“Absolutely! Reverend Stoker approves now that I’ve explained to him, or I could ask Judge Rice. Even better, I’ll ask them both.” His heart pounded against his ribs as she considered his offer. That was his girl. Not going to enter into a contract without reading the fine print.
“I have an idea,” she said.
“I’ve got lots of ideas.” He didn’t take a step closer, but somehow she read his mind.
Her head tilted and her mouth pulled down in exasperation. “Behave yourself. We’ve got some business that needs attending. If you disapprove, you’d better speak up.”
“You know I will.”
Bailey barely got the door pulled shut behind him before she had reached the road and was marching toward the square.
“Slow down, will you? I think I have a right to escort my fiancée.”
“I’m not your fiancée. I’m not accepting your proposal until I’m standing before a bona fide minister of the gospel or a justice of the peace. I’ve got to be legally wed before you take any more liberties.”
“Then it’ll be a short engagement.”
Molly sailed into Fenton’s bank like she owned it, unaware of her ragged appearance. Behind the counter, Prue’s eyes traveled from Bailey to Molly and then back again. A gentle smile crossed her face. “Back so soon?”
“I need to get my money out of the bank.”
Bailey’s eyes widened. She wasn’t playing for peanuts.
“But the settlement is in Mr. Lovelace’s keeping.”
“It’s my money, and if everything goes as planned, he’ll get it soon enough.” Even Molly’s bedraggled dress couldn’t disguise the strong lines of her figure. Stonewall Jackson had nothing on Rockfortress Lovelace. “I need to find a representative to make an offer on the mill in my behalf.” With a firm jaw she amended her statement: “In our behalf.”
31
Two days later Molly’s sunburn was at its pinkest. Her skin had prickled at the cool water in her basin that morning, but she felt cleaner than she had in a long time. Her parents couldn’t shut the door in her face when she arrived the night before with her trunk on the porch, so they accepted her return with grace stretched thin over their many disappointments.
She ran her hands over the smooth tablecloth and inhaled the rosy smell of Lola’s supper ham. Such a feast, and it seemed like she was still full from dinner. “It’s good to be home.”
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be gone long. Not with my luck.” Thomas Lovelace’s silverware clinked together over his plate.
“Thomas, don’t be cruel,” her mother said.
“What? She knows I’m joshing her. Isn’t it the tiniest, most helpless kitten that’s the most adorable?”
Molly closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Surely they loved her, but they had no idea how to be the support she needed. Praise God, He’d sent someone who did.
She raised her eyes to meet Bailey’s across the table. If he didn’t stop grinning at her, her parents would suspect something. Molly stretched her foot out until she found his, and then gave him a good kick in the shin.
The boyish glee didn’t leave his face. He merely winked and tucked his napkin into his collar. “Y’all must be glad to have Molly home.”
She tried not to let her voice become too chipper. “I can resume my charitable visits with Mother.”
Mrs. Lovelace frowned. “Maybe you should go with your father to the store and play checkers.”
“No. She always beats me.” Mr. Lovelace pushed a thick slab of meat between his teeth. “But I’ll tell you this, I’m practicing. Now that I don’t have to be at the office every day, I have time for more gentlemanly pursuits, like checkers.”
“And horseshoes,” Bailey added.
“Yes, horseshoes. Did you hear that I beat your father? First person to trounce George Garner in a decade.”
Bailey was smiling at her again. She tried to look stern. Hopefully he’d be gone before the offer arrived, because at this rate he would ruin everything.
They each had warm slices of sweet potato pie on their plates when a horse pulled up the drive. Molly dared one last look at Bailey and then allowed an expressionless mask to settle over her face.
“Who is that?” her mother asked.
Before her father could make it to the window, Lola had escorted the man inside.
“Good day, Mr. Lovelace. You might remember me from Lockhart. I’m Augustus Mooney, attorney-at-law. May I have a minute of your time?”
Mr. Lovelace scowled. “Humph. What is this about? Do I get to testify against Russell James?”
