Wishes

by Jude Deveraux

  “What is going on?” Charles Grayson asked, bursting into the kitchen. “Anna said Terel has spent a fortune on dresses today.”

  Nellie made a silent vow to have words with Anna. “Terel began receiving invitations this afternoon, and she felt she needed new clothes for the occasions.”

  “Terel always believes she needs new clothes.” He looked at the table, noting the vegetables that had been chopped but not cooked. “Is Terel the reason dinner is going to be late?”

  “I was helping her, yes.”

  “You were playing with Terel and neglecting your work?”

  Nellie gripped the rolling pin so hard her knuckles turned white. “I will have dinner on the table at six.”

  “Good,” Charles said, then he seemed to search for something else to say. “Anna said you wished for Terel to receive the invitations.”

  “It was a bit of nonsense, that’s all.”

  “Well, if you’re having wishes come true, then wish that I get the money to pay for all these new dresses.” He turned away and left the kitchen.

  For a moment, Nellie closed her eyes. “I wish Father would be very successful,” she whispered. “I hope he makes more than enough to pay for Terel’s dresses.”

  She opened her eyes, then smiled. Such nonsense, she thought. Wishes don’t come true, because if they did…She thought of Jace but then pushed the image from her mind. Father, she thought. I hope he gets what he wants.

  Chapter Six

  Kane Taggert stood at the window of his office and watched his cousin pacing through the garden. When his wife came to stand behind him Kane didn’t turn.

  “How long has he been there?” Houston asked.

  “This is the third day. He goes off to work for that Grayson man, but he spends the rest of the day wanderin’ around out there.” Kane frowned. “He’s beginnin’ to annoy me.”

  “I would imagine his pain is a great deal worse than yours,” Houston said.

  He turned to look at her. “I wouldn’t go through that courtin’ time again for all the money in the world.”

  She smiled and kissed his cheek, but as she started to move away he pulled her to him. “Think ol’ Jace is in hell?” he asked.

  “I would guess so,” she answered sadly. “No one in Chandler has seen Nellie and him together for days, but Terel is everywhere.”

  Kane kissed his wife, then released her and went back to his desk. “Nellie Grayson.” There was wonder in his voice. “How come he wants a woman who’s so—”

  “Don’t say it,” Houston said quickly. “Nellie is a lovely woman. Whenever that family of hers allows her out, she does a great deal of church work. Her heart is loving and kind, and I think Jace sees that in her.”

  “Yeah, maybe she’s a great person, but Jace ain’t a bad-lookin’ guy, so how come he wants a woman who’s so”—he looked at his wife—“so big?”

  “Jocelyn’s mother is LaReina.”

  Kane obviously had no idea who that was.

  “We heard her sing in Dallas.”

  “Oh,” he said, disappointed. “An opera singer. What’s that got to do with Jace likin’ Nellie?”

  “By tradition, opera singers are Rubenesque, and from what Jace has told us, he grew up surrounded by his mother’s friends.”

  Kane had some trouble understanding what his wife was saying, but then he smiled. “Oh, I see. You mean Jace has always been around fat ladies.”

  Houston’s eyes narrowed. “Any woman with a voice so blessed as to be a coloratura soprano does not deserve to be dismissed as a ‘fat lady.’ ”

  Kane continued smiling. “To each his own, I guess. But f…” He stopped. “Plump or not, it looks like Jace ain’t exactly havin’ an easy path down the road to gettin’ the woman he wants. You better go talk to him.”

  Houston watched her cousin by marriage disappear down a path. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Kane gave a snort of laughter. “Now things’ll get straightened out.”

  Houston didn’t answer as she went outside into the garden.

  “Hello, Jocelyn,” she said softly, and then she smiled at him when he turned toward her. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved this morning. In the right clothes, she thought, he’d look like a pirate.

  “How’s Nellie?” she asked.

  Jace jammed his hands in his trouser pockets and turned away. “I don’t know. She won’t see me.”

  “Did you quarrel?”

  “Yes. I think so.” He gave a sigh, then sat down heavily on a stone bench. “Houston, that is the strangest family I have ever seen.”

  She sat down beside him and waited for him to continue.

  Jace leaned back against a tree and stretched out his long legs. “When I met Charles Grayson, all he could talk about was his beautiful daughter. From the way he talked I got the impression he knew about my family’s money and wanted to marry off some ugly daughter to me. I don’t know why, maybe I was intrigued, but I went to his house to meet this daughter. I went an hour early, when I knew Charles wouldn’t be home.”

  Jace closed his eyes for a moment. “Nellie was everything her father said she was. She is beautiful, kind, and I could see in her eyes that there was so much inside her. From that first night I wanted to take her away with me and show her the world.”

  “But her family stopped you,” Houston said.

  Jace’s face showed his puzzlement. “I don’t understand them. It seems that I can have the younger sister if I want her, but not Nellie.”

  He stood, and his face grew angry. “Three days ago I went to see Nellie, and she was afraid of her family seeing me. I had to hide in the pantry like the grocery boy who isn’t supposed to be there. That…that sister of hers came in and told Nellie one lie after another about me, saying I was after her father’s money—as if the man had any.”

