A Flying Affair by Carla Stewart Read Free Book Online

dress with sheer lace sleeves. A jeweled cluster of lilacs adorned her matching cloche. Mittie swallowed a gasp when she saw her mother and Iris side by side. Except for the lines etched around her mother’s eyes, the two could pass as sisters. Cupid lips and startling blue eyes glistened as they regarded each other.
    St. Andrew’s Church had been chosen for its capacity to accommodate the massive guest list. Their quaint and serene village church in Rigby was “simply inadequate,” according to Mittie’s mother. Indeed, the larger church in Louisville overflowed by the time the wedding party had filed in and taken their places. Spotting Ames in the crowd would be impossible. Instead of trying, Mittie willed away the itch caused by the yellow ruffle at her neck and kept her eyes on the bridal couple.
    Quentin Bledsoe—Nell’s cute British husband who’d just finished seminary—assisted the rector with the wedding vows. Do you take this man? A frog lodged in Mittie’s throat as she blinked back threatening tears and felt stupid for allowing herself to get sappy.
    Chimes from the church tower rang as the organ recessional swelled, and Mr. and Mrs. Hayden Wainwright clutched hands and swept down the center aisle where her daddy’s Bentley waited to whisk them to the Crystal Ballroom for the dinner and dance.
    At the hotel, Mittie kept an eye out for Ames—not an easy task in the throng of women in drop-waist gowns of silk and chiffon and men in tuxedos with wide lapels and satin bowties. Like a vast golden melting pot, the room swirled with Saddlebred Association members, her parents’ friends, a host of people from Alabama, classmates from days gone by. Bankers and politicians were easy to spot as they clumped in smoky circles, clapping each other on the back. Mittie nodded and greeted people she knew, people she didn’t, and people she would never see again. But she didn’t find Ames.
    A jazz combo played as the dinner courses were served, steam rising from domed platter covers toward faceted crystal chandeliers and ornate plaster relief ceilings. Mittie’s dad sat on her right with Caroline on her left. When the toasts were offered, both fathers gave their blessing to the couple, and when her dad sat down, he whispered, “I do believe the groom’s best man has his eye on you.”
    “That stuffed shirt? I’ve heard he’s left three girls at the altar.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be next, but don’t fret. Your time will come, sweetheart.”
    “It’s all right, Daddy. I’m not in need of sympathy. I’m looking for adventure—you know that. Like you and Mother.”
    “Your Mother’s an adventure for certain.” He winced as he changed position.
    “Is your back bothering you? I don’t want you to miss out on your dance with Iris.”
    “Nah, it’ll be fine. Looking forward to it, in fact.” He signaled the waiter for a coffee refill. “Speaking of adventure…I’ve invited someone to dinner tomorrow night that I think you might like.”
    “I hope you’re not trying to set me up. For one thing, you can’t afford another wedding anytime in this decade.”
    “It’s not that at all.” He winked and turned to her mother, who was pulling on his coat sleeve.
    “Dear, the dancing has started.” She nodded toward the center of the ballroom where Iris and Hayden kept perfect step to the “Viennese Waltz.” Paul Whiteman’s band couldn’t have made a sweeter sound than the one on stage. Mittie tapped her feet and craned her neck, still looking for Ames. She caught the eye of the best man instead, who made a beeline for her when the band picked up the tempo for a rousing Irving Berlin number and the dance floor flooded with merriment.
    She flashed him her most dazzling smile. Why not? Dancing might erase the disappointment biting at her, and there were plenty of eligible men in the room. While she believed that flirting and turning on the charm were highly overrated, this was her