by Cat Cahill
As they passed into the business area of town, Molly pointed out interesting signs, curious shops, and fascinating people. She spoke as if nothing were different between them.
Perhaps he thought too hard about this. If he took a step back, maybe he could see more clearly. With that in mind, Eli focused all of his attention on Molly and her musings.
“Look at that!” she said, pointing into the window of a store that sold toys for children. “Jasper had an entire army of little soldiers just like those when we were young. He used to leave them lying about the floors, and I was forever stepping on them and injuring my feet.”
Eli grinned as he imagined a miniature version of Molly pouting over stepping on a tiny toy soldier. “I had the same ones.”
“I’m certain you returned yours to their rightful places after playing with them, however,” Molly said, glancing up at him.
“Oh, of course,” Eli replied in his most serious tone.
“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes at him in a playful manner before leading the way to the next store window, which held a display of men’s and women’s hats.
“I’m well-stocked with hats,” Eli said.
Molly drew her eyes from the window. “I’ve only ever seen you in that one.” She nodded at the worn brown hat he wore. “You wore it to the dance, too.”
“Like I said, I’m well-stocked with hats.” He winked at her and she shook her head in mock exasperation as they moved on past the millinery.
“If you ever change your mind, Hill’s General Store would be happy to order you a bowler or—” She paused when Eli stopped walking. “What is it?”
He nodded at the lumberyard on the corner just ahead. “That was my father’s business.” A new sign proudly proclaimed it sold “Denver’s Finest Lumber” and that “Morton R. Adams, Jr.” owned the business. “There used to be a large sign there with his name on it. See that building?” He pointed to a little shack that served as the office, unchanged from how he remembered it.
Molly nodded.
“My sisters and I used to play in there while Pa was out helping customers and Ma did the shopping.” So many memories came with this lumberyard. “We’d play hide-and-seek after the sales closed for the day. Sometimes I’d trail after Pa, watching him show off the different sorts of wood to customers. He’d let me pretend to help him tally up the sales at the end of the day.”
“Those sound like good memories.” Her arm was still looped around his and she looked up at him with a kind smile.
“He wanted me to take over the business.” He said the words tentatively. It still stung sometimes, his own guilt at not wanting the business his father created. But he knew, even when he was young, that it wasn’t the life for him. He’d craved something different. Still, his father had hoped Eli might change his mind one day.
“Oh?” Molly studied his face a moment before glancing back at the lumberyard. “I must say, I can’t picture you as a salesman. I believe you made the right decision.”
Eli hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to hear those words from her. Relief floated through him, and he smiled at her sweet face. She returned it, so genuine and open.
She tilted her head. “What’s on your mind?”
What was always on his mind? He should tell her today. The thought made his stomach clench, but he needed to speak the words aloud. To have her hear them before she darted away from him yet again. Before she spent too much time with Emerson or Preston or any of those men who had more money than Eli could ever imagine.
Before he lost her forever.
Chapter Eleven
“We’re halfway back to Cañon City by now,” Eli said as Molly led him down yet another alley.
She shot him a mischievous grin. “I promise I know the way. If only a certain lawman would hush and follow my lead.”
He dodged a puddle of mysterious origin—or perhaps not so mysterious considering a pile of horse dung lay nearby. “If anyone saw us back here, we’d be the talk of the town by nightfall.”
Molly smiled to herself until she realized what she was doing. Since when did she not mind having her reputation ruined with Eli Jennings? Truth be told, she’d been having all sorts of thoughts about Eli lately, each one more confusing than the last.
“How do you know these alleys so well already? Please tell me we’re getting closer,” he said, grasping her hand to lead her away from yet another puddle.
Molly tried to pull her mind away from his strong grip on her hand to his actual question. “Yes, not much farther now. Look, you can see it from here.” She pointed with her free hand at her aunt and uncle’s house.
When they arrived, Eli led her around the small carriage house and barn and through the little garden that sat between the house and the outbuildings. He stopped just shy of the steps to the narrow porch where Aunt Ellen often enjoyed the evening air.
“Thank you for a lovely stroll,” Molly said.
“I don’t know that I’d call that last part a stroll.” His hand still held hers, and her heart beat wildly as she wondered why. There were no puddles to steer her around, no obstacles in their path. They were standing still, outside the house, and yet he still loosely held her hand in his own.
“You enjoyed that little adventure,” she said, tilting her chin up.
“I suppose I did. I should be the one thanking you for your assistance in my investigation.”
“They’ll all three be calling later this week.”
Eli’s hazel eyes darkened, the green disappearing into the brown, and he frowned.
“What is it?” Molly asked, although the second the words were out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t. Eli had closed his eyes as if he were in pain. He said nothing.
“Eli?” she whispered.
He opened his eyes again, regarding her as if she were something precious and breakable. “Molly, I . . .”
“Yes?” she prompted gently.
He looked down at their clasped hands like that might give him strength. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” she said again, beginning to wonder if it was something terrible. Was there something she needed to know about one of the men? Had he discovered something awful in his father’s papers?
