Read The Preacher's Daughter for Free Online Page B

‘‘And the steaks await.’’
    He carried the wooden salad bowl, tongs, and dressing to the table. ‘‘How about some dinner music?’’
    â€˜â€˜Sure. What are you in the mood for?’’
    He winked at her in response, and she felt her face blush.
    â€˜â€˜You pick.’’
    She went to the sitting area of the small living room and scanned the CD tower. This was not a night for anything heavy. Keep it mellow, she decided, thinking ahead to the topic of conversation, which must wait until they had enjoyed the jointly made candlelight dinner.
    She reached for her old favorite, legendary Stan Getz—cool tenor sax—and slipped the disk into the CD player. Smooth jazz filled up all the spaces of silence, and she sat down across from Michael.
    â€˜â€˜Hold your plate,’’ he said and forked one of the steaks.
    She watched him place the medium-rare piece of meat onto her plate. She was aware of his hands, his well-manicured nails . . . and immediately she thought of her mother’s plans to do an all-day manicure, pedicure, and facial with all the bridesmaids. Then, they were all supposed to go to a glitzy tearoom Mother had booked, where Louisa was to present the gold bracelets.
    But here she was having a really terrific dinner with Michael, who was making nice remarks about the steaks she’d grilled. Saying other complimentary things with his eyes, as well.
    Oh, she groaned inwardly. Wrong timing .
    But later, during a dessert of peach sorbet and gourmet butter cookies, it was Michael who mentioned that his mother was asking about ‘‘all those groomsmen.’’
    â€˜â€˜Did you tell her it was my mother’s idea to have a million bridesmaids, which meant you had to scrounge up that many groomsmen?’’
    He shook his head. ‘‘Moi?’’
    â€˜â€˜Well, it’s excessive, and it seems Mother has decided this wedding is to be the most costly, the most lavish of any in Denver’s recent history.’’
    â€˜â€˜Hmm . . .’’ Michael frowned. ‘‘I take it you’re not happy.’’
    â€˜â€˜It’s just that . . .’’ She spooned up a small amount of sorbet and stared at it. ‘‘I was hoping our wedding might reflect something of the two of us .’’
    â€˜â€˜Doesn’t it? Our families aren’t exactly collecting food stamps. Why not have a good time?’’
    This wasn’t going as she had imagined. She looked at him. ‘‘It’s gotten so out of hand, and Mother’s calling all the shots.’’
    He reached across the table for her hand but she stiffened. ‘‘What’s really wrong?’’
    â€˜â€˜Don’t you get it, Michael? It’s not a wedding anymore, it’s a Las Vegas show!’’ She thought she might cry.
    â€˜â€˜Do your parents know how you feel?’’
    â€˜â€˜It’s not me they’re trying to please. It’s all about making impressions . . . Mother’s society sisters, for one. And everyone else on the guest list.’’
    Michael shrugged. ‘‘So? My mom’s one of the society girls, too, remember? She’s equally anxious to see a gala wedding for us. Everyone, both families, all of our friends, are on board.’’
    â€˜â€˜Except me.’’ Her words came out like a thud, and Michael’s eyebrows shot up. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how terribly disillusioned she had become. What had changed? Was it Annie Zook’s friendship over the years, an Amish girl’s influence from afar? No, it was more than that. Had to be.
    She swallowed hard. ‘‘A quarter-of-a-million-dollar wedding won’t make our day more special or meaningful, will it?’’ She had to hear him refute it. Instead, he pushed his chair back and reached for her salad plate, as well as his own, and carried