Cupid Valentine (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 11)

by Marlene Bierworth

  “Trouble is fashions run full cycle and come back when you least expect it, or when new buyers are born,” Kara said.

  “And so it shall be with businesswomen, until they rise to the top of any field they choose.”

  “You do not appear the least bit threatened by the presence of women in your world, Mr. Thacker?”

  “I do not. In fact, I rise to the challenge. The strong shall survive and the weak shall move on to something less demanding.”

  “I’ve heard there is a women’s movement starting up, especially in the big cities. I’m afraid I am not that brave or rebellious to go so completely against the grain. But here in Livingston, business women do provide valuable services for the community, and that is all I really care about.”

  Stephen laughed. “Whatever would we men do without food on our table, clothes on our back and a place to sleep. Respectful business ventures that both genders can appreciate.”

  “So what brings you to my establishment today, Mr. Thacker,” Kara asked.

  “I dine at Fran’s boarding house quite often, and last night the young Miss Spencer suggested I give you a try at sewing my clothes instead of sending my order off to the family tailor in New York.”

  “Well, I shall have to give that girl a raise. Drumming up new business for me.” Kara laughed. “Although zero dollars times zero still gives her zero. Chris Spencer will not take a dime from me for the work she does here. I never knew a child to be so generous.”

  “She does appear to have a stable upbringing. Says a lot for her mother.”

  “Yes – so what are you looking for in the clothing department?”

  “I came West with a lightweight coat and soon discovered the winters are brutal. Suffered through the end of last year, but it makes sense to purchase a heavier, more practical garment. I do plan on making Livingston my home.”

  “I’m sure the bank is glad to have your Eastern expertise at their disposal,” said Kara. “And now I will benefit from you, as well. Please, step over here and glance through my sketches. I can change anything to suit your taste. I simply need a general idea of where the design is headed.”

  Chris had created a cozy nook by the fireplace with seating on either side of a huge coffee table that she’d found in the storage room. The top of it was filled with Kara’s sketchbooks and an order pad for her to write specific requests given by the client. She noticed a refreshment table close by and silently reprimanded herself for not coming to the shop earlier to be adequately prepared for her first customer of the day. Especially, this one. Somehow, breathing the same air as a real man brought her pleasure – one that she could neither understand nor properly assess.

  “I apologize for not having the coffee on, sir. I ran a bit late this morning.” Irritation registered in Kara’s face. It was easy to blame everything on her father, but perhaps today she’d dilly-dallied at home longer than usual because her mother seemed so down in the dumps. She stood to her feet. “It will only take a moment. Why don’t you browse through the pictures and see if anything suits your fancy.”

  “Thank you, Miss Frankford, but I would much prefer to view them in your company. Coffee is not necessary. They have a pot brewing at the bank all day long.” He patted the empty half of his seat, and she blushed like a schoolgirl. This reaction was not professional, and she’d better straighten her form, or he’d have a mind to change his high opinion of women in business.

  Kara shifted to his settee and sat next to him. He smelled of woodsy aftershave, and her senses caved. She dare not look at his deep sea-blue eyes or ponder the playful curve of his full lips when he was amused. Even seated, he was tall, and his posture never slouched for an instant. She felt like an insignificant drop in the universe dwarfed beside this image of a robust and powerful man.

  Her smile was timid, and when her nervous fingers fumbled with the pages, she sat back and allowed him to flip through the sketchbook. He made comments as he went and she busied herself writing his ideas and preferences on the order pad.

  Suddenly he laughed, and Kara’s heart leaped within her chest. She gazed in his direction and was swept away in his merriment. He pointed to a drawing, and she smiled.

  “For the younger set, Mr. Thackery. They enjoy trying some fun lines with lots of pockets to hide a boy’s endless treasures in their outerwear.”

  “Very creative, Miss Frankford.”

  “And popular. Different twists, but the same idea. The youngsters appreciate wearing an original, the details planned by them alone, and not just the same old coat everybody else orders from the catalog or purchases at the Mercantile.”