  Houston suppressed a smile over the vanity of rich men. “What do you plan to do now?”

  Jace let his hands drop to his sides; his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Nellie won’t see me. I’ve sent flowers, two letters, I even sent her a puppy, but everything was returned to me with no explanation, nothing.” He looked at Houston. “Is there a Western way of courting that I don’t know about? The last time I courted a woman I sent her flowers, we walked out together, one day I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. I don’t remember courtship being so difficult.”

  Houston patted the seat by her, and Jace sat down again. “Since I talked to you about the Harvest Ball I’ve talked to some people about Nellie. Tell me, is Charles Grayson an ungenerous man?”

  Jace rolled his eyes. “He could give Scrooge lessons. He pays his employees as little as possible and docks their wages for every minute they’re late. I can hardly bear to stay in the office. Three days ago he got a contract out of Denver—I don’t know how, since he expects to make vast profits on every deal—but he did, and he fired two freight drivers because he said the other drivers could work longer hours. He’s a mean, miserly man, and if it weren’t for Nellie I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  “That explains why he expects Nellie to do the work of a household full of servants. He works Nellie harder than his employees, and he pays her even less than he does them.”

  Jace was quiet for a moment. “Grayson wouldn’t want to lose an employee who worked hard and took none of his money.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jace leaned his head back against a tree. “I guess I’ve been so enraptured with Nellie that I never really looked at her family. That younger daughter is a real bitch. Oh, sorry.”

  “Quite all right, since I happen to agree, but she’s quite pretty, and lately quite popular. For the last few days she’s been in great demand at every social function.”

  “She’s not half as pretty as Nellie,” Jace said, smiling. “Nellie has a way of looking at a man…well, she makes me feel as though I could do anything. Since I met her I’ve been doing
some sketches for a steering mechanism for a boat. It’s the first time I’ve drawn anything since…” He trailed off, remembering Julie’s death, but for once not feeling empty.

  “They’ve poisoned her mind against me,” Jace said softly. “They tell her I’m up to no good, then tell her she can’t see me. I don’t even get an opportunity to defend myself. If I could just get her away from them for a while, maybe I could show her that I’m not a bad sort.”

  “You can’t kidnap her,” Houston said thoughtfully. “Women don’t take well to kidnapping.”

  Jace didn’t smile. “I’ve already dismissed the idea. I thought of kidnapping her onto a boat and sailing her around the world, but Colorado is too far from the ocean.”

  Houston blinked. “There must be some less drastic measure you could take. Is there something Nellie loves, loves above all else in the world?”

  “Kids,” he said quickly. “I think maybe that’s why she does anything her bratty sister tells her to do. She thinks of Terel as her kid. I volunteered to give her a few kids of her own, but now I don’t guess I’ll get the chance.”

  Houston stood. “There. You have your answer.”

  Jace looked blank. “You mean impregnate her?”

  She grimaced. “Of course not. Give Nellie what she really wants and she’ll come to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Think about it, Jocelyn,” she said as she put her hand on his shoulder. “If you want Nellie, it looks as though you’re going to have to fight for her. If you want her enough and fight hard enough, I think you can get her, but it’s not going to be an easy courtship. One of those to a customer.”

  Jace took Houston’s hand and kissed it. “You’re not going to help me figure out what to do, are you?”

  “No. You just have to open your eyes and look, and you’ll be able to see what needs to be done.”

  He smiled at her. “I wish I’d met you before Kane did. I would have given him a run for his money.”

  She smiled. “He had me picked out since I was a child. I never had a chance, and neither would you. Now, I must go in and see to my children.”

  As she walked away Jace called out after her, “Would you like a puppy?”

  “Send it over,” she said, laughing.

  When he was alone Jace thought about what Houston had said. There must be a way to win Nellie.

  Nellie was in the kitchen, which had to be a hundred and ten degrees. The stove was going at full heat to cook the pastries for the tea Terel was giving the next day, and to warm the six irons on top. Nellie was bending over the heavy ironing table, applying a fluting iron to the delicate ripples in Terel’s silk blouse.

  The changes in the Grayson household in the past week had tripled Nellie’s work. Terel’s new popularity had greatly increased her need for freshly washed and ironed clothing. Nellie had tried to get Anna to help with the load, but the stupid girl had left a hot iron on the skirt of one of Terel’s best dresses and ruined it. Afterward, Charles said Nellie had better see to the ironing herself as he could not afford to have clothes ruined.

  So Nellie was trying to keep up with Terel’s ever-increasing wardrobe and to cook for the many guests now flooding the house. Terel said she couldn’t accept invitations without extending some herself.

  Through all the ironing and the cleaning and the cooking, Nellie kept thinking of that glorious afternoon she had spent with Mr. Montgomery. She also thought of the day he’d come to the kitchen and kissed her in the pantry.

  She slammed an iron down on a pink brocade skirt. So much for courting, she thought. She hadn’t had a word from him since that day in the pantry. Terel often told of him, though—of how he was at one social event after another and how he had been seen often in the company of Olivia Truman.

