The Bad Luck Wedding Cake

by Geralyn Dawson

  Tye’s lips twisted. “Bet Brian’s relieved.”

  No one could put as much sarcasm in a drawl as Tye McBride, she thought.

  “Your father should sell him the recipe.”

  Claire shook her head. “That’s what he said last night when I told them the news. We all feel so stupid for not figuring this out before now. Da is ready to sell the recipe, even though he swore an oath he wouldn’t when he was given the secret himself.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear your father has finally come to his senses. Let him sell the Magic and y’all can go about your business. You won’t have to marry Reid and you certainly don’t need to marry me.”

  “Da can’t sell the recipe, Tye. Breaking his oath would break his heart, but that’s only part of it. Magic is what makes our products special. If anyone could make it, then every bakery in town would be exactly the same.”

  “If anyone could make it, no man in this country would be safe.”

  Claire swallowed a groan. She was sick and tired of Tye and his talk of aphrodisiacs, and because of her frustration she skipped directly to the meat of the matter. “All the pieces fell together in Mr. Rawlins’ office. I help you and you help me and my family has their livelihood and you have the Men—Blessings. It’s actually quite tidy.”

  “Tidy?” Tye shook his head and winced. “Sugar, believe you me, marriage is anything but tidy. You still haven’t explained how marrying somebody other than Jamieson can help you.”

  “You’ll listen?”

  He shrugged. “Might as well. No skin off my nose just to listen.”

  Claire smoothed her skirts and soothed her temper. “It came to me in the middle of the night—not marrying you, mind you, but the idea of the factory.”

  “What factory?”

  “A Magic factory.”

  Tye winced and rubbed his eyes. “Now you sound like Katrina.”

  “It’s a matter of thinking beyond the parameters of the moment,” Claire explained, ignoring his comment “My family doesn’t need bakeries to support themselves, because they have Magic. And Reid Jamieson wants it. It would be foolish of them to sell the recipe, but why not sell the product? They could bottle it and sell it to Reid. They could sell it across the country. It’s not difficult at all for me to imagine bottles of Magic next to bottles of vanilla extract in kitchens all across America.”

  “The population of our country would boom,” Tye observed in a mocking tone.

  “Would you be serious?”

  “I’m always serious when I’m talking about weddings. Of course, I’ve yet to hear what Magic factories have to do with them.”

  “Oh. Well.” Claire inhaled a fortifying breath and said, “It’s money. Da doesn’t have any, not enough to build a factory. You told me once that you had plenty. I thought maybe you could—”

  He shoved to his feet. “Money? This is all about money? You want to marry me for my money!” Disgust laced his voice as he added, “Hell, honey, I never took you for a prostitute, but then I’ve been wrong about women before. Way wrong.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned and left her sitting beside the river, her thoughts as murky as the water drifting by.

  A lump of emotion weighed Claire down like an anvil as she slowly stood. Tye McBride could be as mean as a cornered cottonmouth when he wanted. She started after him, and slowly, with every step she took, the hurt drained away. Anger took its place, and her pace increased.

  She didn’t move fast enough to catch him before he hitched a ride on the trolley down Main Street. By the time she retrieved her buggy from the square by the courthouse and drove to where she guessed he might be headed, Tye had made it halfway to the apartment above her bakery.

  She drove the buggy right up beside him and picked up the conversation as if it had not been interrupted. “I’m not prostituting anything, Tye McBride. I’m not proposing a real marriage with love and babies and death-do-us-part vows. I’m talking about a simple business proposition; a marriage of convenience to last only as long as you need. As soon as your brother returns for his family, we can have the marriage annulled. And I’m not asking you to give us the money. It would be a loan. A business loan that the Donovans would repay with interest. That’s what I’m asking for my part of the deal.”