  “I reckon they are little people in training. It’s good you provide choices for them as well as adults.” Stephen Thacker sat back and concentrated on the woman beside him. “What made you think of starting up a shop like this?”

  Kara would not tell him the truth – the hardcore facts that she had to get out of the house to keep her sanity plus earn a living to keep bread on their table at home. Instead, she focused on the concept. “Made to Order came out of my selfish desire to not appear in public looking like everyone else.”

  “Not selfish at all. A sign of healthy independence.”

  “My father says sinful pride.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth. Now, why had she said that? “I’m sorry. That was not necessary.”

  “It pains you to speak ill of your fellow man,” he said. “A noble attribute for a distinguished woman.”

  “Oh, no, sir. You are mistaken.” She blushed at her spontaneous outburst. Her reaction had not resulted from his glowing compliment but from the opposite end of the spectrum. She was not a notable woman of good report. The anger that festered inside for her father stood in the path of everything righteous she might possibly become, but try as she might, she seemed at a loss as to how to overcome her inadequacies.

  Stephen studied Kara, immediately seeing through her façade, but chose to speak no further on the subject.

  Kara tapped the order form and stood to her feet. I believe you’ve supplied adequate inspiration for the details of the coat you desire, Mr. Thacker. If you’d like to pop back over later, I will have a sketch drawn up for your final approval.”

  “May I come at noon, during my lunch hour?” Stephen asked.

  “Certainly. I invited my mother to lunch today, but she refused so I will be here.”

  “Perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the Diner for a quick bite. Or the Guest Bin if your tastes are lighter for the noonday meal?”

  Kara diffused a sharp intake of her breath, feeling nervous that the response sitting on the edge of her tongue would never find its way out.

  He noticed her hesitation. “Perhaps it’s too soon. I realize we’ve just met.”

  Kara shook her head slowly and continued to bite life back into her tied-up-tongue. He grinned. “Or could it be the illustrious Miss Frankford has not dined with a man lately? Surely not!”

  Kara spit out words, but not the ones she intended. “My father is very strict, sir.”

  He backed off and held up his hands. “My apologies to you and your family.”

  He placed the hat on his head and proceeded to put on his coat. She needed to speak beyond the fear that held her paralyzed. She was twenty-six years old, not a child to be ordered about by her parents. Should she risk a touch of freedom?

  Stephen turned at the door. “We will continue our business transaction at noon. Have a good morning, Miss Frankford.”

  Before Stephen walked out the door, Kara reached for his sleeve to stop him. Her fingers immediately jolted back in response to the touch. Such forwardness was not her norm. He turned back to her, a polite smile plastered on his face.

  “Or perhaps, sir, today will be the day I will take a chance on my father’s disapproval. Thank you. I should love to accompany you to the Guest Bin. They serve delicious hot soups and homemade bread if that is satisfactory.”

  Stephen eyed her from under the rim of his hat, an
d she noticed playful tease swimming in his eyes. This time Kara did indeed blush, for all the right reasons. “I will see you at twelve o’clock then. It will be my pleasure to join you for a bowl of soup.”

  When Kara closed the door behind Stephen, she wondered how at the end he’d made it sound like the lunch date was her idea. That had not been the case. This new feeling of freedom that surged like a wave within her refused to let it matter either way. She was going out to lunch with a gentleman caller from the bank. Now, she wished she’d chosen a different outfit today. A pale complexion highlighted so much better while wearing intense colors. Her chocolate brown skirt and ivory blouse did nothing to bring out her stronger more pleasing qualities. Inside her sewing room, she stood in front of the mirror and noticed that the glow from being in Stephen Thacker’s presence lingered on her face and her hazel eyes shone with the knowledge of the secret date.

  She heard the doorbell jingle and recalled her original appointment. This was turning into a hectic morning. She hurried through a final fitting for a fringed pair of riding pants. These would be finished tomorrow, and she could wipe this order from her growing list. When her client left, she grabbed a clean sheet of paper and penciled the coat that Stephen had described in detail. Kara was grateful that God had blessed her with a talented sketching hand, for this stage of the process could be too time-consuming for someone who struggled to put ideas on paper.

