It was not a good sign when Meemaw’s lips pursed, she narrowed her eyes on Camilla, and then she shook her head.
Thirteen
“I have no idea why you’d be opposed to withholding your blessing on what is merely a clever bit of fiction I conjured up after Ada Mae annoyed me,” Camilla said, returning the whole narrowing-of-the-eye business Meemaw was still sending her way.
“I’m opposed because I’m not one for telling fibs,” Meemaw shot back. “I’d have to spend a week on my knees, asking the Lord’s forgiveness, if I were to proclaim I found you unsuitable for Owen, and my knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“It wouldn’t be a fib because Owen and Iaren’twell-suited for each other.”
“And to that I say hogwash,” Meemaw countered. “You two are very well matched indeed.”
“How could you have arrived at that conclusion when you just met me?”
Meemaw lifted her chin. “You didn’t hesitate to rush to defend the honor of the Chesterfield family. That told me everything I need to know about you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“What else do you think I should know?”
Camilla crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, since you seemkeen to embrace this nonsensical notion that Owen and I would make a wonderful match, allow me to simply say that, as a former matchmaker, I’ve spent years becoming adept at reading signs that lead to successful matches. Believe me when I tell you that I haven’t met my match in Owen, and he certainly hasn’t met his match in me.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t speak for your grandson, but I have, and frequently at that, not that this speaks highly of my character, felt an almost irresistible urge to throttle the man.”
Meemaw’s eyes began to gleam. “But that’s wonderful.”
“You find it wonderful that I want to inflict bodily harm on your grandson?” Camilla asked.
“It suggests the two of you could very well be experiencing that enemies-to-something-delightful scenario that authors often write into their romance stories.”
“Youread romance novels?”
“I read everything, dear, which has opened up my world and lent me invaluable insight into this troublesome condition we call being human.”
“Owen and I aren’t intertwined in a plot from a romance novel.”
Meemaw turned to Mr. Timken, who was watching the exchange with lips that were definitely twitching. “You obviously know Camilla far better than I do. Care to express your opinion about her suitability for my Owen?”
“As Miss Pierpont’s butler,” Mr. Timken began, “I seldom, if ever, voice personal opinions, at least to anyone outside the family. That tends to tarnish the established formalities butlers are expected to adhere to.”
“Ah, so you agree with me but are choosing to keep your thoughts close to your chest. A prudent move.” Meemaw nodded to Owen. “I believe this is the point in the conversation where you convey to Camilla how wise I am, and that she should simply accept that I’ve decided the two of you will see your engagementthrough to a wedding. That will then allow both of you to experience those happily-ever-after moments that are also written about often in those books I enjoy.”
Owen couldn’t help himself—he laughed, sobering up when Meemaw leveled a glare on him. He cleared his throat. “Since Camilla just disclosed that she’s dreamed about throttling me, and often at that, I think I’ll adopt Mr. Timken’s stance and keep my opinions to myself.”
Evidently undaunted, Meemaw quirked a brow Luella’s way. “What do you think about a match between Owen and Camilla?”
“I think it’s somewhat thought-provoking that Camilla owned up to her desire to harm Owen, given that she’s been raised to be a proper lady.” With that, Luella rose to her feet, moved to the coffee cart, and began slicing up pieces of Meemaw’s famous apple pie.
“I wouldn’t say there’s anything thought-provoking about my desire to occasionally throttle Owen,” Camilla argued. “Especially not when he doesn’t seem to have to put much effort into frequently exasperating me.”
Luella slid a slice of pie onto a glass plate that had been crafted in one of the local glass factories before she nodded. “Owen does make it a habit of garnering irritation from the feminine set, that most recently seen when he procured the ire of Miss Curtistine Longerbeam.”
“There’s no need to revisit the Miss Longerbeam situation,” Owen muttered.
Camilla leaned forward. “I disagree, since I’m now brimming with curiosity to hear all the gory details, but before we get to those—her name isn’t truly Curtistine Longerbeam, is it?”
Owen pressed his fingers to a temple that was beginning to throb. “You only want to hear about Curtistine—and yes, that is her name—because you’re trying to distract Meemaw from focusing on a relationship she’s convinced is genuine and not a figment of your imagination. However, since I don’t relish revisiting unpleasant circumstances from my past, I don’t feel compelled toappease that curiosity of yours, no matter if that decision leaves you with another urge to throttle me or not.”