“I couldn’t say. My business doesn’t involve any criminal proceedings. Rather it’s an offer that I’ve been retained to present to you, an offer for your business.”
Her father took a step backward and wiped his hands on his napkin. “An offer to buy the sawmill?”
Mrs. Lovelace fingered her pearl necklace as though it were a rosary. “You could sell it? We’d get money and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore?”
“Not so fast, dear. Don’t forget we have our children to consider. We’d be selling their legacy.” He eyed the man’s portfolio, as if he could read the numbers through the leather.
“Nicholas doesn’t want the mill. He’s too busy,” Adele said.
“But there’s Molly to consider. I dote on the gal. Can’t seem to keep anything from her.” He flashed a quick wink at Molly out of the attorney’s sight.
With well-practiced ease, the lawyer spoke. “Do you mean to suggest that your daughter could manage a sawmill?”
“Father, I can’t allow you to mislead this man. As you’ve pointed out numerous times, I can no more balance a ledger than I can shed my skin.” She scratched at a patch on her sunburned nose.
“But Bailey can,” Thomas said. “I’m not saying that I’m rejecting your offer, Mr. Mooney, but it’d have to be a rich one indeed. We have hopes for Bailey and Molly, here. There’s more than one way to keep the business in the family.”
“Actually, Miss Lovelace and I are getting married this week.” Bailey’s smile was wider than the San Marcos River.
Molly’s mother gasped. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Shh, Adele. You shouldn’t be surprised.” Thomas beamed at Bailey. “All our worries about the business will be set at rest. Any offer made now would have to soothe my conscience if I snatched this moneymaker from the hands of my son-in-law and daughter. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, “what is your offer?”
“First let me offer congratulations to Miss Lovelace and, er . . . Mr. Bailey.”
Pretending to forget Bailey’s last name? Molly choked on a giggle. My, but he was good.
“This might be a conflict of interest, but if Mr. Lovelace doesn’t accept this bid, I’d like to offer my services to write up the transfer of the business to you. A wedding gift, if you will. We could even do it tonight.”
“Whoa, there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” her father said. “I’d like some time to think it over. Let’s go into the study, where we can have some privacy.”
Still clutching the portfolio, the man followed Thomas out of the room.
“That man,” her mother huffed, “has no conscience at all. And you, Bailey, you’re just as corrupt. Scaring me like that.”
Molly leaned over her plate. “Mother, we are getting married. Bailey wasn’t playing along for Father.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “What about our objections?”
“If anyone could object, it’d be Bailey’s family. Not ours.”
Although she never came close to touching the back of her chair, Adele’s slouch was visible. “How did we get here, Molly? I’d hoped for more.” She blinked at the tinkling chandelier. “We’d all hoped for more.”
“You were hoping for the wrong more. That’s what led me astray. I didn’t stop to consider what was important, and I’ve paid for my mistake. But if w
e have a second chance, then the sooner we get started the better.”
Bailey laid his hand on the table, palm up. Molly grasped it. Then he offered Adele the other hand. She looked uncertain.
“I’m sorry we’ve been rough on you, Bailey. I hope you don’t take it personally.”
“Makes me feel like one of the family, Mrs. Lovelace.”
She took his hand and squeezed.
The dishes hadn’t been cleared before Thomas danced into the dining room. A chair fell over as he brushed past it to embrace his wife. “I’m doing it. I’m selling the mill.”
“You are? I thought you were giving it to Molly and Bailey.”
“That’s what I wanted him to think, and they did a fine job convincing him. Brilliant.” He beamed at them. “Bailey, I hope the new owner keeps you on. You’re a real hand.”
“So you like the offer?” Bailey asked.
“I could wish for more, but I’m ready to retire. The deposit will give us a nice nest egg, and then we’ll get a share of the profits for a decade.”
“Do you trust the new owners?” Molly tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but her father didn’t notice when she failed.
