The Gilly Salt Sisters by Tiffany Baker

Author:Tiffany Baker [Baker, Tiffany]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Adult, Historical, FIC019000
ISBN: 9780446575096
Google: R0mIn_-8mtUC
Amazon: B004QX07FK
Barnesnoble: B004QX07FK
Goodreads: 12746295
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2012-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Whenever Claire looked back on the afternoon that she traded Salt Creek Farm for Plover Hill, she could never help but wonder if maybe the whole thing had been some kind of blunder or misunderstanding on her part. After all, Whit didn’t come bearing a ring the day he proposed. He didn’t drop to one knee the way Claire had always dreamed of Ethan doing. He didn’t stammer with nerves when he asked her to be his wife, or take deep shaky breaths, and he certainly never put the matter of matrimony to her in the form of a question. Instead he did what he did best—made an executive decision—and Claire, good stenography student that she was, took him at his word.

She was sludging mud out of one of the empty evaporating pools that day. Whit had never set foot on the farm to see her before, but there he was, handsome as ever, stepping along the edge of the marsh as if he owned it. Flustered, Claire immediately smoothed her hair and tried to wipe some of the dirt off her hands, but it didn’t do any good. She still felt like a hobo greeting a king. “What on earth are you doing here?” she said when he got close. “I don’t think it’s a great idea for us to meet in the marsh. You know, given everything.”

But Whit just put his hands on her shoulders. “My thoughts exactly.”

Her heart beat faster, and she cast an eye around for signs of Jo. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice low and cautious.

His dark eyes watched her as if he were keeping track of a clock. “You.”

Claire snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Whit spread his arms. “What can a place like this offer a girl like you?”

Claire paused. It was the same question she’d been asking her whole life, but walking out on your existence was easier said than done. I need a sign, Claire thought, just something little, and at that moment one of those pesky blue butterflies, the ones her mother always said were bad luck, landed on her shoulder, followed by two more. Claire shuddered and tried to flick them off, but before she could, Whit threw his jacket around her. It only made the situation worse. She imagined the crushed bodies of the insects creeping down the coat’s lining and fought off an urge to toss his jacket down into the mud.

Whit had fallen silent, and Claire realized he must have asked her a question. She looked up and found him standing almost nose to nose with her, staring into her eyes. That close, he smelled delicious, like spices and fine leather, and his skin was so polished that Claire was tempted to rub him to see if he squeaked or, better yet, granted her a wish. As if in a trance, she leaned toward him, preparing to kiss him right then and there, but that’s when she saw Jo. She made a funny kind of noise,

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