“Anything?”

Josie shook her head. At twenty-three, she was two years older than Meg, and at five foot ten, stood a good six inches taller. Today she wore a dusky-rose gown that complemented her dark hair and gave her complexion a pretty pink glow. She took after Papa’s side in looks, but of the three Lockwood girls, she was most like Mama in calm disposition.

“Ralph looked all over town.” Ralph Johnson was Josie’s husband, and he owned the saddle shop at the end of Two-Time’s main street. “You don’t suppose something might have happened to Tommy, do you? An accident?”

“It better have,” Meg muttered.

Gasping, Mama looked up from straightening Meg’s gown. “Of all the things to say!”

“Sorry, Mama.” Hands balled at her sides, Meg gritted her teeth. Her mother was right, of course; such uncharitable thoughts didn’t belong in church.

Neither did thoughts of murder.

“Fifty-eight minutes,” her father announced.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Papa.” Josie always tried to see the bright side of things, but even she couldn’t hide the doubt in her voice.

Papa’s gaze remained on his watch. “Soon’s already come and gone. Now he’ll have to answer to me for keeping my daughter waiting!”

Her father didn’t fool Meg one whit—he’d been against the marriage from the start. If she didn’t know better, she would suspect him of causing her fiancé’s absence just to prove he was right.

“Fifty-nine minutes!”

“Henry, please,” her mother cajoled. “You’re upsetting her.”

“She should be upset. The boy’s irresponsible and will never amount to a hill of beans. He’s like a blister; he never shows up till the work’s all done. Doesn’t even know whether to wind his watch or bark at the moon. I should never have agreed to this marriage.”

“You didn’t agree to anything, Henry.”

“And for good reason! Furthermore—”

A knock sounded, but before anyone could answer it, the door cracked open and Reverend Wellmaker popped his head into the room. “Is everything all right?” he asked, eyes round behind his spectacles. “We’re almost twenty minutes late.”

“Fifty-nine minutes late!” her father roared.

The difference in times raised no eyebrows, since no standard time existed in Two-Time. It was common practice for communities to set watches by the local jeweler, but unfortunately, their town had two—Meg’s father and Tommy’s pa. Both stubbornly insisted they alone had the right time.

The feud dividing the town for more than fifteen years was expected to end the minute the two families were joined by marriage. Both fathers had agreed—albeit reluctantly—to standardize time once the deed was done.

“Shh, Henry, not here.” Her mother gave the minister an apologetic smile. “Soon.”

Josie left with the pastor, and Papa continued his sonorous count until interrupted by another knock on the door.

“Meg, it’s me, Tommy.”

“It’s about time!” She hiked her skirt above her ankles and started across the room.

Her mother grabbed her by the arm. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see you in your wedding gown,” she whispered.