A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek

“I mean sometimes weddings get off to a rocky start.” Boy, did her sister owe her.

Robert nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Been to any weddings lately?”

Robert shrugged. “Not for a while. I’ve been away from the social scene.”

“Oh?” Jenny looked up brightly. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Haven’t missed it.” Robert looked toward the barn door. “It won’t take me a minute to run back to the café and get that butter.”

Jenny nodded in defeat. “It’s on the back of the stove. Be sure and use a pot holder.” She suddenly remembered to whom she was talking. “That’s a padded square of cloth. It’ll be on the counter.”

“I know what a pot holder is.” Robert didn’t add that he hadn’t known until five months ago.

Jenny stood with her back to the tables and watched Robert walk out of the barn. He was limping. Now she wondered why a man who had spent five months resting would be limping.

“Handsome, isn’t he?”

Jenny turned to look at the woman standing next to her. Mrs. Hargrove was one of the people in Dry Creek that Jenny liked the best. She’d organized the apron brigade for Jenny, using aprons from the church. Towel aprons. Frilly aprons. Patched aprons. They’d used them all.

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself,” Jenny said.

The older woman had worn a gingham cotton dress every other time Jenny had seen her. Tonight she was in a silk mauve dress with a strand of pearls around her neck. A lemon scent floated around her.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to dance,” Jenny continued. Mrs. Hargrove had said earlier that this was the first dance she’d attended since her husband died two years ago.

“Me?” Mrs. Hargrove laughed. “I was thinking he’d ask you to dance.”

“No time. I’ll be busy with the food.”

“Not when the dancing starts.”

“No, by then I’ll be busy with the pots and pans—washing dishes.”

“Goodness, no! The dishes can wait. Tomorrow’s soon enough for that. We’ll all pitch in then. That’s the way it’s done here. I might even ask old man Gossett to help us. Be good for him to get out. You’d be doing him a favor.”

Jenny had a sudden wish that she could dance. “But I’m not dressed for a party.”

Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I’ll bet there’s a few more dresses at the café.”

The women of Dry Creek had loaned their old prom dresses and bridesmaids dresses to the teenage girls from Seattle. For most of the girls, this was the first time in their lives they had worn a formal dress.

“He’s back,” the older woman announced.

Robert Buckwalter entered the barn doorway and stood for a moment. Jenny could see the blackness of the outside air. Snowflakes were scattered on his head and shoulders. His hands were carefully wrapped around the handle of the saucepan he was holding. He hesitated in the doorway as though he was shy, unsure of his place among the guests. His shyness, combined with the perfect balance of his face almost took her breath away. Maybe he did deserve to be the number one bachelor.

He certainly didn’t deserve to carry the butter.

“Here, let me get that.” Jenny wiped her hands on her apron and started toward him. The steam from the lobsters had made her hands clammy. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I can carry a pan of butter.”

“Of course.” Jenny stopped. Of course he could. Why in the world was she so nervous around the man? It must be her sister. Making him sound so mysterious. Just because he was rich, it didn’t mean he wasn’t just a regular kind of a guy, too. He just had more change in his pockets than most.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Jenny turned to talk again with Mrs. Hargrove.

The regular guy walked around her toward the table.

“Then your troubles for the evening will be over,” Mrs. Hargrove said kindly as she put a hand on Jenny’s arm. “We’re so grateful for all the work you’ve done, dear.”

Robert frowned as he set the saucepan on the table. If dinner was coming soon, he had work to do fast. He suspected people were always more easily shocked on an empty stomach. Plus, after dinner, the sounds of those records playing would mask his attempts at being outrageous.

He’d given some thought to his dilemma while outside and he’d decided age could go two ways. Instead of focusing on someone young like Bambi, he could try someone old enough to be his grandmother.

“Ah, there you are.” Robert turned back to Mrs. Hargrove. He understood she was the Sunday school teacher for most of the little people in Dry Creek. She should be thoroughly offended by a kiss from a strange man. Everyone else should be shocked, too.

He looked around for Bambi and called her over. There’d be no point in rattling the people of Dry Creek if he couldn’t shake up the rest of the country, too.

“Yes?” Mrs. Hargrove looked up at him. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. Her cheeks were pink. She must be seventy years old. She looked like every cookie-lover’s picture of Grandma.

Robert dove right in. “I love you.”

“Why, I love you, too.” She beamed back.

“What?” Robert stalled. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.

“I love all of God’s children,” Mrs. Hargrove continued. “They say that’s how Christians will know each other. By the love they have for others. I John 4:7. Does this mean you’re a Christian?”

“Well, no, I—I mean I’m not opposed to Christianity.” Robert started to sweat in earnest. How had God gotten into this? “Don’t really even know much about it—”

“Well, I’d be happy to tell you.”

“Great, maybe later. It’s just that’s not what I meant when I said I love you.”

“Well, then, what did you mean?”

Robert was desperate. He looked over and nodded at Bambi. She was in position. Then he started to bend down.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Hargrove bent, too. “My beads.”

Robert heard the scattered dropping of pearls as his kiss landed smack on the top of Mrs. Hargrove’s gray head. His lips met the scalp where her hair was parted.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she bent down farther.

Now Robert couldn’t even kiss the top of her head unless he squatted down to where his kneecaps should be.

“Here, let me help you,” Jenny said as she stepped closer to both of them.