The Bad Luck Wedding Cake

by Geralyn Dawson

  He snorted. “So you’re going to tie yourself to a man for life? Excuse me, but I can’t quite get the pieces to fit.”

  “It’s family, Tye. I’d think under the circumstances you should be a bit more understanding about the lengths one will go to for family’s sake.”

  “Yeah, well…oh, forget it.” His footsteps shuffled away and when he descended the porch steps without another word, Claire thought their tête-à-tête was done. She was wrong.

  Halfway down the front walk, she heard the rattle of gravel as he turned and came back. He climbed the steps, stopped, and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Now she was totally confused. “What?”

  “Emma asked if what I feel could be Trace’s ghost. She thinks since he’s never been dead before, I couldn’t know if the sense of life I feel is him or his ghost.”

  Her ire melted as her heart wept for him. But sensing his need, she forced a scathing note into her tone. “Quit doubting yourself, McBride. Especially when it concerns something the children say or do. It’s not attractive and besides, if you do it in front of anyone but me, Trace is liable to hear about it when he gets home. Imagine how that will make you feel. You don’t want him to think you had any doubts about your abilities to care for the Menaces, do you?”

  Her strategy worked. “They are the Blessings, and I can care for them just fine,” he insisted. “See that you don’t forget that.”

  He left then, and even the crickets grew quiet. Claire rose from the swing, reentered the house, and crawled back into bed. What a day. What a night.

  But as she drifted off to sleep, she did so with a bittersweet smile upon her face. The man who had marched away from the cottage walked with confidence rather than doubt. All in a night’s work, Donovan. Now if only you could do the same trick for yourself.

  She had told him she’d probably marry Reid after all.

  Against her pillow, her smile melted into a frown.

  ***

  Tye got through the next two weeks on what felt like determination alone. Katrina’s thumb took up permanent residence in her mouth. Maribeth carried that damned fortune-teller fish around with her all the time, asking questions about Trace and Jenny. And Emma, poor sweet Emma, was grieving. She wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, and she threw a conniption fit if she went looking for a family member and couldn’t find them right away. Tye didn’t know what to do with the child. He tried to keep her busy, but she was even giving him trouble about getting up and going to school.

  He figured an extra dose of security might do the girls some good, so he brought them with him to the meeting with his attorney to sign over the Oak Grove plantation to his sisters. His plan backfired. As he scratched his John Henry across the contract, and while her sisters cheered because their Uncle Tye owned only one home and it was in Texas, Emma’s eyes sparkled with tears.

  When they left the attorney’s office, Tye gave Maribeth a nickel and sent her and Katrina ahead to the candy counter in the mercantile. He wanted a few moments with Emma by herself. “What is it, honey?”

  She shrugged and drew a circle in the dirt with the tip of her shoe. It took a little more coaxing, but he finally got her to explain her weepy eyes. “It’s ‘cause of the plantation.”

  Exasperation gripped him. “I thought you wanted me to settle in Texas. I thought this would make you happy.”

  “I do. It does,” she insisted, a tear overflowing and spilling down her cheek. “But you didn’t do it before. I can’t help but worry why you are doing it now. Is it ‘cause you think you’re wrong about Papa? Have you changed your mind? Do you think he’s dead?”

  Tye knelt right there in the middle of the dusty—and, thankfully, lightly traveled—side street. He drew Emma into his arms for a hug. “No, baby, that’s not it at all. I’ve been meaning to do this ever since I bought my ranch land. I just never got around to it. It has nothing to do with your father.”

  He told the child the truth, more or less.

  The deeper he got into this cattle ranching, the less certain he felt about making it his primary business. Investing in the land didn’t bother him; he had enough Southerner in him to believe it never hurt to own a substantial amount of land. And he had to do something; he wasn’t the type to sit around spending an inheritance he didn’t care about having. Nor did he care to do nothing more than baby-sit the Blessings. That wouldn’t set a good example for the girls.

