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“Why don’t you take it upstairs?” Lucy said. “Poor Nell has been waiting for hours. She’s dying to see the pictures you made. Don’t forget to take her into my sewing room and talk to her about curtains.”
“And slipcovers,” Jecca said as she took the plate, smiling because she hadn’t been forgotten.
Mrs. Wingate handed Nell two glasses of iced tea. “Let us know when you’ve packed your clothes and we’ll fill the cooler.”
Smiling, Jecca gave a wave to Tristan—he was standing by the stove and eating—then she ran up the stairs, Nell right behind her.
As soon as Jecca was out of the kitchen, the two women turned to look at Tristan, but he just kept eating.
“So?” Mrs. Wingate said.
“It’s good,” Tris said. “Not quite as spicy as last year’s batch but good. Maybe you should add a few more peppercorns.”
“She’s not asking about the damned pickles,” Lucy said, “and you know it! We want to know about Jecca!”
“My, my,” Tristan said as he used tongs to lift another piece of chicken out of the skillet. “You two are certainly feisty this morning. Well, let me see, three times Jecca and I—”
“Tristan!”
Mrs. Wingate said in the voice of an adult to a child.
Smiling, he sat down at the kitchen table with his plate. “I like her,” he said. When the women continued to stare at him, he said, “I like her a lot. She’s easy to be with. She fits in wherever we go. Al called her Jersey Lil.”
Mrs. Wingate nodded as she sat down across from him. “After Lillie Langtry,” she said. “Albert always did love PBS, and he’s right. Jecca’s beauty and sophistication cover her blue-collar background. Just like Mrs. Langtry.”
Lucy and Tristan were staring at her in astonishment.
“I didn’t know you knew Al,” Tris said. “He—”
“Livie knows everyone,” Lucy said in dismissal as she took a seat. “We want to know about you and Jecca.”
“Jecca is going back to New York at the end of the summer,” Tris said. “She tells me that about evethadiv hry ten minutes.”
Lucy sighed. “I haven’t liked any of the young women you’ve dated, but I do Jecca. Can you imagine that one . . . What was her name? Melody?”
“Monica,” Tris said.
“Yes, that’s it. Monica. Can you imagine Monica helping me cut bias strips for binding? Jecca did. And she used the small binding attachment to cover six armscyes. I tell you, she has a natural talent with fabric. And with my machines. Even Henry behaves with her.”
“What I like about Jecca,” Mrs. Wingate said, looking at Tristan, “is that she cares about you, not just the look of you. But then I remember your telling me that you wished to find a woman who cared for you in spite of your face. And wish is the key word here.”
She was referring to his Frazier cousin’s Heartwishes Stone. It was alleged to grant wishes if they came from a person’s heart. Tristan gave a little scoff. “That’s ridiculous. If that were true, it would mean my broken arm—”
“Which led to your having time off—” Mrs. Wingate said.
“Which caused me to be home when Jecca was here and—”
“To stumble over her in the chaise. And you got to know her in the dark, where she couldn’t see your face. Ultimately, it all led to your being given what you wished for. Wished for from your very heart, I might add,” Mrs. Wingate said.
For a moment, Tristan looked at her in silence. “I don’t believe it.”
“Have it your way,” Mrs. Wingate said. “It’s just that things do fit together rather well, don’t they?”
“Cosmic coincidence.”
Mrs. Wingate looked at him. “The first time I saw Jecca after she’d spent the evening with you, she was downright starry-eyed. I didn’t think anything about it because silly girls often react like that to your external self. But later, when Jecca kept repeating that she’d never seen you, I put it together. She is a very sensible girl, and Lucy and I have become quite fond of her.”
“Me too,” Tris said.
