At twelve o’clock sharp, Walt knocked on the Palmers’ front door. Tension turned his shoulders rigid and his mind was a jumble, wondering what to say? Was this really the night he planned to convince a woman he barely knew to marry him and move away? If so, how, especially when that someone’s father obviously didn’t think to highly of him?
From the stories Aunt May shared about the banker, the meeting hadn’t just been a bad first impression. Walt feared he’d met the true Harvey Palmer. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, but he managed to swipe it away as the door opened.
Cecile stood before him in a dark brown dress that turned her auburn hair fiery. The sides were pulled up into a stylish knot while the back cascaded well beyond her shoulders. As he imagined her hair unpinned, each strand looked like silk. The modest expanse of bared skin at her neckline took his breath away. At her welcoming smile and motion to enter, the same nerves that earlier stilled the clock hands glued his feet to the floor.
“Well, don’t just stand outside. Come on in.” With a giggle, she snagged his arm, yanked him into the entry hall, and closed the door.
He swallowed a sigh, thankful she hadn’t pulled him in by his sweaty hands. While she led the way to the parlor, he swiped his palms against his pant legs, and like the gentleman his mother raised, he waited for Cecile to be seated. Nerves kept him on his feet, and he scanned the room, noting the good taste of a woman’s decorating reflected in the matching settee and chairs trimmed in mahogany and the throw rugs on the floor that added color to the neutral cushions.
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tried to find a relaxed stance while crossing and uncrossing his arms. A glance down assured him he really hadn’t grown an extra limb and almost laughed at his ridiculous antics. Those brave thoughts he’d entertained in the tub had turned tail and run. Cecile’s presence reduced him to jelly. First, soggy palms at the Spring Fling, and now again, only this time he suffered from a nervous, all-over kind of sweat. He’d heard that thoughts of marriage did that to some men, and at almost twenty, he considered himself one, albeit a cowardly one at the moment.
Cecile patted the cushion next to her. “I’m so happy you could join us. Please, have a seat.”
Us. The word beckoned images of Harvey Palmer scowling over his spectacles. That was a look Walt didn’t want to see tonight. His stomach did a little flip flop as he sat next to Cecile, keeping a fair distance between them. He cast an askew glance at her, rubbing his hands together between knees spread wide. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”
The sofa was comfortable, but he definitely wasn’t. He sat back and tried to look relaxed, but sweat again trickled down his temple. Fishing in his pocket, he extracted a handkerchief and, with a shaky hand, blotted away the offending moisture.
“Is it too warm in here?” she asked. “I can open the front door.”
“No, not at all. I’m…”
Mrs. Palmer swept into the room, removing her apron and pushing back stray auburn wisps from her face. “Walt, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m very happy you could join us this evening. Harve will be right down. He’s in the study tending to some sort of business; the man never rests.”
Cecile resembled her mother. They had the same green eyes and hair color, although Mrs. Palmer had a few streaks of gray in hers. Visions of Harvey Palmer reared again, and Walt whispered a silent thank you that Cecile had inherited her mother’s pleasing personality. Maybe their good mood would be contagious. He certainly hoped so.
At the sound of someone clearing his throat, Walt’s gaze shifted to the doorway.
“Good evening, Mr. Williams, nice to see you, and how is your aunt?” Mr. Palmer straightened his vest and peered over his reading glasses in a familiar fashion.
Walt sprang to his feet and offered his hand. “Just fine, Mr. Palmer, thanks for asking. You have a lovely home, sir, and it’s made even lovelier by the presence of your beautiful wife and daughter.”
What a cornball compliment. Walt almost rolled his eyes at his comeback, but then, he’d never been a smooth talker. A glance in Cecile’s direction showed she seemed impressed nonetheless. The four made small talk until Mrs. Palmer announced dinner was ready and they moved into the dining room.
Mr. Palmer dominated the conversation around the table, until he took a breath.
“Tell us a little about yourself, Walt.” Mrs. Palmer took advantage of the moment of silence.
He swallowed a nervous lump, knowing nothing in his background could compare with a banker’s wheeling and dealing. Cecile’s father was an influential person in Silver City; certainly powerful enough to make or break a man. His mind spun, looking for something to share. “Well…uhh…”
“This week I foreclosed on Fred Wright’s loan.” Evidently not interest in what Walt had to say, Harvey Palmer took over the conversation again. “It seems no one takes their financial obligations seriously these days.” He focused beady eyes on Walt.
The warning look made him wonder if Mr. Palmer was anything like the man who had taken away Walt’s home after his father died. Clearly, Cecile’s father lost no sleep over his business decisions. He droned on and on, giving a good glimpse of his hard-heartedness. Walt’s mind wandered, finding more pleasant things on which to dwell.
When the blowhard banker finally took a drink, Walt jumped in. “Mrs. Palmer, that was a scrumptious meal. I don’t think I could eat another bite without busting.” Unable to think of anything more to say, he sat back and let Harvey ramble on about his business. Thankfully, the meal ended and they adjourned to the parlor. Funny, the evening’s host never talked about anything except his life as a banker when he had such a lovely family to appreciate.
