Something Unexpected by WENDY WARREN Page A

he agreed. What you don’t know is that a few of us ‘old-timers’—” she laughed as if they really weren’t old-timers at all “—in The Betterment of Honeyford Society have written a play depicting Honeyford’s history. Since he’s the only professional actor we know, we’rewondering whether he might agree to perform a role in our theatrical sortie.”
    Dean’s fingers ceased their circles on Rosemary’s wrist. “A play,” he murmured, frowning. “Uh…my brother isn’t a theatrical actor, Mrs. Covington, he was a bull rider and—”
    â€œOh, but he’s very high-profile. The cities of Bend and Sisters draw tourists throughout the year. If Honeyford can accomplish that, every business in town will benefit. And what better way to draw tourists than to offer them special events they can’t find anywhere else? I’m quite certain that with the right cast we can pack the community center to the rafters.” Her thin fingers fluttered like angel wings toward the ceiling. “And it’s no sin to want to win.” Her hands came back to rest in pretty-please position. “Will you ask him?”
    Rosemary could see Dean struggling with the desire to be of service and the reluctance to approach his brother. She wondered what kind of relationship he had with his family. Who, for that matter, were his family members? She knew nothing important about him.
    You know he’s a generous lover.
    Heat suffused her face seconds after the thought struck. Still, it was true. By the time they’d arrived at the motel, they’d both been almost comically ready to shuck their clothes. She’d been surprised by her own eagerness, though not by Dean’s. Weren’t most men in a hurry once they’d determined they were going to have sex?
    And yet he’d been considerate, unselfish and…romantic. Rosemary wondered whether it was reasonable to call the actions of someone who didn’t even know you romantic. Vi had once dated a man who, she said, could look at any woman as if she were the only woman in the world. It wasn’t personal. With Dean, everything had felt personal.
    Rosemary knew that her mother and sisters would, if consulted, tell her to get her head out of the clouds. The Jefferswomen were historically unlucky in love. Rosemary’s mother had jettisoned her own husband when her daughters were still wearing footed pajamas. She’d raised her girls to be independent, strong and, above all, realistic. Rosemary’s two sisters had never, as far as she knew, believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy or any story ending in “…and they lived happily ever after.” Which was why Rosemary had always felt like a disappointment to her family. She’d once set out cookies for Santa on a little dish she’d set behind a chair so her mother wouldn’t see it. It had taken hours to cut out the tiny arrows she’d taped on the floor after everyone else had gone to bed, in the hope that Santa would find his snack. He hadn’t. The Tooth Fairy had never taken any of the teeth Rosemary had slipped under her pillow, either, and as for “happily ever after”… These days Rosemary knew where all the fairy tales were shelved in the library, but never again would she count on real life being so accommodating.
    â€œI share your interest in bringing more tourism to Honeyford, Mrs. Covington.” Dean smiled gently at the older woman as he prepared to disappoint her. “And I’ll help in any way I’m able, but I can’t imagine my brother agreeing to—”
    â€œBridgett Kramer has agreed to sew his costume from scratch! She’s an award-winning seamstress, you know,” EthelAnne “It’s No Sin to Win” Covington interrupted, trying to cut a refusal off at the pass. “Bridgett found a wonderful pattern for an Uncle Sam costume. It even