better by the minute from the looks of it.”
Flip offers Logan twenty bucks to switch partners with him for the opening dance. Logan hesitates and looks at me. I roll my eyes and ignore the transaction, which does eventually take place. While we’re still at the back of the chapel, Flip offers Logan another twenty dollars so he can ride alone with Erma on the single horse and carriage rides at the end of the night “so we can make out.”
Logan takes this offer, too.
Then, Mama approaches and hands me the Ms. Bennet bonnet for Ginny. I look toward the front of the room as Daddy places the Mr. Darcy cowboy hat on Dave’s head.
Mama looks with me. “The brown lettering is gorgeous, isn’t it? So masculine.”
“It’s very nice,” I agree.
I walk past the wedding party until I reach a pale Ginny standing with her beaming father.
“Here, honey.” I help her put on the bonnet, and then I tie it loosely underneath her chin.
She giggles. “This must be my something old.”
“You’re right! And your something borrowed.”
“And blue.” She gestures to the blue letters spelling out Ms. Bennet on the front of the bonnet.
“All good luck.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and step back into line.
The actual wedding ceremony at The Cowherd Whiskey Chapel goes by without a hitch. During those thirty minutes with no one able to talk to me or touch me, I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in days.
The cameras zoom in closely on Ginny and Dave as they exchange their vows. The reporters are working overtime as they nearly trip over one another to get the best shot. Jon falls, and his camera flies out of his hands.
As Skip rescues it, I whisper to him, “Serves you right that Jon missed the shot, you blackmailer.”
“Remember, your story comes out first thing tomorrow,” he says back. “You’re going to want to read it, Ms. Henwood. You come off like a real heroine.”
“Shut up, Skip.”
Then, Reverend Sands pronounces Dave and Ginny husband and wife, and I can’t tell if Ginny’s crying happy tears or something else. I twist my head to get a better look, but the brim of the bonnet keeps her face in shadow, and the moment passes.
She and Dave walk down the aisle and head into the saloon. Foregoing any formal procession, all guests rush the liquor room. Cameras bump cameras, and people slam into each other as everyone wants to be the first one in the door.
Logan and I end up reaching the door at the same time, but it’s Daddy who calls out the truth.
“There will be no miracle tonight,” he says. “Jane Austen’s ghost is still locked up tight.”
He removes the cowboy hat off Dave’s head, takes the bonnet from Ginny, and returns them to their locked cabinet in the corner. Mr. Bingley calmly watches the commotion from his perch on top of the cabinet, his green eyes assessing us all.
“Good Lord,” I say to Logan in a low voice. “My parents have hoodwinked the entire town with this Make Your Match contest.”
“The town wants to be hoodwinked,” he says. “No one’s an innocent here.”
But just because the cell door didn’t open doesn’t mean everyone’s accepted the cold hard truth. Mrs. Rattles calls out that a couple isn’t truly officially married until their reception is complete. They must have a first dance, after all, and cut the cake. And then, she believes in her heart, her Ginny’s union will unlock that damn cell door.
“Did you get that, Skip?” Mrs. Rattles turns on him. “Don’t leave yet. You’ll miss a whole lot of story to put into that paper of yours.”
Her pep talk buoys everyone’s spirits, although on the way out the door, all I hear people saying is how, if Ginny and Dave don’t unlock the door, then Logan and Gigi must be the soul mates.
I put a smile on my face and try to gracefully enter the reception hall. Nickel’s band is playing Ginny and Dave’s wedding song, but as soon as the father-daughter moment is done and Dave cuts in, I have to dance with Logan. The whole wedding party walks out onto the floor, but I hang back. My throat is tight with emotion.
I can’t imagine dancing for three minutes in public with Logan.
Mama’s beaming at me from her table as I get up from my chair. Logan slows down without turning around—I guess he trusts I’m right behind him.
When I reach the dance floor, Logan turns