Husbands, Husbands...Everywhere!

Poker? In this place? He had to blink again as he shifted his gaze to hers.

“We only play for nickels,” she assured him, “so you can’t lose too much.”

That had a grin flirting with his mouth. He didn’t think he’d lose at all. Lady Luck, he remembered being told earlier that evening, had usually been with him in the past. Trouble was, he was bound to feel like a jerk if he won any of this woman’s hard-earned money.

While he debated the issue, Bill sat back down at the table. “I’ll take five dollars’ worth,” he told Ethel, who was apparently acting as banker. She counted out a bunch of coins and slid them his way.

“Okay, I’m in,” Ryan said, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to play a few hands just to be sociable. He couldn’t walk away with too much in a short time. Not with nickels being used for chips.

Ethel shot him another glowing smile. “Do you want to start with five dollars, too?”

His grin broke through. “Might as well.”

But he wasn’t grinning an hour and a bottle of cold beer later as he watched the last of his nickels make their way into Ethel’s growing stack. So much for luck, he reflected ruefully. And he hadn’t been the only one adding to her pile.

“What are you, a riverboat gambler in disguise?” he asked, addressing the woman seated across from him.

Ethel chuckled. “I suppose you could view this as a lesson in the fact that appearances can be deceiving.”

“I’ll say,” Ryan muttered. “Elvis should’ve tipped me off.”

Gail joined her friend in another light chuckle as Bill got up and pulled two more beers from the refrigerator. He plunked one down beside Ryan. “Bet you figured she was most folks’ version of World’s Greatest Grandma come to life. Straight out of a fairy tale,” he said, his own thin lips twitching. “Sugar and spice and everything nice.”

It was so in tune with what he had thought on his arrival, Ryan gave his head a wry shake. “I guess I fell for that one.”

Ethel leaned in and patted his hand. “No more than any other visitor. The apron seems to get them every time.”

“It goes along with the rest of the place,” Gail explained. Her gaze still held an amused glint. “What was your impression when you first saw it from the street?”

“A gingerbread house,” he said slowly.

“Gets them every time,” Ethel repeated before lifting her wineglass for a short swallow.

“Keeps them coming back, too,” Gail said. “That’s part of what makes this operation successful. People like returning to a simpler era, if only for a few days. We provide the fantasy, along with good food and a friendly atmosphere.”

Ryan ran his tongue around his teeth. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll blow your cover?”

“No.” Gail folded her arms across the front of her stylish khaki jumpsuit. “While you’re here, we consider you one of us.” She looked him straight in the eye. “You were, after all, related to my goddaughter at one time.”

“And all of that makes you eligible for our occasional poker games.” Ethel rounded up the scattered cards and started to shuffle them. “Want some more nickels?”

Ryan shrugged and reached into a jeans pocket. “I suppose I can risk another five dollars’ worth.”

ABBY GAVE UP on the thick novel she’d been attempting to read and rose from the wicker sofa that sported well-padded, sunflower-strewn cushions. She switched off the brass floor lamp, walked over to a wide window, and looked out at the night. The view from the back porch was one of the features she liked most about the house. Even in the near-darkness, she had little trouble making out the round stone fountain set in the center of the yard, or the tall row of pines that backed it at the far rear, their branches waving in the cool, late-spring breeze drifting down from the mountains.

She’d found herself retreating to this spot on a regular basis since her arrival in Harmony, often with a book in hand. She enjoyed a good mystery. She’d once favored stories of dashing heroes saving the day to ensure a happy ending, until she’d discovered firsthand that happy endings didn’t come with lifetime guarantees. Or even one-year guarantees.

She no longer sought a dashing hero. She hadn’t even been seeking a husband before she’d found herself agreeing to marry someone who seemed to share her views on romantic fantasies. Certainly neither of them had been in a hurry to explore the more intimate side of their relationship. They’d sealed their engagement with a kiss. The rest, they’d both agreed, could wait. Their trip to the altar would be slow and steady.

It would be nothing, Abby thought with satisfaction, like the last time she’d wound up there.

Nevertheless, although the subject matter had changed, reading remained one of her favorite hobbies, and she’d come to relish the challenge of figuring out who dunnit, despite the fact that tonight she hadn’t been able to concentrate on the unfolding plot. Tonight, another puzzle kept nagging at her, and it all had to do with the word fine.