  “Terel was right about him,” she muttered, trying to make herself feel grateful to her sister for warning her away from the man. But every time she thought of the afternoon with him, a part of her wanted to see him again. Part of her didn’t care if he was after her father’s money or not.

  “Hello.”

  Nellie jumped half a foot at the sound of the voice, and when she saw Jace, before she thought, she smiled warmly at him. Quickly, she caught herself. “You should not be here, Mr. Montgomery,” she said sternly, trying to look away from him, but in truth she wanted to memorize his features.

  “I know,” he said, humbly, “and I apologize. I came to ask for your help.”

  “Help?” she asked. Remember, she told herself, this man is only interested in your father’s money. He is the worst kind of scoundrel. “I’m sure you can find someone else to help you with whatever you need.”

  “I need a recipe.”

  She blinked at him. “A recipe?” For what, to make cakes for Miss Truman? She chided herself. What he did was none of her concern.

  He took a little notebook and a stubby pencil from inside his jacket. “I’ve been told you’re one of the best cooks in Chandler, so I thought maybe you’d know how to make biscuits. Mind if I sit down?”

  “No, of course not.” She put her iron down. “What do you want a biscuit recipe for?”

  “I just need it. Now, let’s see, you need flour, but how much?”

  “How many biscuits do you want to make?” She walked to stand by the table.

  “Enough for six kids, so how much flour?”

  “Why can’t their mother make biscuits?”

  “She’s sick. How many biscuits can I make with fifty pounds of flour? Do I need anything else? I just add water, right?”

  “Flour and water makes glue, not biscuits.” She sat down across from him.

  “Oh, right, glue,” he said, writing. “I need yeast, don’t I?”

  “Not for biscuits. Whose children are they?”

  “One of the freighters who used to work for your father. Your father fired him, and the poor man has six kids to feed and a sick wife. I got their father a job hauling a load of corn to Denver, but there’s nobody to take care of the kids, so I thought I’d go cook something for them. Now, about these biscuits—if you don’t use yeast, what do you use?”

  “Did you go to Reverend Thomas at the church? He always has people ready to help. One of the women—”

  He gave her a sad look. “I thought of that, but I feel responsible for these people. Maybe if I hadn’t taken the job with your father, the driver wouldn’t have been fired. You see, I helped make out the job estimate that got the new contract for your father. So, about these biscuits—”

  “Why did my father fire him?”

  “The fewer people he has to pay, the more money he makes,” Jace said simply. “Baking soda? Is that something that goes into biscuits? What about lard? You wouldn’t know how to make flapjacks, would you? You use yeast in them?”

  Nellie stood. “No, you don’t use yeast in pancakes. Mr. Montgomery, I’m going with you.”

  “With me?”

  “There seem to be six hungry children who need help, and I’m going with you to give them that help.”

  “I’m not sure you should.”

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “I’m afraid your father might not like it, and what about your reputation? Driving twenty miles out into the country alone with me, and you’ve heard what a womanizer I am.”

  “It seems that these children’s hunger was caused by my father, therefore it is my Christian duty to help them.” She looked down at him, at his dark hair and eyes, at his broad shoulders. “My reputation is nothing compared to hungry children. I must take my chances with you.”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled to show the dimple in his cheek. “We all must make sacrifices at times.”

  Nellie put out of her mind that she was leaving a heap of Terel’s dresses yet to be ironed. She pulled the pastries out of the oven, started to let them cool, then, on impulse, dumped them all into a canvas bag. Tomorrow there would be no home-baked goods for Terel’s tea, and supper tonight was almos
t sure to be late.

  She wrote a hurried note to her father telling him where she was going, then turned to Jace. “I’m ready.”

  He smiled at her again and distracted her so much that she didn’t see him take the note she’d written and stick it in his pocket. “I have a wagonload of food outside so we can leave now.” Before anyone sees us and stops us, he thought.

  “With baking powder?”

  “Sure,” he said, having no idea what was in the wagon. He’d just told the grocer to fill it and never looked at the contents.

  Jace got a great deal of pleasure helping Nellie onto the wagon, and once she was seated he flipped the reins of the horses and took off. He wanted to get out of Chandler as fast as possible. He held his breath until the houses were in the distance and open country surrounded them.

  He reined in the horses and slowed them to a walk. “How have you been, Nellie?”

  Nellie looked at him, so handsome, his strong white teeth showing against lips she knew to be soft and warm, and swallowed. Perhaps she had been hasty in her decision to leave with him. “All right,” she mumbled, trying to move away from him on the seat, but the way he drove, with his legs wide apart, caused his thigh to press against hers.

  “I hear you and your sister have been receiving invitations to everything in town.”

  “Terel has, not me.”

  He looked at her, surprised. “Yesterday Miss Emily asked me why you’d been refusing all the invitations sent to you. People are beginning to think you’re snubbing them.”

  It was Nellie’s turn to be surprised. “But I haven’t been invited. All the invitations have been to Terel.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, looking back at the horses.

  “Mr. Montgomery, are you implying that my sister kept the invitations from me?”

  “Did you get the flowers I sent? I’ve sent you flowers every day for the past week.”

  “I received no flowers,” she said softly.

  “How about the two letters I sent?”