See, if Angel and Fred, in the middle of war, could find a moment of peace, of joy, then she and York could, too.

So, maybe this wasn’t a crazy idea, after all.

Her mother even agreed. She’d called her early this morning, after ten p.m. Montana time, but her mother was still up. And waiting for the news of her engagement, apparently, because York had of course asked her mother for her blessing.

Thinking of everything, even if this did feel rushed.

“Of course I’d like to be there for your wedding day, but you need to marry York, anywhere, anytime. The poor man has waited long enough. We’ll celebrate when you get home.”

“I’m not sure he was serious. But if he is—”

“Marry the man, RJ. With my blessing. I just don’t want to be the one to tell your brothers.” She’d laughed.

No kidding. But someday they’d have to figure out that she could take care of herself. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

Now, RJ signed her bill to her room, left a tip, then headed out to the guest area. Funny she hadn’t seen York at all. What if he’d changed…

“Miss Marshall, you have a message.”

The concierge, a man dressed in a green velvet suitcoat, gloves, black pants came around the desk near the door. He handed her an envelope.

She opened it and pulled out a note.

York’s handwriting. Choppy, bold strokes, all caps.

King Rein’s Chapel, 3pm.

What?

She looked at the man. “When was this delivered?”

“Approximately two hours ago, ma’am, on the gentleman’s way in.”

York had been out before six a.m.?

Or rather, maybe he’d been just coming back in?

She pocketed the note. “I’m headed to old Dunholm.”

“Take the cobblestone drive, ma’am. It will lead you right down Centre Street.”

She headed down the street, looking for Shop Vintage. She didn’t need anything fancy, just something suitable.

After all, Angel got married in a day frock dusted with flour.

She found the storefront halfway down Centre Street. A bell attached to a red ribbon jangled as she opened the door.

Time was stored here, in the antique knickknacks, books and China doll sets. Tables filled with bolts of cloth, pictures and toys from ages past filled the center tables.

The place smelled of age, of life lived and savored.

Along the wall hung racks of dresses, shirt and slacks.

She picked up an off white, knee length dress in satin, lace around the bodice. It would do. But it didn’t…dazzle her.

Oh, she was being silly. What did she expect—to turn into a princess?

She found another—this one a light pink garden dress with puffy sleeves. She could go as Anne of Green Gables.

She put the dresses back. Sighed.

“May I help you?”