The Bad Luck Wedding Cake

by Geralyn Dawson

  Claire couldn’t decide whether to laugh with him or screech at him. “You’re not going to let them get away with it, are you, McBride?”

  “I think they’re due a few points for creativity.” She fired a glare at him and he added, “No, I won’t let them get away with it. First I need to find out what really happened. Any guesses, Miss Donovan?”

  Claire thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Except for the fact they obviously needed thirty dollars badly enough to go through the entire spelling bee mischief, I haven’t a clue. Do you?”

  “I have my suspicions. It wouldn’t surprise me if this doesn’t have something to do with their matchmaking plans for me and Loretta Davis. The Blessings do get serious when it comes to matchmaking.” He slumped back in his chair. “I’ll find out the truth and dole out a punishment. Later, though. I know I should get it over with, and I intended to. I did. But I’m too tired, Claire. I don’t have the sand for it right now. All my energy was used up being happy they got home safely.”

  Claire sank into a chair. Tenderness stole over her as she watched Tye McBride lean his head back against the high-backed chair and close his eyes. He was a good man, a loyal man. A loving uncle. “You’re just a chicken, McBride.”

  He cocked open one eye. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s true.” She folded her hands primly in her lap and observed, “You’re too chicken to discipline those girls even though you know they need it, and they need it now. That’s why you wanted me to tag along. You knew I’d make certain you finished the job.”

  “I did?” His brows furrowed into a scowl.

  “Yes. I agree you can take some time to ferret out the truth. They obviously worked a long time on their story, and you’re more liable to catch them off guard at a later time. But the punishment can’t wait. Even if it’s only a small part, you need to do something this morning.”

  “Ah, Claire.”

  “Don’t ‘ah Claire’ me. There’s no need. You did the right thing by bringing me with you to Willow Hill, Tye, because I’ve thought of the perfect penalty.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” Watching the dread drip across his face, Claire could hold back her smile no longer. Standing, she reached for Tye’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come along, McBride. I’ll fill you in on the way upstairs.”

  Twenty minutes later Tye stood in front of his freshly bathed nieces and cheerfully swung the punishment stick. “All right, girls. Whatever else transpired, you broke the rules by leaving the house at night, correct?”

  They nodded.

  “Well, I can’t ignore it. It’s a serious infraction. I’ve given the situation careful consideration, and I have arrived at a decision on how you will be disciplined.”

  Kat yanked her thumb from her mouth. “Don’t spank us, Uncle Tye.”

  “Please don’t make us work for Sister Gonzaga,” Maribeth pleaded.

  Emma clasped her hands in front of her chest. “We haven’t eaten in a long time. If you could give us one good meal before we’re put on bread and water?”

  Claire swallowed a snort when Tye folded his arms and spoke in a strong, definitive voice. “There will be no spanking or slaving for the nuns or bread-and-water meals, children.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I’m sorry, girls, but I have no other choice. As your punishment, I’m going to tell your father exactly what happened. Every single detail.”

  The children gasped as one. “Oh, Em,” Kat said. “You said he wouldn’t do anything bad. This is terrible!”

  Emma clapped her hands over Kat’s mouth and repeated in a horrified tone, “You are going to tell Papa?”

  Tye nodded solemnly, and Maribeth slowly shook her head. “Call the undertaker, sisters. We’re dead.”

  ***

  FOUR DAYS later the citizens of Fort Worth gathered for an afternoon picnic to celebrate the dedication of Fort Worth’s new fire station. Braving the inevitable stream of women-come-a-courting, Tye attended with the girls. Since the Blessings’ return, the world looked as pretty as a rainbow after a drought-ending storm, and he was happy to be out enjoying it.

  The girls were having a high time, too, between the sack races and the taffy pull. Through it all, Tye didn’t let them out of his sight for a minute.

  At the moment the task wasn’t difficult because they’d all stopped to eat. While Maribeth and Emma bickered over the last dill pickle, Tye noticed Katrina staring past him, a contemplative look on her face. Twisting his head, he realized his niece was watching Claire, who carried a pitcher of water from blanket to blanket, refilling glasses as needed. After the baker stopped by the McBride’s spot, exchanged pleasantries, and moved on, Kat looked at Tye and asked, “Why does Miss Claire look sad? Is it because her papa took down the pretty window curtains at her bakery?”

