Free Patchwork Bride by Jillian Hart

assignment?”
    “Who cares about our homework?” Scarlet grabbed Meredith’s hand, staring in the direction of the school steps. “Lorenzo.”
    Sure enough, Lorenzo Davis stood off to the side, chatting with a few of his close friends. Their nemesis, Narcissa Bell, was easy to spot as she laid a possessive hand on Lorenzo’s arm, as if staking claim.
    Fiona said something, words lost in the wind and snow and the fuzz in Meredith’s brain. Of all the sounds in the school yard, it was a single note of baritone, low and gentle, that rumbled to her ears. It was Shane speaking to the old mare, encouraging her through the combination of deep mud and spots of ice the busy road had turned to.
    The snowfall hid him, but she could picture him perfectly, his straight impressive posture, powerful and so caring as he walked alongside the mare. Other horses neighed in frustration, other drivers shouted in exasperation, and even a whip crack or two snapped out. But Shane’s comforting voice did not show impatience or frustration or cruelty.
    You do not like him, Meredith. She stared at the ground where the snow grabbed at her shoes and her ruffled hem, sick with regret. She’d never been so disappointed in herself. Had he taken her words to heart, theway she had his? Or was he tougher, able to disregard the hurtful comments from a girl he’d found less than worthy?
    From a girl who had just sounded extraordinarily like her mother. The realization punched through her like a physical blow. Her knees weakened, shock rolled through her and she’d never felt so bad. One thing was for certain: Shane Connelly brought out the worst in her.
    Perhaps it was her duty to bring out the best.
    “Meredith.” A sneering voice broke into her thoughts, a familiar and unfriendly voice. Narcissa Bell gave her perfect blond ringlets a toss. “I heard your father hired a new horse trainer. When my father was looking for a new trainer, he had considered the same man but found someone much better. Too bad your papa couldn’t afford to do the same.”
    “Leave her alone.” Scarlet, fearless as always, shouldered up to Narcissa hard enough to knock her back a step. “You ought to be more careful. Your jealousy is showing.”
    “As if I could be jealous of her.” Narcissa dropped her tone, so it wouldn’t carry to the crowd she had been with. “Lorenzo is as good as my beau. I don’t see him hanging around with your circle. Meredith isn’t so much.”
    “If you can’t say anything nice, then maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all.” Fiona led the way up the stairs. “C’mon, Meredith.”
    “Poor Lorenzo.” Meredith followed her friends, her shoes slipping on the icy step. She was aware of Narcissa’s glare, the quick glance up and then down at hernew hat, her elegant traveling coat and the new dress Mama had finished the other day with the ruffled and embellished hem finer than even Narcissa’s.
    She had learned a lot of lessons living in this small town, ones she had never learned at finishing school where Mama had wanted her to turn out so fine. Clothes did not make the person, material possessions did not matter, certainly not in the way that God cared about. As she shrugged out of her wraps in the crowded vestibule, she was aware of each rustle of the green velveteen gown, every ivory button, every inch of imported French lace.
    “This time she’s probably telling the truth,” Scarlet said as she hung up her practical brown coat. “You know, one of these days, she’s going to snare him.”
    “Poor Lorenzo,” Fiona agreed, hanging up her old dove-gray coat with care. She smoothed the wrinkles from her plain gingham dress. “It’s important to be with someone kind you can trust to be good to you.”
    “You would know all about that,” Scarlet answered, gathering up her book bag, adorable in her blue flannel plaid dress, trimmed with wooden buttons and matching ribbon. “Your wedding is three weeks away. Are you getting