Vows by Lavyrle Spencer

Just Fannie." They, too, exchanged handclasps. "You realize, of course, that I know at what age you learned to walk on stilts and what kind of a student you were and what an excellent carpenter you are."
      Charles laughed, readily charmed. "From Mrs. Walcott's letters, of course."
      "Of course. And speaking of which, I've written one of my own telling her when to expect me and I'm not there, am I?"
      Edwin spoke up. "Fannie and I were just leaving to collect her baggage and go on up to the house. Will you be coming along?"
      "As soon as we put Pinky up and check Sergeant's foot. How is it, Papa?"
      His startled expression turned momentarily sheepish. "I haven't looked. I was … well, I was giving Fannie a tour."
      "I'll do it. You two go on and we'll be right along."
      When Edwin tried to help Fannie clamber onto the buckboard, she brushed his hand aside and declared, "I'm limber as a willow switch, Edwin. Just help yourself up."
      Emily watched them leave with an admiring glow in her eyes. "Isn't she wonderful, Charles?"
      "She is. I don't know what I expected but in spite of her letters I pictured her more like your mother."
      "She's as different from Mother as snow is from rain."
      It was true. Edwin felt it even more sharply than his daughter. When Fannie saw his house from the outside she tipped her head back to glimpse the roof peak where a web of wheel-shaped gingerbread trim highlighted the fish-scale siding. "Why, Edwin, it's beautiful. Charles built this?"
      "Charles and I. With a little fetching and carrying from Frankie and a surprising amount of help from Emily."
      "Absolutely beautiful. I never knew you were so talented." It was more than Josie had ever said, for she'd taken the house as her due, and any appreciation she might have felt was eclipsed by her relief in not having to live in a dreary hovel.
      "I built the wraparound porch so Josie could sit outside and face the sun at any time of day. And upstairs, there…" He pointed to the white-railed balcony contrasted against the black shingles. "A small veranda off our bedroom so she could step outside anytime she wanted."
      Fannie, who had never owned a house of her own, thought, lucky, lucky Josie.
      Edwin took Fannie in past the front parlor. Though her eyes scanned the clutter she made no comment.
      "Josie is upstairs." He motioned her ahead of him and watched her bustle bounce and her long copper skirttail glide ahead of his boots as he followed with two grips. The first door on your left," he directed.
      Inside, Josephine waited with excited eyes, her hands extended. "Fannie, dear Fannie. You're here at last."
      "Joey."
      Fannie rushed to the bed and they hugged.
      "That awful name. I haven't … heard it for twenty years." Josephine lost her breath on a flurry of choked laughter.
      "How your parents hated it when I called you that."
      They parted and took stock of one another. Josephine said, "You look elegant."
      Fannie retorted, "Dusty and battered from that Jurkey ride, more likely but I enjoyed Mr. McGiver immensely. And you look thin. Edwin said you've been having a bad time of it." She laid a hand on her cousin's cheek "Well I'm going to pamper you silly, just watch and see. Up to a point. I've actually learned how to cook—imagine that. But I can not make pudding without scorching it so don't expect any. I'm fair at meat and vegetables, however, and devilishly good with shellfish, but wherever will we get shellfish out here in the mountains? Then there's bread … hmm…" Fanny gave her attention to tugging off her gloves. "I fear my bread is rather glutinous, but edible. Just barely. I'm always in too much of a rush to let it rise properly. You wouldn't happen to have a bakery in this town, would you?"
      "I'm afraid not."
      "Well, no worry. I can make biscuits light as swansdown. I know that's hard to believe after the way my mother threw her hands up in despair when she was trying to teach