Free Five Brides by Eva Marie Everson Page A

sure that where you go, they go too?”
    Inga pressed her hands into her tiny waist and stretched. “Really? Tell me something, Retta. Where are all the men then?”
    Henrietta returned to her original position. “Look behind you in the storefront windows. They’re behind you, following the caboose, if you get my drift.”
    Inga got it all right. “Okay. I’m out of here.”
    She rode the elevator to the expansive lobby, which boasted one of the largest Christmas trees she’d ever seen. After taking a moment to get her bearings, Inga walked to the concierge station, which stood empty. She started to tap the silver call bell, but a well-groomed man with dark hair and thick dark brows arching perfectly over clear blue eyes stepped behind the counter.
    “Hallo,” he said, the brows rising.
    “Hello.” She paused, startled by the man’s accent. “You’re English?”
    “British,” he corrected her, his accent clipped and dreamy.
    She pointed at him playfully and smiled. “Sorry . . . I have a roommate who is . . . British .”
    “Do say.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the counter. “And where do you and this British roommate live?” He glanced around as though he were searching to see if ticker tape would fall from the garland-laced ceiling.
    She looked up and around too. Then, turning back, she answered, “Chicago.”
    “Chicago. The Windy City. I hear it’s cold there.”
    “ Cold doesn’t begin to describe it.”
    His eyes searched hers and she held her own, matching him blink for blink. Finally, he whispered, “So, how can I help you this evening?”
    “I wondered if you might suggest a place for dinner.”
    He grinned, sending a deep dimple into his left cheek. “For you only?” He looked over her shoulder. “Or will your husband be joining you?”
    Inga decided that the game had become fun and she wanted to continue playing. “No. Just me. All alone.” She pictured her father and mother frowning at her forwardness, then dismissed the notion.
    He glanced at his watch. “I’m done with my shift in ten minutes.” He straightened. “You could wait right over there—” he pointed—“and I’ll show you personally one of my favorite spots. Or , I can hand you a map of Hollywood, which I conveniently have right here, and point out a few places.”
    Maybe, just maybe, her heart told her, meeting and marrying a pilot wasn’t what God had in mind for her. Maybe she had come from Plymouth to Chicago and from Chicago to Los Angeles to meet this charming, dapper Brit standing before her. For sure there was only one way to find out. “I’ll wait,” she said, then turned gracefully, as the airline had taught her, and sashayed to the cluster of chairs nearby. Minutes passed before she realized the young man she’d just accepted a dinner date with had failed to give her his name or to inquire as to hers.

Somehow—and she wasn’t quite sure how —Evelyn found herself sitting across from the most handsome man she’d ever laid her eyes on. They were in a restaurant filled with string quartet music, linen-draped tablecloths, and flickering candles, the likes of which she’d never seen before.
    Like Dorothy in Oz, Evelyn wasn’t in Kansas anymore. And certainly not in Portal, Georgia.
    “Tell me again,” the man who’d introduced himself as George Volbrecht said over a sip of hot coffee. “ Exactly what did she say?”
    Evelyn swallowed hard as she pressed her palms against the plain skirt she’d donned earlier that morning. At least, she surmised, she’d managed to slip her feet back into her pair of cast-off shoes after Mr. Volbrecht surprised her by asking her to “have a bite with” him. “She said that she didn’t want to see you. Didn’t want to speak to you. And if you didn’t get out of her apartment, she would call the police.” Evelyn reached a shaky hand toward her cup of coffee, then placed it back into her lap. “Although I don’t know