’ sakes, she wished they were booked right now. Normally, this was a busy time of year.

“Poor Louise was beside herself when another couple called to cancel last night and the Chandlers went home two days early. It’s just not very pleasant to take a vacation with the kind of weather we’ve been having lately. Everyone seems intent on finding signs of springtime elsewhere.”

“Well, signs certainly haven’t made an appearance here in Acorn Hill.” Ethel waved, finally continuing on her way down the sidewalk. “I’m off to town. See you later.”

“You sure you want to go?” Jane called after her. “We might be having a deluge by the time you’re ready to walk back.”

“Don’t worry,” she called cheerfully. “Lloyd will bring me home.”

Jane tugged on her damp garden glove. Maybe her aunt really didn’t mind getting stranded in town if the skies opened up again, and of course, rain would be a good excuse for Ethel to coerce her good friend Mayor Lloyd Tynan to drive her home, but Jane wanted to get her pansies potted before the next downpour. She hurried back to the garden area, where two flats of multicolored flowers
were waiting. Fortunately, pansies were hardy in this kind of unpredictable weather. It was the heat that could be their undoing.

Jane picked up one of the heavy clay pots that she’d removed from the front of the inn earlier this morning and placed it on her potting table. After all these months of winterlike weather, she’d grown weary of ornamental cabbages. They were a welcome touch of color back in November when she’d first set them out, but it was mid-May and she was ready for something more cheerful. Yet she’d been hesitant to plant anything else while it was still freezing at night. Just this week, the weatherman had said that this was the coldest May Pennsylvania had experienced in decades. It had snowed on Mother’s Day and hailed just a few days ago. Farmers throughout their area were complaining that these unusual freezing temperatures were damaging crops. She glanced around her garden. Even with its freshly prepared soil, it still looked forlorn. In a way she felt she had acted in faith by applying the fertilizer this morning.

She emptied the partially frozen soil from the clay pot onto her compost pile, then refilled it with some fresh potting mix, along with a scoop of the mulch, working the dirt until all was evenly distributed. It was not unlike combining the dry ingredients for a cake. Then she set the flat of
pansies that she’d gotten from Craig Tracy’s nursery a few weeks ago next to the pot. Craig, who also owned the town’s floral shop, Wild Things, had assured her these hardy plants were probably safe to be outside. But Jane, worried about the unpredictable weather, had kept them in her potting shed. Still, she could see that they shared her longing for sunshine. One by one, she began tucking the pansies into the pot. Such pretty colors: purples, yellows, russets and blues. Pansies really did know how to put on happy faces despite the chill in the air.

Jane thought she might learn a thing or two from these little blooms. She, too, could put on a sunny face. She didn’t need to let her aunt’s criticism about her appearance get to her. But the fact of the matter was Jane
had
been feeling dowdy lately. She wasn’t sure if it was the result of this gloomy weather, or just a general weariness, or maybe it was something more. But she definitely had not felt like herself these past few weeks. Even Alice had mentioned it yesterday. Then to be chastised by her elderly aunt about her appearance … well, it had stung more than usual. And even that little bit about “Mr. Right ambling along” irritated Jane. Her singleness had rarely bothered her since her marriage fell apart a few years ago, but lately she’d been pestered by thoughts that being unmarried might be a permanent condition.