Groom by Design. Christine Johnson

hello,” Sally purred, her sleek bob gleaming in the sunlight.

      If Ruth had the gift of speaking her mind, she would ask Sally how her beau was faring.

      “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Sam said and nodded.

      Ma’am. Ruth could have laughed. Sam had assumed Sally was married. And she would be if she hadn’t broken her engagement to Reggie Landers.

      Sally pursed her lips into a pout. “Miss Neidecker, Miss Sally Neidecker. And you are?”

      “Late,” Sam said as he skirted around Sally. “Miss Fox?” Once again he held out his arm for Ruth.

      Though she could not accept his escort, joy welled inside her. He had sidestepped Sally in order to stay with her. Though he must have acted purely from a business sense, hope fluttered to life that he might actually prefer her company.

      Or he was married.

      Ruth glanced at his hands. No ring, but then, not every married man wore a wedding band. That would explain his lack of interest in Sally, however. With each step, the need to know grew stronger. Was he married? She couldn’t just ask. It had to come out naturally in conversation.

      Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her mouth felt dry, but she managed to get out a simple question. “Where do you hail from?”

      If he was surprised by her sudden question, he didn’t show it. “Lately, New York.”

      “The city?”

      “That’s the place.”

      A well-off New Yorker. He could be among the country’s elite. That thought put her even more on edge. She instinctively checked her hat and hair.

      When he offered nothing more, she hazarded a glance. He caught her gaze and returned a lopsided grin that sent a bolt of heat straight to her cheeks. She turned quickly, but he must have noticed her blush. “My, it’s hot today. I don’t suppose it’s ever this hot in New York.”

      “More so. The tall buildings and paved streets hold in the heat.”

      His casual manner put her a bit more at ease, and she recalled that not all New Yorkers acted superior to country folk. “Mariah and Pastor Gabe—they’re sister and brother—are from New York City. Maybe you know the family. Meeks?”

      “The name doesn’t sound familiar.” He glanced across the street. “How far is Mrs. Vanderloo’s house?”

      “Just a couple more blocks.” The knot between her shoulders tightened. He was anxious to get this over with. How tedious her company must be. “They live on the hill.”

      “The hill?”

      She pointed to the rising terrain to the left. “The hill is where the wealthy live.” She struggled to keep frustration from her voice. Families like the Neideckers, Kensingtons and Vanderloos had been customers for decades, but they’d gradually stopped coming to the dress shop. Didn’t they realize how much her family depended on their business?

      “The unfeeling rich, eh?”

      She felt a pang of guilt. He must think she detested anyone with money. This was not going well.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That’s not what I intended.”

      He chuckled. “It’s not the money that causes the problem—it’s what people do with it.”

      “I suppose you’re right.” But money could cause problems, especially when there wasn’t enough of it.

      “At least you concede some aren’t half-bad,” he said. “Take your Old Testament hero King Solomon. He was rich beyond measure and just as wise.”

      “Until he allowed his wealth to corrupt him.”

      “Then you don’t think it’s possible for a wealthy man to be good?”

      Ruth knew she should hold her tongue, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop speaking. “God gives us all that we need. Those who accumulate more are taking it from others.”

      He looked startled, and she regretted her words. What had gotten into her? She never spoke her opinions to anyone outside the family, especially not to handsome strangers.

      His initial surprise soon melted back into the easy smile. “Would you forgive a man his wealth if he uses it for philanthropy?”

      She had to concede that point. “Of course. I should never have said what I did.”

      “I happen to like honest, open expression. Do go on.”

      Ruth had already said too much. “I don’t usually state my opinions. Now, my sister Jen would tell you exactly what she thought.” For a brief moment Jen’s preposterous marriage idea flitted through her mind. What if? She eyed Sam carefully. He might be just the type to tame Jen. He certainly had the wit to match Ruth’s wild younger sister. If he had any patience at all—and their brief time together suggested he did—he could mold Jen into a proper lady. Perhaps Ruth should introduce them.

      “Jen is your older sister?”

      Ruth tried to guess Sam’s age. He looked to be around thirty. Perhaps he wouldn’t be interested in someone several years his junior. She mustn’t mislead him, though. “She’s next youngest after me. Twenty-four this year.”

      “Next youngest? Then you have more than one sister?”

      “I have three. The oldest is Beatrice. She married Blake Kensington four years ago. The Kensingtons are more or less the town fathers.” She noted a flicker of recognition at the mention of the Kensington name. Who wouldn’t notice? It was plastered on half the businesses in Pearlman. “I’m next, then Jen and last of all Minnie, but she’s just out of high school.” Ruth did not want Sam to get any ideas about Minnie. Fighting her baby sister’s attraction to one wealthy man was difficult enough. Two would be impossible. So she pushed forward the sister of choice. “Jen is quite...spirited.” That seemed the most positive way to describe her sister’s disposition. “She definitely speaks her mind. She’s probably the best conversationalist of us all.” She hazarded another glance, hoping to see a spark of interest in his expression, but instead his brow had furrowed.

      “You have all sisters?”

      Odd that he would pick up on that. “You think that’s unusual?”

      “I suppose not. In my family, it’s just boys, though there are only two of us. I would have liked a sister. You must be a fine one.”

      A sister. He thought of her like a sister. She supposed that was a good thing, seeing as she wanted to introduce him to Jen, but disappointment still blanketed her.

      They walked on in silence. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Crickets trilled and playing children shrieked. Motorcars putted past. All normal, yet today each sound reminded her that she was a plain country girl who couldn’t ever hope to interest a handsome man like Sam, no matter how much sisterly help she received. Each silent moment made her feel more and more awkward until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

      “Are you the older or younger?”

      His eyebrow quirked at her abrupt question. “The older. Harry is several years younger than me.”

      That made Sam the heir. Even more impossible, but maybe Jen stood a chance. If the Lord wanted them together, He would make the seemingly impossible possible.

      She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “Did your brother come here with you?”

      “No. He’s in college.”

      “During the summer?” The handful of collegians from Pearlman always returned in the summer months.

      “He wants to finish his graduate studies early.” Again he cast her a smile that melted her determination to stay reserved.

      “I see.” She looked toward the passing storefronts