He looked up at her, hair falling from under that worn hat, that familiar tanned face appearing so concerned that she wanted to shake the information out of him. He gripped her hand a little tighter, and that was when the unthinkable occurred to her.
Was he jealous of her suitors?
The very idea nearly took her breath away. And yet it made her want to smile at the same time. Try as she might, she’d been able to summon no interest at all in the men who’d crowded around her at the dance. She wanted to say something that would appease Eli—if that was the root of the look she’d seen in his eyes just a moment ago. “I’ll suffer the attentions of Mr. Preston, Mr. Edwards, and Mr. Emerson, only to gather the information you need.”
And it was as if her words had lifted a weight from his mind. His entire face seemed to lighten with what she’d said and his grip on her hand eased.
Molly could’ve fallen over backwards with the knowledge she’d just gained. She felt as light as a feather, as if Eli’s hand were the only thing anchoring her to earth. If he had feelings for her, why had he not acted on them in all of those months they’d known each other?
They stood there for a moment longer, before Eli finally cleared his throat. “I’ll see you soon?”
She nodded, and before she knew it, he’d released her hand and was making his way back to the alley. She watched him go, and when he glanced back, she smiled and wondered how it was that she’d come all the way to Denver only to find herself falling for a man from Cañon City.
Chapter Twelve
Rain pattered against the window of the study Saturday afternoon as Eli sorted through yet another stack of his father’s papers. He’d been at it for days, finding little beyond the names of men and busines
ses Pa had worked with. Bills, receipts, purchase agreements, notes—Pa had kept everything.
Eli stood and took a sip of the coffee Ma had brought in earlier. The rain reminded him of that morning when Molly had been out with Paul Carter and had invited him out of the rain and into Carter’s carriage. The memory made him smile at first, but then brought to mind the other men who sought Molly’s attention. She’d just as much said she was uninterested in them after they returned from their walk into town, yet they had so much more to offer than Eli did. Those men had money and prestige. They could set Molly up in a beautiful home in Denver, and she’d want for nothing. Eli had a respectable job, certainly, but that was all. It made him happy, but was it enough to satisfy Molly?
If only he’d been able to get the words out that afternoon after their walk. He’d tried, but they’d lodged somewhere in his throat. Why was telling her how he felt so terrifying?
Eli returned to the desk chair and began sorting through the stack of papers again. His mind still half on Molly, he almost didn’t hear the knock at the door.
It came more insistently and there was no mistaking it this time. Eli rose and went to the hallway, wondering who would come to the door in this weather. He pulled it open, and there, looking bedraggled despite the carriage on the street, stood Molly.
She smiled at him and he stood there blinking like a fool. Sense finally overcame him, and he opened the door wider so she could come inside.
“I’m sorry, I know this is highly unusual, and well . . . perhaps I should go?” Molly glanced back toward her carriage.
“No, it’s quite all right. This scandal should have the entire neighborhood talking.” Eli meant it as a joke, and after a second, Molly smiled. “I doubt anyone saw, given the rain. And besides, my mother is here. I’m certain it’ll take her all of five minutes to be in the parlor to meet you.” What he didn’t put into words was the way his entire mood had lifted the second she’d shown up at his door. She risked her reputation to see him. Not Preston or any of those other men, but him.
Molly glanced around the tiny entry of their small home, and Eli had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing for it. It was a perfectly nice home, but it was nothing compared to her aunt and uncle’s house.
He took her wet coat and hung it from a peg near the fireplace in the parlor. Molly sat in one of the simple chairs nearby and laid her damp gloves on her lap. Eli took the seat that was angled next to hers. “Might I ask what I’ve done to deserve this visit?”
Molly’s dark brown eyes lit up and she leaned forward. “I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. Mr. Emerson and Mr. Edwards called yesterday, and Mr. Preston came this morning. They each spoke at length about their companies—it’s so easy to get them to talk about business. And thankfully, they’re all much more amusing and far less awful than, well, you know.”
Eli pushed his lips together, trying hard not to think about any of those men spending time with Molly. Or what she meant by “amusing.”
“But here is what I wanted to tell you. You may cross Mr. Edwards off your list. He informed me that his father is selling their business for an excellent price and packing up to move back East. He’d have no interest in collecting old debts. But both Mr. Preston and Mr. Emerson told me that extending loans was something they did regularly. The interest brings income to the business. Of course, neither would tell me who they lent money to, but they said they employed different tactics to collect payments when debtors didn’t pay.”
Eli inched forward in his chair. “What sort of tactics?”
“This is particularly interesting,” she said. A drop of water inched its way from Molly’s hair down her cheek, making it hard for Eli to concentrate on her words. Eli wanted to reach forward and brush it away with his thumb. He wondered what she’d do if he acted on that urge.
Molly reached up and swiped the drop away, staring at him intently. “Eli?”
“I’m sorry. Go on.” His face warmed, and he hoped she’d attribute any redness to the heat of the fire.
“Of course they each said they sent letters to the debtors—”
“I’ve found no such letters.”
“Perhaps your father threw them away.”
That would be so unlike Pa. In fact, all of this was unlike the man Eli thought he knew. “What else?”
