Free A November Bride by Beth Vogt

Sadie’s posture was rigid, her tone glacial.
    “You like to cook, Justin?” Lydia might not be able to thaw out Sadie, but Justin couldn’t take his eyes off the tall brunette.
    “I’m taking the father-son cooking class Sadie’s beenteaching at our church. Ever since my wife died almost two years ago, my son and I have survived on frozen food and takeout.”
    “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Lydia angled her body toward the widower. “I have a wonderful recipe for beef stroganoff. Of course, I’m not in Sadie’s league. I spend more time fly-fishing than cooking.”
    “Fly-fishing?”
    “Yes. My father taught me. Do you fly-fish?”
    “I make custom rods.”
    Lydia’s look of surprised admiration was Oscar worthy. “No, really?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s amazing. I’d love to see them sometime.”
    “Sure.”
    Erik knew his cue. “Aren’t some of your rods featured in a book?”
    “Yeah, yeah they are.” Justin barely glanced at Erik. “How did you know that?”
    “Sadie must have mentioned it to me.”
    “There’s no time like the present.” Lydia was a pro. He would make sure he loaded her Starbucks card with an extra twenty-five dollars. “Maybe the book’s here.”
    “Oh, I don’t know . . .”
    It figured Justin Boyle would play it humble.
    “It wouldn’t hurt to look.” Lydia tucked her arm through Justin’s. “Shall we?”
    Justin hesitated. “You don’t mind, Sadie?”
    “No, no, I don’t mind at all. I’ll keep looking through the shelves.”
    “Anyone interested in coffee?” Erik pulled out his wallet. “I can go order for us.”
    Everyone declined, and soon he and Sadie were left standing between the shelves.
    Sadie slammed the cookbook shut. “Erik Davis, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “You knew I was going to be here with Justin.”
    “So suspicious, Sadie J.”
    “Do you deny that you arranged to be here with Lydia at the same time?”
    “Is this when I take the fifth?” Erik held his hands up, hoping Sadie backed down soon.
    “This is when you go home.”
    “But then you’ll be left here all alone.”
    “Only until Justin comes back.”
    “But if, um, my suspicions are correct, he’s not going to be coming back anytime soon.”
    She advanced on him, one slow step at a time. “Did you sic Lydia on that poor man?”
    “Are you kidding me? Did you see Lydia? Did you see Justin looking at Lydia? And they both like fly-fishing—they’re perfect for each other.”
    “What? Now you’re a matchmaker?”
    “Justin’s happy. Lydia’s happy. I’m happy.” He took the book from her hands. “What about you? Are you happy?”
    “Me? I’m discovering that my best friend is a conniving stalker.”
    “All’s fair in love, sweetheart. All’s fair.”

I t was barely seven in the morning on a Saturday. Sadie wasn’t asleep, but she wasn’t up and at ’em, either. She’d go grocery shopping later, after coordinating her planned menu with the sales at the local grocery stores, but for now she needed quiet. And answers. Still in bed, her blankets smoothed over her legs, her pillows arranged behind her back, she balanced her Bible against her knees.
    So, Sadie, what do you think about Oregon? Have you made a decision?
    Mrs. Hartnett’s question, left via voice mail on Thursday, had haunted her the last few days. Stay or go? Should she or shouldn’t she?
    Sadie had flipped through her Bible for the last forty-five minutes, finding her “anchor” verses—passages that had helped her in the past. Comforted her when she was hurt. Guided her when she had other decisions to make. Today she’d stopped at Psalm 143:8, “Let me hear Yourlovingkindness in the morning; For I trust in You; Teach me the way in which I should walk; For to You I lift up my soul.”
    She pressed her hand against the page, as if she could soak in the truth. She needed a direct message from God. She loved her job, loved