  So much to do. Lunch seemed a frivolous activity she should not waste her day on, but her heart raced at the very thought, and she knew she would not back out. But, perhaps she should bring the sketch in her bag – in case the conversation dropped into a silent abyss. Kara was not trained in the art of chatter that spilled non-stop from young ladies out to entertain a man.

  At five minutes before noon, Kara bolted from her sewing chair. At the mirror, she pinched that rosy glow back into her cheeks and combed her golden blonde hair into a swirl on her head. She used a decorative comb she kept in the drawer for her customers should they need to pull back their hair when here for fittings. It added a regal touch to a simple style. In the back room, Kara found a navy blue cape with white fur on the collar that she’d made for a client who’d passed away before claiming it. She’d planned on trying to sell it, as is, but had forgotten all about it. Today Kara was grateful for the treasure. Perhaps she’d keep it herself as a memory for the time she spent with Stephen Thacker. For surely he’d discover his mistake in extending an invitation to lunch, and after his coat was complete, he’d be history. A worldly man like him would grow bored, and she suspected that all too shortly she’d merely be just another speck of dust under his feet. Yes, she would keep the cape as a token to remind her of this unexpected date. Her father need never know.

  The doorbells chimed, and she prayed it was not a customer – or even worse, her mother changing her mind about lunch. She lifted a silent prayer heavenward and stepped into the main room.

  THE DATE

  Stephen waited just inside the door of the Made to Order shop for Kara to appear. The place smelled a tantalizing mix of lemon and sugar. The tart for her willingness to accompany him to lunch and the sweet for the angel that appeared from the sewing room. She seemed mystical, yet very real, and raw emotion choked in his throat.

  He’d been ill-prepared for the enormous effect the woman had on him earlier that morning. The simple idea of a new coat had opened the door in his heart that had been nailed shut long ago in New York. He smiled as he quietly drank in her presence. Kara was not a bit like the manipulative Sarah James that had stolen his heart then left it to die on the nearest hanging tree while she pursued old money that could be spent immediately. That woman’s heart had not been willing to gamble her pampered lifestyle on a dreamer’s lucky card.

  Stephen had since proven to succeed both in New York and now in Livingston. A tidy sum of money sat growing dust balls in the bank, with nothing or no one to spend it on. Today he would treat this lovely girl to a delicious lunch and see if first impressions were worth further perusal.

  When Kara reached him, Stephen relieved her of the cape she carried over her arm and swung it over her delicate frame. When she fumbled with the hook, he covered her trembling fingers and wound the embroidered clasp around the button. She stared at him the entire time, biting her lip and causing his insides to speculate the source of her nervous reaction. He could only hope that his close proximity caused her insides to do flip-flops in the same manner his did now. He cleared his throat trying to regain his composure. Premature thinking. They needed to get through this luncheon then maybe he’d dare to follow his thoughts beyond first base.

  He chuckled at his confusion and she, in turn, raised her eyebrows. “You find my inability to clasp my coat humorous, Mr. Thacker?”

  “Not entirely.” Stephen decided to play the tease. He loved to watch Kara’s face color with unexpected emotion. “Truth is, I find you utterly adorable. It is my honor to assist you in whatever needs you may have.”

  “Honesty is a rare gift, Mr. Thacker. A silver tongue destroys it.”

  “Touché, my dear, Miss Frankford. I believe I will enjoy our little escape together this afternoon.”

  Kara picked up the folder with the drawing. Stephen removed it from her hand and offered a quick peek. “Let’s not mix business with pleasure. It’s a perfect design, as I knew it would be. You’ve captured my preference with ease. Feel free to proceed.”

  Kara flipped the sign on the door to read, closed, passed through in front of Stephen then when it was firmly shut behind them, turned the key to lock. Stephen offered his arm, and she slid hers into his, just like she’d done a thousand times in her dreams. They started the short trek to the Guest Bin.