“If the debtor didn’t pay then, they’d make a call. And then, if necessary, they’d pursue legal action.”
“Make a call,” Eli repeated. Was that what was happening? If so, it was only a matter of time before the man filed suit against Ma. If, of course, the debts truly existed.
“Yes,” Molly said. “Of course, I have no way to tell if either of them would be so terrible as to invent debts that don’t exist. They’re both so nice, I can’t imagine it, though.”
The rain pattered steadily against the window as Eli tried to think through all that Molly had said. Her information helped, but it did nothing to narrow down the possibilities. For all Eli knew, the man paying his mother visits could be someone else entirely. He felt as if he were no closer at all to discovering the man’s identity, even though he’d been searching for nearly three weeks.
And then, of course, nearly drowning out anything to do with his mother’s predicament was Molly herself. And her pronouncement of Emerson and Preston as “nice.” What did that mean?
“I rushed over here because I thought the information might be useful, but now I’m unsure,” she said as she twisted her hands together in her lap.
“It’s helpful.” He smiled at her and reached across to still her hands. His heart hammered, and he hoped she wouldn’t draw them away. She didn’t a few days ago, when he’d held on much too long upon their return to the Blanchets’ home.
Molly glanced down at his hand covering hers. It was as if time stilled, broken only by the rain tapping on the glass, and finally, she looked up at him. “I’m glad. I wish I could have learned more.”
Eli drew in a breath, thinking of her spending more time with those men. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
Molly tilted her head. “How come? They might say something useful.”
“It could be dangerous.” Nothing about Preston or Emerson said danger, but it sounded better than I don’t want you to.
“Dangerous?” A smile teased her lips up.
“Yes, very.”
“Hmm . . .” She pursed her lips together, and Eli couldn’t look away.
The rain pounded out a rhythm and he raised his other hand to trace the outline of her jaw. He didn’t dare think too much about it, because if he did, he’d pull away immediately. But as it was, he lost all ability to think when she closed her eyes. “Molly.”
She made a humming sound, and he stilled his hand, letting the palm cup her cheek. Her skin was softer than anything he’d ever touched.
“There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
She said nothing, and he knew he ought to say it now. The words built in his throat, but fell away when her lips parted just a little. He let his thumb drift down to touch the corner of them. She shivered, and that was all he needed. Keeping his hand on her cheek, he leaned forward. Their lips weren’t even an inch apart, and his mind raced as fast as his heart. Molly was here, in front of him, and she wasn’t pulling away. He didn’t dare put feelings into words, not now. Not when it seemed she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He could feel her soft breath against his lips. Just as he was about to press them to hers, a squeak sounded from the staircase.
Chapter Thirteen
Cold air assaulted Molly’s face as Eli dropped his hand and drew away faster than a horse from a snake.
“Eli?” a woman’s voice called.
Molly twisted away, her face hot and her heart thumping. What had just happened? What was it that Eli had wanted to tell her?
“Ma.” Eli stood, looking entirely composed. Only the slight pink tinge to his face gave away the fact that he’d almost kissed her.
Molly pressed a hand to her cheek and looked away from Eli’s mother, who’d just entered the room. She willed the burning in her cheeks to fade and her pulse to slow. Slowly, she stood, just as Eli introduced her to his mother.
“Oh, Miss Hill! How wonderful to finally meet you.” Eli’s mother was a fair-haired, round woman who beamed at Molly.
“I’m pleased to meet you too,” Molly said, forcing her voice to remain steady. What did she mean by finally?
“Eli said he had a friend who happened to be in Denver also,” Mrs. Jennings said as she sat in the chair Eli had taken earlier.
A friend. A sick feeling invaded Molly’s stomach. She glanced up at Eli, but he showed no emotion. Was that how he thought of her, just like every other man in Cañon City? Perhaps what had just happened between them was nothing—just an accidental byproduct of Molly letting herself flirt with him. Enough of her friends at home had found themselves broken-hearted after similar incidents. Molly had heard enough stories to know that a man wanting to kiss her didn’t necessarily mean he felt anything more for her. And yet, the way Eli had looked at her . . . She honestly thought he might. She wished his face would convey something—anything—to help her figure this out.
Eli’s mother kept up most of the conversation. Molly snuck glances at Eli. Occasionally, he met her eyes, and a couple of times he gave her a smile. It was enough to bring the hope rushing back. It made her feel impulsive. An idea formed quickly.
“Mrs. Jennings, I’d love to invite the both of you to a dinner party at my aunt and uncle’s home. This coming Friday.” As she spoke, Molly grew even more excited about the idea. Aunt Ellen would be delighted; it was Uncle John who might need more convincing, but she was certain her aunt could wear him down.
“A dinner party? How lovely!” Mrs. Jennings’s smile overtook her face even as Eli simply looked confused.
“We’ll have some of the most prominent families in the city in attendance.” At least she hoped they would, given the last-minute invitation. She rattled off a few names as she watched Eli’s expression, hoping he might understand what she was offering him. His eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hair when she mentioned the Prestons and the Emersons. “May I count on your attending?”