  “I don’t think she’s sad,” Emma observed, holding her pickle up out of Ralph’s reach. “I think she’s angry.”

  Angry? Tye paused in the midst of taking a bite of fried chicken, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Claire. She didn’t look angry to him. More like depressed. The fight with her family must be wearing on her. Then, because he wondered if Emma saw something he didn’t, he asked, “Why do you say that?”

  Emma shrugged and tossed Ralph a piece of meat, then scratched him behind the ears when he climbed up on her lap and whined for more. “She reminds me of Mother.”

  Tye almost swallowed a bone. Mother, she had said. Not Mama. Jenny was Mama to the girls. Emma was referring to her birth mother, to Constance. Dear Lord.

  He jerked his head around and fired a look at Claire, who smiled as she refilled Sister Gonzaga’s glass. He searched for signs of wickedness or evil. All he saw was sweetness.

  He called forth a picture of Constance from his memory and compared her and Claire. Other than extraordinary beauty, the two women had little in common. What did Emma see? “How does Miss Donovan remind you of your mother, sweetheart?” he asked.

  The girl glanced over at Claire. “Her smiles don’t reach her eyes for one thing. But mainly it’s not on the outside. More inside. She’s too quiet. She hardly talked to us earlier. Mother was always quiet like that when she was the most angry. I remember she was angry a lot.”

  Damn Constance. For perhaps the thousandth time, Tye wondered what extent of wickedness the woman had served up to those sweet wee ones.

  Tye wouldn’t put anything past Trace’s first wife. Lies, manipulations, and betrayal had been Constance’s stock and trade. Her plot to destroy her own family for the sake of coin and Tye’s stupid foreign title proved she lacked the normal maternal instincts to protect and defend her young. The way she’d lied to pit brother against brother, to drive a wedge of hatred and betrayal between them, showed how truly evil she could be.

  Now, looking at his brother’s daughters, Tye speculated about what other secrets may have died with Constance on that awful, bloody afternoon so long ago. What other ways had she abused her children? What other horrible memories might Emma, the eldest, have tucked away; recollections waiting to rear their ugly heads when she grew older?

  The complete lack of emotion on Emma’s face when she spoke of Constance McBride made Tye shudder. It wasn’t natural and it filled him with regrets.

  Katrina interrupted Tye’s black thoughts when she licked a ring of custard from her mouth and said, “I think we should do something to cheer up Miss Claire. After all, we’d be dead from the gas lamp if not for her, and her muffins make my tummy happy.”

  “I think you’re right, Kat,” Maribeth said, feeding the last of her potato salad to Ralph. “And I know just the thing. Let’s invite her to go to the swimming hole with us. You’re still taking us swimming on Saturday, aren’t you, Uncle? You promised, remember?”

  Tye had a mental flash of Claire dressed in wet, clinging, minimal clothes. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I remember. But maybe it would be better if y’all came up with another way to cheer
up Miss Donovan. She might not even know how to swim.”

  Kat shrugged. “I’m sure she does. She grew up on the Gulf, after all.”

  To Tye’s relief, Emma shot her sisters a meaningful look and said, “Uncle Tye is right, sisters. Let’s help Miss Donovan later. After all, she has that beautiful Mr. Sundine to cheer her up. First I think we should visit with Miss Loretta. Remember how Maribeth promised her she’d share the secret of her spelling success? Look, sisters, there she is. Why don’t we go say hello?” She jerked her head toward a sprawling oak tree off away from the main body of the picnic, where Loretta Davis stood speaking to her blacksmith beau. Neither one of them appeared too happy.

  “But Emma,” Katrina protested. “Think how Miss Donovan helped Uncle Tye look for us. Don’t you think she should be the one we—”

  Tye saw Maribeth reach over and pinch her younger sister. He didn’t bother to correct her; he was too busy worrying why the Blessings’ ringleader had brought up Loretta’s name.

