staying right here. Nothing could make me leave.”
“I’m not planning to leave either,” Cassie agreed. “I have my music, and I’m not about to let any man distract me from becoming a concert pianist. So there.”
“Well, I’m not leaving, either,” Bree said. “Besides, where would we find a woman who deserved our dad?”
“Fine,” Frannie huffed. “So let’s serve dinner and send our guests on their way.”
For the first few minutes, dinner went well. Brianna served the salad, Cassie the garlic bread and Frannie the spaghetti. The conversation around the table was polite, if a bit reserved. Then their father asked the question Cassie was dreading.
“Where are our bibs, Bree?”
“Bibs?” repeated Lydia Dibbles, mystified.
“Bibs?” echoed Emma Sorenson, her penciled brows rising.
“Yes, bibs,” Andrew stated as if his meaning were obvious. “We can’t eat spaghetti without bibs.” He smiled patiently at Emma and Lydia. “Brianna made us these gargantuan bibs that keep the tomato sauce off our clothes. She started with one for me.” He speared a meatball and held it up, red sauce dripping from the fork’s tines. “As you can see, I’m clumsy as they come.”
“A bib for adults! What a clever idea,” Lydia said.
Andrew nodded. “Exactly! And soon we were all using them. They free you up to slurp your spaghetti strands, if that happens to be your thing. I never could get the hang of twirling spaghetti on my fork.”
“Daddy,” Cassandra interrupted sharply, “I’m sure our guests don’t want to wear bibs. Bibs are for babies, toddlers…”
“Nonsense! Why wouldn’t they want to protect those lovely outfits?” With a twinkle in his eyes Andrew jumped up from the table, strode to the buffet and removed what appeared to be a stack of white terry cloth towels.
Cassie lowered her gaze and shook her head as her father tied a bib first around Emma’s neck and then Lydia’s. He went on to fasten a bib around each daughter’s neck, planting a kiss on the tops of their heads, and finally he tied a bib around his own neck and sat down, looking quite pleased with himself.
The women seemed dumbstruck at first as they gazed down at their enormous bibs, but then they began to giggle, and soon everyone in the room was laughing uproariously and making outrageous jokes.
“If we were wearing black, we’d look like penguins,” Emma said with a chuckle.
“I could wear this to the beauty shop when I have my hair done. It’s certainly large enough,” Lydia observed.
“Have you thought of going into business, Andrew?” suggested Emma. “Marketing bibs for adults. I’m sure it’s a fad many of us would welcome. You could personalize them. Oh, there’s no end to what you could do. Cover them with pictures, make them in bright colors…”
“What a wonderful idea, Emma,” said Lydia. “I may try my hand at a few myself. I know several little craft stores that might welcome them.”
“I wouldn’t mind working with you, Lydia. I have a sewing machine and have been known to be quite a seamstress in my time.”
“Oh, that might be fun, dear. What do you think, Andrew? Would you mind us taking your idea and running with it?”
“No, of course not, although maybe you should check with Bree. It was her idea in the first place.”
“No, that’s fine,” Brianna said quickly. “I’d love to see what the two of you come up with.”
When everyone had finished their spaghetti, Cassie served coffee and Frannie brought out her special strawberry shortcake for dessert. It was obviously a favorite of everyone’s.
When at last dinner was finished, Cassie breathed a little sigh of relief. Considering the catastrophe she had expected this evening to be, everything had gone amazingly well. Lydia and Emma were already behaving like long-lost friends, and her father seemed to be genuinely enjoying the company of his two dates. But now that dinner was over she wanted to send them on their way before she pushed her good fortune too far.
“Well, it’s been wonderful having you both here,” she told her two guests as she collected the dessert plates. It’s just too bad we have to make it an early evening. Daddy has to work on his sermon tonight, you know.”
“Oh, yes, Daddy,” Frannie chimed in, “don’t forget your sermon. You must still have hours of research to do.”
Her father looked from daughter to daughter with a question mark in his eyes. “My sermon?” He broke into a self-satisfied grin. “Actually, my sermon is done. I’m as ready for Sunday as I’ll ever be.”
“But, Daddy, you can’t be,” protested Frannie.
“Oh, but I am, muffin.” He grinned slyly. “I’m speaking on the importance of letting God do His work in our lives rather than trying to orchestrate the future ourselves. After all, we end up in quite a pickle when we try to—”
“Yes, Daddy, we get the message,” Cassie said, sweeping over and helping her father take off his bib. “I’ll collect the bibs, and then we can…we can, uh…”
Her father broke in. “Why don’t we adjourn to the music room and let Cassie give us a preview of Sunday’s cantata?”
“Oh, that would be delightful,” said Emma.
“No, Daddy, I really couldn’t tonight.”
Andrew wasn’t about to be deterred. “Well, then let’s gather around the piano and have an old-fashioned hymn sing. How about it, ladies?”
Emma clapped her hands. “Oh, I love to sing. What about you, Lydia?”
“I’m not much of a singer, but I’ll give it the old college try.”
Brianna and Frannie cast sidelong glances at Cassie, as if to ask, Now what do we do? Cassie shrugged helplessly, her arms filled with bibs. Nothing about this evening was going the way she had expected.
Her father gave a contented sigh. “Good dinner, girls. You outdid yourselves as usual.” He pushed back his chair and stood, then helped Emma and Lydia out of their chairs. As he motioned the women toward the music room, he tweaked Cassie’s cheek and said, “You’ll come play for us, won’t you, cupcake?”
Her shoulders sagged. “Sure, Daddy, I’ll be right there.”
“And Bree and Frannie, you’ll join us, too, won’t you?” her father urged. “You girls have such lovely voices.”
“Sure, Daddy,” they said in unison.
For the next two hours they sat around the piano singing every hymn they could recall, Cassie’s tapered fingers moving expertly over the ivory keys as her father’s rich baritone blended with his daughters’ lyrical sopranos and the eager, if unpracticed, altos of their two guests.
At some point Cassie lost track of time and realized, to her surprise, that she was thoroughly enjoying the evening. In fact, it was obvious that everyone was having a marvelous time, especially her father and his impromptu dates.
It was nearly midnight when Lydia and Emma said their reluctant good-nights, “Dear girls, we must do this again very soon! Your father is such a treasure! You must be so proud!” and slipped off into the night, chatting amiably, as if they had known each other forever.
With the ladies gone, Andrew beckoned his daughters close and drew them into what might have been a football huddle, his arms draped around their shoulders, their heads all nearly touching at the forehead. “My darling daughters,” he said in a soft, wily voice, “I know you love practicing your matchmaking schemes on me, but setting me up with two dates in one night? Isn’t that a bit much even for you?”
“Oh,