Once Walt sat, Mr. Palmer offered him a brandy.
“No thanks, sir; I’m not a drinking man.” Walt had never developed a taste for spirits. What he really wanted was to savor those luscious rose-colored lips of Harvey’s daughter. That thought had crept into his mind all during dinner. Several times he’d had to rearrange the napkin on his lap to hide the result of his thoughts, and he knew for sure Mr. Palmer didn’t want to know that. A twinge of memorable pain tingled Walt’s earlobe. Yep, Aunt May would give it a good twist if she knew her nephew’s thoughts.
“So, Walt, now that your business is concluded, when do you expect to be leaving Silver City?” Mr. Palmer had hinted at the subject several times throughout dinner, but now he blatantly asked.
Walt still had no answer. He’d stay as long as it took to win Cecile, but first he had to ask how she felt about marriage. He dodged the banker’s question by directing his parting comments to his hostess. “Mrs. Palmer, thank you again for the wonderful dinner. I hope I didn’t overstay my welcome.” He briefly glanced at the host. “And, thank you, Mr. Palmer, for the entertaining evening.” Walt pardoned himself and stood.
“I’ll see you out, Walt.” Cecile rose and excused herself from the parlor, but not before her father cast a disapproving glare in her direction. The look bothered Walt more than it seemed to bother Cecile. She grabbed Walt’s hand and led him out onto the front porch.
The painful part of the evening was over and the best stood next to him. He took in a relieving breath. The pleasant aroma of honeysuckle growing around the railing filled the air. Cecile’s hair, and he had a sudden desire to bury his nose in the crook of her neck
Side-by-side, they watched the fiery sun settle below the horizon. Crickets chirped softly in the distance, and a gentle breeze cooled the early evening air. Thoughts ran wild through Walt’s head. He had to decide how soon he’d leave Silver City, and just exactly how he’d ask Cecile to accompany him. He slid his hand over and covered hers.
Gazing straight ahead, he broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Cecile, your father probably doesn’t realize or appreciate how much he did for me when he approved the loan for my Aunt May. Now I have the opportunity to buy the land I told you about and build the home I want… to see my dre
am come true—a ranch, complete with animals and crops.” A lump grew in his throat, but he forced himself to look at her. He had an important question and needed to find just the right time to ask.
She beamed. “I know, Father told me. I’m so happy for you, but…”
Walt pushed aside the shock of his name being mentioned at all. He needed to get to the point. Reluctant to surrender the feel of her soft skin beneath his palm, he turned and leaned against the railing. “Between now and winter, I’m going to be working my tail off to get things into shape so by this time next year I can plant, harvest, and sell a crop that will keep the cash coming in. I plan to start with a small herd of cattle and increase as money allows.”
None of what he said mattered unless she shared it with him. Ever since her father brought up Walt’s impending departure, her mood had turned somber, and a look of sorrow clouded her beautiful green eyes. He inched his hand over and covered hers again.
He wanted to say the right thing, but his thoughts muddled. Facing her, he clasped both of her hands, and like a weakened dam, his intentions burst into words. “Cecile, come with me. I want to marry you and take care of you for the rest of my life.” He placed a finger against her lips. “Now don’t talk, just listen. I know this is serious stuff, and we barely know each other, but ever since that first day when you tripped and fell right in front of me, I knew you were the one I wanted. It must have been destiny because I fell that day, too. I fell in love with you.”
He gazed up at the pastel sky, holding his breath, expecting her to run screaming into the house.
Instead, she cupped his chin, forcing him to face her. “Oh, Walt, I love you, too. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since we met, and I know this is meant to be. I won’t let you go without me. My heart would break if I never saw you again.” She released a breath. “Now, all we have to do is a find a way to get Father to approve.”
Walt’s heart sank. “I don’t want to appear negative, but I think I stand more chance of surviving a blizzard naked than getting your father to approve our joining!”
“Oh that’s not true. Father likes you. You just have to get past his rough edges.”
“I hope you’re right, but I think the only thing your father likes about me is the fact that I’m leaving town.” Walt ran his fingers along her cheek. “Don’t worry, Cecile. I’ll find a way to make you my wife.”
He took her into his arms, finally savouring the dessert he’d waited for all through dinner. He found it well worth the wait. Her soft, supple lips parted just enough to let his eager tongue brush against her teeth. The feel of her body pushing against him caused him to shiver. Holding her close and enjoying her feel and smell was wonderful, but his desire to continue was thwarted by the fear of seeing that all too familiar scowl peering through the curtains.
Not wanting to add more fuel to her father’s fire, he forced himself to release her, and using restraint, gave her a quick peck. “I’d better be going.”
