Spring Fever Read Online Free PDF Page B

Pokey. After all, she’d been fifteen, he was nineteen, working in the warehouse for the first time that summer after his freshman year of college, at his father’s insistence. As far as Mason Bayless was concerned, Annajane was just some goofy girl who hung out with his baby sister.
    He hadn’t given her a second thought, or a second glance. It would be another four years before they exchanged their first kiss.
    Her cheeks burned now at the thought of that first time. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the memory.
    “You okay?” Pokey whispered. “It’s not too late to make your escape.”
    But it was too late. The music swelled again, and the violins and flutes and organ began the fluttering notes of the Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Every head turned toward the back of the church.
    “Ahh.” Annajane heard the chorus of approving sighs, and in a moment she spotted Sophie.
    The five-year-old tiptoed slowly up the aisle. Somebody had attempted to tame the wild mane of blond curls, but the circlet of baby’s breath and pink rosebuds rested at a crooked tilt, listing slightly over her right ear. She was angelic in the ankle-length pink organza dress with its delicate pin-tucked bodice and bell-shaped sleeves. Annajane held her breath as Sophie made her way up the aisle, flinging fists full of rosebuds from the satin basket dangling from her skinny wrist. Her sparkly pink cat-eye glasses slid down her nose, and she paused once, to push them back into place.
    The sight of Mason’s daughter caused Annajane unexpected tears. Sophie was not her child, although she should have been. Mason had fathered her during a brief one-night stand not long after their separation and had legally adopted her after the mother couldn’t care for the baby.
    People in Passcoe expected that Annajane would be outraged by the child’s birth, so soon after her split from Mason, but Sophie had stolen her heart the first time she held her in her arms. How could anybody resent bossy, enchanting, Disney-princess-loving Sophie? Her Aunt Pokey’s house was Sophie’s second home, and since Pokey’s best friend, Annajane, was there nearly as often as the child, Sophie considered her family. Which she was. Sort of. Leaving Sophie, losing her to Celia—the prospect of it felt like the unkindest cut of all to Annajane.
    As always, Sophie seemed to move to her own inner soundtrack, which was unfortunately nowhere in sync to Canon in D. The little girl was anxiously scanning the aisles as she walked, looking, Annajane knew, for familiar faces. Finally, she spotted Annajane and her aunt Pokey and nodded solemnly. But behind the thick lenses of her glasses, her usually impish gray eyes were dark-rimmed and heavy-lidded. Her cheeks were hot pink in contrast to her alabaster skin.
    Pokey leaned into the aisle. “You’re doin’ great, baby,” she whispered encouragingly, and Annajane nodded silent agreement and blew her a kiss. Finally, the child gave a tremulous smile and pressed a wad of rosebuds into Pokey’s outstretched hand. As she moved past, Annajane noticed that the streamers of the long satin sash were lopsided, and wet, which surely meant that the sash had somehow gotten dunked during a prewedding potty stop.
    Why, Annajane wondered, hadn’t somebody spotted the wet sash? Perhaps, somebody like Sophie’s about-to-be stepmother? The dress was Celia’s own design, and no matter what Pokey or Annajane thought of her as a person, it was no secret that Celia’s successful children’s clothing business, Gingerpeachy, had recently sold to a national chain, netting Celia and her backers a rumored ten million dollars.
    A few steps past their pew, two-thirds of the way to the altar, Sophie came to a dead stop. She was looking uncertainly, right to left. The music kept playing, but Sophie was not moving. Annajane held her breath.
    She looked up at the altar. Father Jolly seemed oblivious, but Davis and Pete were frowning, exchanging