A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride Read Online Free Page A

turned back to Bernice. “You’ll be staying with us until the wedding, it’s all arranged! Summer and Elle – they’re my daughters-in law – will help with the preparations! Oh, it will be a lovely wedding with all of us pitching in!”
    “Heaven help me …,” Mr. Johnson groaned.
    “Heaven is too busy with other things, dear – that’s why people like me exist,” Mrs. Riley teased. “Now where are your things, young lady? We should be getting along if we’re to get you settled in! My son Clayton will be ready to leave to go back to our place any minute!”
    “But Mrs. Riley –”
    “You just leave everything to me, Warren – this way you won’t have to worry about a thing! We’ll take good care of your bride until the wedding! Though I suppose you’ll want to see her between now and then. Let’s see, you come to supper tomorrow night, all right?”
    Bernice sat, stunned at the torrent of words gushing from the woman. But at least it kept Mr. Johnson from talking any more about putting her on a stage back to Independence.
    “Come along, dear – let’s run over to the mercantile and see what Mrs. Quinn has to offer.” She grabbed Bernice’s arm and yanked her out of her chair. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening, Warren! Tell your grandfather hello for me!” She pulled Bernice toward the door just as Hank came out of the kitchen, two cups of coffee in his hands. Bernice barely had time to grab her satchel and give her intended one last look before she was hauled out of the building and into the street.
    Once there, Mrs. Riley blew out a breath, then looked at Bernice. “There, that’s done. Now, let’s be off.”
    “What?” Bernice asked. “What’s done?”
    “Trust me, dear, you don’t want to know.”
    “Yes, I do!” she objected as the woman took her by the hand and pulled her along.
    “All right then. I had to get you out of there before Warren had too much time to think.”
    “Think? I don’t understand.”
    Mrs. Riley stopped and turned to her. “Now don’t fret, dear, let me handle everything.” She started off again, pulling Bernice with her.
    “Handle what? Excuse me, but what is going on?”
    “Warren Johnson, if he’s like every other man in this town, isn’t going to appreciate the work that goes into a proper wedding. In this case, he’s especially not going to appreciate the work that went into getting you here.”
    Bernice stopped this time. “He’s already made that clear.”
    Mrs. Riley stared at her. “My dear child. You don’t sound very broken up about it.”
    “That’s because I’ve gotten used to seeing it happen to everyone else.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Never mind. But he did take me to the restaurant to discuss sending me back home.”
    “Nonsense. He’ll marry you and that’s that.”
    “How can you be so sure? I mean, I came here thinking he would, and even if your town had a mystery matchmaker like my town does, then …”
    “Wait a minute … mystery matchmaker?” Mrs. Riley asked.
    “Yes,” Bernice said with a sigh. “And all the men married their brides despite not wanting them at first either.”
    “There now, you see? What have you got to worry about?”
    Bernice looked at her as the truth hit. “Because there is no guarantee. I could be the one that doesn’t work out. And with my luck, I will.”
    “Now now, what kind of an attitude is that?”
    Bernice took a deep breath to keep back the tears. “A realistic one.”

Three
     
    Mrs. Riley dragged Bernice down the street as fast as she could. The woman was definitely on a mission – what sort of mission Bernice wasn’t sure, but the woman’s steps were determined, her jaw set.
    Before she knew it, they’d marched up the mercantile steps and entered the building. A tall thin woman stood behind the counter, next to a handsome, bespectacled young man. “Leona! What’s the trouble?” she asked as she hurried around the long counter to them.
    Mrs. Riley stopped to