The Shepherd's Betrothal by Lynn A. Coleman Page B

would.
    She opened her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs, where the rest of the family was waiting for her. The bandage was still on but she didn’t care. Today she would choose to have fun, enjoy life and not put herself down. Yes, she’d made mistakes, but who hadn’t?
    Her mother smiled as she approached. “Ye are beautiful, Hope.”
    â€œThank you, Mum.”
    Her mother wrapped her arm around Hope’s waist and whispered in her ear. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Hope. I trust ye have forgiven yourself.”
    Hope nodded. Had she? Yes, she had, and it felt wonderful to be free from the events of the past. It was time to look forward.
    * * *
    The next day Hope began in earnest to research the various dressmakers in St. Augustine, find out who owned a storefront and who worked from their home. By the end of the day she had gathered enough information to start analyzing whether or not it would be a profitable business. And if she were to start such a business, would she hire employees? How big did she want this business to grow? Or did she prefer to keep it small, enough for a bit of income… No, that wouldn’t be good enough. She would need to eventually pay for her needs, to rent or own her own home, to completely provide for herself.
    Would she design a line of clothing that she would prefer to wear, or a line that the social elite would prefer to wear, or both? Personally, she’d rather design clothes she’d like to wear, but from the few shops she’d entered earlier that day, she could see that making fancy gowns for the genteel ladies of society was a large part of the business.
    She worked until she was called to dinner.
    â€œGood evening, Father.” She kissed him on the cheek and sat down in her seat.
    â€œGood evening, daughter.” He winked. The two of them had a running gag of being formal with each other for a moment at the table.
    Gabe shook his head. Mother came in from the kitchen carrying the serving dish with roast beef, potatoes, carrots and onions with brown gravy. Gabe took the platter from his mother and placed it in the center of the table. “Thank ye, son.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, Mother.” Gabe wiggled his eyebrows at Hope, making her laugh.
    â€œWhat has brought ye cheer, Hope? It is good to see but I am curious,” her father asked.
    â€œI’m working on something. Give me a couple of days and I will share it with you. I’d like your input but I’d like to work out the details first.”
    Drake smiled and nodded. He reached out his hands and the family followed suit, each taking the hand next to them. With her left she was connected to her father. With her right she was connected to her mother, and Gabe sat across from her with the same connection. Her father led them in prayer, then they began the harmony of taking food items and passing the bowls and platters around.
    Gabe opened the conversation, extolling his business prowess for the day. Hope listened. Her father plied him with questions, most of which Gabe had the answers to. Mother seldom said much when it came to business but when she did, it was always a well-thought-out comment.
    â€œI’ve been speaking with Ian to learn about his business. This is beef country—I’m a little leery of just how much mutton and lamb can be brought into this market. However he did speak with several of the butchers in town and George Leonardy let him know that he never has enough for his customers.”
    Hope was curious to hear news about Ian but she fought the urge to ask any questions. She did not want to appear anxious or overly interested in Ian McGrae, the man who kissed her, then broke her heart.
    â€œDon’t forget specialized markets, son. A man can do quite well providing something different.”
    â€œI for one am looking forward to having more lamb on our tables.” Mother spoke up. “Of course, your