Wed by Necessity

by Karen Kirst

  “Thank you.”

  She stared at the script and prayed he’d been merciful.

  * * *

  Duncan waited until Sylvia was out of earshot to question Caroline. A simple piece of mail shouldn’t have this effect.

  “Are you expecting bad news?” he said, noting her trembling fingers.

  “What?” She tore her gaze from the envelope to look at him, distraction clouding the navy depths. “No, of course not. I’m sure you have things to do. I’ll see you at lunch?”

  His gut told him she was hiding something. After his confession, it hurt that she didn’t feel free to share her worries with him. Annoyed him a wee bit, too.

  “I don’t have to rush back. Go ahead, open it.”

  Brows pulling together, she swallowed hard and stared at the envelope as if it contained poison. Slowly turning it over, she read the address. Her lips parted. Her shoulders lost their tension. “It’s from my mother.”

  Clearly, she’d expected a different sender. But who? And what reasons would she have for not wanting him to see?

  She skimmed the contents. “They’re delaying their return until late August.”

  The news wasn’t unwelcome. Without Louise’s hawkeyed scrutiny and ready criticism, Caroline was finally relaxing her guard. He didn’t want to see her revert to the aloof woman she’d been before.

  Staring unhappily into the distance, she said almost to herself, “That means no tea party.”

  “Tea party?”

  “Every August, we host it on the lawn. The girls and ladies of Gatlinburg are all invited. Cook enlists the help of temporary assistants to prepare an elegant meal. Jessica and Jane create dozens of frosted cookies and miniature cakes. Wendell and I are in charge of the floral arrangements for each table. It’s one of the highlights of the year, especially for the younger ones, who get to wear their finest summer dresses and be treated like grown-up ladies. You should see the way their faces light up.”

  Her disappointment was palpable. “Host it yourself,” he suggested.

  Astonishment rippled across her face. “Without my mother?”

  “Why no’?”

  “She’d be livid, for one. Believe me, she knows how to make you regret displeasing her.”

  “Caroline.” Settling his hands on her shoulders, he said, “You are no longer under her thumb. You’re a married lady in charge of your own life. Stop frettin’ over her opinions and her wishes. If it’s important to you, and I can see that it is, then do it.”

  Conflicted, she worried her bottom lip. “I don’t know. It’s a huge undertaking.”

  “You can count on my help.”

  “Thank you, Duncan.”

  The way she looked at him then, as if he was her hero, made his chest expand with warm relief. He’d expected her to nurse anger over his confession or treat him to frosty silence.

  “So you’re going to do it?”

  A smile flickered. “I suppose I am. Let’s hope we aren’t nearby when she learns what we’ve done.”

  “She has to let you go sometime.”

  “Good afternoon.” They both turned to see Jane Leighton approaching, a basket swinging from one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other.

  “Hello, Jane,” Caroline greeted with a smile. “What a nice surprise.”

  The redhead’s big green eyes shone. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Not at all. You’re just in time to see the latest gift Duncan brought me.”

  Duncan caught his wife’s sideways glance and the dry humor in her voice. He was going to have to rethink this wooing thing. He could’ve showered her with diamonds and gold necklaces like he had Maureen, but he wasn’t the same man anymore. He wanted to focus on gifts with meaning, ones that wouldn’t be forgotten in a drawer and brought out only on special occasions.

  “I think you’ll agree that Tammy is the perfect gift.” He winked at Jane, who looked perplexed.

  “Tammy?”

  Linking arms with her friend, Caroline said, “Let me introduce you.”

  Duncan saw an opportunity to take his leave. His suspicion that Caroline was harboring secrets wouldn’t be quelled. If she wouldn’t honor his confession with one of her own, he was going to have to root out the answers himself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Afternoon, Sheriff.” Duncan stood in the jail’s open door. “I’d like a word with Ben. Any idea where I can find him?”

  “How are you, Duncan?” The lawman left his chair and came around to half sit on the desk ledge, arms crossed over his chest. His demeanor was welcoming, his blue gaze alert with keen assessment. “Ben’s on an errand for me. He should be back within the hour. In the meantime, is there anything I can help you with?”

  Duncan hesitated a moment before crossing the threshold and closing the door. The information he sought pertained to his wife. The sheriff was married. Ben, on the other hand, was a single man with the reputation as a flirt.

  Shane nudged the chair in front of him with his boot tip. “Have a seat.”

  Without waiting for him to comply, Shane resumed his spot behind the massive, scuffed desk. Duncan tried to get comfortable, but the room was stifling and he’d forgotten what it was like to discuss private matters with another soul...one disadvantage of carving one’s own path in life apart from family and friends.

  “You’ve known my wife for many years,” he began.

  “We’re acquainted with each other. I wouldn’t say I have particular insight into her personality, though. What’s going on?”

  “My instincts are telling me she’s hiding something. Whenever I ask if something’s wrong, she brushes off my questions or changes the subject altogether.”

  Shane looked thoughtful. “It’s been my experience that you either have to continue asking until you ask the right question or wait until she’s ready to share. I know that in my house, I don’t always get an answer on my first try.”

