Gilly dropped her hand to her lap. " Philadelphia , who is blameless, is—"
" Philadelphia is not entirely blameless," Livvy snapped.
"—the villainess, stringing along both brothers, being no better than she should be. In another version, poor Wally is the cad. He was romancing Philadelphia all along behind Max's back and convinced her to betray his own brother. And there are those who believe that Louise is to blame. Louise worked her wiles on Max, dazzled him so thoroughly that he forgot about poor Philadelphia and married an adventuress. When Philadelphia learned she'd been jilted, she turned to Wally for comfort, then ran off with him out of spite."
"From now on scandal will be a constant part of our lives. Mark my words. The gossips will be counting the months until Philadelphia 's babe is born. And then another wave of ugliness will begin while the rumormongers speculate on whose baby she's carrying. Well. I guess we don't have to worry about Louise or Philadelphia being inconvenienced by a stream of callers from town."
The distant mountains rose majestic and changeless above the tops of the cottonwoods dotted across the range. Louise gazed at the snowy caps and wished she could turn back the clock and return to Piney Creek and the celebration party at Olaf's cabin. If she could live the moment over again, she would ask the miners for a pouch of gold and call it good.
She genuinely liked Max and Livvy and Gilly. She expected to like Wally and Gilly's husband, Dave, when she knew them better. And she had brought all of them nothing but trouble and shame. That hadn't been her intention.
No one spoke until Livvy turned the wagon down the ruts leading to Max's house. Then Louise inhaled deeply, leaned forward, and said in a haughty voice, "Am I to assume there will be no wedding on Sunday, Mrs. McCord?"
Livvy and Gilly stared at her and immediately she regretted her impulsive imitation of the imperious Mrs.
Halston.
Then, as Louise was starting to feel foolish, Gilly blurted, "Yes, you stupid cow, since everyone concerned is already married, you may assume there will be no wedding on Sunday."
Louise pushed the folded newspaper into Gilly's hands. "Perhaps you would like to read the full account, Mrs. Halston," she said, switching roles, "and see if you can figure out for your small mean self if there will be a wedding on Sunday."
"I already know the answer, Mrs. McCord," Gilly said with a sniff. She tilted her head back to look down her nose at Louise. "I'm only inquiring for the purpose of embarrassing you and calling to your attention the unforgivable behavior of those cads, your sons."
"And who is this?" Louise exclaimed, looking down at herself. "Could this be the irresistible temptress who started it all? The seductress no man can resist?"
"My heavens," Gilly gasped, drawing back in horror. "I believe it is. Have you no shame? How dare you show your face in public?"
"Because I don't give a flying—ah, fig—what you think, Mrs. Halston."
She and Gilly grinned, then they burst into laughter, falling on each other and laughing until tears ran from their eyes and their sides ached. Even Livvy was smiling when she wheeled the wagon to a stop in front of the porch.
"It was so awful!" Gilly gasped, pressing a glove to her ribs. "The whispering! The things they said."
"And the way they stood like stones as we were leaving. Nodding to thin air when Livvy said their names. And they didn't even glance at me!"
"Oh, they looked at you, all right."
"I'm glad you two find it amusing to be snubbed and scorned," Livvy said after setting the brake. She climbed to the ground and headed for the wagon bed. "Can you pull yourselves together long enough to carry these packages inside?" She loaded them both from waist to chin with parcels, then looked at Louise and seemed to consider for a moment.
Then her lips pulled down in contempt and she tossed her head. "Since you seem unable to comprehend theGazette announcement, Mrs. Halston, perhaps you should drop by the church on Sunday. If there is no preacher, no guests, no bride and groom, then you may safely assume the wedding has been canceled." Pointing her nose at the sky, Livvy marched toward the door.
Louise's mouth dropped, and she blinked at Gilly . Then they both laughed and followed Livvy into the house. Over coffee and cake, they examined the fabric and trim they had purchased before Livvy measured Louise every which way while Gilly wrote down waist size, bosom size, length of arms, length from waist to floor, length from shoulders to waist.
Louise hadn't known what to expect from this day, but she had sensed that appearing in town would be difficult for Livvy and Gilly and therefore for her. And so it had.
But it had also turned into a happy day. She picked up the cake plates and dropped them into the dishpan, then brought the coffeepot to the kitchen table, refilling cups as Livvy and Gilly sketched suits and dresses on the parcel wrappings.
Before the women departed, they glanced into the parlor and noticed Louise's silver spoon. It was impossible not to notice it since the spoon was the only item on an otherwise bare mantelpiece.
"That's a very pretty spoon," Gilly said after a moment of surprised silence.
"Is it an heirloom?" Livvy inquired politely before she recalled Louise's background. "No, not an heirloom then." When Louise said nothing, Livvy crossed to the mantel and picked up the spoon, turning it between her fingers. "I have some polish that will remove the tarnish lickety-split. The next time you're up at the house, remind me and I'll send some back with you."
Blinking hard, Louise nodded. In the last minute she had experienced an array of emotions. First, embarrassment sudden and hot, that all she had of her own to display was a tarnished spoon. Then defensiveness. The spoon was the only nice thing she owned, and she didn't care what they thought.
Damned if she was going to explain. And finally, a rush of gratitude powerful enough to close her throat.
They hadn't laughed. They hadn't dismissed her spoon with ridicule or contempt.
