“I see. But, Belinda, about this whole arranged-marriages thing...”
“You know me better than almost anyone, George,” she interrupted. “I’ve always been the sort to arrange things.”
“Yes, but...lives?”
“Only the Lord arranges lives. I, well, I just offer any assistance I can to move things along.” She gave him a winsome smile. “Just consider me a marriage broker. Now let’s get to work, shall we?”
He sighed, unsure of what to say next. It looked like Belinda would persist with this matchmaking nonsense regardless. It might be easier to play along and then convince her in the end that he was a happy bachelor when no suitable woman could be found. Yes, that would surely work.
He glanced through the newspaper, reading blurbs about the various women. In the meantime, Belinda fetched a couple of apples and tossed one his way.
“What about this one?” She pointed at an advertisement in the paper as she took a bite.
George shook his head. “Look again, Belinda. She’s in her sixties.”
“Ah. No wonder she sounds so settled.”
He sighed. “Yes, very.” And so am I. So why am I even looking?
“Belinda, I do not need a wife. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I enjoy my life. I have friends, church, family.... My father and I run a good business. I’m doing well for myself.” He put the paper down and took a bite of the sweet, juicy apple.
The edges of her lips curled down in a pout. “Really? Truly?”
“I’m not lonely. I enjoy spending my days as I do. And if I got married, well, nothing would be the same.”
“Yes, you’re right about that.” She swatted him with the newspaper, and he grinned. Now this was the Belinda Bauer he remembered from school—playful, fun, often in trouble with Mr. Lotts. Thinking of the schoolmaster, perhaps this would be the perfect time to change the direction of the conversation. He could talk to her about reimbursing his money later.
“I hear our old schoolmaster was in here looking for a wife.” George waggled his brows. “He came over to the barbershop just after, telling us all about it. What sort of woman do you have in mind for him?”
“Oh, I’ve found his match!” Belinda grinned and sprinted back into the store, coming back with yet another newspaper. She read about a woman in her forties from Philadelphia, and George’s interest was piqued at once. In fact, it almost sounded too good to be true.
“She sounds wonderful,” he admitted. Maybe there was more to this marriage brokering than he’d considered. Perhaps it really was, as Belinda said, a matter of science. Matching the right man with the right woman. Like-minded people with like-minded interests.
“Well, you can’t have her. She’s for Mr. Lotts.” Belinda picked up another paper. “Now I have to find someone for the reverend.”
“The reverend? He’s looking for a wife?”
“Yes. You can help me.” She put down the Philadelphia paper and looked through the one from Kansas City once more. George drew near, more curious than anything else. “What sort of woman is he looking for, do you think?”
“Oh, sensible. Practical. Someone in her late fifties. Likely a widow. Someone who enjoys Sunday services, of course.”
“What about this one?” George read aloud an advertisement about a woman named Sarah Jo: “Petite widow seeks new life in quiet rural town. Searching for a man who loves the Lord, enjoys reading, and relishes Sunday afternoon strolls in the countryside.”
“George!” Belinda looked at him, clearly dumbfounded. She turned her attention to the newspaper to read the rest of the advertisement. “You’re done it! You’ve found the perfect wife for Reverend Billingsley. And look! She bakes pies. The reverend loves pies. And she plays the piano. Our church has a piano and is in dire need of a decent pianist. Oh, this is a match made in heaven! No doubt about it!”
George laughed. Maybe it was a match made in heaven. Maybe this woman would come and sweep the pastor off of his feet. And maybe—with Belinda’s matchmaking skills at work—all the menfolk in Poetry would be happily married.
Well, all but one.
CHAPTER NINE
On the first Tuesday in August, Belinda met several of the townsmen at the church. The pastor attended, of course, as did the mayor, who looked more than a little concerned. George came along, as well. How she had grown to depend on him these past few weeks. She looked around the room, trying to figure out how to settle them down. They were quite excited. And spiffed up, to be sure. She’d never seen the menfolk this polished-looking outside a Sunday service.