  Cattle ranching on a temporary basis had been one thing. Doing it long-term was something else entirely. He liked beef much better on the plate than on the hoof. And with every day that passed without word from his brother, Tye feared that long-term was exactly what they faced. Once life settled down a bit, he thought he might spend a little time investigating the infant industry of oil exploration. The idea of hunting oil appealed to him. A throwback, he guessed, to the days of his childhood when he and his twin had spent day after day searching the Carolina coastline for signs of lost pirate treasure.

  Emma reclaimed his attention by tugging on his sleeve. “We’d better hurry, Uncle Tye. Kat and Mari are inside the store and I can’t see them.”

  She gave his heart another little crack with that, and he reassured her he could see her sisters’ heads bobbing in the storefront window.

  All in all, it proved to be a fine afternoon. The girls took half an hour picking out their sweets at the mercantile while Tye placed orders for supplies he’d need out at the new place. On the way home he asked the Blessings to start thinking of a name for the ranch. Their suggestions, both silly and serious, had them all laughing as Tye drove the buggy up Willow Hill.

  Tye’s smile died when he spied the visitors seated in the white wicker furniture on the front porch. What the hell was this?

  He recognized the woman right off. He wouldn’t have known the man if he hadn’t seen him with her. It had been a long time since the trial. They had aged poorly. Grief would do that to a person. Concern was a caterpillar crawling up his spine.

  “Who are those people, Uncle Tye?” Maribeth asked before taking another bite of her licorice rope.

  Tye didn’t want to announce it out here in the open, in front of the trees and frogs and roses. He didn’t want to tell them at all. He figured their lives would have been much better off never having known these particular people even existed. God knows his would have been.

  He ignored Maribeth’s question, instead saying, “Girls, I need you to hop out of the buggy, run around back, and up to your rooms. This is important, Blessings. I need your Fairy’s Promise you’ll do this.”

  “What is it, Uncle?” Emma said anxiously, ignoring her sister. “Is it about our parents? Do these people know something about Papa and Mama? I can’t leave, Uncle Tye. I have to know the truth.”

  Damn. Tye set his jaw. This time Emma broke his heart right in two. Dammit to hell and back. He took the time to meet her gaze. “I know these folks from back home. They don’t know anything about your parents. You have my word, Em. I have some personal business to discuss with them, and it’s nothing you and your sisters need to overhear. Now, I need to talk with them. Alone, Emma. Mind me on this, all right?”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “Fairy’s Promise?” Tye insisted. Once she agreed, the others nodded also. Tye pulled the buggy to a stop and the girls hopped out. In a flash they disappeared around the side of the house.

  In front of the house Tye jumped down from the buggy and secured the horses. His pulse pounded like a locomotive’s piston as he turned around slowly and politely tipped his hat. “Afternoon, George. Beatrice.”

  As usual, the dragon lady spoke first. “Well, if it’s not the man who murdered my daughter.”

  Tye forced a crooked grin. “Now, ma’am, I didn’t actually shoot her. And besides, the judge ruled it accidental death, not murder.”

  The man took off his hat and twirled it on one finger. The woman’s eyes shot fire. “That was no trial, that was a travesty of justice. Thank hea
vens your brother finally got what he had coming, even if it is years too late. Trace McBride deserved to die.”

  Tye held on to his temper with great effort. “Shut up, Beatrice,” he warned. “It’s plain to see where Constance got her meanness. Now, what are you doing at my brother’s house?”

  “Your brother’s house?” she laughed. The sound made Tye’s skin crawl. “Not anymore. A dead man doesn’t own property.”

  “He’s not dead.”

  “Yes, he is. I read it in your own newspaper and confirmed the contents of the telegram you received. Your brother is dead and I’m here—” she glanced at the silent man beside here “—we’re here, to take our grandchildren home to New Orleans.” Time froze in its tracks. “The hell you say,” Tye spat. Her eyes took on a predator’s gleam. “You are an acknowledged drunkard, Tye McBride. It is public record that you molested your own brother’s wife.”

