Undercover Bride by Margaret Brownley Page B

again. Seeing him settled will help me die a happy woman.” She rubbed the small of her back and groaned. “They say the Arizona heat is good for what ails you, but you wouldn’t prove it by me.”
    Sensing that another list of physical complaints was imminent, Maggie quickly changed the subject. “I’m sorry I don’t have any baked goods to offer you.”
    “That’s quite all right. You’re just settling in. I should have thought to bring something.” She pulled a small writing tablet and pencil out of her purse.
    Maggie took a seat opposite her and filled both glasses with lemonade. Today, Aunt Hetty wore a dark skirt and matching shirtwaist. She looked determined and efficient as she opened her notebook and, except for her flushed face, robust. Maggie hoped she looked as well when she was Aunty Hetty’s age.
    “I went ahead and booked the church.” Aunt Hetty made a little check on the page to indicate the task was complete and moved to the second written line. “I also spoke with the dressmaker. She’ll need to take your measurements.”
    Aunt Hetty had no way of knowing it, of course, but she had done Maggie a favor. Male operatives spent much of their time in saloons and barbershops where men gathered and talked. Female detectives had to find other ways to glean information. Since few secrets could be kept from one’s dressmaker, Maggie found that the town seamstresses generally knew everyone’s business, and most were happy to share it.
    Aunt Hetty continued down her list—and what a list it was. Invitations, food, guests, music, decorations… Even in her
sickly
condition, she’d thought of everything.
    Maggie hated to put so many people to work for a wedding that would never take place, but she couldn’t help but marvel at the woman’s efficiency.
    “Garrett and I agreed to keep things… simple,” she said carefully. His aunt meant well, and it made no sense to alienate her.
    Aunt Hetty sat back. “But why? It is your first marriage, is it not? So why would you not want to do something special?”
    Maggie slid a glass of lemonade across the table. “Under the circumstances, we thought it best. For the children’s sake.”
    “What circumstances?” Aunt Hetty asked, looking baffled.
    “Garrett is a widower and—”
    Aunt Hetty discounted this with a wave of her hand. “His wife died two years ago, and it does him no good to wallow in the past. Time marches on and so should he.”
    Maggie took a sip of lemonade. Fortunately, Garrett’s aunt talked without prompting, stopping now and again to complain about her back, hip, or knee. She glanced down at her list. “Where was I?”
    “You said that his wife didn’t like it here.”
    Aunt Hetty rolled her eyes. “Katherine hated it here, and that’s the God-honest truth. She wanted to take the children back East to get a better education, but of course Garrett opposed.”
    Maggie thought of the paperboy, Linc, and could understand a mother worrying about her children’s future.
    “How did she and Garrett meet?”
    “Actually, they knew each other before the war. Garrett met her while attending school in Philadelphia. My sister—his mother—died when he was six, and he was convinced that had she had proper medical care, she would have lived. So he decided to become a doctor. A real doctor, not just a shingle-on-the-door one like Doc Coldwell.” She rolled her eyes. “The man doesn’t know a disease from a mule’s backside.”
    Fearing another anatomy lesson, Maggie quickly brought the conversation back to Garrett. “What happened?”
    “The war happened, and of course young men his age were conscripted. I offered to give him money to avoid the draft, but Garrett wouldn’t hear of it. I was ready to take out a bank loan if necessary or even sell my property.” Avoiding the draft involved either paying three hundred dollars or hiring a substitute. “He refused my offer. Said it wasn’t fair to the men who couldn’t afford the