Five Brides by Eva Marie Everson Read Free Book Online Page B

chattered away like hens and roosters—couldn’t hear.
    She turned her back on the four older adults. “If you think for one second,” she mumbled, “that they can’t hear you or read your lips, you’re sadly mistaken. All that chitchat over there is nothing more than a ruse.”
    He smiled at her and winked before leaning over and whispering in her ear, “Play along, Betts.”
    She drew back. “All right. What’s your secret?” She set the glass back on the bar.
    George stood straight and grabbed her by the elbow, ushering her with slight force to the wide French doors leading out to the veranda. “We’re going to step outside for a second,” he called over his shoulder.
    The gossip from the other side of the room came to a halt. “You’ll freeze to death, Betty,” her mother said. “Where’s your coat?”
    “Only for a moment,” George countered. “I want to show Betty something. It’ll only take a minute, I promise.” He grinned. “And if she gets too cold, I’ll wrap her in my arms and hold her close, Mrs. Estes.”
    “Oh, George, go on,” Chloe gushed.
    “Yes, George,” Betty mumbled. “ Do go on . . .”
    George turned the ornate knob and pushed the door wideenough for them to walk through. A gust of cold air hit, forcing Betty to cross her arms over herself. “This had better be good,” she said after he’d closed the door behind them.
    “This way,” George said, walking her to the end of the flagstones beneath their feet. He pointed toward a cluster of bare-limbed trees and naked bushes surrounding a rambling ranch-style house at the end of a cul-de-sac. “Pretend I’m showing you something and that you’re in awe.”
    Betty sighed. “I can’t imagine what. Or why.”
    “I’m pointing to a house.”
    “I see that.”
    “A house I just bought, Miss Estes.”
    Betty swung around to search his eyes, to see if he told the truth or something to keep her guessing at his silly game. “What? Why?”
    “Right now,” he continued, his eyes twinkling, “your parents and my parents are thinking that I’m telling you about the house. And that I’m asking you, once again, to marry me.”
    Betty gritted her teeth. “George . . .”
    “Bear with me, Betts.”
    She hated it when he called her that. If anyone else did—Joan, Evelyn, the sisters—she didn’t mind in the least. But George saying her name in such a way was far too . . . intimate. “I’m freezing to death,” she said instead, squeezing herself tighter.
    “Just listen.” He looked toward her parents’ house and smiled.
    “Are you giving them some sort of signal?”
    “Are you listening?”
    “Hurry. Up.”
    “Your father has this idea, Betty. He’s going to cut you off if you don’t stop all this running around in the city and come back home.”
    “And do what?” Her arms squeezed again.
    “ Marry me, Betts. Become Mrs. George Volbrecht. My gracious, woman, don’t you ever get tired of working the old nine-to-five?” He grinned. “Besides, I’m a catch. You can’t do much better than this, you know.”
    “Ugh,” Betty said with a stomp of her foot. She swung around and headed back inside.
    “Betty, wait. I was only kidding about the last—”
    She kept walking. When she got to the French doors, she jerked them open and stormed through. All four of the parents stood, looking expectant.
    “Well, darling. What do you think?” her mother asked.
    But she didn’t answer. She crossed the room, heading for the long hallway leading to the foyer.
    “Betty, where are you going?” her father called.
    “Betty!” George’s voice echoed, his sounding more like a plea than a demand.
    Betty took the stairs purposefully, stomping up each one, then strode down the hall until she reached her old bedroom, the one her mother had redecorated not five minutes after she’d moved to the apartment on Greenleaf. One act of defiance deserved another, she supposed, not that she cared.
    She picked up the coat