99. Sarah
Sarah
On New Year’s Day, fat snowflakes sparkled and spun like confetti, decorating the shoulders of the crowd gathered outside the church.
George stood between Jacob and Erik at the front, my very own Knightley.
Josephine and I swept up the aisle. George caught my gaze and tapped the square of fabric peeking from his pocket.
Green damask, outlined in burgundy, with seven pennies folded inside.
I’d tucked it in his pocket with steady hands and a kiss an hour ago.
Mr. VanMartin beamed as he escorted Viola forward, radiant in the ivory satin dress I’d once teased her about.
She wore joy enough to transform any dress into perfection, and the lace veil was as flattering as Ellie had predicted.
But there was no twist of jealousy under my ribs today.
Viola’s father kissed her cheek and handed her to Jacob with a nod.
They only had eyes for each other, not cow eyes or mooning but the look of two people who had risked their hearts and won.
I sang Bach. George read from Corinthians. Pastor Holmgren gave a short, touching service. They said their vows—Jacob pausing to swallow hard, Viola’s answer ringing out like a resolved chord. Soon, it was all over and sealed with a kiss.
George clasped my hand and towed me along, my fingertips curling around his.
The Harmony Lake Inn overflowed with celebration, the tables piled high with food and drink.
Timothy set up his photography equipment in the private dining room.
Viola and Jacob posed for several shots, then we all squeezed in for a group photo.
Afterward, everyone drifted to the main area, but George held me back.
“One more shot, please,” he called.
Timothy motioned us into position.
George stepped in behind me. The shock of him wanting a photograph made my stomach flip. I instinctively assumed my singing stance—spine straight, hands clasped, chin lifted. Had I smiled before the shutter clicked or after?
Viola was the belle of the ball—the center of everyone’s attention, and as predicted, the whole town adored her. But I didn’t need the whole town—I had George.
Brave souls lined up in the snow from the Inn’s door to the sleigh that would carry Viola and Jacob home as husband and wife. We joined them. I welcomed the bite of the cold air after hours of standing too close to George.
We watched the door. George’s warmth bloomed behind me, his hand sliding around my middle, drawing me against him. “You are cold, and I am warm. Just facts, Goldie.”
Viola and Jacob rushed down the steps, arm in arm.
We cheered and tossed rice, which pattered down as much on the crowd as on the couple.
Halfway to the sleigh, Jacob bent and swept Viola into his arms. She shrieked with laughter.
We roared in approval. They settled in the sleigh, snug beneath heavy blankets.
The driver urged the horses forward. Whistles and whoops carried down the street when they kissed.
George said, “Joy, gentle friends! Joy and fresh days of love accompany your hearts!”
“Shakespeare? Truly?”
He flashed his goofy grin. “I did play Theseus back in school. Guess a few lines got stuck in my head. Don’t say it. I know. My romantic heart is showing.”
George waved from his window and pointed toward the front of my house.
Yesterday, we’d returned from Minnesota.
Today, his courting could officially begin.
I skipped down the staircase as the butler ushered him inside and stepped away.
The full force of George’s smile would’ve sent a lesser woman into a swoon.
He dropped into an elaborate bow, one hand held out to me.
I placed my hand in his, and George spun us into a turn as if the entryway were made for waltzing.
“What is this?” I asked with a grin.
“Goldie, my dear.” He smirked. “Allow me to introduce you to a little something called swowing.”
“That’s not a word.”
“I’m a professional, remember?” He danced me across the marble floor.
Overhead, the clouds shifted, spilling sunlight through the cupola’s cut glass and scattering rainbows around us.
Wonder rose through me and burst out as a laugh.
George’s deep chuckle blended with mine.
He twirled us faster and quieted my laughter with his mouth.
And there I was with kissing and rainbows and George. Better than Austen.
He nuzzled my ear. “May have gotten a bit carried away.”
“Carried me right along with?—”
He spun again and I squeaked.
“Bit dizzy.” He pulled me close. “Point me in the right direct?—”
We bumped against the parlor door and tumbled into the room, clutching each other to keep from falling.
Then we froze.
We were scandalously disheveled—hair escaped from my pins, his collar hung crooked, both of us flushed.