  He drew to a halt and looked up at her. “A marriage of convenience. As in platonic marriage? Between you and me?” The smile that spread across his face held no hint of amusement. “You do live in a fantasy world, don’t ya, hon.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “It’s a good deal for you, McBride. You get a temporary wife who will not betray you or manipulate you or cause you and those you love any grief at all. You get me, McBride. To use as long as you need, then discard with impunity when you’re done. Think about it. What other woman in town is going to make you such a deal? You could not find a more perfect weapon to use against Constance West’s mother if you tried.”

  At the mention of the dead woman’s name, Tye shut his eyes. The temper appeared to ebb from his body, leaving behind an air of guilt that drained away Claire’s temper. She fixed the reins and climbed down from the buggy. Standing beside him, she softly said, “It’s a good plan, Tye. I could help you with your Blessings. If it takes Trace and Jenny some time to find their way home, the girls will need a woman in their lives. I promise I would do my best by them. I could love them so easily, if only you’d allow it.”

  His rigid stance and pained expression spoke volumes, and Claire felt the sting of his rejection. He must have seen it, because he grimaced and muttered a curse, then attempted to explain. “It’s not you, Claire, it’s me. Constance broke something in us—in Trace and me. Jenny came along and helped my brother glue himself back together, but I’m still all in pieces. I swore I’d never tie myself to a woman. Not until I’d learned to…trust.”

  She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone as she asked, “Is it all women you don’t trust, Tye, or only me?”

  “No, it’s not you. It’s not even women in general. It’s myself I don’t trust. I’ve tried to tell you this before. Even if I dared to roll the dice and take a chance at having what I’d like, having the family my brother has, how could I possibly rid myself of the doubt? Think how that would wear on a man, and on a woman. It wouldn’t be fair to anybody.”

  “So what are you saying, Tye? You won’t follow your attorney’s advice in this? You’ll take that risk?”

  “I can always run.”

  Claire had never seen a man look so fierce and yet so frightened at the same time. She slowly shook her head. “You’re thinking with your heart rather than your head. If you’re right and Trace is alive, how will he find you if you run?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Why should you need to? I’ve already thought of something.”

  He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, sugar, I was wrong before spouting off like I did. I know you mean well. But believe me, a marriage between us wouldn’t solve our problems. I know for a fact it would create more, in at least one area. No, marriage is not the answer.”

  Claire wanted to know what area he meant, but before she could ask, a movement in front of the Rankin Building caught her attention. The McBride Menaces filed out the front door and stood in front of the Donovan Confectionary front window. They wore matching, frilly, lilac dresses and worried expressions, and stood with hands folded primly beside a strikingly beautiful older woman. She had to be the grandmother.

  This woman had tracked down the girls despite their being hidden in the apartment? And she’d talked them into those dresses? Even Maribeth? It looked as though Tye had better find his answer fast.

  She decided to make it easier on him. “You made me a promise when the gas leaked and I saved your and your nieces’ lives. You said if ever I needed anything, I had only to ask. Well I’m calling in the marker now, McBride. I expect you to marry me.”

  “Blackmail? You bow to blackmail now, Claire?
”

  “I’ll do anything for my family.” She grabbed his arm and made him turn toward the house. “Look at that and remember your promise and tell me you won’t do anything for your family, too.”

  Tye’s eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. In a cold, flat voice, he said, “When do you want to do it?”

  Claire slipped her arm through his and said solemnly, “As soon as I can bake a cake.”

  ***

  From that moment on, time passed in a rush for the bride and groom. While she baked the wedding cake, he dealt with the problem of physically removing his nieces from their grandmother’s clutches. He thanked God he was poker buddies with Fort Worth’s marshal before all was said and done. Beatrice had been determined to get the girls on an outbound train. Tye had brought the marshal into the matter, and Beatrice had been forced to settle for a court date two days later, for a custody hearing.

  Later that day the Donovan family met with the McBride family at Willow Hill to cuss and discuss the upcoming nuptials. Tye provided liquor for the Donovan men and Mrs. Wilson’s fresh lemonade for the women. It proved to be a long afternoon.

  “I’ll not marry me daughter to the likes of you,” John Donovan said, pouring his third four-finger glass of Trace McBride’s finest bourbon.

