Going to the Chapel: A Novella Read Free

hugging his butt and the way his muscles had bunched when he’d roped a calf, she’d lost her head.
    Daisy had baked desserts for a party the town had thrown in Blake’s honor after a personal appearance at the town hall, and the moment Blake had complimented Daisy on her fried pies, Daisy had been lost in love.
    Only Izzy had been certain Blake was meant for her and had done everything she could to win his attention. After all, Caroline had her sports trophies and Daisy her culinary awards.
    Izzy had nothing but her mama’s bad seed in her. She’d seen the wrong side of Principal Hatchett’s office so many times he’d named a seat in her honor.
    Hands suddenly sweaty from the memories, she shifted into gear and drove through town. Was Daisy still mad at her for sending pictures of her at that camp to Blake Kincaid?
    The sign for the Matrimony Gazette banged against the post in the wind as she drove past.
    And then there was Caroline—Caroline, who’d been the soccer star and spelling-bee champ. Caroline, who’d quietly nursed her own infatuation with Blake. Caroline, who’d seduced Blake in the stall at the rodeo.
    The night Izzy had snuck into the stable and seen them, she’d cried till she was blue in the face. Later, the anger had set in, and she’d found Caroline’s diary and read her darkest, deepest secrets.
    Jealous of Caroline, she’d donated pages of the diary, pages that detailed Caroline’s undying love for Blake, to Miss Nellie’s “Naughty in Matrimony” column.
    Had Caroline forgiven her for humiliating her like that?
    Had Aunt Dottie?
    Tamping down the guilt that grated on her like a bad hemorrhoid, she studied the town as she drove. Christmas lights adorned the storefronts, although the buildings desperately needed paint and remodeling. She coasted through the single stoplight, noting that half the businesses were empty now. The bed-and-breakfast was deserted, the library was gone, and the drugstore no longer boasted homemade malts.
    She hadn’t expected Matrimony to have progressed enough to have a gourmet coffee shop, but it looked desolate. No flower shop, no boutiques, no bridal shop, no jewelry store, not even a bakery. Thankfully, Lulabelle’s Diner still stood, although the parking lot was virtually empty.
    Even the sheriff’s office looked deserted.
    A laugh bubbled in her throat. The town probably hadn’t needed a sheriff after the Sassafras sisters left.
    She veered down the side road that led to Aunt Dottie’s Victorian house, her nerves fluttering. Aunt Dottie had been so disappointed in her and her sisters the night of that brawl in the Dairy & Donut Delite that shame filled Izzy.
    Of course, she’d lived with shame all her life because of her mother’s incarceration.
    The first Sassafras scandal that had rocked the town.
    Rule number one: Stand up straight and tall , Aunt Dottie had told them. Act like a lady and people will treat you like one.
    Only she and her sisters hadn’t exactly been ladies.
    Still, after the fiasco with Blake, she’d been determined to make something respectable of herself. But she’d fallen for the easy way out—guys who paid her compliments and flattered her. Men like Ray, who promised her love and a seat in society.
    Her aunt Dottie’s pink Cadillac sat in the drive, her aunt’s only concession to her wilder days.
    Two other vehicles were parked beneath the oak trees—a Jeep Wrangler and a minivan.
    Maybe Aunt Dottie had called her friends from church to stop by and pray for her because of Izzy’s visit.
    The kitten purred, and she cradled it close to her as she parked and climbed out. A cool winter breeze sent the ferns on the wraparound porch swaying and the shutters flapping, making her nostalgic for her childhood days when dreams seemed possible, and she still believed in love and men.
    Except for a low light burning upstairs, which was coming from her aunt’s room, the house looked dark. She climbed the steps to the porch,