“Their credentials are impeccable. They’ve worked at a mill similar to ours and run it successfully. Surely they can hold it together for ten years. They do the work and I’ll take my share.”
Bailey stood. “I’d best get to the office and lock up for the night. You probably don’t want me to mention this to anyone.”
“Absolutely not. I’m going to Lockhart to sign the papers Thursday.”
“Perfect,” Bailey said. “That’ll give me time to get the wedding ceremony planned.”
Before Thomas could say a word, before Molly could protest, Bailey leaned over the table and kissed her firmly on the lips—on the lips, in the dining room, under the crystal chandelier that swayed when she opened her eyes.
“Bailey, I told you that until we’re wed you’re to pretend there’s no agreement.”
“Must’ve forgot.” He picked up his hat and strutted out the door before her shocked father could stop him.
It was a beautiful day for a wedding, but this wedding wouldn’t be beautiful. Instead of getting a new dress and making sweets for a reception, Molly had been reading contracts and arranging funds. Trying to do it without arousing her parents’ suspicions had consumed most of her time.
“When are you supposed to meet with Mr. Mooney?” Molly asked for the hundredth time.
“Four thirty,” her father answered, slowing his team as they rolled into Lockhart. “Too bad we can’t sign the papers first. It’ll be hard to concentrate on your wedding until the deal is sealed.”
“I don’t think this wedding will take much concentration,” her mother said. “A few words before the judge hardly qualify as a grand occasion.”
“Still, I wish you and Bailey all the luck, and I sincerely hope the new owners allow him to stay on. I worry, though. They seem set in their ways. Even after being told about our daughter’s wedding, they still insisted on the afternoon appointment.”
Molly watched the buildings as they passed. It was incredible. She was getting married today to the man she loved, yet she wasn’t allowing herself to believe it. Hopefully she’d believe it later, when he took her home to the parsonage. If she didn’t get it through her blond head that they were joined in holy matrimony by nightfall, Bailey was going to be put out with her for sure.
Her heart twisted. Her trepidation couldn’t be ignored for much longer. She’d thought that she’d put her disgrace behind her, but now she realized that the worst was still ahead.
She straightened her back. First there was business to conduct. A few words with Judge Rice, and then they’d await her father’s arrival at the attorney’s office.
“You look nice, Molly,” her mother said. “It’s a crying shame no one will see you, but under the circumstances it wouldn’t be fitting to have a big to-do.”
“Bailey will see me. That’s enough.”
Thomas smiled at his wife, still reveling in his good fortune. “You know, we were wrong about that boy. Molly should’ve married him in the first place.”
Molly dug her fingernails into her palms and swallowed any words that would mar her blessing. “Thank you for approving. I’ll be proud to be his wife.”
“We hope he’s proud of you, dear.” Her mother adjusted her hat and performed a minuscule nod at a woman crossing before them. “It was wise to have a modest proceeding, nothing showy. Perhaps that’ll give everyone time to get used to the idea.” She craned her neck over the crowd before her. “Why are you stopping here?”
“Open your eyes, woman. The road is blocked. As soon as I find a hitching post, we’ll get out and walk.”
“What is everyone looking at? It’s not market day. I’d hoped the square would be vacant. Oh dear,” Mrs. Lovelace sighed, “we’re sure to run into an acquaintance and will have to explain our meeting with the judge. I’d hoped to avoid sharing your news myself.”
Her father handed the two women down and took her mother’s hand in his, dragging her along as she frowned at the abandoned wagons on the side of the road. Mrs. Lovelace unfurled her fan as they approached the courthouse lawn and saw what was responsible for the crowds.
A white tent covered the northwest corner, and under its shade stood an arbor covered in pink roses. “How beautiful!” Mrs. Lovelace said.
Molly was impressed, too. People were milling at the edges of the tent, clumping together and whispering in wonder.
“What’s the arbor for?” Molly asked a man nearby.
