Page 52 of A Family Kind of Wedding (Forever Family 3)

Bliss was having none of her arguments. “But you need a special day, an event, a rite of passage to start your life with J.D.”

Tiffany leaned back in the booth as the waitress brought their check. “We’ll see.”

“Really, Tiffany—”

“Look, Bliss, there are other complications as well,” Tiffany said, then, hearing the edge in her voice, she sighed.

“Oh.” Bliss cleared her throat, and Katie got the message.

“You mean you’re not going to have the big church wedding because you don’t want to deal with John.”

“What would I do, have him give me away?” Tiffany asked, her lips pursing. “That’s a joke, isn’t it, since he never even claimed me for over thirty years.”

Bliss’s chin hardened. “Have Stephen give you away. Leave Dad out of it.”

“Too late.” Tiffany tossed her napkin on the table and reached for the check. “John’s already asked to pay for the wedding, just like he’s been my father all along.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “Maybe if this were my first wedding, maybe if there had been more time since I’d connected with him and accepted him as a father figure of some kind, if not a real dad, then maybe this would work. As it is, I think it’s best if J.D. and I scoop up the kids and steal away in the night. When we return a few days later, we’ll be married.”

“There is an edge of romance to that,” Katie allowed.

“Well, it’s your decision.” Bliss reached across the table and squeezed her half sister’s fingers. “Don’t mind me. I just learned at an early age to speak my mind, even when I know that discretion is the better part of valor, and I should be shot for being so blunt.”

“Forgiven,” Tiffany said with a wave of her hand.

“Good, then consider a big wedding.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tiffany promised.

They split the check, and Katie headed back to the office. For the next forty-five minutes she worked on her story about Octavia Nesbitt and decided not to mention the tea leaves.

She checked her email and regular correspondence, hoping that someone had answered her “For Rent” advertisement for the house she and Josh had called home for over a decade, or, on the off chance that Isaac Wells had tried to reach her again. No such luck.

By four o’clock, she’d met the following day’s deadlines, endured a late staff meeting and left work. Josh was at soccer practice and another mother had offered to drive him home, so Katie had an hour or so alone in the house, an hour she could use to clean and put away odds and ends.

She’d introduced herself to all of her tenants and was particularly fond of Roberta Ellingsworth, known as Ellie, an older woman who lived in a unit downstairs. On the second day Katie had been in the house, Ellie had brought her a home-baked pie and a cluster of asters, then promptly offered to watch Josh whenever Katie needed a hand. All in all, living in the old Victorian manor was beginning to feel like home.

Except for the fact that Luke lived nearby. Being this close to him was unnerving. And exciting. To her disconcertment she found herself looking out the window, watching his comings and goings, waving as he passed by a back window and dreaming of making love to him.

Don’t trust him, she told herself when she found herself fantasizing about him again. You barely know him. He could have a dozen women in a dozen different towns.

CHAPTER TEN

“That does it,” Ralph Sorenson said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Loretta and I will be on the next flight to Oregon. I’ve got to hand it to you, Luke. I didn’t have much faith in you when you took off, didn’t think you’d really put your heart and soul into finding Dave’s son, but you did it. And don’t think I won’t remember that I said I’d pay you.”

“I think you should slow down a minute,” Luke interjected, trying to tamp down the older man’s enthusiasm. “I said that Katie Kinkaid told me that Dave was Josh’s father. She told her son as well, but I think you should hold off coming out here until the dust settles.”

“Hold off? For the love of Pete, why?”

“To give everyone time to adjust.”

“Like hell, boy. I’m seventy years old. It’s up to the Man Upstairs how much longer I’ll be walkin’ on this planet, and I don’t see any reason to slow down. By next month I could be six feet under.”

Luke doubted it. Ralph, though no longer a young man, was as spry and healthy as most men ten years younger.

“Why don’t you just give me the boy’s phone number, and I’ll call him up?”

“Wait a second.” Luke’s head began to pound. “How about the other way around? I’ll have Katie and Josh, if he’s up to it—call you.”

“Why wouldn’t he be up to it?” Ralph demanded.

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