“If nothing else, it proves how desperate this community is for entertainment,” Kate muttered. “If the good people of Nightingale have nothing better to do than waste their time and money on something as silly as this, then it’s a sad commentary on our lives here.”
Kate’s friend cleared her throat and looked suspiciously guilty.
Kate hesitated, studying Linda. No, she told herself. Not Linda. Her closest childhood friend wouldn’t place a wager. Her expression confirmed that she would.
“You chose a date yourself, didn’t you?” Kate demanded.
Linda’s gaze darted all over the room, avoiding Kate’s completely.
“You did, didn’t you?” Kate exclaimed.
Linda’s fingers were curling and uncurling in her lap. “You’re my oldest, dearest friend. How could I ever do anything like that?” she wailed.
“I don’t know, Linda. You tell me.”
“All right, all right,” Linda confessed. “I did put a wager on June. The first part of summer is such a lovely time of year for a wedding…”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Kate had the sinking suspicion that her father had probably gotten in on the action, too, before he left on his honeymoon.
“I had no intention of betting,” Linda hurried to explain. “In fact I never would have, but the odds were so good for June. For a five-dollar bet, I could collect as much as five hundred if you were to marry around the middle of the month—say the sixteenth. It’s a Saturday. Weekends are always best for weddings, don’t you think?”
Kate wasn’t about to answer that. “You know, I suspect this whole thing is illegal. Each and every one of you should thank your lucky stars I don’t call the sheriff.”
“He’s betting himself—on March. Said his own wedding anniversary is March tenth and he thinks Luke will be able to persuade you early in the spring. According to Fred, the sheriff figures that once Luke gets you to agree, he won’t wait around for a big wedding. He’ll want to marry you before you can change your mind.”
Kate sent her a furious look. “If you’re telling me this to amuse me, you’ve failed miserably.”
“I’m sorry, Kate, I really am. The only reason I went into the feed store was so I could assure you the whole betting thing was over, but I can’t and—”
“Instead you placed a bet of your own.”
“I feel guilty about that,” Linda admitted, her voice subdued.
“Why don’t we both forget it and concentrate on the Thanksgiving play?” Instead of upsetting herself with more talk of this wedding lottery, Kate preferred to do something constructive with her time.
“I might be able to make it up to you, though,” Linda murmured, fussing with the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse.
“Whatever it is will have to be good.”
“It is.” Linda brightened and pulled a slip of paper from her purse. “I got this information from a friend of a friend, so I can’t confirm how accurate it is, but I think it’s pretty much for sure.”
“What’s for sure?” she asked when Linda handed her the paper. A local phone number was carefully printed on it.
Linda’s sheepish look departed. “It’s Mrs. Jackson’s number—she’s the manager of the apartment complex on Spruce Street. They may have a vacancy coming up next week. If you’re the first one to apply, you might have a decent chance of getting it.”
“Oh, Linda, that’s great!”
“Am I forgiven?”
Kate laughed. “This makes up for a multitude of sins.”
“I was counting on that.”
Kate called five times before she got through. Mrs. Jackson seemed surprised to be hearing from her.
“I thought you were marrying that Rivers chap,” the elderly woman said. “Can’t understand why you’d want to rent an apartment when you’re engaged to that man. The whole town says it’s just a matter of time.”
“Mrs. Jackson,” Kate said loudly, because everyone knew the old woman was hard of hearing, “could I look at the apartment soon?”
“Won’t be cleaned up for another day or two. I’ll let you know once it’s ready to be shown, but I can’t help feeling it’s a waste of time. Don’t know what’s wrong with you young women these days. In my day, we’d snap up a good man like Luke Rivers so fast it’d make your head spin.”