Page 70 of Conveniently Wed
And then the dresses had arrived. Store-bought and prettier than anything Fran had had since she was a young girl, a deep green for her and a paler green for Emma. Had he meant them to be an apology? She didn’t know.
They’d arrived via the front desk clerk, along with a note from Edgar requesting they join him for dinner.
Before he’d settled them at the hotel, Edgar had asked them not to leave the room. But she’d been able to ask the clerk for paper and an envelope and had asked the man to return in an hour for the missive she composed.
She probably shouldn’t have taken the liberty. But she couldn’t forget Edgar’s obvious pain when he’d spoken of his mother’s abandonment and the director of the Chicago orphanage. So she’d written to the institution on his behalf andasked if the woman was still there, and if so, to send details on what had happened back to Edgar in Bear Creek.
It was a long shot. No doubt the orphanage had changed directors or maybe the woman wouldn’t even remember Edgar with all the children she must be helping. But Fran felt she had to try.
She doubted he would appreciate her interference. Knew he would likely hate that she’d done it.
But she would be in Calvin by then, too far away for him to complain to.
She prayed that he would get an answer that would give him some peace. That by knowing with a man’s wisdom what he perhaps hadn’t seen as a child, he could settle his mind over it.
If he wouldn’t let her in, at least she could do this for him.
Now a light tap on the door shook her from her musings.
She cracked the door to find Edgar there, wearing his same cowboy garb, but with his hair and beard damp and his cheeks ruddy, like he’d just scrubbed up for supper.
His eyes took her in from the hem of her skirt to the top of her now-shining hair.
“You look…real good in that.”
She flushed hot and reached up to touch the back of her hair. It had had to be a simple bun, because she’d lost some of her pins between all their outdoor adventures and had no way to acquire more.
But his appraisal made her feel she didn’t look simple at all.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He looked to the room behind her. “Emma ready?”
“She doesn’t feel up to going down for supper.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is she sick? Didn’t she like the dress?”
“I think she’s just frightened. Still.”
“Seb said she did great with the wagon.” His statement seemed more like an argument than a question.
“Well, we’re in town now.”
She saw a muscle in his jaw tick. She could hear him silently accusing her of coddling her sister. “Tell her to get out here.”
“No.”
His eyes widened at her refusal.
She lowered her voice, glancing over her shoulder. Emma stood at the window, peeking out from behind the curtain, apparently ignoring them or unable to hear their low voices.
“I’ve seen how well your high-handedness works with Ricky. You were fighting again this afternoon?—”
He inhaled sharply and his eyes darkened. His frown deepened.
She tried cajoling. “Can’t you ask one of the cowboys to stay and watch over Emma? Please?”
He looked like he was biting down on his back teeth again. “Fine.”
