The Wedding Gift by Sandra Steffen Page A

to turn right and left and left again.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Ruby asked.
    Madeline had followed Ruby’s directions through narrow lanes and back alleys. They’d taken shortcuts that crisscrossed the hills near Lake Michigan until Madeline had no idea where she was. “I think I’m thoroughly lost.”
    â€œLook.” Ruby pointed straight ahead.
    A quaint little cottage sat at the end of a narrow lane that served as the driveway. The lot was small and lined on three sides by pine trees and arborvitae hedges. The lake glistened gray-blue in the distance and sea gulls glided overhead.
    The cottage reminded Madeline of the ones children drew on construction paper. It had a roof pointed like a hat, a crooked brick chimney, two large windows that could have been eyes and a plain front door. A square for-rent sign with faded blue lettering leaned against the steps. The smoke curling from the chimney made it appear lived in.
    â€œDid the owner say how much?” Madeline asked.
    â€œThe phone reception was patchy. The guy I talked to said he’d meet us here at two. We’re early.” Ruby opened her door and swung out.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œTo look in the windows. Are you coming?”
    Ruby was peering through the low window to the right of the front door when Madeline joined her. They stood out of the wind, the sun directly overhead, their hands cupped beside their eyes like field glasses.
    â€œI like it,” Madeline said. “As long as it isn’t too expensive, I think this could be the one.”
    â€œThis change of heart you’ve had about staying,” Ruby said, moving to the other window. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that gorgeous guy who accused you of trespassing then took you home last night. Oh, look, there’s a wood-burning fireplace.”
    Madeline changed windows, too. “It’s not what you think. Riley, that’s his name, has this mongrel dog he hasn’t named and this great Frank Lloyd Wright house he barely lives in. I think I can help.”
    Ruby looked at her as if she was waiting for the rest of the story. Madeline found herself confessing something she hadn’t said out loud to anyone. “I just—I don’t know—I guess I don’t want to go home yet. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone back home is wonderful. They are. I love them to pieces, but ever since Aaron died—Aaron was my fiancé. He died. I still can’t believe it, but he did, he died, and now everyone is worried about me. The mailman, the mayor, the clerk in the grocery store, my brothers and the other nurses at work, they all pat my shoulder when they talk to me, and they watch me as if they’re afraid I might jump off a bridge or shave my eyebrows the way the ancient Egyptians did when the family cat died.”
    â€œThey shaved their eyebrows?” Ruby asked. “Really? That seems a little extreme, don’t you think? I guess I’m more of a dog person.”
    Madeline blinked then giggled. Something must be in the air here. She was still smiling when she resumed looking in the window. It did have a nice fireplace.
    â€œTrespassing again, I see.” The voice was deep and came from directly behind them.
    They both let out a gasp as they spun around. Riley and his dog stood a dozen feet away.
    â€œShe has an appointment,” Ruby said defensively.
    â€œFor two o’clock,” he said. “Yes, I know.”
    He knew? Madeline thought. But how? Realization dawned. “You own this cottage.”
    â€œYou’re the guy with the Porsche from the bar last night,” Ruby said at the same time.
    Riley looked at both of them but spoke to Madeline. “I didn’t think you’d want to stay in my cottage, so I gave you Kipp’s number.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t she want to stay in your cottage?” Ruby asked.
    This time he looked only at Madeline when he