for what seemed exciting news wherever she could find it. “Sorry to disappoint everyone, but Hart and I are just friends.”
There was an audible groan at the news, and Gracie chuckled loudly. “Do you gals want to try that one again in unison?” she teased.
“Does this mean you won’t be bidding on Kyle’s chocolate at the bachelor’s block auction next Saturday?” teased the newly wedded and extremely happy Annie Simmons-Mitchard.
“Assuming, that is, that I can get him up on the block at all,” Constance complained good-naturedly as she passed out miniature plastic pacifiers in pink and blue, each tied with a ribbon long enough to dangle around a woman’s neck like a necklace.
“Is he being stubborn?” one of the women called, hooting in displeasure.
Constance shrugged. “Kyle hasn’t said yes, yet, but don’t worry, ladies. I’ve made sure there are enough men up for auction this year. Everyone here will get their box of chocolate.”
There was a pleasant round of laughter and a few raucous comments. “Well, Gracie, is it chocolate for you or not this year?” Wendy prompted, returning to the subject Gracie had hoped was long forgotten. “Assuming Kyle takes the plunge.”
“I believe I can safely promise not to bid on Hart’s box of goodies,” Gracie assured everyone, holding up her right hand, palm open. “The playing field’s wide-open where that man’s concerned.”
“Never say never, sweetheart,” came the crackly old voice of the town’s postmistress and biggest gossip, Elizabeth Neal.
Gracie spotted her a catty grin, and the old woman cackled pleasantly. Elizabeth Neal, and Safe Harbor residents in general, would learn soon enough that she and Hart had nothing more in common than a working relationship.
No box of chocolates was going to tempt her, even if they were held by strapping biceps and accompanied by the tempestuous amber eyes and the alluring knockout smile of Dr. Kyle Hart.
“Isn’t this party supposed to be for Wendy?” she loudly reminded those present. After adding her gift to a large pile, she chose a spot beside Constance and took her seat with a sigh.
The lighthouse meeting room was appropriately decorated with pink and blue streamers, and a long table had been ornamented with a cow jumping over a bright sliver of a moon. Wendy was having her third baby, but the Women’s League insisted on throwing a baby shower for her, even so.
“Do you know if it’s a girl, Wendy?” It was Elizabeth who asked aloud the pointed question everyone was wondering in their heads. Robert and Wendy were the proud parents of two boisterous boys, ages six and four; soft, sweet and pink were all the keynotes on the Safe Harbor question list where the McGuires were concerned.
Wendy rested a hand on top of her abdomen and chuckled happily. “Robert and I have decided to keep it a secret until the birth.”
She held up her hands at the murmurs of protest that rose at her words. “I know, I know. You’d think by number three, we’d want to know, and the sooner, the better. But you know, there are too few real surprises in life, at least good ones.”
Gracie thought Wendy’s explanation sounded reasonable, and actually a bit romantic at the core. But she could tell by the groaning and variety of expressions around her that everyone in the room didn’t share her opinion on the matter.
“Do you have a feeling one way or the other, on whether it is a boy or girl?” Gracie asked, then unconsciously brushed her fingers over her own trim waist. “Not that I would have the slightest notion if such a thing were possible.”
“Well, I haven’t been dangling rings over my belly, if that’s what you mean.” There was general laughter over Wendy’s referral to the old wives’ tale of rocking and circling rings. “However, if I were to guess, I’d guess I’m carrying a boy.”
Constance groaned loudly, and Gracie elbowed the middle-aged woman playfully in the ribs.
“Well, how would you like to have all boys?” Constance whispered. “I only had one, and he was all I could keep up with.”
Unexplainably, a crystal-clear image of three adorable black-haired, amber-eyed ragtag boys wrestling with each other entered her head, and she smiled softly. “That might not be so bad.”
“I wouldn’t mind another boy,” Wendy said, and Gracie wondered if she’d heard Constance’s comments. “My little guys are the light of my life. Besides, it’s just a feeling. Robert thinks it’s a girl. The baby is a gift from God, whether a boy or a girl,” she reminded them softly.
“Of course,” Gracie agreed, darting a glance at Constance. “What matters is that the baby, boy or girl, is born healthy.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” agreed Wendy, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment.
The party quickly got under way, and the women played a couple of goofy baby shower games that Gracie would just as soon have skipped, but seemed to be perennial favorites of the old-timers.
They guessed the length of yarn needed to wrap around the mom-to-be’s waist. They matched famous mothers and children from history—Gracie won that one, and received a pretty crystal candle holder in the shape of a swan.
And then there was the one Gracie disliked the most—anyone caught saying the word baby lost the pacifier around her neck to the lucky woman who’d heard the word uttered. Gracie was far too much of a talker not to say the word baby at a baby shower, and it annoyed her to have to try. But she was a good sport, and since she could only lose her coveted pacifier necklace once, it didn’t stop her from talking up a storm.
Robert was supposed to be in charge of picking up the cake from the local bakery, but he had not yet arrived with it, so the ladies settled in to some good, old-fashioned gift opening.
“You handled that whole Dr. Kyle thing pretty cleanly,” Constance said, leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper.
“Hart? How’s that?”
“You know what I mean.” Constance nudged her playfully on the shoulder.
Gracie chuckled. “Yes, I guess I do. I’m glad they believed me, that Kyle and I are just friends.”
“Oh, no, sweetie, they don’t believe you. I don’t believe you. We’re just being polite and giving you rope to hang yourself.”
Gracie narrowed her eyes on her friend. Why did no one believe her? “Thank you very much for your encouragement.”
Constance giggled and pecked her on the cheek affectionately. “Don’t worry, hon. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Gracie nodded. “Let me know when, okay?” she commented wryly.
Constance smiled, but it slipped. Gracie saw her friend’s expression falter, reached for Constance’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Enough talking about me. How are you doing?”
“I guess I shouldn’t be panning advice. It’s not like I’m an expert.” She curled her hands in her lap, then glanced away, pretending to take interest in the gift Wendy was opening.
“You’re obviously better at this than I am,” Gracie pointed out, trying to lighten the mood. “No one said a single word about you and Nathan today. What’s your secret?”
Constance pinched her lips. “No one would dare. Seriously, I think people walk on eggshells when they’re around me. I walk on eggshells around me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Because?” Gracie prompted.
“Because—” Constance paused, her gaze darting around the room as if looking for an avenue of escape. Finally, she looked back to Gracie, her eyes bursting with panic, like a cornered animal. “I’m attracted to Nathan. From the soul.”
Constance’s confession made the air freeze in Gracie’s lungs.