She refrained from commenting, knowing it troubled Marla when Hickory returned to the orphanage. Her friend felt as if she had failed the little boy in some way. Natalie knew this wasn't true, but she couldn't convince Marla or Noah.
Making a mental note to sit Hickory down and have another talk with him, Natalie said, “He's insecure, but he'll come around. Now, back to the problem at hand..."
"What will you do? Mr. Montgomery's not going to be pleased when he discovers that a nineteen year-old woman has been running the place for the last six months. In fact, I'd say he'll feel even more justified about closing the place, if that's his intention."
As usual, Marla was probably right. She bit her lip, thinking hard. What could she do? Her pensive gaze wandered to the beautifully hand-crafted doll house in the window of the store. “Any luck?” she asked hopefully.
Marla sighed. “No. The first four went fast, but this one has been sitting for three weeks. I've had a lot of admirers, but no buyers."
Natalie turned to her friend. “I've got a little saved from the first sales. If we could just stall him somehow, until we sell enough doll houses to buy Ivy House from him—"
"That could take years, unless you're lucky enough to find someone who's willing to invest and help you market the doll houses in the bigger cities like New York and Chicago. Besides, you've been having to spend some of the money on supplies, and with winter coming, you'll also have to buy wood for heating, shoes for the children, warm clothes..."
"What happened to your optimism?” Natalie asked with a lift of her brow and a hint of desperation. “Don't you believe in luck? Don't you believe that it's possible someone could walk in here and see the potential in our doll houses?"
Marla had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn't mean to sound as if I didn't believe it could happen. The doll houses are beautiful—I plan to buy one for this baby if it's a girl—but you have to be realistic. If Mr. Montgomery has decided to close the orphanage and sell the house, how could you possibly change his mind or put him off? Maybe if Miss Nelda were still around, she might convince him—"
Natalie gasped. “That's it!” She grabbed Marla by the shoulders and danced around her, forgetting her condition and laughing joyously. “You're a genius,! A genius!"
"I am? What did I say?"
"You said, ‘Maybe if Miss Nelda were still around!’”
Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Marla demanded, “And just what are you up to? What have you got in mind?"
Oh, this would work—it had to! She muttered a quick prayer for forgiveness and proceeded to tell Marla of her brilliant plan to fool Elliot Montgomery.
Tomorrow, when he arrived, he would find Ivy House professionally managed by a slimmer, younger Miss Nelda Boone, but someone considerably older and wiser than Natalie Polk.
* * * *
It was love at first sight for Elliot Montgomery.
Standing at the ship's prow, he lost his heart to the port of Chattanooga as the steamship rounded Moccasin Bend and chugged happily into the harbor. Surrounded almost completely by steep mountains and lush forestry, he thought it looked exactly as he imagined a peaceful, magical kingdom would look.
"They say you can see seven states from Lookout Mountain,” the Captain said, coming to stand beside him.
Elliot followed his pointing finger to the tallest mountain, hovering like a sentry over the town. He could well imagine the view from its steepest peak.
"Over yonder is Signal Mountain. From there you can see clear down into the gorge. It's where the river cuts through the mountain,” he explained proudly. “During the war, there were battles on Chickamauga Mountain, Lookout, and Missionary Ridge."
He pointed to each mountain as he spoke, and Elliot dutifully looked; he'd heard the town's history from his grandfather long ago. Although to look at the peaceful view now, it was hard to imagine that twenty-two years ago the city was an important Confederate communications point during the Civil War and the scene of many bloody battles.
Gill Montgomery had never recovered from his own losses during the war. He had lost not only his leg, but his wife as well. Elliot never got to meet his grandmother. “Chattanooga certainly has its share of history, doesn't it?"
The captain grinned as if he were the mayor himself. “Sure does! Too bad your sweetheart ain't up on deck to share your first glimpse of paradise."
