by Lisa Plumley
Élodie frowned. Loyally, she said, “Of course he should!”
“And you say you’re getting a new baby brother soon?”
“Well, I think it will be a baby boy. Papa does, too,” Élodie confided, feeling relieved to have someone to unburden herself to. Papa was awful these days at listening to her. All he did was mope around and work at the stable from dawn till dusk. “Miss Walsh said we had at least six or seven months to wait before we found out for sure.”
“Six or seven months?” Mrs. Archer looked at her piercingly. “Are you sure she said ‘six or seven months,’? Not longer?”
“I’m sure. Because when Miss Walsh told me that, I remember feeling sorry we might not have the new baby in time for Christmas.” Suddenly remembering something else, Élodie drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes widened. “Only I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody about that! About the baby, I mean. Oh, no! I—”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, dear,” Mrs. Archer gave her a warm smile and a pat on the hand. “I’m not just ‘anybody,’ after all. And you had to tell me so we could make up a new plan.”
Excitedly, Élodie sat up. “Then you’ve thought of one?”
“Yes. I’ve thought of one.” Wearing a decisive expression, Mrs. Archer cast a thoughtful glance toward the stairs leading to the stable. Her gaze shifted to the shuttered window, beyond which Morrow Creek went about its usual workaday routines. “But it will require very careful handling this time—more so than even our last plan. Do you think you’re ready for that?”
“Oh, yes!” Feeling more eager by the moment, Élodie smiled. “If it will make Papa happy again, I’m ready for anything!”
“Good.” Mrs. Archer nodded. “Then here’s your part…”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Upon reaching the door of his office at the Pioneer Press, Thomas waved his hand. He showed Daisy inside. “Here we are!”
“Thank you, Thomas. I’m so happy you could see me.”
“Naturally I could see you! You’re my sister.” Trying not to show his concern at Daisy’s increasingly careworn appearance, Thomas perched himself casually on his desk, in a pose suggested by Miss Reardon. She had mentioned that his employees and visitors might find him less “stiff” if he came out from behind his desk occasionally. Thomas had learned to enjoy his new stance. He adjusted his spectacles. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine! Fine,” Daisy assured him. “I’m very well.”
Thomas didn’t believe her. It didn’t take a man of huge intellect to glimpse the dark shadows under her eyes…the lines of fretfulness on her face and the paleness of her complexion.
In the days since Daisy had arrived at his office, upset and essentially homeless, his sister had only gotten worse, it seemed. Further worried by that fact, Thomas crossed his arms.
“So…everything is fine. You’re well. And you decided to pay me a visit to assure me of that? That’s very thoughtful.”
“Yes.” Daisy gave him a wan smile. She folded her hands in her lap. “I was talking with Mrs. Sunley today—don’t make that nasty face, Thomas, she’s a lovely woman!—and something she said gave me an idea. An idea I’ll need your help with executing.”
“Anything you want.” Thomas meant it. “After all, it’s because of me that you’re here in Morrow Creek at all.”
Unhappily so, too, Thomas thought, feeling partly responsible for that, as well. He knew that Daisy had left her publisher, Barker & Bowles. He knew that she’d parted ways with Conrad Parish, her former speaking-engagements tour manager. He knew that she’d suspended her cross-country speaking tour.
He knew, most remarkably of all, that she was having a baby, because Owen Cooper had told him so. What Thomas didn’t know was when Daisy would tell him that extraordinary news herself—when she would confide in her elder brother as she ought to do. The fact that she hadn’t yet upset and worried him.
At first, Thomas had thought he’d understood everything. Especially after Cooper had corralled him in his stable and delivered him an unstinting message not to upset Daisy. Thomas had thought it patently obvious: the two of them were in love.
But now, since Daisy had abruptly left the Coopers’ home, Thomas felt much less certain about his original assessment—and much more apprehensive about his sister’s future prospects.
“All right, then.” Brightly, his sister eyed him. “Here it is—I’d like a job, Thomas. A position at the newspaper, to be precise.” Daisy sat up straighter. “I could write about home keeping! With recipes! You said yourself the raffle was absurdly popular. Surely your readership would enjoy learning more.”
