She chewed on her lip and tried to think of an appropriate response.
“Hope’s ring is a special symbol between us. When I put it on her finger the next time, we will both know that’s where it’s going to stay.” John stood up and laid an arm casually around Hope’s shoulders. There was no mistaking the gesture. He was telling Verna he stood with his wife.
Hope experienced a rush of pleasure at his support and understanding. How had she forgotten how kind he could be? He’d been like this even as a boy. She leaned into him, taking in his warmth.
“There’s another comment I have about the invitations.” John pulled her even closer and absently kissed her hair. “Or rather, a question.”
Verna lifted a brow.
Hope wasn’t sure if the gesture was in response to his comment or his increasingly easy show of affection.
“Why aren’t the names of the parents listed on the invitation?” he asked.
“I chose one that didn’t include the names,” Verna said casually. “I find the practice a bit old-fashioned.”
Hope exchanged a surprised glance with John.
“I like the practice,” Hope said hesitantly. “I don’t find it old-fashioned at all.”
“I don’t either,” John echoed.
“If we were the ones getting married, I’d want your name on the invitation. You’re our family and we’d want you to be part of this special day.”
John’s gaze focused on the screen, his expression sober. “We didn’t think of anyone but ourselves when we ran off to get married.”
“You were too busy thinking how much you loved each other,” Verna said softly, her tone one of understanding rather than condemnation. “Love should be at the base of any marriage. Other things are nice, but in the end, they aren’t what matters.”
Impulsively, Hope reached over and hugged her aunt, tears springing to her eyes. “I love you. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother after my own died.”
John’s arms encircled them both. “I agree, you’re the best.”
Verna blinked back tears and swatted them away. “I love you both too. Now get out of here and let me work.”
Hope straightened and grinned. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want Luke and Laura’s guests not to show up at their wedding because the invitations didn’t get sent out in enough time.”
“Once again, I appreciate your comments and insights.” Though Verna’s eyes still held a sheen of tears, she smiled.
“Are you certain you don’t want to come to the festival with us?” John held his hand out to his foster mother. “We’re taking Hope’s car, so there’s plenty of room.”
“I’m looking forward to enjoying a cup of hot tea and getting these invitations ordered.” Her aunt’s gaze shifted between Hope and John. “Besides, there’s a full moon tonight. A night for romance and love.”
Aunt Verna blew them a kiss.
When John linked fingers with hers, Hope knew the only thing he needed to do for the night to be absolutely perfect was to keep holding her hand.
“What do you mean you don’t like Mexican hot chocolate?” Amity looked at Dan as if he’d suddenly grown horns.
“Chili pepper belongs in chili,” he insisted. “Not in cocoa.”
The two had been sparring since they’d met up in front of the church. It was really quite cute. Hope hid a smile and pretended to refocus on the parade.
The parade down Market Street was typical for a small town. There were eight or ten decorated tractors that would later be competing in the “best-dressed” tractor competition, several antique cars, a couple of clowns tossing candy to the kids.
“There’s the queen,” Hope announced, gesturing to a Chevy 4×4 pulling a flatbed trailer. The Harvest queen sat on bales of hay, surrounded by her court.
The queen was always a senior at the local high school, so the pretty blonde couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Staring at her, Hope couldn’t believe she’d been married at that age.
Amity cast the girl an appraising glance. “She’s cute.”
“Not as cute as you.”
Dan’s comment appeared to render Amity momentarily speechless.
Amity had obviously decided to go cowgirl for the evening. She wore a western-cut shirt with pearl snaps, tight Wrangler jeans, and cowboy boots with a swath of teal across the sides. Her dark, messy hair had been pulled back in a flouncy tail, which oddly suited her just as well as the boho-chic attire she normally preferred.
“That should have been you in high school,” John murmured.
Hope looked at him in surprise. “Who?”
“The Harvest queen. Back in high school you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Hope saw Dan and Amity exchange a quick, significant glance.
Heat rose up Hope’s neck. “Yeah, right.”
“You still are,” John said earnestly.
“Well, thank you.”