  Duncan had met the sheriff’s wife, Allison, at the wedding. The friendly blonde would soon be welcoming a child into the world and, from the looks of things, she and Shane could hardly wait to meet him or her.

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Eighteen months.”

  “Does it get any easier?”

  Shane laughed outright. “Marriage is work, but it’s the fun kind. Does it get easier? I’d say communication is the key to making day-to-day life run smoothly.” He drummed his fingers on the wood. “What do you suspect she’s hiding? And why on earth would you think Ben could help you with this? You’re aware his experience with females is limited to hooking their hearts without plans to reel them in, right?”

  “I had heard that. My questions are more general in nature than romantic. Are you aware of anyone in town that Caroline might’ve had a falling-out with? Perhaps someone who moved away?” Someone who’d send her upsetting letters?

  Getting more comfortable in the chair, he stroked his chin. “No one comes to mind. While Caroline is deeply involved in local events, you might say she reigns from afar. She’s friends with the O’Malley sisters, and she’s become close with Allison. With everyone else, she keeps it casual.”

  “Can you recall any admirers she’s spurned?”

  “No.” He narrowed his gaze. “Duncan, has someone been harassing her?”

  “I don’t know.” He stood and started to pace. “At this point, I have no proof that anything is wrong.”

  He related her reaction to the letter, as well as her edginess that day he’d intercepted her emerging from the woods.

  “Sounds like cause for concern. Want me to talk to Ben about this? See if he has any insight?”

  “That’s a good start.” Thanking him for his time, Duncan exited the jail, only to bump int
o a passerby.

  “Excuse me,” he said in apology.

  He recognized the man as the café owner. Out in the daylight, Alexander Copeland looked downright sickly. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was squinting as if he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

  “Mr. Copeland, are you all right?”

  One arm cradled his midsection. “If you’re asking if I need a doctor, the answer’s no.”

  Duncan recognized signs of intense discomfort, but he couldn’t force him to seek medical attention. “I’m new to town. Duncan McKenna’s the name.”

  Alexander contemplated Duncan’s extended hand as if he didn’t know how to respond. Finally, he shook it with a surprisingly firm grip. An older couple strolled past, their widened gazes on the businessman.

  “I ate in your establishment recently,” Duncan offered.

  There wasn’t a flicker of reaction. As if he was numb. Or didn’t care about anything or anyone in the world. “It’s the only one in town.”

  Was that why he didn’t care about the quality of his food? No competition?

  “Have you owned other eating establishments?”

  Alexander opened his mouth to answer, then narrowed his gaze. “Where did you say you were from?”

  “Originally Scotland. More recently Boston.”

  Pressing his hand against his stomach again, he winced. “I’ve got to get back.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Lips compressed in a tight line, he inclined his head and pivoted on his heel. As he strode with his head angled toward the boardwalk, his posture screamed stay away. He disappeared in the alleyway between the café and post office, likely seeking a rear entrance in order to avoid his customers. Duncan sensed a mystery here, but he had a more important one to solve at the moment.

  * * *

  “Thank you for meeting me on short notice.” Caroline reached for the pencil tucked behind her ear and consulted the uppermost sheet on the stack. “We have a little less than three weeks until the party. Not a lot of time.”

  Had she made the right decision? Duncan’s faith in her abilities had instilled her with courage that was waning the more she envisioned her mother’s ire.

  Seated across the table, Allison sipped tea, nibbled on a shortbread cookie and absently rubbed her rounded stomach. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  “She’s right,” Jane chimed in, reinforcing what she’d said yesterday after meeting Tammy. “You’re a professional at this sort of thing. We’ll enlist any and all of the O’Malley family members to help. Just say the word.”

  The café’s doorbell chimed, announcing the exit of the only other customers. Because it was late afternoon, the place was deserted. Not that it was ever bustling these days. Caroline wished the former owner, Mrs. Greene, had sold it to someone other than Alexander Copeland, someone who actually cared whether or not the food was edible.

  Glancing at her list once more, she said, “I can count on you and Jessica to do the desserts, right?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll speak with Quinn and order the oranges for the cakes. I won’t need to special order any ingredients for the cookies.”

  “No. Don’t do that.” Both women looked at Caroline in surprise. “I’ve grown weary of the orange-spice cakes, and I’m sure my guests have, too. We’ve served them every year because my mother refused to contemplate alternatives.”

  A slow smile curved Jane’s lips. “I’m in favor of a menu change. What do you have in mind?”

  She experienced a thrill of excitement at being consulted on her thoughts, for a change. “I’m partial to lemon, but I’m open to suggestions.”

  Between the three of them, they decided on lemon cake with raspberry-preserves filling and shortbread cookies. They didn’t stop there. The savory menu was revamped. The color palette, always dusky pink paired with robin’s-egg blue, was switched to Caroline’s favorites—lavender and royal purple against backdrops of snowy white. Bouquets of varying shades of purple and green would have splashes of yellow for contrast. By the time they had their plans cemented, anticipation flowed through her instead of the usual onerous dread.

  “Is it horrible that I’m glad my mother isn’t here?”