“I’m sure they would.” Worriedly, he gazed at her. “You are a wonderful writer and a talented homemaker, with a great deal of expertise to share. But is now truly the best time for this? You seem so—” Miserable, Thomas thought. Hopeless. He tried again. It was no use. “You seem so very unhappy.”
Daisy appeared stricken. “Well, that’s why I want to keep busy. That…and the fact that I can’t rely on Mrs. Sunley’s kindness forever. Nor can I stay stuck in one place, refusing to move ahead. I’m moving on! That’s why I want your help.”
“And what do you think Owen Cooper would say about this?”
“Owen?” Daisy’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head. “He has nothing to do with this. This is my life. My life alone.”
My life…on my own, Thomas heard, and felt doubly sorry.
How would Daisy manage with a baby…and no husband? Thomas had to tread carefully though, lest he upset Daisy even further.
“Mr. Cooper wants to take care of you,” he said gently. “I realize you’re having some…troubles right now, but surely before too much longer you and Mr. Cooper will reconcile?”
“I can’t imagine it. The fact is, you’re wrong, Thomas. Owen never wanted to take care of me.” Daisy stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “I realize it may have seemed that way at first. It did to me. But Owen had…other plans.”
Baffled, Thomas watched her. “He had plans to marry you.”
His sister scoffed. “Please. I seriously doubt that. I realize Owen Cooper can be powerfully persuasive at times, but—”
“He asked my permission to marry you,” Thomas insisted, certain on the matter. “That day in the stable? Remember? That’s what he wanted to talk to me about. He wanted to ask for your hand in marriage. Since I’m your nearest male relative, I was in a position to—”
“Owen asked to marry me?” Daisy appeared dumbfounded.
“Yes.” Her gob-smacked expression made him grin. “He did.”
“When?”
“That day, in the stable, a week or so ago.” Thomas frowned, not understanding why his sister was so surprised. Surely Cooper hadn’t kept his intentions to himself? “The day you served us lemonade and jumble cookies, and Miss Reardon came with me to call on you and Mr. Cooper, with Miss O’Neill.”
“Why?” Daisy’s astounded gaze swiveled to his. “Did Owen say why? Did he think I had a huge dowry? A family fortune?”
At that, Thomas laughed outright. “Quite the opposite. In fact, Owen spent much of his time assuring me he could provide for you, should the need arise. He seemed…unsure how you would respond. He seemed to be under the impression that you and Mr. Parish had some sort of connection to one another. But if that wasn’t the case, Owen said, he hoped to beg for your hand himself.”
Feeling frightfully curious, Thomas peered at his sister, trying to gauge her expression. He’d discussed this matter at length with Miss Reardon, during which time they’d concluded that Daisy could not possibly have been attracted to someone like Conrad Parish…but she could definitely love Owen Cooper.
“So,” Thomas probed, “which man will it be? Mr. Parish? Or Mr. Cooper?” He considered things further. “If it’s Mr. Parish, then you’ll have to catch a train to chase him, because he’s already left town. According to the frightfully loquacious Miss O’Neill, Mr. Astair Prestell dismissed Mr. P
arish on very short notice. Miss O’Neill says that Mr. Prestell has agreed to speak at the Independence Day picnic, which is why he is still here in town. It will be quite a coup for us all!” Thomas blinked, belatedly realizing he’d lost the thread of his conversation. He regrouped, then smiled at Daisy. “If it’s Mr. Cooper who’s your choice, then… Well, no worries at all!”
“No worries?” Daisy quirked her lips, appearing deeply regretful. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Why not? As Virgil said, ‘Love conquers all things,’ does it not?” Thomas angled his head at her. “I think it does.”
“Leave it to you to offer up ancient quotations.”
“Daisy…” Patiently Thomas waited until she looked at him. “Do you love Mr. Cooper? If you do, that’s truly all that matters. From there on, all you need is the courage to act.”
“Aha. ‘Fortune favors the bold,’ then?”
“See? Mr. Virgil has much to offer us all.”
Daisy smiled. “But I’ve never been bold, Thomas. Never.”