Belinda clapped her hands to quiet the crowd in the church. “Gentlemen.” She raised her voice. “Gentlemen!” The roomful of excited clients looked her way, the noise level in the room dropping dramatically. “I need your attention, please.”
She drew in a breath, realizing the time. Any minute now, Papa would arrive from the station with potential brides for several of the fellows. In the weeks since she’d set out to find wives for the pastor, the schoolmaster, and two others, several other men had inquired about her services, as well. Most of those men had shown up today out of curiosity, no doubt. And perhaps a few thought they might steal one of the incoming brides for themselves. She would work diligently to make sure that did not happen. Still, with so many people to accommodate, Belinda wondered if she could keep everything straight in her head!
Reverend Billingsley looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes, no doubt excited about his incoming bride. Mr. Lott paced the room, occasionally pulling out his pocket watch and staring at it. Bucky Williams, who stood a good head taller than everyone in the room, was easy to keep track of. He stood off in the corner, talking to Charlie Grundy. Unfortunately, Mr. Grundy hadn’t gone to any special effort with his appearance today. Belinda prayed that it would not turn out to be a problem.
With the room now quiet, she made her announcement. “Gentlemen, we don’t want to frighten these women away. With that in mind, I believe we should have some sort of protocol. There must be a way to greet them without coming across as anxious. Agreed?”
A few of the men grumbled, especially Charlie. “I’ve waited thirty-eight years for a wife, Belinda. What would it hurt to act excited now that I’ve actually got one?”
“If you want her to stick around, you’d better give thought to a gentle welcome,” Belinda explained. “Your wife-to-be”—should she agree to marrying you after seeing you in person—“is accustomed to working in a library. A library is a quiet environment. We don’t want to frighten her away.”
He grunted but eventually took a seat.
She reached for her fan and began to work it in front of her face, overwhelmed by the mid-August heat. Hopefully the women wouldn’t be frightened away by it.
Belinda never had time to give it a second thought. She heard the wagon pull up outside and watched in horror as the men turned and stampeded out of the church and onto the grounds below, whooping and hollering as they went. Whispering a prayer, she turned to George. “Oh, help.”
He shook his head. “I daresay it’s out of our hands now. Only the Lord can manage this mob.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard. “That’s what scares me. They’re out of control.”
“Don’t let them see your fear, Belinda,” George instructed. “Just hold your head high, march out there, and take control. They are paying for your services. You have to be authoritative. Trust me on this. I don’t know much about many things, but I know a lot about how men act.”
“Okay.” She drew in a deep breath and then looked into his eyes for reassurance. “And, George, in case I haven’t said it before, I’m awfully sorry I didn’t find someone for you this time around.”
“Don’t fret over that.” He shook his head. “I’ve already told you, I’m blissfully happy single.”
“Well, I know, but...”
He put a finger over her lips, offering up a boyish grin. “No arguments. We can talk about me later. You have a passel o
f menfolk to quiet down. Better get to it.”
“Yes.” She offered up another silent prayer for help as she headed outside to take charge. She finally reached the wagon, where Papa sat with four unfamiliar women clustered around him. The two youngest ones looked terrified. One—the older woman—grinned from ear to ear. And one—probably the schoolteacher—well, she simply looked bewildered. Who could blame her?
The men continued their howling until Papa rose from the wagon, put his fingers in his mouth, and let out a loud whistle. “That’ll be enough of that!” he hollered. “Stop it now, or I’ll turn this wagon around and take these ladies back to the station!”
Belinda breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd fell silent at once.
The men took a giant step backward as the women began to descend from the wagon. The first—a woman in her late fifties with a mixture of red and silver hair—took Papa’s hand and stepped onto the ground below. She wore a colorful frock pinched in at the middle, but it wasn’t enough to hide the plump physique. Still, with such a whimsical smile and bright blue eyes, who would care about a few extra pounds?