  “Mrs. Charleston will have left for lunch,” Kara said. “She follows the same routine every day. Believe me, the last thing we need is that busybody nosing around our table.”

  “Bravo! I shall have you all to myself. Perfect for our first luncheon together.”

  Mrs. Charleston’s noon-hour replacement – an only daughter – rushed over to their table as soon as they sat down.

  “Good afternoon, Kara.”

  The woman gave Stephen the once over then openly cast a flirtatious grin in his direction as if Kara did not physically sit in their presence. This woman definitely bore the characteristics of a Sarah James type. He supposed they grew them in Montana as well as New York. He’d guard his heart closely against her con game. It could not afford another break.

  “Hello, Angie. This is Stephen Thacker, originally from New York.”

  “Oh my! I do so love to meet men from the East. They are so refined, wouldn’t you agree?” Although the statement was directed at Kara, Angie’s eyes never left Stephen’s face. Stephen was embarrassed. It was time to order.

  “What is the soup of the day?” Stephen asked.

  “Split pea, but it is the relish tray that accompanies it you that will love most. Slices of corn, wheat and cheese bread, with homemade jams and jellies, pickles and cottage cheese with a delicious piece of warm apple pie provided to satisfy your sweet tooth.” Angie cast a fleeting glance at his date. “I’m sure, even inexperienced little you have sensed his sugary cravings by now, Kara Frankford.”

  Stephen cleared his throat and spoke firmly, “We came to your establishment for lunch, Miss Charleston, and would appreciate you doing your job and keeping your thoughts to yourself.” The waitress shrugged her shoulder and glued her eyes on the order pad.

  “So, two specials, right? I’ll tell the cook.” Angie departed, and both Stephen and Kara fell silent. The air between them grew awkward, and they both began to speak at the same time.

  “I am sorry, please continue Miss Frankford.”

  “Angie is a product of her mother’s upbringing. I’m surprised Mrs. Charleston has not had her single daughter parked on your doorstep before now.” Kara shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry for bringing you here. Now, I’m afraid, the hounds of Guest-Bin-Ville will neve
r leave you alone.”

  “I am a big boy and can look after myself. It’s you she should apologize to, and if I’d had my wits about me, I would have demanded it.”

  “You may as well know from the start, Stephen Thacker, that I am on the outside of society – as repelling as that sounds to a city man. My parents have kept a tight rein on my comings and goings, and it is common knowledge that I will probably die an old maid. A famous seamstress, no doubt, that no man will ever manage to hook.”

  “Pure gossip. You may as well know that I have no tolerance for tellers of tall tales that may, or may not, contain a grain of truth.”

  “Thank you. You do have a way of brightening my spirits, Mr. Thacker.”

  “My name is Stephen, and it would give me pleasure to hear you call me that. Mr. Thacker is still at the office.”

  Kara laughed, and Stephen thought he’d never heard such a joyful melody. “Only if you will agree to call me Kara. The inference to Miss always sticks the thorn of despair deeper into my side.”

  “Then you’ve chosen to believe their lies?” Stephen asked.

  “I must face reality every day. My father is not able to work and caring for my mother is my responsibility.”

  “And not his?”

  “You haven’t met the man. Pray you never do.”

  He noticed the shadow lurking behind those dark, secretive eyes and decided to redeem the conversation. “Enough of that subject – for now. Tell me about growing up in this wonderful town we call home.”

  Stephen knew instinctively when Kara’s storytelling jumped the fence of the commonplace into painful memories. He watched as she expertly steered the conversation back into safe territory, time and time again. What her recital boiled down to was an overview of Livingston history, something he could have read in a book or saw with fresh eyes.

  “It appears you are a private person. However will I get to know you when you distance us so skillfully?”

  “Practise makes perfect. Keeps the hounds off my trail – something you’d do well to learn now that Angie, and soon her mother, have set their teeth into your bachelorhood.”