“Hmm. I don’t know about that.” Thomas mulled it over, chin in hand. “You wrote a cookery book of your own. You left home and embarked on a cross-country speaking tour. You jumped off a train and came here. You took on the challenge of tutoring a little girl and her curmudgeonly father.” He couldn’t help grinning at that. “And you just barged in here and demanded—demanded!—that I give you a position at my newspaper. If those aren’t bold actions, I don’t know what are.”
“But I didn’t do any of those things for myself!” Daisy protested. “I did them for Barker & Bowles. Or for Conrad. Or for Élodie and Owen. Or for—” She broke off, cradling her belly. Then she glanced up at him. “The point is… I’m afraid.”
“Everyone is afraid sometimes.” Thomas smiled at her as encouragingly as he could. “You mustn’t be too hard on yourself for that. Besides, you’re living in the Wild West now! There’s no place like this territory for being bolder than ever before.”
“You’re always the optimist.” Appearing unconvinced, Daisy shook her head. “But because I was so afraid before, I think I misjudged Owen horribly. And now it’s too late to fix it.”
“It’s never too late,” Thomas promised her. “Never.”
His sister seemed to consider that for a moment. Then she gave him a teasing smile. “Really? It’s never too late?” Daisy asked. “Is that what you tell yourself when you delay, yet again, with telling Miss Reardon how you truly feel about her?”
Caught, Thomas fussed with his trouser braces. “Well…” He grinned at his sister. “Let’s tackle one issue at a time, shall we? Exactly how,” he pressed, “will we cope with Owen Cooper?”
Chapter Thirty
With all his strength, Owen hoisted a fresh beam into place. He squinted at the stable’s ceiling, gauging the beam’s positioning, then nodded to himself. Everything looked fine.
He’d been planning to make some improvements to the place for a while. Now, faced with the need to stay busier than ever before, he’d decided this week was an appropriate time to act. Already sweating in the July heat, Owen tromped back to his work area. He gathered some nails, preparing for his next task.
Maybe if he labored hard enough, he thought, he would stop thinking about Daisy. Maybe if he strived and hammered and cut, he would cease feeling lonely without her. Maybe he would stop listening for the sound of her laughter. Maybe he would no longer hope to see her, stirring a pot upstairs, at the end of the day, with a welcoming smile on her face and a kiss for him.
Maybe those things would happen, Owen reasoned as he stared at his next length of lumber and prepared to measure it. Or maybe he would simply lose his wits while hoping for them.
Either way, he couldn’t bear to be idle. So he worked.
“Yoo-hoo!” A knock came at his stable door. “Mr. Cooper!”
With a disgruntled frown, Owen glanced up. Miss O’Neill strode down the hay-strewn aisle toward him. Her fiery hair looked as recognizable as her toothy grin and flirtatious wave. “I’d hoped I’d catch you here today!” Stopping in front of him, Miss O’Neill touched his arm, ostensibly to steady herself. “With all the hullabaloo outside, I’d worried I’d miss you.”
“Do you have laundry to deliver?” Owen asked, perplexed.
“No, silly!” She gave him a playful wallop. “I’m not making deliveries today. It’s Independence Day! Did you forget?”
Owen reckoned he had. “I’ve been busy. Working.”
“So I see!” She sent an unmistakably admiring gaze toward his musculature. “I guess I ought to have known you wouldn’t take a day from your stable—at least not without some coaxing.”
Her hinting could not have been broader. Owen did not have the patience to indulge her. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Why, for you to stop working and escort me to the annual Independence Day town picnic, of course!” Companionably, Miss O’Neill looped her arm in his, trying to lead him away from his work area. “I know you don’t usually attend, Mr. Cooper, but since we’ve gotten so much closer over the past few weeks, I—”
“I’m not attending.” Purposefully, Owen disengaged her arm from his. He patted her hand for emphasis. “I have work to do.”
“Surely today, of all days, you don’t!” With a coquettish smile, Miss O’Neill tried again. “Please come with me. I’ve been so counting on it! Now that Miss Walsh is no longer here—”
“The answer is no. Independence Day is one of my busiest days here at the stable. Whether Miss Walsh is still here or not is—” At the thought of her, Owen felt his heart turn over. He wished Miss O’Neill had not mentioned Daisy. “No. Just…no.”
