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“You never met her before yesterday?” Marianne tried again.
“Nope, but Matt loves her. That’s good enough for me.”
In her experience, men didn’t normally take emotions at face value that way. They needed proof, numbers—things like that. “You have a lot of faith in him.”
“Yeah, I do.” Curiosity lit his eyes, and he leaned toward her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” His direct gaze made her want to squirm, and she fiddled with the handle on her mug to avoid it.
“Matt and John get along, don’t they?”
“Very well. Why?” She met his gaze.
“So why didn’t he ask his little brother to be his best man?”
“John didn’t want to do it,” she explained. “He said it would cramp his style at the reception.”
“Right.” Ridge dragged the word out in a sarcastic tone.
This man was really starting to irritate her. One minute he was a total charmer, and the next he was a cynic. “What are you saying?”
“I think Matt’s trying to set us up.”
“That’s crazy,” she protested. “Why would he do that?”
“You know how it is when a friend gets married. They want everybody to be as happy as they are.”
“Matt wouldn’t do that.”
Ridge cocked one disbelieving brow and, far-fetched as the idea seemed, she had to admit he could be right. Matt had changed a lot since Caty came into his life. It was possible he wanted to introduce his old friend to his little sister and had used the wedding as an excuse to get them together. But why Ridge Collins? she moaned silently. She was rooted in Harland with her children, and this free-spirited pilot flew wherever the wind took him, doing whatever he pleased. They had absolutely nothing in common.
Hoping to change the subject, she sipped her coffee. “Why didn’t you come in for supper last night?”
“I didn’t wanna impose on you and the kids.”
She sighed. Apparently, she hadn’t been as gracious yesterday as she’d intended. Setting her coffee down, she swallowed her pride. “I’m sorry about coming down on you about your divorce. I had no right to judge you that way.”
“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t say anything I haven’t thought a million times in the last two years.”
He was being so nice about it, she felt even worse. But he seemed content with putting it behind them, so she decided to follow his lead. “We’ve got eggs and sausage for breakfast. Would you like some?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ve got work to do, and I’d best get started.”
“We all go to church on Sunday mornings,” she commented lightly. “You could come along if you want.”
“I appreciate the invite, but it’s not really my thing.” Draining his mug, he stood and smiled down at her. “You make fantastic coffee.”
Marianne tried very hard not to criticize people, but his lack of interest in attending Sunday service annoyed her. As their guest, it would only be polite for him to accompany them to church. But if she’d learned anything about Ridge in the short time she’d known him, it was that he did exactly what suited him, no matter what other people might think. In her mind, it wasn’t one of his better qualities.
As he headed for the door, she asked, “When will you be back?”
“Later.”
“For lunch?”
A heavy cloud seemed to descend over his usually lighthearted demeanor, and he frowned. “I’ll be back when I’m done.”
“I’m not trying to rope you into anything. I just want to know how many people I have to feed.”
“That’s nice of you, but I take care of myself.”
With that, he all but fled the kitchen and pounded down the back steps. Completely exasperated, Marianne grabbed his empty cup and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. Still fuming, she started pulling dishes from the cupboard.
“I take care of myself,” she mimicked as John came through the back door. She didn’t know how he did it, but he always managed to show up just when the food was ready.
“Lemme guess.” He grinned at her. “Ridge.”
“I was trying to be considerate, and he brushed me off.”
“He’s not used to having folks waiting on him for meals and stuff.” Very predictably, John defended him. “He kind of does his own thing.”
“That’s obvious,” she retorted as Lisa came through the door.
“What’s obvious?” Lisa asked, picking up the plates from the counter to set around the table.
“Ridge does his own thing,” John explained with a grin. “It drives the queen crazy.”
“I noticed that yesterday,” Lisa commented with a grin of her own. “Quite a few sparks there.”
“No.” Marianne pointed a stern finger at her starry-eyed little sister. “No sparks. Irritation and aggravation, but no sparks.”
“Still irritated and aggravated.” John dragged the sports section loose, which fanned the rest of the neatly folded paper across the table.
“I’ll say,” Lisa agreed. “She couldn’t care less about any of the guys around here. What’s so special about Ridge?”
“Not a thing,” Marianne shot back.
“Sure,” Lisa scoffed, adding a laugh that grated on Marianne’s nerves.
Fortunately, the kids came trotting down the stairs, and Marianne announced, “I think I’ll make waffles to go with that casserole. Who wants some?”
“Me.” Without looking up, John raised his hand while he and Kyle scanned last night’s baseball scores.
“I’ll help you, Mommy,” Emily offered eagerly, skipping into the pantry to get her ruffly white apron from its hook.
The familiar routine helped soothe her frayed nerves, and Marianne settled in to enjoy breakfast with her family.
* * *
“Such a beautiful wedding,” the Sunday school teacher complimented Marianne when she dropped Kyle and Emily off for their class. “It couldn’t have been more perfect, could it?”
Marianne agreed with her, as she had with everyone who’d said the exact same thing to her this morning. “Everything worked out just the way we wanted.”
After saying goodbye to the kids, Marianne went upstairs to join John and Lisa. While she was near the back of the church, Pastor Charles hurried over and intercepted her.
“Marianne, I want to thank you again for including Penny and me in your celebration yesterday. We really enjoyed ourselves.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” she replied with a genuine smile. The jovial man in the gray suit and paisley bow tie had married her parents and baptized them all. He held a special place in the Sawyers’ hearts. “That was the plan.”
“If you don’t mind...” Leaning in, he whispered, “My wife wants the recipe for your double-berry pie. I promised her I’d ask.”
Marianne laughed. “It’s one of our favorites, too. I’ll email it to her later today.”
“Bless you.” Beaming, he patted his ample stomach.