“Would that be the Gentry-O’Hare nuptials?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m in the wedding party.”
“I’ll be at the church on Sunday. I won’t be going to the reception.” She frowned. Although she didn’t know the Gentrys, she probably felt she should have been invited anyway. Then she smiled down at David and Jonathan. “And who are these handsome young men?”
“We’re Ty’s brothers.” They returned her smile politely, but I wanted to groan. As far as Mrs. Wilson knew, Dad was a widower and had been one for almost nineteen years.
“Oh? How old are you?”
“We’re eight.”
“Oh, my, your father was a naughty man, Tyrell! How do you feel about having such young brothers?”
“I’m very pleased about it.” I hoped the shortness of my response would stop her questions, but I should have known better.
“How sweet!” she
