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

catch her breath before taking what few steps she could to meet her. “I’ve got her!” she exclaimed as she held Bernice’s hand up like a victorious prizefighter’s. “She’s here!”
    The other woman clapped her hands together. “Warren Johnson’s bride?”
    “Yes!”
    The man behind the counter frowned. “Mother … you didn’t.”
    Both matrons turned to him. “We did!”
    “Oh for the love of … not again!”
    They both nodded enthusiastically.
    “So … clearly Independence isn’t the only town that –”
    Both women turned on her. “What?” the thin one snapped. “See to the welfare of our sons?”
    “Not to mention a few others,” Mrs. Riley added.
    The man behind the counter put his face into his hands. “No, no, no,” he moaned.
    Bernice swallowed hard. Should she be worried?
    “Now we haven’t a moment to lose, Betsy – this is a bridal emergency! We’ll have to whip up a dress fast for this one!”
    “I know just what we need!” Betsy said, one hand raised in the air. She headed for a table display of fabrics. “The ivory!”
    “Didn’t Nellie do ivory for Charlotte? We should go with white this time,” Mrs. Riley suggested.
    “No, that was Nellie’s decision, not ours. I say ivory for her hair color. What do you think, Matthew?”
    The man behind the counter lifted up his face, still frowning. “Mother, leave me out of this. I want no part of your wedding shenanigans.”
    “Shenanigans?” Betsy huffed. “We’re on a mission of mercy!”
    “That’s right,” Mrs. Riley agreed. “We’ve got to see Warren Johnson married, or his poor grandfather will never rest!”
    “Old Man Johnson?” Matthew squawked. “He’s as healthy as a horse! Warren doesn’t need a wife yet -  certainly not for his grandfather’s benefit!”
    Bernice felt her heart plummet. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tried to take in her surroundings. She felt as if her entire life was held in the balance by … oh heavens, she wasn’t sure what. At the moment she was beginning to hope it wasn’t the two overzealous matrons digging through the bolts of cloth. Didn’t she get a say in any of this?
    The man came around the counter and approached her. “Excuse me, miss, but my mother and Mrs. Riley are, in my humble opinion … shall we say, overstepping their bounds with you. You can tell them to stop, you know.”
    “Stop? Stop what?”
    “Planning your entire wedding. If you let them, they shall.”
    Bernice cast a furtive glance at the two happy matrons, now stacking a pile of various goods on another table. “Considering everything that’s happened since I got off the stage, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
    “Oh trust me, it’ll be bad,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I speak from personal experience.”
    “You do?”
    “Yes, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell them to stop right this minute.”
    She looked at the floor. “I guess you’re right. I’m not sure if I’ll even get married. I hope to, but ...” She shrugged helplessly.
    His face softened. “Maybe I can help. Stay right here.” He turned and hurried down a hallway.
    Bernice returned her attention to the pile the women were making, which had already doubled in size. She swallowed hard again as she heard two sets of footsteps coming up the hall.
    “Mrs. Riley! Mother Quinn! What are you doing?” a pretty woman asked. She had the same Southern accent as the two Davis women she’d met when she’d first arrived.
    Mrs. Riley turned to her. “Charlotte, there you are! Good, you can help!”
    “I will not help! And you need to stop what you’re doing and ask the young lady here if she wants any of this!”
    Both matrons froze. Bernice was impressed. If this Charlotte had been ordering soldiers around in the war, the Confederacy might’ve won!
    Betsy Quinn turned to Bernice. “You are here to get married, aren’t you?”
    Bernice could only manage a half-smile.