  A cold chill washed over him. “That’s a lie.”

  Beatrice West’s eyes gleamed with wicked satisfaction. “And, to make it even more tidy, you are a bachelor. No court in the country will give you custody of my three minor granddaughters.”

  “Their father gave me custody.”

  She shrugged. “Their father is dead. Their mother is dead, too, and it might as well have been by your hand. Call them, McBride. I want to meet my granddaughters. We’ll be leaving for New Orleans on the morning train.”

  His rage came on fast and furious and so strong that, had he been wearing a gun, he’d have pulled it and fired. “Over my dead body.”

  George West spoke up for the first time. “Yes, well, that can be arranged.”

  Bad luck can last a lifetime if a man takes no steps to change it.

  CHAPTER 15

  DINNER AT DELMONICO’S WAS a dismal affair for Claire. She kept wondering how Tye and the girls were making out. She kept wishing she were somewhere other than Fort Worth’s premier restaurant.

  The entire Donovan family was in attendance, along with soon-to-be-in-law Reid Jamieson. Right now Claire doubted it could be any different.

  She’d lived with the knowledge half the night and all day long, ever since Tye forced the issue. What choice did she have? When she’d left Reid at the altar she hadn’t dreamed it would cost the Donovans the family business, but in a roundabout way it had. Whenever she wasn’t feeling self-righteous, guilt ate at her like an acid. Now, for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, Reid had offered her—and her family—another chance.

  Of course, he’d also taken away their one alternative. Reid and his big mouth had all but ruined the bakery’s business.

  The only surprise of the evening so far was that her father had actually called him on that. Reid apologized, claiming he’d never intended to do any harm, but that seeing a Magical Wedding Cake brought the pain of his own aborted wedding to mind and subsequently loosened his tongue.

  Claire didn’t believe it for a minute. She wasn’t certain how her family took it, either.

  She stabbed her fork at her serving of beefsteak, picked up her knife, and cut a small piece of meat. The Bad Luck Wedding Cake. What foolishness. It was as if Reid had set out deliberately to force Claire’s hand.

  As she brought her food to her mouth, she glanced across the table toward Reid. A few moments ago he had announced his intention to open a Donovan Bakery in Dallas. This started a storm of discussion because neither of her brothers wanted to live in Dallas, and they didn’t like the idea of a business bearing the family name if none of the family worked there. Claire agreed and attempted to offer her opinion. For once, her father and brothers actually halted their argument and listened to her. Reid didn’t. He resumed speaking with her father as if she had not spoken.

  Worry shined in Peggy Donovan’s eyes as she met Claire’s gaze across the table. She glanced from her daughter to Reid then back to Claire again. Could it be that her mother might actually have realized Reid Jamieson wasn’t the paragon everyone believed?

  Wonderful. Now that it appeared to be too late, someone in her family finally opened their eyes.

  Her food tasted sour. Claire swallowed, then set down her fork. She was through eating. She had no appetite for anything at this table.

  Why does he want to marry me? She asked herself the question for at least the hundredth time. Men usually had reasons for wanting to marry a woman, love or money being the two that first popped to mind.

  Obviously money wasn’t the reason. Reid had five times more money than Claire or her family. He also didn’t need to marry her to gain control of the Donovan Baking Company. He did that when he bought up her father’s loans.

  So that left love, and Claire seriously doubted the man was in love with her. How could he be after she’d left him practically at the altar, embarrassing him in front of all of Galveston society? Besides, he certainly didn’t act like a man in love. He spent most of his time with her family. He didn’t seek her out when she was alone. He hadn’t tried to kiss her since his arrival in Fort Worth.

  No, he wasn’t motivated by love. Heck, it wasn’t even lust. Now that Claire had some experience with true sexual sparks, she realized nothing of the kind had ever existed between her and her former fiancé. After all, what kind of man didn’t even try to sneak a kiss from the woman he’d traveled hundreds of miles to marry? Claire had received more kisses from Tye McBride than from Reid Jamieson.

