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Penny
“Stop fidgeting,” Addie Hoffmeier chided under her breath, making Penny feel as if she were nine instead of twenty-nine.
Penny couldn’t help it. Sitting still in the hardwood pew was difficult on the best of Sundays, but that morning, she found it more difficult than usual. After a restless night, she’d woken up with the same vague anxiety she’d had when she went to bed, only worse. The brief periods of sleep she’d managed were filled with unnerving dreams involving a certain steely-eyed storm cloud in masculine form.
It also didn’t help that Reverend McFinley was working his way through the seven deadly sins, and that morning’s sermon was focused on lust, of all things.
Normally, Penny would listen with half an ear and let her mind wander, but that homily seemed particularly apropos, given the last thirty hours or so.
There was something messed up about that. Penny had seen and silently appreciated plenty of good-looking men, but this went beyond garden-variety attraction. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and those thoughts were manifesting in a series of warmth, tingles, and butterflies.
It didn’t make sense. Jaxson Adams was all wrong for her in so many ways. He was edgy, brooding, and borderline rude, and yet here she was.
The twenty-minute sermon seemed to go on forever, and with every head that nodded in agreement with the good reverend’s words, Penny’s discomfort grew.
An eternity later, the service ended, and Penny stood up with the others.
“That was a long one today,” she commented quietly.
“Maybe the Holy Spirit thought someone needed to hear it,” Great-Auntie Agnes said sternly from Penny’s right.
“Maybe,” Penny agreed, forcing a smile and hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt.
“Someone does,” Martha McGillicuddy proclaimed from beside Agnes. “Two people in particular.”
Penny’s stomach clenched. Martha was part of the Ladies Auxiliary with Agnes and had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to scuttlebutt. Without a doubt, Jaxson Adams had been a hot topic of discussion in the fire hall kitchen the night before. The only question was whether or not her name had come up as well.
Penny was pretty certain Great-Auntie Agnes hadn’t said anything—gossip involving one’s own family was to be avoided—but it only took one person with loose lips who had seen her at Mel’s or the diner or talking to Jaxson along Main Street the day before to open the topic up for discussion.
“No doubt they’re sleeping off a different kind of spirits,” Great-Auntie Agnes said with a sniff, causing the knot in Penny’s stomach to loosen a little. “Perhaps if they attended church more often, they wouldn’t feel the need to over imbibe and engage in such things.”
Agnes believed going to church was the best way to stay on the straight and narrow, and when that wasn’t sufficient, there was always public shaming and corporal punishment.
“How was the wedding, Mrs. McGillicuddy?” Addie asked, circumventing what could be a long dissertation on the deplorable morals of today’s society.
“Oh, lovely. Simply lovely. Everyone was gushing over the flowers and the arrangements.”
Penny’s mother beamed. “Thank you. It was all Penny’s doing.”
“Such a knack she has. Perhaps one day, we’ll be seeing her up there at the altar,” Martha said, as if Penny weren’t standing right there.
“Perhaps,” Addie said lightly. “But with such strong single women in her life, she knows she doesn’t have to settle.”
Penny inwardly cheered. Neither Martha nor Agnes had married, and when they started in on Penny for her single status at the advanced age of nearly thirty, Addie had no trouble reminding them of that.
They made it out of the church with only a few more brief exchanges and compliments on the wedding flowers.
When they finally got into the car, Penny sighed in relief. “So, what’s got their starched pantaloons in a twist now?”
Addie’s lips quirked. “You know Martha and her penchant for scandal.”
“Do tell.”
“Penelope Rose,” Addie said sternly, “you know I don’t condone repeating hearsay.”
Five whole seconds went by before they both erupted in laughter. Gossip and rumors were the primary source of entertainment in Sumneyville, and anyone who pretended otherwise was a hypocrite. Perhaps Reverend McFinley should do a sermon on that.
Penny’s mother wiped her eyes and pulled out of the church lot. “Right. Well, apparently, during the reception, the good reverend walked into the restroom to relieve himself, and some of the guests were, uh ... intimately engaged.”
“No! Who?”
“Rick Obermacher and Marietta Buschetti.”