"Yes. Too bad,” Elliot said tersely, ignoring the captain's sly wink. Suetta had turned out to be a pain in the rear when it came to riding on a steamship. She hated the noise. She hated the smell. She hated the food. And when he had urged her to join him when the captain had announced their approach, Suetta had informed him she hated the fine spray of water that misted their clothes when they stood on deck.
Lifting his face to that spray now, Elliot sighed. Was there anything Suetta didn't hate? He was beginning to wonder. He was also beginning to wonder if he shouldn't try to back out gracefully from this arranged engagement. His grandfather had wanted the marriage, as did both of Suetta's parents.
Friends since childhood, they had all just assumed he and Suetta would marry. He couldn't even recall proposing to her.
Now his grandfather was dead, and without his constant encouragement, Elliot found himself yearning to be free of her. A slow, lopsided smile curved his mouth as he thought of an excellent way to prompt Suetta into breaking the engagement. He could simply tell her that with the death of his grandfather, he was penniless with an unpaid debt looming like doomsday in his future. He could tell her that he had secured a loan to finance this trip, and that once he sold Ivy House to pay the loan and his grandfather's debts, he'd be lucky if anything was left.
If none of those ominous revelations deterred her, then he could tell her that Bo Carnagie could become rather nasty when he didn't get his money. The man was ruthless, which made it all the more difficult for Elliot to understand why his grandfather had associated with the shark at all. Several days ago, a man by the name of Randal Evans had approached him, demanding he settle his grandfather's debts. Randal Evans worked for Bo Carnagie.
Elliot recalled the unpleasant conversation with a grimace. He'd managed to distract Evans long enough to slip away, but he knew Evans would find him again.
Yes, selling Ivy House was the only choice.
Maybe there would be enough left to start a small business of some kind. Perhaps he could make a few wise investments with the money until he could decide what to do with his life. As for the orphans of Ivy House—if there were any—he had already put aside money from the loan to use as an enticement for couples willing to adopt.
Money could be a powerful persuasion.
Uplifted by the possibility, Elliot made his way across the deck to tell his fiancé they were about to depart. For a while longer, he would keep his financial problems to himself. His luck could change any day now, saving him the embarrassment of having to tell everyone. The worst that could happen would be for Carnagie's men to find him before he sold Ivy House.
He jiggled his pockets, hoping the accommodations in town were not too expensive. The dwindling amount of coins wouldn't go far.
After those were gone, he was flat busted—until he sold Ivy House.
* * * *
All was in readiness for Elliot Montgomery's arrival.
Hickory sat at Marla's feet, playing with a covered wagon Noah had whittled and sanded to a smooth shine. About every five seconds, he would lift his blonde head and ask, “Now, Mama?” To which she would reply with a gentle smile, “Not yet."
Each time he called her ‘Mama', she about swooned with joy. Yet, it saddened her to know the reason he was so excited about his part in the plan: He would get to see his ‘real’ family again. It didn't seem to matter to him that he saw Natalie and the children several times a week.
For the last half hour as the clock slowly ticked, Marla jumped at the slightest sound. She fumbled with every purchase, spilling flour, snagging material. The air was still re
dolent with the scent of spiced peaches from the jar she had dropped and broken.
She counted at least ten apologies since opening that morning. Why, she wasn't this nervous on her wedding day! But then, on her wedding day she hadn't been about to participate in a deception.
When she finally heard the steam whistle announcing its arrival, she shrieked, startling Mrs. Newberry into dropping a basket of apples. They rolled across the floor in every direction.
Her son looked up at her, his face eager. “Now, Mama?"
"No. Not now, dear."
"I ain't a deer, and I ain't a cow, and I ain't a pig,” he declared. “I'm Hickory!"
Marla giggled nervously. “I know.” Keeping her gaze glued to the window overlooking Main Street, she reached down and ruffled his sun-bleached hair. “Soon. Very soon. Why don't you help Mrs. Newberry pick up those apples?"
The clock continued to tick. She bagged Mrs. Newberry's purchases without fumbling once. She was so pleased with herself, she forgot to watch for Elliot Montgomery as she chatted with the customer. In fact, she didn't pay any attention to the warning bell over the door, either, because she was in a deep discussion with Mrs. Newberry about how to treat a colicky baby.