  He had thought the girls had given up on their matchmaking attempts. Had these recent days been the proverbial lull before the storm? He wasn’t at all ready to jump back into the tempest again. “I don’t think now is the time to approach Miss Davis about anything,” he told his nieces. “It looks like she and Gus are having a private conversation.”

  “Not anymore.” Maribeth reattached the ring on Ralph’s collar to the leash tied around a nearby pecan tree. She shook her finger at the dog and said, “Stay.” Then she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Miss Loretta is bawling like a lost calf, and I think she needs something to cheer her up.”

  Tye grimaced when he looked back and saw the black-smith stomping off toward town. Mari was right Loretta was crying her eyes out. Well, hell. He glanced around for signs of her mother or another woman who might offer Loretta a comforting shoulder, but from what he could tell, nobody else noticed the drama taking place beneath the large oak. Leave it to the Blessings, he thought with a sigh. “It’s really none of our business, girls, and your apology can wait After all, we—”

  “Sure it’s our business, Uncle Tye.” Emma shot her sisters a purposeful look that put all Tye’s suspicions on alert. She reached over and patted his knee. “It’s part of the penance Sister Gonzaga gave us when she stopped us on our way to the bakery yesterday.”

  “Penance? What do you mean, penance? You’re not Catholic.”

  Maribeth nodded. “She said in our case that didn’t matter, that any penance we did would help us in the long run.”

  Try as he might Tye couldn’t make a connection between the Blessings, penance, and the woman currently watering the wildflowers beneath an oak tree. “But what does all that have to do with Miss Davis?”

  Emma answered. “We’re supposed to spread kindness and caring wherever we see a need for it.”

  “That’s right,” Maribeth concurred. “And if we ignore a need when we see it that counts against us.” Standing, she held out a hand toward Tye as the other girls scrambled to their feet. “Come on, Uncle. Let me help you up. You don’t want our souls to get another black mark, do you?”

  Well, what could he say to that? Against his better judgment he followed the girls on their mission of mercy, his attention so focused on what might happen that he only vaguely noticed that Emma remained at their picnic spot long enough to pour iced tea into a pair of glasses.

  Katrina haled Loretta Davis first. The young woman spun around, quickly wiping her eyes, and when her gaze flew up to meet Tye’s, an embarrassed flush stained her cheeks. Thank goodness the girls filled the moment with their chatter.

  “Hi, Miss Loretta,” Maribeth said. “We’re to help you with your spelling and officially apologize for the tricks we played on you while we were trying to get you to fall in love with our Uncle Tye.”

  Clasping her hands to her chest and sighing dramatically, Katrina said, “We were mean and we’re sorry.”

  “That’s right Please accept our apology, Miss Loretta. Here, have a drink of tea,” Emma added, shoving one of the glasses she carried into the young woman’s hand. “It will help you feel better.”

  Loretta tried to talk, but the girls wouldn’t let her. Instead, they kept encouraging her to drink. When she finally did as directed, Emma turned to Tye with a huge smile on her face. Smoothly she handed him the second glass. “Here, Uncle. Share a drink with Miss Loretta. It’s rude of us to ask her to drink alone. It’s sweet tea. Your favorite.”

  Then it was as if a petticoat dust-devil swept across the meadow. In a whirl of motion and chatter, the McBride Menaces departed, leaving Tye and Loretta standing alone. Well, hell, he thought, and took a gulp of tea.

  The taste of it surprised him, distracted him from the moment. “This isn’t the way tea normally tastes.”

  “It’s good,” Loretta said, her teary gaze sliding past Tye to focus on something behind him. “I was thirsty.”

  No wonder, considering all those tears she cried out. A body needed hydration. Tye scowled down at his glass. “Reminds me of something…I can’t quite put my finger on it”

  Tye paused, searching for a polite way to end the small talk and get the hell out of there. Deliverance came in the form of a tall, blond-headed man who sauntered up with concern written all over his expression. “Loretta, my dear, you talked to Gus? You told him? It is done?”

  “Hello, Lars. Yes, the deed is done. He said he’d leave town rather than stay and watch me make such a big mistake. He said he’d leave tonight.”

