Wishing on Buttercups by Miralee Ferrell

time to receive her first submission and reply. All she could do was pray they liked what she’d sent.
    After Aunt Wilma’s less-than-supportive comments about her work, Beth didn’t care to chance the older woman walking into her room as she read her letter, so she headed for a grassy nook she’d found in a field not far from the edge of the Powder River. The air had a bit of a nip now that they were at the end of the second week of September. She glanced at the blue sky, thankful no clouds marred the fine fall day. It wouldn’t be long until snow blanketed the ground and made this type of outing impossible.
    She settled on a large stone close to the river and slipped her finger under the flap of the heavy, cream-colored envelope. Curiosity tugged. A single sheet slid out, and she unfolded it, taking in the contents in a matter of seconds. What an odd request for an illustration. She gave a quick shake of her head. But it wasn’t hers to question what the editor wanted. At least she had time to change direction and get it sent in before the deadline.
    She stared across the river and through the widely scattered trees to the buildings in the distance. Baker City was certainly an attractive town, situated as it was between two sets of mountain ranges. It might make a good study for this newest request. She smiled and smoothed the letter in her lap. Her fingers were itching to sketch.
    Beth stuffed the paper into the envelope and jumped to her feet, eager to get to her room and her tablet. She took several long strides, then halted. Aunt Wilma had asked her to stop at the mercantile and pick up a copy of the Bedrock Democrat . It rarely held anything of interest to Beth, but her aunt liked to keep abreast of current events. The paper mostly carried local news but occasionally had articles about happenings farther away, giving a sense of connection to the outside world.
    A scant half hour later, Beth sat on the parlor sofa and opened the paper, happy she’d have time alone before Aunt Wilma made her appearance. According to Katherine, her aunt and Mrs. Cooper were both enjoying a nap after their afternoon walk.
    “Hello, Miss Roberts.” A man’s monotone voice disrupted the peace. Isaac Lansing stood in the doorway.
    Beth lifted her head, annoyed at the intrusion. Of course, the parlor was a gathering place for anyone living here, but she didn’t care to share it with Mr. Lansing at the moment. She’d barely had time to scan the articles. She had managed to avoid the man since he’d arrived, other than meals, when Aunt Wilma made certain he left her alone. Annoying and pompous only began to describe Isaac Lansing.
    “Good day.” She rustled the paper. Maybe he’d take the hint and find someone else to bother.
    “A quaint paper. I’ve found very little of interest in it since I arrived.” He plucked his watch from his pocket, glanced at its face, then put it away. “I’m happy to find you here. It seems I have an hour or two to spare.”
    Beth folded the paper and laid it on her lap, scrambling to think of a suitable subject to which she could turn the conversation. “How much longer will you be with us?” She tried to muster a pleasant expression. “I would imagine your business is about concluded by now.”
    He perched on the edge of a nearby chair and planted his hands on his knees. “Getting closer, but I’m not in a hurry to leave. I still haven’t had the pleasure of your company.” He leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “What do you say you step out with me and get a bite of supper? I’ve found a couple of restaurants that serve a respectable meal.” He gave her what might pass to some observers as a charming smile.
    Beth winced. Only minutes ago she’d been thankful Aunt Wilma was taking a nap. Now she’d give anything if the dear woman would appear. “That’s very kind of you, but Mrs. Jacobs goes to a lot of trouble to fix our meals. I wouldn’t care to be