“Are you sure?” Miss O’Neill simpered. “Last chance!”
“I assure you,” Owen told her. “You’re a very charming woman, but nothing could pull me away from my stable today.”
“Nothing?” She sighed. “Truly? Not even a willing woman?”
Damnation, she was brazen. That was hardly like her. Granted, Miss O’Neill could be forward, but… “No. Nothing.”
“Well, all right, then.” A pout. “Goodbye, Mr. Cooper!”
With that, Miss O’Neill sashayed out. For a long moment, Owen watched her leave, wondering if he was a fool to refuse her invitation. He’d already lost Daisy…but he’d remembered, despite himself, how nice it could be to have a woman around. Miss O’Neill had made it more than plain that she wanted him. He had every opportunity, he realized, to move on with a new life.
But if that new life couldn’t include Daisy, Owen knew, he didn’t want it. Those were the facts. So he went back to work. Putting Miss O’Neill out of his mind was easy. Forgetting Daisy was not. Somehow, Owen would have to do it all the same.
Downstairs outside the stable, Élodie waited with bated breath for Miss O’Neill to emerge. The moment she did, Élodie and Mrs. Archer both surged forward, eager for any news.
“Well, Abbey?” Mrs. Archer asked. “What did he say?”
“He said no.” Miss O’Neill grinned at that. “I swear, I did my best to offer a winning invitation, but he was adamant. I may as well have been a horse myself, Owen was so uninterested.”
Privately, Élodie felt reassured by that fact. When Mrs. Archer had announced this portion of their plan to her, she’d been justifiably skeptical. But it appeared to have worked.
“I almost overplayed my hand,” Miss O’Neill confessed. “I was quite forward. But I assure you, Owen wants no other woman.”
“Excellent.” With her usual pride in a scheme well executed, Mrs. Archer nodded. “I wouldn’t take his rebuff too much to heart, Abbey. We all know you’re a fine woman.”
“As long as Mr. Prestell knows it, that’s all I care about!” Miss O’Neill crowed. “Speaking of whom…I must dash! Astair and I have important plans together. I mustn’t be late.”
She exchanged goodbyes with Mrs. Archer, then hurried away. Watching Miss O’Neill leave, Élodie bit her lip.
&
nbsp; “All right, Élodie.” Mrs. Archer turned to her. “Are you ready for your turn? Do you remember what to say?”
Earnestly, Élodie nodded. “Yes, I do. I’m ready.”
Then she drew in a steadying breath and headed inside.
On the day of the Independence Day town picnic, Daisy opened the door at Mrs. Sunley’s home to find her brother and Miss Reardon both standing on the porch, wreathed in smiles.
“Hello!” Thomas said. “Are you ready to go?”
“No.” All the same, Daisy opened the door wider. She gestured for them to enter. “I’m not at all sure about this.”
“That’s why we made a plan!” Thomas said. “Remember?”
“I know, but…” Daisy wrung her hands, casting a faltering glance at Miss Reardon. She and her brother truly did make a handsome couple—whether they realized it or not. “I don’t think it’s a good plan. I’m no good at subterfuge to start with—”
“It’s not subterfuge,” Miss Reardon chimed in. “It’s strategy. And although I wish we’d had time to bring in Mrs. Archer and Miss O’Neill, for their expertise with tactical details, I truly believe time is of the essence. You must act!”
Thomas’s gaze dipped to Daisy’s growing belly. He did not have to add a similar exhortation. Daisy already knew how her brother felt about her delicate condition—and her best chance of continued happiness, too. During their talk at the Pioneer Press offices, Daisy had finally confided in Thomas about her baby—and her fears that she’d ruined her chances with Owen, besides. To her relief, her careful and conservative brother had become her greatest ally…even going so far as, with Daisy’s permission, to bring in Miss Reardon to help them plan.
Now their strategy was set to come to fruition—but Daisy had begun having second thoughts. “I know we agreed that I would attend the Independence Day town picnic with you today. But I still don’t understand how that will help me reconcile with Owen. He won’t even be there! Everyone knows Owen doesn’t—”