Free The Wedding Shop by Rachel Hauck

making me long for your warmth. The moon is bright tonight. It comforts me to know you are seeing the same light as I.
    I’ll return south soon. Do not give up on me. Write me soon at the St. Louis port. I’ll claim your letter within a few weeks.
    Good night for now.
    All my love,
Rufus
    See, there was no reason to fret. He’d come as soon as he was able. Take heart, Cora Beth.
    In the meantime, she merely had to endure Mama’s glare as she set a loaded plate, the butter dish, and the syrup cup in front of her.
    “Eat.”
    “You can’t make me. I’m not five, Mama.”
    “Then don’t act it.”
    Mama sat at her place, taking up her coffee with a soft grin—can a girl really fight her mother?
    Cora took up the butter knife and prepared her pancakes, the sweet aroma coaxing her taste buds awake. Mama did make the best pancakes anywhere. Even Matilda, the cook at the Heart’s Bend Diner, wanted her recipe. But Mama kept such things a secret. Her way of wielding power.
    “What’s in the paper today?” Cora reached for the Tribune by Daddy’s plate.
    “Cora . . . don’t.” Mama raised up, a bite of toast in her mouth, stretching for the paper.
    But Cora slapped her hand over the newsprint, whisking it away from Mama. “Why? What’s in it?” She scanned the front page, then turned inside, pausing at Hattie Lerner’s “About Town” tidbits.
    Nothing but a gossip column. Sheer, uncorroborated gossip.
Yesterday afternoon, the proprietress of The Wedding Shop, Miss Cora Scott, was seen running down First Avenue like her brown hair was on fire. It’s unclear to this reporter why the daughter of bank president Earnest James Scott tore through town, but with Birch Good in hot pursuit, we wonder if it could be love? Or is she still waiting for her mysterious riverboat captain?
    Cora gasped. “What in the world? Why-why this is downright libelous, printing my personal life in the Tribune . I ought to give her a piece of my mind.”
    “Simmer down and think about it. This is good for business.”
    “How in the world is my public humiliation good for business?”
    “She mentioned you, the shop, your father, and the bank in one brief sentence.” Mama looked up as Daddy came into the kitchen, freshly showered, handsome in his tailored suit, crisp white shirt, and dark blue tie. He smelled of Lifebuoy, talcum powder, and hair cream. “There you are, Ernie. Sit down. I’ll get your breakfast.”
    Daddy sat down with a wink at Cora, reaching for his napkin. “The hot water felt good this morning so I lingered in the tub.” He thanked Mama as she set his plate in front of him and filled his coffee. “What were you two discussing?”
    “Hattie Lerner felt it necessary to spy on me and write about it.” Cora slapped the paper on the table by his plate.
    “I said she mentioned the shop and the bank and both of you by name in one sentence. It’s good publicity. Don’t you agree, Ernest?” Mama took a cigarette from her apron pocket and stood by the open back door.
    “I do like seeing our name in ink but—” He took up the paper, reading. “Why were you running down the street, Cora?”
    “I was in a hurry. Late to the shop.” She’d always been shy about speaking of Rufus, or of love, to her parents, especially Daddy.
    “And Birch chased you?”
    “He most certainly did not.” He caught her as she was about to step in front of a car. “Once again Hattie has it wrong.”
    “She makes a good living getting it wrong.” Daddy cut up his pancakes and slathered them with butter and syrup. “Esmé, are you outfitted for the bank dinner this Friday? We’ve got the bigwigs coming over from Nashville. Rogers Caldwell himself.”
    Cora imagined Daddy’s chest puffing out another inch. He was proud of his banking accomplishments, of starting a small bank after the war and, in less than a decade, joining the Caldwell and Company network and becoming one of their top branches.
    “I’m ready, Ernie.” Pretty