  Nodding, Lars said grimly, “We’d best prepare for the consequences.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Tye began. “What did the blacksmith—” He broke off suddenly as something bumped against his legs then streaked on by. Ralph. Leash trailing along behind him like an extra tail, the mutt dashed straight toward the Trinity. The three Blessings raced after him.

  “Ralph, you bad dog!” shouted Katrina.

  “Come back here, boy,” called Maribeth.

  “No, Ralph, not the river!” hollered Emma.

  “Can he swim?” Katrina screamed. “Oh, no. He might drown. Get him before he gets in the water, sisters, or we’ll have to go in after him, and the snakes might get us all!”

  “Damn.” Tye shoved his glass of tea at the Viking god and took off after his nieces. He overtook them at the crest of the riverbank, yelled at them to halt, then plowed down the slope toward the river. Just as the puppy prepared to spring into the water, Tye made a flying lunge for the leash. Even as his face plowed into the mud, his hand grasped the leather and he held on tight. He came up spitting dirt and dirty words. He yanked his handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped off his face, and muttered, “You’ve had some dumb ideas before, McBride, but giving the Blessings a dog has to take the cake.”

  He climbed the bank to the sounds of the girls’ cheers. His muddied pride recovered quickly at the sight of three shining faces gazing worshipfully up at him.

  “Oh, Uncle Tye, you are the most wonderfulest uncle.”

  “Ralph might not be able to swim. You probably just saved his life.”

  “Oh, Uncle Tye. You’re our hero.”

  He wiped some mud off his tongue and grinned. Those girls sure knew how to make a man feel good. So good, in fact, that when he dropped to his knees and they flew into his arms for a muddy hug, he didn’t even mind the fact that Loretta Davis and that Viking son-of-a-bitch friend of Claire’s stood watching the production, chuckling as they sipped their tea.

  That was the last time Lars Sundine crossed Tye’s mind until two days later when he sat at his breakfast table reading the newspaper and enjoying his steak and eggs and peace and quiet. As he started Wilhemina Peters’s “Talk About Town” column, he heard the door behind him swing open and assumed Emma had returned from the garden with her hands full of flowers. The Viking god’s name jumped out at him from the page, and he started to chuckle. “Well, what do you know about that. Now I understand why ol’ Gus Willard left Fort Worth. Seems ther
e has been an elopement in town, Emma. Loretta Davis has run off with Lars Sundine.”

  He heard a gasp, then Claire Donovan said, “My Lars married Loretta Davis?”

  Before he could twist around in shock at why Claire was standing in his brother’s kitchen, Maribeth spoke up from the doorway. “Married? Miss Loretta married? To Mr. Sundine? Oh, no. It’s all our fault.”

  Then she started to scream.

  It’s bad luck to strike a match on a cooking pot.

  CHAPTER 12

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER CLAIRE held a still-wailing Katrina in her arms in Willow Hill’s front parlor. To her right on the sofa sat Maribeth, tears pouring silently down her face and occasionally accompanied by hiccups. On her left, Emma cried softly, but with such strength of emotion it all but broke Claire’s heart to watch her.

  Tye stood frozen in front of them like a statue carved from a glacier.

  His voice was raspy as he repeated the words Emma had just confessed. “You accidentally dosed Miss Davis and Mr. Sundine with a love potion?”

  “Yes,” Maribeth sobbed. “It was supposed to be for you. We doctored up the tea we gave you and Miss Loretta at the picnic, except you only took a sip before Ralph got loose, and then you gave your glass to Mr. Sundine and he drank the rest. That’s why they ran off and got married.”

  The wailing swelled in volume, and Claire attempted to offer comfort. “Oh, girls, it’s not your fault. Now that I think about it I should have seen this coming. Lars and Loretta have been making eyes at each other at The Confectionary for weeks. She came into my shop every day at lunchtime, and they carried on their flirtation in front of half the town. Believe me, their elopement had nothing to do with any love potion.”

  Tye cleared his throat. “This love potion. Is it Miss Donovan’s Magic?”