  Now that, Claire thought with an impish smile of remembrance, was lust.

  She sipped at her glass of water, observing her erstwhile fiancé over its rim. So if Reid didn’t need her money or her love or her lust, what did he need? What did he want? Why did he want to marry her so badly?

  The question apparently didn’t bother her family. She was the only one who had expressed the slightest interest in the idea. She’d hinted at the question before in conversation with Reid, but he’d always sidestepped an answer. Now that it looked as if this wedding might actually take place, she thought she deserved an answer.

  I’ll ask him right out, she decided. Revenge, pride, whatever the reason, she’d demand he come right out and say it.

  She stewed on the notion throughout the rest of the meal and while her brothers escorted her home. Unable to relax, unable to put aside the idea, she threw caution to the wind and returned to the hotel where she knocked on Reid Jamieson’s hotel room door. Her mouth went a little dry as she listened to his footsteps approach.

  The door swung open. “Why, Claire,” he said, his thin brows arching in surprise. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Funny, that’s the same question I’m here to ask you.” She stepped into his room without invitation and gave a curious glance around. Green velvet draperies, gilded rosewood furniture, a silk counterpane filled with down—this had to be the most expensive room the Cosmopolitan had to offer. No, Reid wasn’t after her little cache of cash.

  Reid started to reach for the jacket lying at the foot of his bed, then stopped abruptly. His eyes suddenly narrowed, and she could all but see his speculative thoughts. He walked out into the hallway, glanced to the right and to the left, then stepped back into the room and closed the door. “What can I help you with, my love?” he purred.

  My love, hah. If she was his love, Davy Crockett didn’t die at the Alamo.

  Claire drew a deep breath and prepared to lay all her cards on the table. “Reid, why do you want to marry me?”

  “What kind of question is that?” he replied, attempting a shocked and hurt demeanor.

  He didn’t fool her for a second. “You don’t love me. You don’t lust after me, and I have no material goods or social connections you might covet. I don’t understand. Please, Reid, tell me what you want, and maybe we can figure out a way for us both to be happy.”

  “Claire, Claire, Claire. You are misreading the situation entirely.”

  He made her think of a snake. A charming snake. At her skeptical look, he laughed and reached for her right hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “Of
course I love you. You are everything I want in a wife: beautiful, witty, loyal to your family. Brian told me just this afternoon that loyalty has always been one of your most admirable qualities.”

  “If you need loyalty, you should get a dog.”

  He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “You’ll make me the perfect wife.”

  “No, I won’t.” Claire yanked back her hand, wanting to wipe it on her skirt. “I won’t make you happy, Reid. I don’t love you.”

  Straight white teeth flashed. “Love will grow. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll be an asset to me. Look at what you did with Donovan’s Confectionary all on your own.”

  Claire scowled and muttered, “And look at what you did to the business with a few dropped rumors.”

  Reid began pacing the room, warming up to his subject. “You surprised me, Claire. I never expected you to create such a success all on your own. Your idea of adding tables and chairs in the bakeries was inspired. Once we’re married and I have the recipe for Magic, I hope to open new shops to complement the ones I already own. We’ll make certain to occupy only those buildings large enough to accommodate table service. Why, I may even put you in charge of the details, Claire. How do you like that?”

  “I’m positively beside myself with good cheer,” she drawled in a desert-dry tone. “I know you would listen to my ideas, just like you listened to my opinions tonight at dinner.”

  Pausing in his pacing, he chastised her with a look.

  She folded her arms and retaliated with a sweeping, scathing glare. “You don’t want my opinions, you don’t want my love, you don’t want my lust, you don’t need my money, so what is it, Reid? Tell me what you want.”

  “Don’t be so certain of my lust, my love,” he said, his stare drifting down to her bosom. “You are quite attractive when riled.”

  Her hand itched to slap him. “Why, Reid? What do you want? You are wealthy. You have a family and a business. The Jamieson Bank is extremely successful.”