“Someone told me it’s a wedding. I don’t know the happy couple, but they said I was welcome to attend.” He smiled, showing teeth that looked like he’d gnawed on gravel. “After the ceremony there’ll be cake.”
Looked like he’d eaten too many sweets already, but maybe she and Bailey could sneak some. With one last longing glance at the festive tent, she followed her parents to the courthouse steps.
Judge Rice met them inside the door. His kind blue eyes sparkled when she gestured at his corsage.
“Do you wear that to all your civil ceremonies?” Molly asked.
“For the important ones.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “May I kiss the bride?”
She nodded and accepted a peck on her forehead. “Is Bailey here already?”
“He’s been here since dawn.”
“Then let’s get this over with,” her father said. “We have important business waiting.”
“No, don’t go that way.” Judge Rice motioned to the gathering on the lawn. “He’s out there—inside the tent.”
Of course he was. Bailey never passed up a party. Molly followed Judge Rice through the milling crowd, searching for her fellow. What would he be wearing? It shouldn’t matter, but she’d worn her favorite silk gown with the princess Basque. She’d feel foolish if he was wearing his dirty canvas britches and an old vest.
As they approached the white tent, flaps blowing on the edge of the shelter, Judge Rice stopped them.
“Mrs. Lovelace, if you’d allow me to escort you to the front, we’ll let Thomas do his task.”
“She can’t leave,” her father protested. “We’re supposed to go to your office.”
Molly’s attention was drawn from her parents to the man standing under the arbor. He was obviously the groom, decked out in a ready-made suit. She smiled. His bride probably wouldn’t recognize him, for he’d obviously never worn those clothes before.
A man stepped up to the groom, and Molly gasped. Reverend Stoker? What was he doing? Then her hand flew to her mouth and her stomach turned inside out. It couldn’t be. But it was. The uncomfortable groom wearing the hurriedly stitched suit was Bailey.
She took in the whole scene—the flowers, the hastily constructed shelter, the white sugar cakes on the table in the shade of the oak trees. Her wedding.
“We mustn’t,” her mother said. “It’s too extrava
gant. What will people say?”
“They’ll say that a man must love a woman very much to plan this on his own,” Judge Rice said. “There’s a place for us up front. Let’s go.”
What could Molly do? She touched her hair, suddenly insecure about her appearance. Did she look like a woman who deserved a wedding on the town square in the middle of the day?
Then Bailey saw her.
His smiling eyes blew her concerns away like dandelion fluff. She was marrying Bailey. It was going to happen. Right here. Right now. Her father took her arm and directed her to the center of the tent. No music, no chairs, but the curious crowd parted, pushing those on the farthest rim out of the shade.
Why would Bailey do this? It was enough that he’d give her his name. He didn’t have to act proud of it. But he certainly didn’t look humble. His chest rose, and he tugged downward on his satin vest with a satisfied yank. His smile widened, and he took a breath as if preparing to call out to her, but with a sheepish look he contained his enthusiasm.
She was moving toward him, pulled by her father before she knew what was happening. A hand extended between strangers to thrust a bouquet of pink roses at her. Molly peered over their shoulders and saw Prue on tiptoe. She didn’t have time to say thanks, because after years of dragging his heels, Thomas Lovelace was dragging his daughter to the altar. He didn’t even pause when Rosa stepped in her path for a quick hug. Molly squeezed her quickly and smiled at her impulsiveness. Leave it to Rosa to hug the bride on the way down the aisle. If Rosa was there, that meant Bailey’s whole family couldn’t be far away.
How had he pulled this off without raising a hint of suspicion?
They stood before Reverend Stoker as her father placed her into Bailey’s care. So many questions for him. So many things to say, but Molly couldn’t speak. She let her eyes do her talking for her. Over the noise of the Lockhart commerce and curious latecomers, they repeated their vows, Bailey struggling to keep his composure under the rose-scented lattice.
As suddenly as it’d begun, the ceremony ended, and he leaned forward to give his first kiss as her husband—and it was the best one yet.
Regina Jennings Page 29