Wisconsin Wedding (Welcome To Tyler, No. 3) (21 page)

Nora felt a warm breeze against her cheek. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

“We haven’t…there’s so much we don’t know about each other, about our pasts.”

“Well, we have to have stories to tell each other on cold Wisconsin nights. We know the important things, Nora. We know we love each other and that that’s not going to change.”

But she was staring at him, making sure. “Then you don’t need to live in Rhode Island?”

“I haven’t made that clear by now? No, I do not need to live in Rhode Island. It’ll always be home. I’m sure I’ll whisk you off periodically to Nantucket and visits to Benefit Street, but I’m already feeling as if Tyler’s my home. I’ve followed in a lot of people’s footsteps. When I came here three years ago, Aunt Ellie helped me realize I needed to find my own path so I could make my own footsteps. I’ve done that. Now I want to do it with you, Nora— I want us to find a place where our paths come together and become wide enough for us both to walk.”

“We have,” she said, as confident as he.

In five minutes, they were at the church in downtown Tyler. Byron jumped out while Nora went to park the car.
When she came to the front door, Liza Baron Forrester was already there, handing her a bouquet of orchids.

“What’re you doing here?” Nora asked.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Nora frowned. “I smell a plot.”

“No one’s ever said you were a dummy.”

“Byron?”

“He’s been thinking about international espionage—you should have heard him and Cliff plotting murder and mayhem last night over dinner, not to mention the millions they could make writing technothrillers. Though getting Tyler’s own self-declared spinster up the aisle must’ve taxed him more than figuring out how to blow up the world.”

“Liza…”

“Come on,” she said, grinning, “we’ve got a packed house anxious for a wedding.”

“Do they know what’s going on?”

“Oh, they’ll figure it out. People have been wondering for years when and if you’ll ever get married. I think there are several pools going in town.”

Two weeks ago, Nora would have been mortified. Now she laughed. “But, Liza, this was supposed to be your day—”

“It still is. But I want it to be your day, too.” She tucked the second bouquet of orchids in front of her. “This time I’d rather not be the center of attention. You’ve always been there for everyone in Tyler, Nora. It’s your turn to let us give you a party. Now, how ’bout I serve as your matron of honor?” She made a face. “What a yucky term. Any defense?”

“None. Let’s abolish it. Just be my friend.”

“Let’s be sisters,” Liza said, hugging her, and she whispered, “You’re not alone anymore, Nora Gates.”

And as she started up the aisle, Nora knew that she
wasn’t alone; indeed, had never been alone. Tyler was her family. Up ahead, Anne Forrester, looking as if she’d expected as much from her two sons, was in the front pew, waiting. Cliff Forrester moved next to his brother at the altar. The organ began to play, the crowd rose, and nobody seemed to bat an eye when it proved to be Nora Gates instead of Liza Baron who was the bride.

When she got close enough to Byron that he could hear her, Nora muttered, “You’ve been plotting this for
hours.
”

“Nope.” And he produced an antique ring from his pocket. “Belonged to my Great-grandmother Sanders. I’ve been plotting this for days. I didn’t know it’d be this morning, but I knew it would happen.”

“What about a marriage certificate?”

“Already talked to the minister. He says we can get one Monday morning.”

Nora was grinning. “I love you, Byron.”

“Yeah. I love you, too. But I think what everyone’s waiting to hear are a few I do’s.”

And they did, in a Wisconsin wedding that would surely go down in Tyler history.

O
N A SNOWY MORNING
a few weeks after the Forrester brothers had given Tyler a fresh jolt of gossip with their surprise marriages to two prominent town citizens, Nora was working on one of her famous Christmas window displays when she spotted Byron in the street. Her heartbeat quickened. Snowflakes were gathering on his dark hair. He waved at her and flicked a snowflake in her direction, always ready to tease.

She loved him totally. He’d continued to prove himself a man of excitement, surprise and change. He’d already talked to Joe Santori—Tyler’s most eligible bachelor—about turning part of the garage into a studio for himself. The little twenties house was fast becoming not Aunt Ellie’s, not Nora’s, but a comfortable blend of the tastes and spirits of the woman who’d built it, the lonely girl who’d found herself there, the man who’d found love there. Together, Nora and Byron were becoming renowned as hosts. She was getting to know his friends from the East and all over; he was getting to know her friends from Tyler and the world of Wisconsin retail. That weekend, Henry Morrow—Hank, as he now preferred to be called—was coming to discuss technothrillers.

Byron pointed to the entrance to Gates Department Store, indicating that he was coming inside. Nora finished what she was working on and joined him.

He was already on a stepladder, hanging the photograph
of Aunt Ellie and Nora above the glass-fronted perfume counter where he’d taken it. Looking at the image of herself from three years ago, Nora realized Aunt Ellie had been right to encourage Byron to leave Tyler then. He’d needed the time, but so had she. Those three years had made today—and their future together—possible.

Byron climbed down and stood next to his wife. “Johnny Kelsey stopped by the store earlier,” she told him. “Word’s going out—they’ve identified the body found at the lodge as an adult female. Her size isn’t inconsistent with Margaret Ingalls’s.”

“Does Liza know?” Byron asked seriously.

“I’m going out to the lodge now. I’ll tell her myself.”

He nodded. “I’ll go with you. Thank God she has Cliff! With all he’s faced, he can help her get through whatever she has to in the next weeks or months.”

Nora looked up at the smiling face of her plain, beautiful great-aunt. “Aunt Ellie admired Margaret for being her own woman, even at the risk of having people disapprove of her.”

“I wonder what she’d have said about this latest news.”

“First things first,” Nora said, quoting the woman who’d helped raise her, who’d guided her into adulthood and had helped her find her true self, even if she hadn’t lived to see it all happen. She slipped her arm around her husband’s solid waist, overwhelmed, as she still so often was, by how much she loved him, how tremendously lucky she was. “And she’d insist that Tyler’s strong enough to face the truth.”

“Your Aunt Ellie was a wise woman.”

“She was,” Nora said, “herself.”

* * * * *