  Allison ceased chewing, no doubt taken aback. Caroline rarely shared her private struggles with anyone. “In the relatively brief time I’ve lived here, I’ve noticed she doesn’t give you much input in decisions. She expects you to follow her lead without complaint. In that sense, I understand why you’d feel that way.”

  Jane patted her hand. “Caroline, you’ve always been a dutiful daughter. But now it’s time for you to come into your own. Make your own decisions about things. Besides, the tea party is your unofficial birthday celebration. If you want lemon cake, you should have it.”

  Allison’s brows drew together. “It is? How come I didn’t know that?”

  “Not many do,” Jane quipped. “It’s how Caroline wants it.”

  Caroline made a dismissive motion. “The date happens to coincide with my birthday, it’s true. The last thing I want is for the people of this town to feel obliged to bring me a present, especially the ones struggling to make ends meet. Doing this for them is my present.”

  “You already give so much of yourself.”

  “Believe it or not, I enjoy the planning and preparations, especially when I have the freedom to take part in important decisions.” To Allison, she said, “You won’t say anything, will you?”

  She made an X over her heart. “Cross my heart.”

  “Duncan should know your birthdate.”

  “I haven’t told him.” Thoughts of his startling revelation were never far away. She was still wrestling with the fact her initial judgment of him had been so far off the mark. “I doubt I will. He doesn’t put much stock in such things.” He’d probably give her another “gift” that required work. A new cast-iron skillet, perhaps. Or a gardening tool.

  Turning her head, she gazed out the window and caught sight of Vivian’s unmistakable figure across the street. Positioned in an alley’s shadows, she was in deep conversation with a man. He shifted into the light, and Caroline gasped.

  “What’s the matter?” Allison asked.

  “I thought he was gone,” she murmured.

  “Who?”

  Tossing coins beside her coffee cup, she stuffed the sheaf of papers in her satchel and snatched her bonnet from the empty seat. “Theo. I thought he’d left town. At least, that’s what he led me to believe.”

  Jane waylaid her. “Why are you so upset to see him?”

  “I’ll explain later. I’m sorry to rush out, but I have to speak with him.”

  “I’ll be over tomorrow to work on invitations,” Allison called after her.

  Caroline waved in acknowledgment. Theo Marsh was going to answer for his reprehensible behavior. What she couldn’t figure was why he’d try to stir up trouble between her and Duncan.

  As she waited impatiently for the street to clear of wagons and riders, she lost sight of the couple. Dashing to the other side, she searched the alley. It was empty. She did a complete circle on the boardwalk. They couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.

  Bright pink ribbons streaming behind a perky straw hat ducked behind the corner of the barbershop. Bingo. Uncaring of onlookers, Caroline jogged along the boardwalk, trying to maintain hold of her bonnet and satchel. She was out of breath by the time she rounded the building.

  “Vivian! Wait!”

  The other woman turned, her features schooled to politeness. “Well, if it isn’t the happy newlywed. How is that delightful husband of yours?”

  Irritation firing to life, she caught up to her. “Where is Theo, Vivian?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I saw the two of you
together. Where is he?”

  “Oh, you mean that suave charmer, Mr. Marsh.” She waved her hand, drawing Caroline’s attention to the elegant pink gloves. Vivian owned countless pairs of gloves. In fact, she couldn’t recall seeing Vivian without them. “We spoke only in passing. He didn’t divulge his next destination to me.”

  Caroline didn’t believe her. “How do you know him? What were you talking about?”

  “Honestly, Caroline,” she drawled, her words dripping in honey, “One would think you’d be too wrapped up in your new husband to worry about any other man.”

  “Stop the games, Vivian,” she snapped. “You don’t know what he’s hiding beneath that handsome exterior. Theo’s cunning. Oftentimes spiteful. And as you said, he’s adept at charming ladies into believing he’s interested. Take care that he doesn’t use you.”

  “It’s sweet that you’re concerned about me. I’ve always had the feeling that I wasn’t your favorite person.” Her gaze took on a sly innuendo. “You certainly didn’t act pleased when Duncan invited me to join you for lunch.”

  She recalled the raw, uncomfortable feelings that day had wrought. The mere idea of Duncan being drawn to another woman filled her with despair. A worrisome sign her heart wasn’t as impenetrable as she’d thought.

  “I was still struggling at finding myself suddenly married to a stranger,” she said. That was true, although not the whole of it. She wasn’t about to admit to being jealous. “Theo lied to Duncan. I want to know why.”

  “I can’t answer for his actions. I hardly know the man.”

  “If you see him again, give him a message for me—I will figure out what he’s up to.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction before she affected a sugary smile. “I doubt we’ll cross paths again, but I’ll keep your message in mind.”

  She flounced off, candy pink skirts bouncing in time with her short strides. When she reached the wooden bridge suspended over the Pigeon River, she stopped, ostensibly to ponder the rushing water below. Minutes passed. Then she glanced in Caroline’s direction, a frown flashing before she resumed walking. The move was a telling one. Her suspicions that Vivian was more deeply involved with Theo than she let on increased. She couldn’t fathom how the two had become acquainted or the exact nature of their relationship, but something told her Theo’s decision to stay would yield nothing good.