"Are you the postmistress?"
Mrs. Newberry stopped in mid-sentence at the sound of a man's deep, resonant voice. Despite the impressive size of Chattanooga, strangers were still regarded with healthy curiosity and a smidgen of suspicion.
It hit Marla at that moment just who this particular stranger probably was, and for a long moment, she stared rudely at the man standing behind Mrs. Newberry.
She had imagined a much older, portly man, for surely the late Mr. Montgomery was an old man when he died? Yet before her stood a handsome devil with amusement sparkling in his light blue eyes. He was at least a foot taller than herself, lean, yet broad-shouldered. His golden-blonde hair looked ruffled, as if he had stood at the prow of a ship and let the wind filter through the sun-kissed strands.
Judging by the water droplets splattering his slightly wrinkled clothes, maybe he had.
She swallowed and blinked in confusion. Could this be Elliot Montgomery? Why, the man didn't look much older than she, and she had just turned twenty-two last month!
"Marla?"
"Hmm?” She gave her head a slight shake and jerked her gaze back to the waiting Mrs. Newberry. “I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"The man asked if you were the postmistress here. Since you seem to be taking a nap, I told him you were.” On that disapproving note, Mrs. Newberry gathered her packages together and with a nod at the stranger, left the store.
"Now, Mama?” Sensing something in the air, Hickory abandoned his favorite toy and stood. “Now, Mama? Can I go now?"
Absently, Marla shook her head. “Just a moment, Hickory.” She forced herself to look at the man again. There was a chance she was wrong and this wasn't Elliot Montgomery, and she couldn't send Hickory off until she knew for certain. “May I help you?” she offered in her politist voice. It quivered slightly, much to her dismay.
He smiled, revealing a mile of white teeth, their only flaw a tiny chip on an upper front tooth.
And Marla, happily married woman that she was, found herself giving him a silly smile right back. Whoever he was, she decided right then and there, he would be perfect for Natalie. Saint's above, if she wasn't a married woman—
"I'm Elliot Montgomery. The harbor master said there was a letter waiting for me at the Thompson Mercantile?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking around as if searching for a sign to confirm he'd found the right place.
Hickory tugged at her sleeve. “Now, Mama?” he whispered loudly, watching the man curiously.
"Now, Hickory. Run like the wind, and come right back here."
Taking her words to heart, he tore from the store, banging the door hard enough to rattle the windows. She watched him go for a moment, taking the time to master her thoughts. She didn't know how or why—it was just a blaze of insight she was often prone to—but she was absolutely certain that Elliot and Natalie belonged together. Just how she was going to bring this about was another matter for reflection.
Right now she had a job to do; she had to stall Mr. Montgomery so Hickory had time to warn Natalie of his arrival, and give her time to prepare.
The man lowered his head and centered his sky-blue gaze on Marla. “Hickory. An unusual name."
She moistened her lips. Keep him talking, she thought. After that, she would think of something else. “He was named after Andrew Jackson. Are you in town for long, Mr. Montgomery?"
"The name suits him. He's a fine young boy."
He likes children! Marla could have danced on the spot.
"As for how long I'm staying,” he paused and looked out the window.
Marla followed his gaze to the waiting carriage. She could see the shadow of someone inside, but couldn't tell what gender. Oh, please God don't let him be married!
"I'm not sure,” he concluded, a tiny frown creasing his tanned forehead.
"Is ... did your wife accompany you?” Noah would strangle her if he overheard her ask such an impertinent question! She was a little shocked herself.
To hide the certain flush on her face, she pretended to look beneath the counter for a letter that didn't exist.
"Not my wife, but my fiancé."
At his amused reply, her flush of embarrassment deepened to crimson. Engaged! Frantically, she riffled through the mail, her heart sinking. Still, there was a slim chance—
"Did you find it?"
She straightened and gave him a blank look, suppressing the urge to fan her fiery face. “Find what?"
