Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,5
it will have to be delayed because of all the responsibilities we have in the immediate future. But I do intend to visit my brother and the rest of the family before too much time passes. I miss them all. Perhaps you could invite your cousin to come spend time with you while we’re there.”
“I’ll do exactly that. I had always hoped Mama and Papa might be able to come here for a visit, but they never seemed able to get away from their work.”
“Your uncle is like that as well. But it has paid off. His position with the Smithsonian is quite to his liking. It is, in fact, everything he could have ever hoped for, and spending his days with his books and artifacts pleases him more than anything else in the world. That, in turn, makes me happy.”
“Well, perhaps you can entice him with the work the Bureau of Ethnology is doing.” Connie gave her aunt another kiss. “No matter what, you’re both loved, and I know you will be very welcome in Oregon. Now, I’d better go. I’m sure Tom will be here soon, if he isn’t already.”
She found Tom and Uncle Dean deep in conversation when she reached the first floor. The men looked up and broke into smiles of appreciation.
“How pretty you are, my dear,” Uncle Dean said, coming to embrace her. “Oh, I remember the days of my youth and how exciting it was to see the young ladies all dressed up. The gentlemen tonight will no doubt lose their hearts at first sight.”
“Well, I don’t need them doing that,” Connie said, glancing admiringly at Tom in his black suit. “Speaking of cleaning up nice, just look at you.”
He laughed. “I was about to compliment you, but if you insist on poking fun at me, I’ll take back all the nice things I intended to say.”
“Suit yourself. I wasn’t poking fun. You look quite dashing. Someone will be blessed to get you as a husband one day.”
She saw the way Tom sobered before he turned away. “I was just telling your uncle how grateful I am for the lower temperature today. I fretted all week about how awful it was going to be to wear this suit, but since the temperature eased, it doesn’t seem so bad.”
“I thought the same thing.” Connie rose up on tiptoe and kissed her uncle. “We’d best be off. I wouldn’t want Sallyanne to think something happened to us.”
Her uncle followed them outside. “I am glad you’re all going together.”
“We make quite the consortium,” Tom said. “Discussing everything from war battles to fashion.”
She laughed. “Not to mention ancient artifacts and cultural studies. Thanks again for letting us borrow the carriage.”
Her uncle merely waved, as if it meant nothing at all.
The carriage and driver were ready and waiting at the curb as Tom and Connie emerged. Tom helped Connie up, then climbed in after her. As she settled into the soft leather seat, she thought of the things she’d miss about the capital city. The hubbub was sometimes quite exciting. There was something about the middle of the day downtown, with all the hustle and bustle, that energized her. She’d miss that for certain.
Tom took the seat opposite her and instructed the driver to head down the street to the Van Buren house. “You look reflective. You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” he asked her.
“Just trying to keep in mind all that I will miss when we go away.”
“Like being the belle of the ball to a captive audience of men?”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“What? It’s all true. You are the belle of most balls. Men are quickly drawn to your side. They especially like the fact that you aren’t seeking a husband, like the others.”
Connie frowned. “Why do you say that? I’ve never said such a thing.”
“Perhaps not with words,” Tom replied. “But your actions most assuredly do. Why do you think you’re so popular among all the men, young and old?”
“I thought it was my great beauty,” she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm.
Tom chuckled. “Well, of course that has a lot to do with it, but it’s also your attitude. Most women your age and older are desperately searching for a husband. That makes men uncomfortable. When they walk into a room of women, they immediately feel as though they are prey amongst predators—led to the slaughter by beautiful executioners in Worth gowns.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever