Flower Girl Bride by Dana Corbit Page B

they attacked?
    Eighteen days and counting.
    â€œCassandra Eleanor, are you listening? I’m paying a pretty penny for all this dead air.”
    I cleared my throat. “Oh. Sorry. Now what were you saying?”
    â€œI asked if she was eating okay.”
    â€œShe’s eating.” She hadn’t exactly done it in my presence, but there did appear to be a good-sized dent in each little mound of food when I threw out the leftovers. That was proof as far as I was concerned, unlessan industrious ant colony had figured out a way to score three squares a day.
    â€œIs she getting enough water?”
    â€œSure.” At least I hoped so.
    â€œHave the two of you finally become friends?”
    How was I supposed to answer that one without lying? I might have gotten out of the habit of attending church, but that didn’t mean I didn’t believe in the Ninth Commandment.
    â€œWe sure are getting to know each other better,” I said finally. Whew, that was a close one.
    â€œWait,” Eleanor said. “You said ‘depends.’ If Princess is fine, then what’s the matter with you?”
    Now that would be hard to determine without a team of counselors and a truckload of chocolate truffles thrown in for good measure. But I only said, “I’m fine, too.”
    â€œHave you gotten any sun?”
    â€œYes, and I have enough freckles to prove it.”
    â€œNot too much, right? You’re wearing your sunscreen?”
    â€œAlways.”
    â€œAnd a hat.”
    â€œSometimes.”
    I smiled again. My aunt and I had shared many conversations like this one, and it was great to see that even an ocean couldn’t stop her from mothering me.
    â€œHave you seen any more of Sam this week?”
    My breath hitched. She was good, my aunt. She’d started a fishing expedition, using Sam as the lure and not even mentioning Luke. Well, I could be a slippery fish when I wasn’t in the mood to be caught.
    â€œSam had a sleepover here. We had a great time.”
    â€œOh really,” she said in a tone that convinced me I was dangling from a hook even as we spoke.
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œI’m just surprised Luke let Sam stay over. He doesn’t usually let anyone get close to his son. He doesn’t appreciate everyone’s well-meaning advice, either. Even Yvonne has learned to keep her opinions on parenting to herself unless Luke asks for them.”
    Well, that little tidbit had arrived a few days too late to help me at all. “Oh,” I said before I could stop myself.
    â€œWhat does ‘oh’ mean? Did Luke tell you to mind your own business, too?”
    â€œOf course not.” No, not in so many words.
    â€œLook, Aunt Eleanor, Luke is a nice enough man, and if I were in the market…”
    I let my words fall away. If I were in the market, what? Would I have been completely intrigued by him? Would I have been equally disappointed he hadn’t called? As I was now, for example.
    â€œBut you’re not in the market.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    She took that blow to her matchmaking plans with much more aplomb than I expected. If such a thing were possible, I would think my aunt had overdosed on aplomb today.
    We said our goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, casting the house into its strange summer silence again. It was too late in the day to hear the warblers singing and too early for the cicadas to begin their noisy nighttime dance.
    Why I had ever looked forward to three weeks alonein the sun and sand, I couldn’t say. The Lake Michigan water was too cold in June to soothe my soul. The sand between my toes only chafed my skin, and running across the beach in the heat of the day felt like a barbecue for toes. Even the sunsets—okay, the sunsets were beautiful enough to convert an atheist and give him the call to the ministry the same day, but that was beside the point.
    So what was the point, that I hated