The woman glanced around as she introduced herself in a loud voice: “Sarah Jo Cummings, at your service!” When no one said anything, she hollered, “Well, what’s everyone so quiet about? C’mon, now. Fess up. Which one of you fine fellas is my man? Don’t tell me I’ve come all the way to Texas to be stood up, now!”
She put her hands on her hips and stared out over the crowd. Belinda gasped as she saw the look of shock on the reverend’s face. He gingerly took a couple of steps in the woman’s direction and extended his hand. “I am Reverend Billingsley. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sarah Jo.”
“And yours.” The woman’s whimsical smile faded as she looked at his collar. Slapping herself in the head, she said, “So it’s true. You’re a preacher.”
“Why, yes.”
“Well, if that doesn’t beat all! I was afraid of that.” She groaned. “Thought maybe you’d elaborated a bit in your letter like I did in mine. That verse from Song of Solomon sent shivers right down my spine!” She gave him a wink and then slapped him on his backside. The men apparently found this incredibly funny, and a roar of laughter went up.
The good reverend’s face turned all shades of red, and Belinda was pretty sure she felt her heart hit her toes.
Determined to stay focused, she turned her attentions to the women still climbing out of the wagon, summing them up as she went. The one in front must be Marta Schuller, the schoolteacher from Philadelphia. Behind her came Prissy Finkelstein, meant for Charlie Grundy, the blacksmith. So then, the short, rotund one in the very back had to be Katie Sue Caldwell, from Biloxi...Bucky Williams’s intended.
Instead of following her earlier instructions, the men drew near the ladies, much like a group of hunters coming in for the kill.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please!” She tried in vain to quiet them, but they would not be quieted. A lump rose in her throat, and she tried to force it down. How could she regain control, now that it had been lost? Without divine intervention, this whole plan was suddenly destined to fail.
***
George looked on, half amused and half terrified as the scene unfolded in front of him. While he hated to see Belinda’s pride injured in any way, he had to admit that she’d brought most of this chaos on herself. Had she not promised wives for some of these men? And wives they now had, whether they wanted them or not. Not that anyone had exchanged vows just yet. George had to wonder if any of these fine folk might run for the hills, now that they were seeing each other face-to-face. A few would likely be tempted.
He gave the four women a once-over, starting with Sarah Jo. The plucky gal was slightly rounded in the middle, not that the reverend would mind that. Still, she was not at all the demure churchgoing lady he had pictured, based on her advertisement. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was nothing demure about this boisterous woman. Sarah Jo’s outgoing personality made him smile, though, as did her whimsical expression. He had to wonder what Reverend Billingsley thought of her. Probably wouldn’t take long to find out.
Marta Schuller, the schoolteacher, seemed nice enough. She wore her dark hair pulled up tight, and her wire-rimmed spectacles sat perched atop a thin nose. Her plain, practical dress would be fitting to a classroom. He watched as Belinda introduced her to Mr. Lott, who gave her a boyish grin. She smiled back. Sort of. He couldn’t quite tell. Her thin lips curled up a bit, he supposed.
At this point, George watched Bucky Williams—tall and slender—look down upon his intended, Katie Sue. The top of her head barely met his shoulders. That might prove to be problematic, should they ever decide to kiss. And to say that Katie Sue was plump would be putting it mildly. She matched Bucky’s height with her width, to be sure. Oh, but the smile on Katie Sue’s face would win anyone over. That and her twinkling blue eyes. They almost matched the merriment in Bucky’s.
And then there was Prissy Finkelstein. George wasn’t sure when he’d ever seen a more, well, pristine woman. Her traveling clothes were fresh and clean, her hair beautifully tended to, and her white-gloved hands impeccable. He watched in rapt awe as she took in the not-so-tidy Charlie Grundy. The look on the poor woman’s face was priceless. George chuckled, in spite of his intentions to the contrary. Oh, the adventures that lay ahead for those two!
