Coming Attractions (35 page)

So, fly, be free, dear Peculiar Treasure! Keep on trusting the Lord no matter what happens. He has his hand on your life.

With a joyful heart,

Robin Jones Gunn

I love keeping in touch! I hope you’ll stop by www.robingunn.com
and sign up for the Robin’s Nest e-newsletters.

KATIE WELDON SERIES

Peculiar Treasures Robin Jones Gunn , Bestselling Author of the Christy Miller Series

Katie Weldon catches more than just the bouquet at the wedding of her best friend, Christy Miller. She also snags a job offer
that launches her into an adventure she never imagined.

Katie eagerly accepts the job as resident assistant at Rancho Corona University only to find herself in a community of conflict.
She thought this was where God wanted her, but how can God use her — love her — when everything is falling apart? Especially
with her boyfriend, Rick.

Katie turns to the women in her life for solace. In the safety of their love and encouragement she finally allows herself
to spill her heart about her relationship with Rick. But even their advice can’t postpone the decision Katie must face, a
decision that will define who she is and the woman she’s becoming.

The first book in the Katie Weldon Series,
Peculiar Treasures
follows Katie as she struggles to believe that God can love her, faults and all.

Softcover: 978-0-310-27656-2

Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

K
atie picked up the skirt of her bridesmaid dress and playfully elbowed her way through the gathering circle of female wedding
guests. “Pardon me. Coming through. Woman on a mission, here! Make room.”

Most of the guests knew Katie and responded with equally high-spirited comments. Katie planted herself front and center and
took her softball outfielder’s stance as demurely as she could before flipping her swishy red hair behind her ears and calling
out, “Right here, Christy! I’m ready for ya’ now.”

The other young women crowded closer and called their own directions to the bride.

“No playing favorites, Christy!”

“Over here. On your left. Throw it to me on your left!”

“No! Throw it to me, Christy! Me! Here!”

The bride kept her back to all of them as her ever-efficient aunt bustled into the moment. Aunt Marti adjusted Christy’s position
so her profile was just right for the photographer’s lens.

“Keep your shoulders back, Christy-darling,” Aunt Marti directed. “Turn your chin slightly to the right. No, not so far. Back…
there. Just like that.”

The camera flash captured the pose before the bride could breathe or blink. Another flash came, aimed this time at Katie and
the other restless women. Katie was a little taller than many of the high school girls bunched beside her. So far the competition
didn’t look too challenging.

“Maid of honor, right here!” Katie called out. “Follow the sound of my voice, Christy!”

From the sidelines, someone called out, “Throw it high!”

Katie knew that voice. It belonged to Rick Doyle, her “almost” boyfriend. Rick had joined the rest of the groomsmen on the
edge of the crowd of women. The other guys, all surfers at heart, had removed their ties long before the toasts were offered
an hour ago. They were ready to more comfortably enjoy the warm southern California afternoon. Rick was the only one who had
remained “camera ready,” as Aunt Marti called it. She indicated she was pleased with Rick but exasperated with the others,
including the groom, Todd, who had peeled off his tux coat right after he and Christy had cut the cake.

Tall, good-looking, brown-eyed Rick cupped his hand to his mouth and called out again, “Throw it high, Christy!”

Why is he saying that? I’m right up front.
Katie turned her head to see who Rick was looking at in the back row of the eager bouquet catchers. Before she could spot
anyone in particular, something smushy and fragrant hit the left side of her head.

All the women around her screamed.

Katie’s quick reflexes prompted her to pull the flying object close to her side. A young woman bumped against Katie in her
attempt to make her own crazy, off-balance lurch for the flowers.

“Hey!” Katie felt herself topple and knew the bouquet was about to be snatched from her haphazard grasp.

Just then, Sierra, a friend of Katie’s, swung her arm forward without making clear trajectory calculations and unwittingly
launched the bundle into the air. The bouquet was back in play!

From the sidelines the guys yelled. From inside the huddle of surprised women a chorus of squeals rose. All arms were up in
the air.

The runaway bouquet seemed to enjoy its moment of flight and tagged the fingers of one eager-reaching wedding guest, who batted
at it like a badminton birdie. With a hop and a skip the white ball of mischief released a single white rose to the woman
with the longest arm before Katie regained her balance, leaped forward, and seized the bouquet.
Carpe bouquetum
!

The tall girl beside Katie blinked at the single rose in her hand. Katie raised her arm and let her cheer be heard across
the meadow. “I caught it!”

“I almost had it,” muttered Sierra.

Christy, who had turned around to watch the momentary circus act, broke into a wide grin when she saw where the bouquet had
landed.

Katie echoed her best friend’s delighted expression, beaming back at her. The two of them had speculated about this moment
for years. Many years. Both of them seemed to know that Christy would be the first to marry. Katie always maintained that
Christy’s groom would be Todd, even during those seasons when Christy had her doubts. To boost her friend’s confidence during
those dreamy-yet-doubting moments, Katie’s best cheer-up line for Christy had been, “Just promise you’ll throw the bouquet
to me.”

That line always caused the two of them to smile at each other the same way they were smiling at this moment.