  “I’ll take good care of her, John,” Tye replied, taking a hit of lemonade. “Better than that slug Reid Jamieson ever would.”

  “Aye.” He propped his head in his hands. “I cannot believe I allowed myself to be so taken in by that…that…Magic thief.”

  Two glasses later, Claire’s Da had changed his tune and was singing the praises of Claire’s new fiancé. “A fine idea. A partnership with my new son and my old sons. Imagine that.” He made L’s with each thumb and forefinger, as if framing a sign. “The Donovan Magic Factory. I love it.”

  “Don’t fall in love too fast,” Tye warned, motioning for Claire to come stand by his side. “It’s the McBride-Donovan Company, and my bride will be the majority stockholder.” He glanced at Claire, and couldn’t help but grin as he added, “Claire will be your boss.”

  “No!” the three Donovan men cried.

  “Yes,” Tye asserted. “It’s my money buying you out of this predicament.”

  “But it’s our Magic,” Brian protested.

  Tye chuckled and reached for Claire’s hand. “But it’s Claire’s Magic, too, isn’t it? Now, she and I haven’t discussed it yet, but I’m hoping she’ll decide to leave the factory concerns to y’all so that she can concentrate on running The Confectionary.”

  “Donovan’s Confectionary,” Patrick corrected.

  “No, The Confectionary. Y’all were wrong to take it away from her. Now I’m making sure she gets it back. If that’s what she wants. Claire gets to decide.”

  He’d shocked her speechless with that, and his chuckle broadened to out-and-out laughter.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Patrick drawled. He folded his arms and started to laugh. “He’s got us, Da. Slick as snot.”

  “Slick as snot,” Katrina McBride repeated, her nose wrinkled up tight. “Eeeyeew.”

  Tye acted surprised to find the McBride Blessings hiding behind the sofa. He’d known they were there, of course, but he’d found himself reluctant to face them. He knew he should have broached the subject of his marriage to Claire with them before her family arrived, and he’d tried. But he never managed to get the words out of his mouth. He didn’t know how he’d handle it if they pitched a fit.

  Now, however, the moment of truth had arrived. Nervous, Tye sat in a chair and asked the girls to gather around him. “So,” he said, “what do you think of my plan to marry Miss Donovan? Any objections?”

  Emma folded her arms. “Well, if we did have any we couldn’t very well tell you here and now, could we? Not in front of her family. That would be rude.”

  Maribeth said, “That’s right, Uncle Tye. You should have come to us ahead of time and asked our permission.”

  Tye arched a brow and tried to look stern. “Oh, really?”

  Katrina patted his leg, saying, “It’s all right, Uncle Tye. I’ve liked Miss Donovan for a long time, even before Mr. Sundine stole Miss Loretta away from you. Now Mari and Emma think she’s a good wife for you, too, and Spike told us it’s fine for you to marry her.”

  “Spike has given me his blessing?” Claire asked. “Well, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have worried so much about getting my family’s approval.”

  John Donovan scowled. “Oh, really? And just who is this Spike?”

  Claire and the three McBride Menaces turned to her father and said in unison, “He’s Spike the fortuneteller fish.”

  After a moment’s pause John said, “Oh.” Then he poured himself another bourbon.

  Tye poured the girls lemonade and told them to have at the tray of 1adonna Mrs. Wilson had prepared.

  Brian spoke up next, toasting the bride and groom and their plan, confessing he was tired of being a baker anyway, and that he liked the idea of being a prince of industry—even if his kid sister was the queen.

  Patrick, on the other hand, needed a little more persuasion to agree to the marriage. He clung to the solution he had proposed the night before when Claire told them why Reid wanted to marry her. Patrick dreamed of solving the problem by taking Reid Donovan out behind the nearest woodshed and beating the tar out of him. After hearing Tye’s reasons for wanting the wedding, he offered to haul the Wests out to the woodshed, too.

  Calmer heads prevailed, and Tye and the three Donovan men drew up a contract on the spot forming a new company, settling on the name The Magical Partnership of McBride and Donovan after consultation with the three McBride girls who in turn brought Spike the fortune-teller fish in to assist with the final selection.

