Jennifer Mikels - The Bridal Quest

Annie delivered a pleased grin. “That’s good. If there hadn’t been more, I would have given you my share,” she assured her sister.

Sam closed one eye in her direction. Who was that strange child sitting there? Was this some new phase she was embarking on? He sure had a hard time keeping up. He opened the box of cereal, poured it in two bowls, and set them on the table.

With the girls busy crunching away on the chocolate bears that were swimming in milk and turning it the color of cocoa, he finally poured himself a cup of coffee. He’d bought one of those two-cup coffee brewers for his survival. He never had time to wait for a full pot, and figured there was less waste this way.

“Mrs. Mulvane is here,” Casey said with the opening of the back door.

Sam gazed over the rim of the coffee cup at the girls’ nanny.

“Good morning.” Arlene Mulvane’s voice cracked with her bright, cheery greeting. The elderly woman, a grandmother of four, and great-grandmother of two, lumbered into the kitchen. Several months ago after his third nanny had quit, she’d arrived at the door, and said she would take the job. He’d wondered if Arlene and several of the other town do-gooders had drawn straws to see which of them would volunteer to help “the poor dear man alone with those two little girls.” Regardless, Arlene had blended in well, treated the girls like her own granddaughters. Though she didn’t live in, she would stay late when he couldn’t get home on time.

“And we’re going to the fire station on our next field trip,” Annie was informing Arlene.

Casey offered her opinion. “The lizard farm is better.”

“Yuk!” Annie screwed up her nose, but her bright blue eyes shifted to Sam. “Don’t forget our date.”

He assumed the day would come when some other male would receive that eager look. For now, he had exclusive rights to it. “I won’t forget.”

“Around twelve-thirty?” Arlene asked.

Sam nodded, then drained the coffee in his cup. On Saturday when they had no school, they met him for lunch. “I’ll be at the diner.”

The bell above the diner door jingled. Crowded, noisy, the diner, with its blue-and-white decor, held the aroma of perked coffee and freshly baked cinnamon buns. One of the waitresses poured coffee into two thick mugs and plunked them down in front of customers at the counter. Country music from a jukebox played in the background. Another waitress balanced plates along her arm and weaved her way to a booth near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jessica had arrived at the diner before dawn broke. Dew had clung to the ground. Now the sun lightened a sky lavish with clouds.

Hurrying toward a customer who’d asked for another glass of water, she was having a terrible morning. Twice, she’d messed up orders. She wondered why she hadn’t expected problems. After all, she’d bluffed her way into the waitress job this morning, but she’d truly believed she could handle it. How foolish, Jessica.

At the end of the counter, two construction workers from a nearby site waited for a bottle of Tabasco sauce to pour on their eggs, and the fellow in the last booth who she hadn’t gotten to yet scowled at the clock on the wall.

“Scott! Your order’s up,” Herb yelled.

It took a moment to remember to respond to the name. When she’d applied for the job, Herb had questioned why her identification said Walker. She’d claimed she hadn’t changed her name back, let him assume Walker was a married name. Briefly she’d held her breath, worried, but busy and distracted, he’d handed her a shirt and had registered no recognition to the Walker name.

Pivoting around, she picked up orders. She abandoned any notion of balancing the plates on her arm. With one in each hand, she started for the table. Better to make several trips than to dump the breakfast on the floor.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” the man growled when she’d set down his plate.

Sure it was. She was certain she’d gotten the order right. “I’ll take care of that, sir.”

She placed her reorder, then grabbed the coffee pot to fill cups. At the end of the counter, one customer, a petite woman in her mid-sixties with bright red hair and a broad smile, had been watching her ever since she’d entered the diner. Since all the servers and Herb had stopped to talk to her, Jessica assumed the woman was a regular customer.

“Name’s Trudy Holtrum,” the woman said. “I heard there was a new waitress.”

Jessica paused and filled the woman’s coffee cup. “I’m Jessica Scott.”

Trudy bobbed her head as if looking for a yes answer to a question not yet asked. “Have you met the sheriff yet?”

Jessica started to frown. Why would she ask such a question? “Yes, why?”

“I work for him,” Trudy explained. “Lots of women in town are willing to give him a run for his money. Are you?”

“Pardon?” Though stunned by her candor, Jessica laughed.

Hazel eyes met hers with heart-stopping directness. “Don’t you find him attractive?”

Jessica couldn’t mask her incredulity. “What? I don’t even know—”

Nothing fazed the woman. “Better than that, huh?” She peered over her wire-rimmed glasses at Jessica. “Handsome? Sexy?”

Politeness stretched only so far, Jessica decided. “Trudy, I don’t think—”

The charms on her bracelet clattered as she set down her coffee cup. “Oh, he’s sexy, all right.” Grinning, she placed her hands on the counter and heaved herself to a stand.

“See you,” Jessica said.

“Likely.” The woman’s eyes sparkled. “Since you and the sheriff might be an item.”

Jessica laughed as Trudy ambled toward the door. The woman was eccentric, probably a gossip and delightful.

As the breakfast rush dwindled down, she refilled water glasses, checked sugar containers and set up several sets of silverware.

By eleven-thirty, the lunch crowd began to wander in. Tables filled quickly. Every stool at the counter was occupied. She noticed that no one sat in her first booth and wondered if she’d already earned a reputation for dropping dishes, and people were avoiding her.

At twelve-thirty, she learned that she had nothing to do with the booth being left empty. She was in the middle of delivering an order of meat loaf when the bell jingled, announcing a customer and she heard Herb’s greeting. “Afternoon, Sam. Your usual booth is waiting for you.”

The sheriff’s usual booth was the empty one in her station.

What happened next really was his fault, she decided. He shouldn’t have been so good-looking. Then she wouldn’t have been eyeing him instead of watching where she was going. She wouldn’t have dropped the tray of dishes.

Plates clattered to the black-and-white tile floor of Herb’s Diner. Heads swung in Jessica’s direction. And her boss, Herb scowled.

Feeling knots in her shoulders, she rolled them slightly before she began picking up the glass.

A broom in her hand, Cory Winston sidled close to Jessica and began to sweep splintered glass in a pile. “Let me give you a hand.” A bottle blond in her early thirties, Cory had worked for Herb since she’d graduated from high school. “Don’t feel bad, hon,” she said low. “Every single female in town notices him.”

Jessica raised a hand and nudged back a few strands of her auburn hair. Him, she assumed, was the sheriff.

“But don’t get your hopes up. He’s a widower, and not looking.”

“Oh, that wasn’t—”

Cory pushed to a stand before Jessica could explain that she wasn’t interested. Better for Cory to think she was as attracted to the sheriff as every other female. She couldn’t have explained that she’d been like a runaway bride. What would she say? I’m on the run. Hiding from my family. Don’t tell the sheriff. As much as Jessica liked Cory, she couldn’t trust her with that secret. “I feel as if I’m on his wanted list,” she said, aware of his unwavering stare on her.