My parents stared. Gloria dropped a spoon onto the tea tray with a clink. Neither Mother nor Mipsy made a peep.
George whispered, “Not exactly as I had planned, but…” He flashed his goofy grin and cleared his throat. He announced to the room, “To be perfectly clear—and of course with your permission—I am Sarah’s suitor.”
Father recovered first. “All right, George. That is excellent.” He smiled warmly, closed his book, and offered an arm to Mother. “Come, my dear, there is that matter I’d like to discuss with you in my office.”
She set Mipsy on the floor and paused to pat George’s cheek and then mine. Tears filled her eyes. But even I could tell they were tears of joy. Father shook George’s hand and clapped him on the back, then led her out.
I leaned against George as the door closed behind them. “Never thought I’d see the day Mother ran out of words.”
“Goldie, we’re in love. Anything is possible.”
George courted me as though he hadn’t already won my heart a hundred times over.
It was a dream far sweeter than any fantasy I’d ever invented and far less lonely than the delusions I used to entertain.
He lounged for hours in the parlor with my family, perfectly at ease, sipping tea and making me smile without even trying.
I cautiously opened to a happiness I’d never dared expect.
Even Mipsy approved, clicking across the floor and christening George’s lap with her white fur.
Mother eventually decided Mipsy’s newfound devotion was not a personal betrayal.
She even chuckled with the rest of us when the puffball began following George around, waiting for him to sit.
I certainly couldn’t fault Mipsy’s taste.
When we played chess, George lost ninety percent of the time—but always cheerfully, and always with a little more skill than before. “At this rate,” he said, “I might have a chance of beating you when I’m old and gray.” I never let him win. He’d have been offended.
When we weren’t tucked away at home, we were out in society—dressed in our finest at the theater and at dinners where I was often asked to sing.
I watched George’s beaming face through every performance to steady my nerves.
We played whist with Buddy and Macy and beat them slightly more often than they beat us.
George pulled me from the fringes and into the center of society. And society, for the most part, welcomed me with open arms—or at least tolerated me with polite curiosity. Viola would’ve said I’d jumped straight to the top rung of the ladder.
But none of that mattered. All I wanted was George.
I kept waiting to wake and find it had all been a dream.
February arrived disguised as May, as if the whole world were as eager for the future as I was.
On a sunny Saturday, George popped by after breakfast to invite me on a walk after lunch.
His impish grin told me he was up to mischief of some kind.
Promptly at one o’clock, a long, narrow box arrived wrapped in pale green paper and tied with golden ribbon.
I slid my hand along the smooth surface.
This was no dusty box of old lace and crumbling flowers…
Mother peeked over my shoulder as I lifted the lid, revealing seven perfect pink peonies. Lucky seven, and my favorite flower. Where had he found peonies in February? I brushed a fingertip over the delicate petals and gasped. “They’re silk.” They would never wilt.
Mother leaned in. “So real. The color variation. The leaves… exquisite. I swear I can smell them.”
Beneath the blooms lay a note in George’s unmistakable hand.
My dearest Sarah,
Please join me on a splendid adventure. The starting point is where I finally opened my eyes and caught sight of my future.
Alas, I almost knocked you down the steps in the process, but I will forever be grateful to Mr. Muntz for distracting me as I bolted through that door and smacked straight into my destiny. I’ll be waiting for you.
All my love,
George
I pressed his note over my heart and tried to breathe. Mother smoothed my hair and nudged me toward the door. I gathered my wits and darted away.
The most handsome man in the world waited on his front steps, sunlight catching in his hair and a goofy, radiant grin lighting his whole face.
I pushed through the shrubbery and skipped up the steps. “Thank you for the lovely flowers. They look so real.”
George grasped my arms and pulled me close, as he had so many months before, a split second after we had crashed together. He ducked his head right there on the front step. His lips brushed mine as neighbors strolled past in the park, but I didn’t care.
“Is this adventure of yours an elaborate ploy for more kisses?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “A fair assessment, that. And an excellent suggestion.” He drew me close in the bright sunlight for a lingering kiss.
I pulled back and attempted to look stern, but my smile betrayed me. “The neighborhood will be scandalized.”
“Best come inside.”
A small flat package waited in the foyer alongside another peony. “Number one is a gift, my dear.”