Page 121 of Charlotte

Lottie washed her face in cold water, pinned her hair with hands that only trembled once, and put on the same dress she had failed to wear the night before. No Bellamy woman went to public defeat looking untidy. Delly had taught her that, though Delly would have called it practical presentation rather than pride.

A knock came at the hotel room door.

Lottie opened it to find her sister standing in the hall with two biscuits wrapped in a napkin and an expression of carefully managed neutrality.

“I brought breakfast.”

“I am not hungry.”

“I anticipated that objection and chose something portable.”

“You are becoming less subtle since marriage.”

“I was never subtle. I was merely efficient.”

Lottie took the napkin because refusing bread from Delly had always been more trouble than eating it. Her sister’s gaze moved over her face.

“You do not have to go to church this morning.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You do not.”

Lottie looked down at the folded napkin in her hands. “If I stay here, everyone will know why.”

“Everyone already suspects why.”

“That is not comforting.”

“No, but it saves you the labor of pretending mystery.”

Lottie almost laughed. It caught in her throat and came out unevenly.

Delly stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “I can sit with you here. Jeb will understand.”

Of course, he would. Jebediah Simms had become annoyingly good at understanding things. Lottie liked him for it. She also resented him for having learned courage faster than Cecil.

“No,” Lottie said. “I am going.”

Delly gave an exaggerated sigh. “For yourself, or to prove something?”

Lottie hated the question because it required examination, and she had done quite enough examination for one week.

“For myself,” she said at last. “And because I missed the Jubilee. I will not miss church too.”

Delly’s face softened.

She did not fuss. That was another sign of growth. Instead, she slipped her arm through Lottie’s and walked with her downstairs, out of the hotel, and into the bright morning.

Wild Rose Ridge looked like a town that had celebrated hard and slept little.

Bunting hung from porch rails in tired swoops. A forgotten paper flag lay near the mercantile steps. The platform on the beach stood empty. The lanterns unlit and pale in daylight. A child near the bakery still had red sugar in the corner of his mouth and the solemn expression of someone who had committed several small sins and regretted none of them.

Mrs. Beck waved from her doorway. “Bless you both. Service first, then we shall see what remains of the cakes.”

“I fear several may be beyond rescue,” Delly murmured.

“Then we must perform the Christian duty of disposal,” Lottie said.