Page 56 of A Late-Blooming Rose
With a frown, Rose set the envelope aside on the table.
How curious.Andre steepled his hands together and sat back in his chair. “I can’t imagine Edith Grayson, of all women, acting absent-minded. She’s always so poised and organized. What are these relatives like?”
“I haven’t met them yet.” Delia wrinkled her nose. “You know how word gets around in a small town?”
“Not really.” Rose smiled. “But I’m beginning to.”
“When I called on Mrs. Hatter, she gave me all the latest gossip, and Ben added a bit more information.”
Andre raised his eyebrows. “So, does thiswordsay if these people are as aristocratic as most upper-class Bostonians?”
“I’ve heard they praised Caleb’s hotel,” Delia said in a wry tone. “Something about ‘The Livingston being a fine edifice for such a backwater place.’”
“Damned with faint praise, as the saying goes.” Andre chuckled and then sobered. In spite of his lingering resentment for Caleb Livingston, he could understand wanting one’s family’s approval and acceptance. He still couldn’t help sometimes wishing his own family would accept his daughter instead of continuing to condemn them both for the relationship. “That must have been a relief.”
Delia wrinkled her nose. “They’ve disparaged everything else. Joshua was there when the church was pronounced, ‘so chah-ming’ in a tone that meant anything but.”
Her attempts at a Boston accent made Rose laugh. “The church is charming,” she teased. “Especially that huge, stained-glass window in the front commemoratingsomebody’smarriage.”
Delia blushed. “Papa’s surprise wedding gift.”
“Of course,” Rose said, slanting a droll look at Andre.
Delia waved a hand toward the window. “The Livingston relatives will probably find the people herechah-mingas well. Although, I don’t know what they’ll think about the whole community—rich, poor, and in-between—attending the wedding.”
Rose stiffened, her gaze straying toward the invitation.
Andre could see how much she didn’t want to attend an event with hundreds of strangers. Rose struggled so with her innate shyness, although she’d obviously learned over the years to present an outwardly assured countenance. Only one who knew her as well as he did could recognize signs of her discomfort.
Back when he courted Rose, Andre had slowly introduced her to his friends and business partners. He only held small dinner parties and always invited Marty and his wife, as well as some others from her small circle of friends. He’d watched her gradually become comfortable with his friends and associates.
Had she known before arriving in Sweetwater Springs that she was jumping into the midst of a tight-knit community—all but himself strangers to her?And, of course, Rufus and Tilda.But Rose hadn’t known about those two before she’d arrived.He admired her courage in making a new life away from the people, routine, and community that gave her comfort.
His daughter didn’t seem to notice Rose’s reaction, for she kept on chattering. “I certainly hope they won’t say aloud their opinion of people. But they areCabots of Boston.” Delia mimicked Edith’s Boston accent. For a moment, her hazel eyes appeared haunted; the pain of other rejections showed. Then she quickly slid on an expression of equanimity. “They probably think they can treat people however they want.”
Andre’s protective instincts flared. “If any of them get snooty with you, daughter, just tilt your chin at a haughty angle.” He demonstrated. “Look down your nose. Slide on your Southern accent until it’s honey-thick and say in a regal tone, ‘Iam aBellaireof New Orleans.’”
His snobbish expression made them both laugh.
Delia quickly sobered. “Maggie will have to bear the brunt of their scrutiny. But if they dare disparage her, Caleb will send them home with their tails on fire.”
Andre tilted his head, studying his daughter, who often provided a fount of unexpected wisdom for him. “You really think so? I had the impression that he and Mrs. Grayson wish to make a positive impression on them.”
“Of course, but Caleb is very protective of Maggie and Charlotte.”
“He’d better be,” Andre growled. “In the eyes of upper-class society, his marriage to Maggie will be seen as amisalliance. I don’t know why he even invited his highbrow relatives to the wedding.”
Delia fingered the edge of a paper on Andre’s desk. “At the tea party, Edith said they sent invitations only to be polite, never expecting they’d be accepted.”
Just like I did with my family when Delia married Joshua.He didn’t say so aloud. His beautiful daughter didn’t know about the invitations he’d sent with such hope and the bitter rejection letters he received back.
Andre turned his mind from the pain of his family’s judgment and focused, as he had the past two years, on making life better for the people he loved, the ever-growing circle of friends, and the caring he felt in general for his community. He slid a sideways glance at Rose—including Sweetwater Spring’s two newest members.
He noted the tightness of her jaw and the way the hand in her lap clenched into a fist.She’ll find all the hoopla about this wedding difficult. I know Rose would prefer to hide away with a book instead of attending.
Andre couldn’t help a wishful thought that he could hide away with her for the next few days. He imagined them reading in front of a fire. Sipping tea. Content with each other and blessed silence.
A glimmer of an idea came to Andre, and, while the two women talked about the wedding, he began to spin a web.
