as she hurried across the room. The waitress sighed and set Josy’s bill on the table. She turned toward the other woman, shaking her head.
“Aw, Corinne, don’t do this to me.”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.” The blonde offered a rueful, somewhat frustrated smile.
“You know I can’t even start writing out those invites until you get me that list—”
“I know, I know. I promise I’ll have it by tomorrow afternoon. Things have been crazy.”
“Yeah, honey, that’s what happens when you get married.”
“
This
stuff isn’t what happens—not to everyone.” Corinne leaned a hip against one of the tables and continued on in an agitated tone. “My wedding gown came in yesterday—finally—in the wrong damned color! I wanted ivory and it’s white. Stark snow white. I’m going to look completely washed-out. Roy will think he’s marrying a ghost when he sees me. That’s not how I want to look on my wedding day.”
“Aw, sorry, honey.” Roberta sighed sympathetically.
Corinne hurried on, her words tumbling together. “So now I have to send it back and hope it comes in right next time, and I’m deciding about place cards and, can you believe it, I still can’t find shoes. Did you ever in your life see a barefoot bride? At this rate, you will.”
Corinne drew a deep, disgusted breath and tugged a cigarette from her purse. Josy couldn’t help listening, amusement and sympathy rising in her as the woman with the short ash-blonde hair kept talking rapidly only three feet away, in between harried puffs on her cigarette.
“My only hope is to find shoes in Casper. So I’m going to have to get there in the next day or so and pray they have something worthy of a bride in size nine narrow. On top of that, last night I promised I’d make dinner for Roy and I meant to work on the shower list right after that, but . . . dinner turned out so great. Roberta, we just ended up having this really romantic night, you know? It was perfect.” She sighed with contentment, then added drily, “So perfect that I never got to the shower list.”
“Didn’t you guys even come up for air?” Roberta snorted.
“Not even. I mean, we lost all track of time and I ended up being late for work. My last night at the Tumbleweed and I was late! Elam was fit to be tied, and I thought he was going to cancel the party tonight, but he didn’t and it’s still on. So be there by ten, okay?”
“You know I’ll be there, hon, but you’re cutting it close. The shower’s a week from Saturday. I need that invitation list pronto. We can’t just send out invites the day before—not if you want folks to show up. Hang on a sec.”
Roberta turned back to Josy, tapping a fuchsia-colored fingernail on the bill. “Sorry, I’ll take this whenever you’re ready. Don’t mind us, just a little prewedding crisis here.”
“No problem.” Josy smiled at the bride-to-be as she slid from her seat. “Congratulations. These are nice problems to have, if you’re going to have problems,” she murmured sympathetically.
Not like having murderers looking
for you and having to run for your life halfway across the
country,
she thought.
Corinne gave a slow, rueful smile and her shoulders relaxed. “No kidding,” she conceded. Her brown eyes suddenly glinted. “And if you saw the groom, you’d know I have no right to complain.”
“He’s a cutie, that’s for sure.” Roberta winked at Josy. “Nearly as handsome as my own poor Luther, Lord rest his soul. Now, that man of mine was a
hunk.
I’ll never find another like him if I live to be a hundred.”
“Maybe not, but all the widowers in town hope you’ll keep trying.” Corinne grinned. She turned back to Josy. “You’re new to town, aren’t you?”
“I only arrived yesterday.”
“Welcome to Thunder Creek.” Roberta spoke over her shoulder as she led the way to the cash register. “Passing through, sticking around, or visiting?”
“Sticking around—short term, at
“Aw, Corinne, don’t do this to me.”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.” The blonde offered a rueful, somewhat frustrated smile.
“You know I can’t even start writing out those invites until you get me that list—”
“I know, I know. I promise I’ll have it by tomorrow afternoon. Things have been crazy.”
“Yeah, honey, that’s what happens when you get married.”
“
This
stuff isn’t what happens—not to everyone.” Corinne leaned a hip against one of the tables and continued on in an agitated tone. “My wedding gown came in yesterday—finally—in the wrong damned color! I wanted ivory and it’s white. Stark snow white. I’m going to look completely washed-out. Roy will think he’s marrying a ghost when he sees me. That’s not how I want to look on my wedding day.”
“Aw, sorry, honey.” Roberta sighed sympathetically.
Corinne hurried on, her words tumbling together. “So now I have to send it back and hope it comes in right next time, and I’m deciding about place cards and, can you believe it, I still can’t find shoes. Did you ever in your life see a barefoot bride? At this rate, you will.”
Corinne drew a deep, disgusted breath and tugged a cigarette from her purse. Josy couldn’t help listening, amusement and sympathy rising in her as the woman with the short ash-blonde hair kept talking rapidly only three feet away, in between harried puffs on her cigarette.
“My only hope is to find shoes in Casper. So I’m going to have to get there in the next day or so and pray they have something worthy of a bride in size nine narrow. On top of that, last night I promised I’d make dinner for Roy and I meant to work on the shower list right after that, but . . . dinner turned out so great. Roberta, we just ended up having this really romantic night, you know? It was perfect.” She sighed with contentment, then added drily, “So perfect that I never got to the shower list.”
“Didn’t you guys even come up for air?” Roberta snorted.
“Not even. I mean, we lost all track of time and I ended up being late for work. My last night at the Tumbleweed and I was late! Elam was fit to be tied, and I thought he was going to cancel the party tonight, but he didn’t and it’s still on. So be there by ten, okay?”
“You know I’ll be there, hon, but you’re cutting it close. The shower’s a week from Saturday. I need that invitation list pronto. We can’t just send out invites the day before—not if you want folks to show up. Hang on a sec.”
Roberta turned back to Josy, tapping a fuchsia-colored fingernail on the bill. “Sorry, I’ll take this whenever you’re ready. Don’t mind us, just a little prewedding crisis here.”
“No problem.” Josy smiled at the bride-to-be as she slid from her seat. “Congratulations. These are nice problems to have, if you’re going to have problems,” she murmured sympathetically.
Not like having murderers looking
for you and having to run for your life halfway across the
country,
she thought.
Corinne gave a slow, rueful smile and her shoulders relaxed. “No kidding,” she conceded. Her brown eyes suddenly glinted. “And if you saw the groom, you’d know I have no right to complain.”
“He’s a cutie, that’s for sure.” Roberta winked at Josy. “Nearly as handsome as my own poor Luther, Lord rest his soul. Now, that man of mine was a
hunk.
I’ll never find another like him if I live to be a hundred.”
“Maybe not, but all the widowers in town hope you’ll keep trying.” Corinne grinned. She turned back to Josy. “You’re new to town, aren’t you?”
“I only arrived yesterday.”
“Welcome to Thunder Creek.” Roberta spoke over her shoulder as she led the way to the cash register. “Passing through, sticking around, or visiting?”
“Sticking around—short term, at
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