Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
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- thirty
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- sixty
- sixty-one
- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
- one
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- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
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- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
- one
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- forty
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- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
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- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
When Marcail got up on Saturday morning she had already planned what she would put into her basket to be auctioned. The proceeds went to the school, and Marcail was determined that everything be perfect.
She found a small-handled basket in the cupboard, and after lining it with a yellow linen hand towel, she began to fill it with the lunch she had prepared. All the women of the town, married or single, were encouraged to attend and bring their baskets. The auction would start promptly at 10:30, so all baskets could be auctioned off in time for a noontime picnic for the entire town.
Marcail used a little piece of string and paper to label her basket. She held the paper for just a moment and stared at the name. Miss Donovan. She felt a little thrill each and every time she wrote it.
Not certain where the auction was to be held, Marcail left the house a little early. She should have known not to worry since the noise from people gathering in the town square could be heard from 300 yards away. From a distance it sounded as if all 296 of Willits residents were in attendance.
Marcail greeted the families she knew as she made her way to the blanket Mrs. Warren had laid out for her family. Allie was the only one seated, and Marcail joined her.
Hi, Marcail. Is your basket all set?
I think so. Whats in yours?
The girls traded baskets, and then exchanged compliments and conversation until a good-looking, dark-haired man walked by. Marcails gaze followed him as he passed.
Handsome, isnt he? Allie sounded almost smug.
Marcail laughed over being caught looking. Yes, he is, she said with an unrepentant grin. Why havent I seen him before?
Oh, he keeps to himself. Some say hes still mourning his wife. But shes been gone for over four years.
Whats his name?
Dr. Alexander Montgomery, Allie answered and chattered on, but Marcail caught little of it. Her mind was conjuring up a man bending from the saddle to relieve her of her basket, his manner solicitous, his voice kind. But a cold feeling had swept down her spine on hearing the word doctor. His good looks and the previous kindness hed shown her were overshadowed by his title. Marcail knew that if they met and talked she would be cordial, but past experience told her she would never be completely at ease in his presence.
More thoughts on Willits doctor were cut short when the auction began. The women carried their baskets and hampers forward and joined the crowd around the stand.