"The letter."
"Oh. Oh, the letter! Oh, that. Well, it seems I've misplaced it...” He cocked a brow, but didn't appear to be too bent out of shape.
He likes children, he's handsome, and he's a gentleman. The fiancé would have to go. This was Natalie's man!
"Well, I can return some other time. Can't imagine anyone knowing I was coming, to tell you the truth. Do you by any chance remember the addressee?"
Marla floundered. “I—I—"
"I understand.” His teeth flashed in a smile of assurance. “Tell me, do you know of an orphanage nearby?"
"You mean Ivy House?” she blurted, then could have bitten her tongue. The plan was that she wouldn't know if he should ask, therefore causing more delay as he searched for directions.
"And could you give me directions?"
"Directions? Oh, it's down the road a piece.” Ah, she was such a ninny! He must think her completely addle-brained. “Follow Main Street until it ends, then turn right. It's about a quarter of a mile after that.” She prayed Hickory didn't get distracted along the way, because basically those were the right directions—with a small detour.
"Thank you. I'll come back another time for the letter."
Frustrated, Marla watched him walk to the door. But as he reached it, he paused, his gaze drawn to the doll house in the window. She held her breath as he moved closer to study it with an intensity that made her feel dizzy.
Natalie desperately needed an investor, but surely it was too much to hope Elliot Montgomery himself would be interested—
He whirled around, his expression taut with excitement. Marla gasped and stepped back, holding a hand to her racing heart.
"The carpenter?” he demanded.
Good gracious, what next? She knew she couldn't possibly tell Elliot that the orphans of Ivy House had made the doll house, not without Natalie's confirmation. She wasn't prepared to answer the questions that she was certain would arise.
So she stalled, something she was becoming very good at. “The doll house? Isn't it splendid? It's hand crafted, of course, and constructed out of the finest wood—” Marla choked, gripping the counter. Heaven help them, she just remembered where Natalie had gotten the lumber for the making of the doll houses. Now she knew she couldn't tell him.
It was
Elliot's house Natalie was taking apart!
Before she could think up a fictional name, they were interrupted by a sharp rap on the window fronting the store. Startled, they both turned to look.
Outside on the boardwalk, a woman stood waving a parasol vigorously at Elliot, motioning him outside. Dressed in a full-skirted burgundy dress with a matching short jacket, she looked hot, Marla thought. She also looked mighty angry about something.
Elliot turned from the window and shot Marla a weary look that filled her heart with pure joy. Ah, ha! The man didn't appear very happy with his current sweetheart. Perfect! Squinting, she saw that his sweetheart also couldn't hold a candle to her friend, in face or form. And judging by the harsh twist of the woman's mouth, Natalie won the disposition contest, as well. Last but not least, he appeared uncommonly interested in Natalie's project. Her instincts about the two of them belonging together had been right.
Perfect, perfect, perfect!
"I'll come back when I've gotten rid—when I have more time.” With one last glance at the doll house, he slammed from the store.
Marla slumped against the counter, feeling weak with relief. What a morning! And what she wouldn't give in exchange for a glimpse of Natalie's face when she set eyes on Elliot Montgomery.
Chuckling, she began to tidy up the mess she'd made looking for the fabricated letter. In her mind's eye, she imagined the encounter between the young couple. Natalie would take one look at Elliot and fall in love. He, in return, would take one look at Natalie, compare her to the pasty white miss with the tight mouth and fall ... completely ... in ... love—
"Lord!” Marla groaned and covered her face with her hands as the most horrible realization hit her.
Elliot would be looking at a different Natalie, a made-up spinster that wouldn't attract a blind man.
She had to do something, and fast. If Natalie's plan worked, Elliot would leave on the next steamboat without having ever met the real Natalie. Her best friend would miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime; to snag the man of her dreams. And of course there was the nice Mr. Montgomery, who might be saddled with a shrew the rest of his life if she didn't do him this favor.
Where The Heart Is Page 2