Mission accomplished.

Spinning around once in a twirl of triumph, Katie caught Rick’s gaze. Whomever or whatever his “throw it high” comment referred
to no longer mattered. Rick was watching her with his chocolate brown eyes, and she felt herself melting a little inside,
just as she had ever since her first, puppy-dog crush on him in junior high.

“Look over this way, please,” the photographer said.

Katie tilted her head and gave him her widest smile.

“One more. This time a bit more subdued.”

Drawing the fragrant, gardenia-and-white-rose bouquet up to her nose, Katie dipped her chin and took a lingering breath of
the pure white sweetness.

So this is what getting married smells like.

The photographer captured the shot, readjusted the camera’s angle, and took another. “Great. Thanks.”

Katie glanced up, ready to twinkle one of her bright, green-eyed looks of alluring charm at Rick, but her smile fell. Rick
was no longer watching her. He had turned his attention to the single guys, who were lining up to catch the garter. She ambled
over to join the group, brushing her hair off her forehead.

Being so dressed up and having her picture taken felt strange. Yet it was a nice sort of strange. An improvement over how
she usually ran around. Katie’s clothing selections had long been in the realm of jeans and a T-shirt or sweatshirt. During
the past year, however, she had done what she called a “Katie-version” of a makeover. It started with a haircut that gave
her swishy, red mane a more sophisticated, yet easy, wash-and-go style. She added some fun skirts to her wardrobe and went
in search of comfortable but feminine tops. This bridesmaid outfit was way beyond anything she would normally wear, but Katie
liked how sophisticated she felt in it.

A casually dressed guy with a trim goatee and distinctive, rectangular sunglasses leaned toward Katie as she stood to the
side of the group of guys. Without turning to look at her, he said in a low voice, “Your halo is slipping.”

She squinted into the late afternoon sun and blinked at him, not sure if his comment had been aimed at her. The guy kept his
face forward. He didn’t repeat his comment or return her glance. Behind his left ear she noticed a thin, white scar in the
shape of a backward “L.”

Ignoring him, Katie turned her attention back to the group of guys that was now heckling Todd, the easygoing groom. Todd had
positioned Christy’s garter between his two thumbs in a slingshot position and impishly aimed backwards. If he let go, the
garter undoubtedly would land somewhere in the palm trees that bent over the wedding party like gentle giraffes sheltering
their young.

One of the guys called out, “Hey, wrong way, dude.”

Doug, a groomsman and the only married guy in the group, stood beside Todd to direct him in the garter launch. Doug turned
Todd back around to face the pack. “Just aim it this general direction. It’ll fly off crazy, so you don’t need to have your
back to them the way Christy did.”

Todd looked as if he was enjoying this as much as he had clearly enjoyed the wedding and the leisurely paced reception. For
all the arguments that erupted among Todd, Christy, her parents, and her eager-to-be-involved Aunt Marti during the planning
of the wedding, it had turned into Todd and Christy’s special day. The wedding and reception had only a few touches of Marti’s
influence here and there — most of the day had been quintessential Todd and Christy. Katie couldn’t be happier for her friends.

The guys stood back with nonchalant postures, indicating by their expressions they were too cool to go after the garter. But
Katie knew this group well enough to realize that the competitive streak in them would spring into action the second Todd
launched the ball of lace.

True enough. Todd jutted his determined chin forward. On Doug’s command, he launched the lacy white elastic band into the
cluster of too-cool guys.

Mayhem broke out.

Katie noticed that Rick was one of only a few guys who didn’t spring into action. The garter seemed to make a beeline for
the guy with the goatee next to her. But before he could secure his grasp on the flimsy, fluttering piece of lace, another
hand reached out and snatched the prize.

Katie’s shoulders involuntarily slumped when she saw who caught the garter.

David, the little twerp.

Christy’s fifteen-year-old brother broke into a spontaneous victory dance. Sadly, the dance was too clever for his large feet
to maneuver and too painful for Katie to watch. She lowered her head and made her way to the other side of the crowd where
Rick had ended up. He was talking to Todd’s dad.

“Great save on the bouquet catch, there, Katie.” Todd’s dad tipped his plastic punch cup her direction and added, “Way to
go after what you want.”

“Thanks.” Turning to Rick she said, “I didn’t notice your making any heroic efforts to catch the garter there, Doyle.”

Rick gave her a grin and a shrug. “It wasn’t coming my direction.”

That is such a Rick-Doyle-philosophy-of-life statement!

In the past six months Katie had watched Rick roll through several challenging situations without lurching forward with the
sort of aggression he had displayed during their high school years. He had mellowed. Maybe too much.

She gave him a long look. This was her friend. Her “almost” boyfriend, according to their last “DTR” — Define the Relationship
— conversation. They had been around each other nearly every day for the past seven months, and yet she felt she didn’t really
know who he was or what he was thinking at any given moment.

Of one thing she was sure. She was glad she had “come his direction” on the night Todd had proposed to Christy at the Dove’s
Nest Café. Rick was the manager of the Dove’s Nest, and although they had known each other since junior high, their paths
hadn’t crossed for several years.