Edith glanced around then leaned in close, looking conspiratorial. “I have news. ”
Marlene leaned close. The best cure for depression was gossip. Her friend looked happy—it was good news then.
Dark thoughts were replaced with a flurry of speculation. A smile crept across Marlene’s face as she realized what it must be. “It’s Sorrow, isn’t it?” She slammed her hand on the table, a lightbulb going off. “She and the Simmons boy finally got engaged. ”
“Oh…” Edith looked momentarily puzzled. “Oh, no, not that. But it does have to do with Sorrow. She found letters. ”
Marlene deflated. Letters wasn’t nearly as exciting as engagement. “Letters?” she asked, trying to sound intrigued.
When Edith got to the word affair Marlene perked back up. Turned out, Bear’s great-great-grandmother had a child out of wedlock with Buck Larsen, of all people. She’d written, but never sent, a stack of letters that featured some pretty juicy details.
Edith’s face was lit up in a way that Marlene hadn’t seen in some time. “It’s just what the town needs. ”
Marlene hated to play devil’s advocate—why was she always the one to put a damper on things?—but she couldn’t keep herself from asking, “How do you know they’re real? I mean, those letters must be over a hundred years old. ”
“Over one hundred fifty years old. ” Edith beamed proudly, adding definitively, “The woman had no reason to lie. ”
Marlene still didn’t buy it. It was a woman who’d connived her Frank out of a marriage that’d spanned almost four decades. Who knew what women had been capable of back then? “All the more reason she could’ve made any old thing up. ”
“Why would she go and do something like that? Especially since she never even sent them. ” Edith waved away the notion. “Don’t you see? It means we can turn our Spring Fling into a Buck Larsen Festival instead. Get some publicity, some new tourists. ”
That gave Marlene pause. Edith did have a point. The town sure could use some livening up—and not just financially. This discovery could bring new people into Sierra Falls. And with the average age of their historical society hovering somewhere around seventy, their group could use some fresh blood, as it were. Maybe it’d even bring in a wave of older, single men. Visions of tweedy historical types flitted through her mind.
Finally convinced, Marlene smiled. “I can’t wait to see their faces when I tell them. ”
Edith didn’t have to ask to know the “them” in question were Marlene’s mother, Emerald, and her two aunts, Ruby and Pearl. Three women whose preacher daddy had scared away enough boys that they’d aged into thick-as-thieves spinsters. Marlene’s mother had been the wild one of the group, running off as a girl, but she’d returned home with a belly full of baby and a mouth full of secrets and had never left town again. They were the backbone of the historical society and a permanent fixture in Sierra Falls.
“I’ll get them going on a special gold rush quilt,” Marlene said.
“We could have a raffle!”
Marlene nodded, her mind spinning. If they played up the gold rush aspect, they could really milk it. “We could make a book of old California recipes. ”
Edith’s eyes lit up. “We could put on a show, too. From the look of the dresses we found, Sorrow—that was her name—was a dance hall girl. We could have a performance, maybe an exhibit, too. ”
Edith bustled off, anxious to start her list of to-dos.
Which left Marlene alone again, waiting for Mister Wonderful, who had yet to make his appearance. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time. She’d come a little early, but now he was starting to feel a little late. She nursed her wine as slowly as possible—she didn’t want to sit there with nothing to sip on, nor did she want to order another drink. This one was hitting her too much already.
Edith’s news had been exciting, and Marlene was feeling residual optimism. Maybe she’d have a great time on this date. Maybe he’d be The One.
She adjusted her shirt, waiting. Why hadn’t she worn a sweater? It was chilly, and she’d sat too close to the door. Damned old age—most days, she was either too hot or too cold. Well, it was too late to move now, it’d just look funny.
Rubbing warmth into her arms, she decided she knew full well why she hadn’t worn a sweater. She ran a mental catalog of what was in her drawers, and it was all ancient cardigans. Sure, they were well-loved, having been hand-knit by her mother once upon a time, but all of a sudden they seemed too frumpy for something like dating. Too fusty.
She resented that feeling. She loved those sweaters—why weren’t they good enough? Did it mean she wasn’t good enough? That got her thinking about Frank again. This was all his fault.
Her optimism was fading fast. Her nerves getting more jangled by the minute. Where was this man?
“A woman like you…” A male voice said from behind her.
Marlene turned to find Sully standing behind her. There was a devilish light in his eyes that brought a quick smile to her face. That, she knew, was her vanity, pure and simple. Sully was a quiet man, but he’d always had a word or two for her, and as the years passed, her ego appreciated the attention more and more.
“A woman like me what, Tom Sullivan?”
He put a glass of something sparkling on the table in front of her. “A woman like you shouldn’t be kept waiting. ”
“A woman like me should do lots of things. Take this, for example,” she said, pushing away the glass. “I definitely shouldn’t. ”