Letitia, sandwiched in between the two tall men as they ambled along, gave a little shiver at what these few words might portend. Clearly some history here that her potential betrothed had not already confided to her, and that was a subject that should probably, in the interest of disclosure, be discussed at some point in time.
An early supper hour found only a few takers at the Sarsaparilla. Wilbur Knaack, the owner, emerged from the kitchen area long enough to wave the newcomers to their choice of table before disappearing back to his stove.
Then, within just a few minutes, word miraculously spread. Shortly, business picked up to become quite brisk.
It ended up being as bad as Letitia suspected it might be.
Even as they settled in to a corner location, out of the way of traffic, a positive parade of patrons just happened to wander past. A greeting for the doctor, a tip of the hat for his lovely assistant, and an inquisitive glance toward the stranger. No one made a fuss, it was true; westerners abhor the thought of some busybody sticking his nose into their business, just as they abhor the thought of doing it themselves.
That reliance on privacy did not prevent diners scattered about from making normal casual talk about Turnabout, its citizens, and any new event transpiring right under their noses. Which included the man who, after nearly three days of solitude, was finally exposing himself to the public eye. Scar and all.
Letitia did her best to hide behind the menu. She could only hope that her irrepressible mentor would not begin gabbling on, in his less-than-dulcet tones, about wedding plans. While the town might be guessing as to what was going on, facts stated aloud would certainly set them a-twitter.
The good doctor exhibited more tact than she might have expected.
Over a plate of ham and scrambled eggs, he talked about the spate of pleasant weather everyone had been enjoying. Not that it was rare for the area to see so much sunshine and balmy breezes in late September, of course, but everyone was taking advantage of being outside. Especially his friendly enemy, Hannah Burton, and her sidekick, Amazin’.
“Why, Gabe,” said Letty, surprised into speech, “Hannah isn’t your enemy. How can you say such a thing?”
“Huh. She puts her nose in the air and snarls at me every time we cross paths. Say, Reese, you don’t have much to say for yourself, do you?”
“Just waitin’ to get a word in edgewise,” Reese offered impassively, politely.
Gabriel was rollicked by laughter. “Oh, I think I’m gonna like havin’ you around. A lot like Benjamin—you’ll keep me in line. Letty, honey, don’t you find the beef stew to your likin’?”
“It’s fine. I’m just sitting here in awe of your performance.”
“Oh, the two of you are birds of a feather, I swear. I see I’m gonna haveta stay on my toes.”
Again that exchange of glances between the couple. Tinged with amusement, edged with something more visceral, more fiery. A little shiver began pulsating through Letty, beginning amidships, and worked its way beyond and around every inch of skin. She only hoped this man parked at her elbow couldn’t actually observe her beflustered state, or the slight trembling of her hands, or the fluttering of pulse at her temples.
Except...he was wearing a small, somewhat secretive smile. As if he were aware...
He consumed his meal without much small talk, leaving it up to the doctor and Miss Burton to carry the conversational ball. No fuss, either, she noticed; just neat, economical, deliberate movements that bespoke a certain delicacy of upbringing.
Alerted by an unexpected stir at the restaurant’s front door, Letitia looked up.
“Molly!”
Her sister, blooming like a late summer rose, had just strolled into the café arm-in-arm with her own tall and stalwart escort. “Hello, my dear,” she swooped down to greet Letty with a hug. And the familiar crinkle of turquoise eyes that indicated tremendous well-being, that all was right with the world. “Word has gotten out that you were dining here, and Paul and I wondered if we might join you.”
“Don’t add my name to that,” hastily adjured her betrothed. “This was all Molly’s idea, I assure you. I’m just along so she don’t get mobbed in the streets.”
“My goodness,” grumbled Letitia, with feeling. “How does that grapevine work so quickly? I suppose, if I shot someone dead over near the livery, I’d be hanged by the neck before every bullet had even finished flying.”
Both Gabriel and Reese had risen, at the newcomers’ approach, and introductions were made all around, with the sheriff taking quiet but concise measure of this stranger in town (and the reverse, as well). Two more chairs were moved forward, and everyone got comfortable.
A slight agitation from every other patron, and then a hush, had swished across the room, as if Paul and Molly’s appearance had put a stamp of approval on whatever was going on with another Burton girl and the man beside her. An almost tangible air of expectation hung over the crowd.
“Isn’t this just heavenly weather?” burbled Molly, for whom the last couple months had been, following her recovery from a disastrous marriage and many physical ailments, an absolute tide of burbling. Happiness can cause that, and she was enjoying every minute.
The usual starchy reserve of Paul’s attitude and his posture had been greatly relaxed, due to the advent of love in his life. Despite the gathering groups in the diner (for which Walter felt unfailingly grateful), Paul leaned slightly sideways to wrap an arm around his inamorata’s corseted waist. “You want some tea, sweetheart? And maybe some of that shepherd’s pie they got on special?”
“Well, now, I don’t rightly know, my dearest. What would you suggest?”
“Oh, by all that’s holy,” snorted Gabe. “All right, you’re provin’ that you got this big lunkhead wrapped around your little finger, Molly. Let’s forego the goo-goo glances and the treacly comments at least durin’ supper, so the rest of us can eat without gettin’ sick. How’re things, Paul?”
He was answered with a knowing grin. “We set a date.”