  Peggy McBride’s actions were the ones that surprised Tye the most. She took to mothering the girls like cinnamon to sugar, and when Claire commented on her obvious delight, Peggy mentioned how much she’d always enjoyed having a little girl around. Claire looked stunned at that one.

  The festive atmosphere continued until approximately four P.M., at which time the front doorbell chimed, announcing the visitor Tye had summoned.

  He asked Peggy and Mrs. Wilson to take the girls upstairs and keep them there. On their way from the room, he overheard Claire’s mother ask for Mrs. Wilson’s 1adonn recipe.

  Then a voice filled the foyer like a plague: “Lord Wexford, I believe? Reid Jamieson, here. I received a note you had business with me?”

  “Jamieson.” The name tasted sour in his mouth. “Come in, please. I believe you know my bride-to-be, the future Lady Wexford, Miss Claire Donovan?”

  Jamieson’s complexion flushed like a peppermint, going red, then white, then red again. “What is the meaning of this?”

  What happened next was ugly, but satisfying. Before all was said and done, Reid, representing the Donovan Baking Company, had signed a one thousand dollar purchase order for the first batch of Magic produced by the McBride-Donovan Magic Company. Claire signed the contract on the manufacturer’s behalf.

  Reid’s objectionable response to that led Tye to lure him outside for a taste of that woodshed-justice Patrick favored.

  The Donovan men and Tye then hauled Reid down to the train station just in time to pour him into an outbound car. Upon their return to Willow Hill they broke out the Irish—root beer for Tye—and set about bonding in a manly sort of way.

  The party didn’t break up until the wee hours of the morning.

  ***

  Her wedding day dawned all too soon.

  At half past seven, Claire sat at her kitchen table drinking her first cup of coffee of the day when the knock sounded on her front door. Expecting that her mother had come to help her dress for the ceremony, she called out, “Come in, Mama.”

  Her screen door squeaked open and footsteps approached. Tye’s husky voice rumbled, “I’m not Mother.”

  She looked up to see white silk taffeta overflowing his arms. Claire stared at
him in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you until the ceremony.”

  “Bad luck to see the bride, I know. But I’ve got something here to take care of that. Come see.” He jerked his head for her to follow, then made his way through the small cottage until he found her bedroom. Entering, he moved to her unmade bed and spread his burden across it. While he fussed with the fabric, she scurried toward the bed, kicking her corset beneath it as she silently berated herself for the previous night’s laziness.

  Now, because in her exhaustion the night before she’d left her clothes where they fell and collapsed into bed, Tye knew she wore lavender lace adorning her corset. Heat stained her cheeks.

  “No sense being bashful, sugar. Not under the circumstances.”

  She opened her mouth to comment on the role of her underwear in their marriage of convenience, but before she managed to speak, she got her first good glimpse of what he’d brought to show her. “A wedding gown? Why are you bringing me a wedding gown?”

  “You mean, other than the fact you are marrying me today and are in need of something to wear?”

  “I have a pretty blue organza. It would do just fine.”

  “I’m sure it would, but this will do better. This is not a wedding gown. It’s a wedding dress. The wedding dress.”

  She blinked. “The Bad Luck Wedding Dress?”

  He clicked his tongue. “No, Claire. You’re a bit behind the times. The dress had a change of luck. It’s now the Good Luck Wedding Dress. The Blessings suggested you wear it today.”

  “They did?” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention that maybe the dress’s luck hadn’t turned, after all. Wasn’t the last bride who wore it presently lost at sea? Claire was superstitious enough to think twice. “That’s nice of them, really, but I’d prefer to wear my own. Besides, it probably wouldn’t fit.”

  “It’ll fit. You and Jenny are two peas in a pod, figure-wise. Come on, sugar.” He stroked her cheek with his finger. “Wear it for me?”

  When he used that voice, that touch, she knew she’d do darn near anything for the man. Speechless, she nodded her acceptance.