Penny had heard the same rumors everyone else had about Rick and Marietta, so hearing that they were hooking up wasn’t new. But in the church restroom during a wedding? That was some grade-A spicy scuttlebutt right there.
“And Marietta hadn’t even been invited Supposedly, she crashed the reception after the dinner shift at Franco’s.”
Penny enjoyed it while she could. She suspected that by this time tomorrow, her name would be the one being bandied about in hushed whispers and speculation, though obviously not for the same reason.
Once back at home, Penny made a beeline for her apartment, anxious to get out of her church clothes and into something more comfortable.
“Where are you going?” Addie asked.
“To change, so we can get started on dinner.”
“You look so pretty in that dress. You should keep it on.”
Penny narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Why do I need to look pretty, Mom?”
“Because we’re having company. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
As if she’d been thinking about anything but seeing Jaxson Adams again.
“No, I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t see how what I’m wearing makes any difference.”
Addie lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I just think it would be nice, that’s all.”
“This isn’t a date, Mom.”
“No, of course not,” her mother said, but her tone suggested it wouldn’t be a travesty if it was.
Despite what Addie had said to Martha and Agnes, Penny knew her mother hoped she would get married and make her a grandmother someday.
Penny wanted that, too, but only if she found someone that she could be happy with, and that didn’t seem likely. The pickings in Sumneyville were slim.
An image of Jaxson came to mind—with his stormy eyes, long hair, and leather jacket. A shiver ran up and down the length of her spine. The good kind of shiver. Thankfully, Penny’s mother was opening the door and didn’t notice.
“He probably won’t even show, you know.”
“If he doesn’t, then we’ll just pack everything up and take it to him.”
Penny shook her head. “Why are you so determined to do this?”
“He’s new in town, he doesn’t know anyone, and thanks to you, he’s stuck here until tomorrow.”
A pang of guilt ran through her. There was that.
“Not that that’s a bad thing,” Addie continued. “Sometimes, people come into our lives for a reason. Maybe yesterday’s accident was supposed to happen. Did I ever tell you how I met your father?”
Penny exhaled. She’d heard the story at least a hundred times. “Sure. You were working in the Hoffmeier greenhouses at the time. Grandma Hoffmeier wasn’t feeling well, so you offered to work late. Dad showed up unexpectedly on medical leave, thinking it was his mother in the greenhouse but finding you instead. You thought he was an intruder and attacked him with a shovel. What does that have to do with anything?”
Her mother smiled wistfully. “He’d been injured, too. And angry, so very angry. Called me a menace. He was tired and hurting, and me hitting him was not the welcome home he was expecting.”
That didn’t sound like the father Penny knew. He rarely raised his voice or got mad.
“He always laughs about it when he tells the story.”
“Trust me, the laughter—and everything else—didn’t come until later. Much later.”
“Still not seeing your point.”
“The point is, I felt horrible. I even quit my job at Hoffmeier because I was convinced it was better for everyone. My mere presence seemed to irritate him, and it led to some tension, let me tell you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. My mother said I needed to make amends and insisted I invite him to Sunday dinner. She made a pot roast.”
“And?” Penny prompted.
Addie shrugged. “Things started to get better after that.”
Penny gaped at her mother. “Seriously?”
“Your grandmother made a great pot roast.”
“You can’t possibly think ...” Penny shook her head and said emphatically, “The situations are completely different, and Jaxson is ...”
Addie lifted her eyebrows expectantly. “Jaxson is ...”
“Dark and broody and completely not my type.”
“That’s what I said about your father, and I protested against my mother’s idea, just as you’re doing now. So, I’ll tell you what my mother told me: If you really believe that, then what’s the fuss? The worst that’ll happen is that you’ll assuage your guilty conscience and he’ll get a home-cooked meal. No harm, no foul. He’ll go his way, and you’ll go yours.”
It didn’t sound so bad when she put it that way.
“Fine,” Penny agreed.
“Good. Now, start peeling those potatoes.”
Penny pulled the apron over her head and tied it behind her waist. “What are we making?”
Addie’s eyes twinkled. “Grandma’s pot roast. What else?”