The townsfolk gathered round, everyone talking a mile a minute. Then Belinda ushered the four women toward Stanzas, the town’s hotel. He followed along in case she needed him for anything but stayed to the side of the group where he could watch the interactions between the potential brides and grooms.
More than anything, he felt the need to protect the four women from any unnecessary heckling. Not that he needed to bother with that. Mr. Grundy guarded over Prissy with great care. And the pastor, heaven help him, seemed to be fully overwhelmed with Sarah Jo, who talked a mile a minute—not just to the reverend, but to any man who would listen. Katie Sue peered up at Bucky Williams, batting her eyelashes. And Marta Schuller—the schoolteacher? Well, she marched three feet ahead of the whole crowd, clearly a born leader. Poor Myles followed along in her dust, his hat in his hands and a disappointed expression on his face.
George couldn’t help but laugh. The town of Poetry was filled with a passel of brides, that was for certain. But how would their budding romances fare? Only time would tell!
CHAPTER TEN
The week following the arrival of the brides was truly the most chaotic of Belinda’s life. She did her best to help Greta and Aunt Hilde at the store, but every time she turned around, someone interrupted her. The menfolk, mostly. Many of them were now itching to be hitched. They arrived by the bushel-full. Still, she decided to slow things down until the four couples were happily wed. Or until she heard a heavenly angel choir telling her to continue this reckless pursuit.
On a Thursday afternoon, with the early August heat wrapping the town in its embrace, Belinda received a visit from Corabelle and James. Her sister-in-law’s face lit into a smile the moment she sashayed into the store. “I’m so thrilled to see you!” she said, her green eyes shining with mischief. “Can you slip away for a moment? We have something to show you!”
“Greta, do you mind?” Belinda untied her apron in anticipation.
“No, not at all,” Greta responded. She turned to Corabelle. “But if you’ve got a secret, I want to know it, too!”
“You will, you will. In time.” Corabelle winked and then took James by the arm.
Belinda made her way outside and followed the enthusiastic couple down the boardwalk to the old, abandoned feed store, where they stopped and turned to her with curious grins on their faces.
“You’ll never guess.” Corabelle flashed a smile. “Go on. Try.”
“Mmm.” Belinda shook her head. “You’re going to build a house in town?”
“No, silly.” Corabelle giggled. “You are looking at the future home of Sonnets and Bonnets, my new hat shop! We just purcha
sed the building today and will begin renovations next week!”
“You’re going to do it?” Belinda grinned then reached to embrace Corabelle. “Oh, what a fabulous idea. This old building was just sitting here doing nothing. What a happy solution for us all.” She paused a moment. “But where will you get the hats?”
“I will design them myself,” Corabelle explained. “I’ve done ever-so-many drawings. Just wait till you see!”
“She has quite a gift,” James said, planting a kiss on Corabelle’s cheek. “My bride is a woman of many talents.”
“Well, let’s just say the Lord was preparing me for this all along,” Corabelle responded. “I feel like my years in the city were a prerequisite to coming here. Isn’t it amazing how God arranged all of this?” She paused, putting a gloved hand to her lips as she smiled at Belinda. “With your help, of course, my dear.”
Belinda laughed. “I daresay, the Almighty doesn’t need my help. If He formed the world and all upon it in a week’s time, He can bring about a match between two parties without my intervention.”
“Still, you played a role, and we will be forever grateful.” Corabelle reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s why you had to be the first to hear the news about the shop.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Belinda giggled. “Though Greta is going to have a fit if I don’t share the news. Do you mind?”
“Of course not!” Corabelle said. “We want everyone to know. The sooner, the better. It will be good advertisement.” She grinned. “You’ve not seen me in action yet, Belinda. I’m quite the shopkeeper. Just wait and see.”
“Oh, I’m sure! How long till the store opens?” Belinda asked. “Soon, I hope. Now that so many women have converged upon our fair town...”