Their clasped hands slowly drifted apart, and Walt stepped off the porch. Halfway down the sidewalk, he cast a look back to make sure she had gone into the house so he could adjust his pants to accommodate the evidence of his excitement. All the way back to the boarding house, in between reliving the kiss, he mulled over the dilemma regarding her father, finally deciding to discuss it with Aunt May. She was already in bed when he let himself in and climbed the darkened stairs. Once beneath the covers, his racing thoughts made sleep slow in coming
Chapter Three
The next morning, Walt rose early and went down to the kitchen. Aunt May’s boarders had already eaten and left, so he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the long pine table, deep in thought about how to approach Mr. Palmer. The bright yellow panels hanging in the window brought memories of Cecile’s vibrant party dress, and he worried things wouldn’t go right.
“What’s the matter? You look as though your best horse died,” Aunt May teased as she sat down across from him.
“I wish that was my problem. At least I could buy another.” He adjusted his slumping posture. “I love Cecile, Aunt May. I know it’s only been a short time, but I know what I feel. I’m just scared her father won’t understand.”
“In love? That’s no shock; she’s a lovely young lady.” Aunt May took the news calmly. “You don’t have to convince me you can fall for someone quickly. Why, I bet you didn’t know I only knew your uncle for two days before he asked me to marry him. Yes sir, I fell for him the minute I laid eyes on him.” Her eyes turned misty. “We were married for thirty-seven wonderful years. It was a hard life sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. So follow your heart, boy. If you want Cecile Palmer for your wife, you make it happen. It isn’t Harvey Palmer you love, anyhow.”
Someone else believed in love at first sight! Walt’s spirits soared at thought of his feelings for Cecile—so much more than the lustful attractions he’d experienced briefly with other women. This was something very special. He’d found his soul mate, someone who understood and believed in him. From the beginning, he knew there was something different about Cecile Palmer. He planned to change her last name, but how?
He slammed his fist on the table. “This has to work, Harvey Palmer be damned.”
For a brief moment, he pictured Cecile sneaking down a ladder to his waiting wagon, but pushed that thought aside. That wasn’t an honourable way to start a marriage.
“The best way to solve a problem is to face it head on.” Aunt May reached across and patted his hand. “Harvey Palmer is a difficult man, but you can handle him, Walt. I know you can.”
His aunt was right. Determination squared his shoulders. Even if Cecile’s father never liked him, he would at least respect him. Sick of mulling things over and over in his mind, Walt decided to act before he lost his courage.
With confidence, whether real or feigned, he headed for the bank. Halfway there, his planned thoughts became jumbled and nothing sounded right in his mind.
“By the way, Mr. Palmer, would you mind if I married your daughter?” Despite rehearsing, Walt knew for certain what the answer would be to such an abrupt question. The thought of stealing away in the night looked better the closer he got to the bank, but approaching the door, he steeled himself, took a deep breath, and marched in. Stopping at Harvey Palmer’s desk, Walt gazed down at him, wishing he had spectacles on so he could mimic that haughty Palmer stare. Much like the night before on the Palmer’s porch, his thoughts erupted into words and spilled out before he had a chance to stop them.
“Mr. Palmer, I love Cecile and I’m gonna marry her.” He shocked himself with the bluntness of his statement. Holding his breath, he waited for the anticipated explosion.
Harvey Palmer, his mouth hanging open, sat speechless, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head.
Walt gulped a breath, not sure what to expect.
Mr. Palmer stood and took off his glasses.
Walt braced himself.
The color drained from the banker’s face; he sagged back into his chair and took a deep breath. “Well,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I suspected as much from my daughter’s actions. Ever since you came to town, you seem to be all she talks about. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her so happy and so doggone stubborn. God knows she could have her pick of any young man in this town, but she seems to have chosen you.” He donned his glasses, pushing them well up on his nose, then leaned forward. “Her mother gave me a good talking to last night, and reminded me it’s not my choice that matters. My first instinct was to send you packing, but girls Cecile’s age marry every day, and I don’t even have a legal leg to stand on to prevent it. What would be the use? I’ve decided agreeing to your marriage is in my best interest since I really don’t want to lose my daughter altogether. I have to admit she got her bull-headedness from me.”
Walt’s mouth gaped. Had he really heard correctly? Where were the objections he’d prepared to meet?
Palmer rose and leaned over his
big mahogany desk. His face grew stern; his mouth disappeared into a thin line. He shook his finger in Walt’s face. “Just make sure that you take good care of my Cecile, or you’ll answer to me.”
Walt had anticipated much more difficulty than this. He swallowed hard and extended his hand. “I hardly know what to say except that you won’t be sorry. I’ll be a good husband to your daughter. Is it acceptable if I let her know the good news… Dad?”
At the personal reference, Palmer grimaced, and, collapsing back into his chair, did a quick eye roll. Then his lips curled into a half smile. “Sure, go ahead… son.” The last word obviously tasted very bitter.
Walt almost tore the bank door off the hinges in his eagerness to find his bride to be and tell her the good news.
***
Cecile’s parents had always dreamed of a large traditional wedding for their only child, but unfortunately they had no time to arrange a lavish ceremony. Cecile and her mother put their heads together and quickly planned a small, less formal event. The invitation list included only the closest of friends, and rather than a church, Cecile elected to be married in the parlour.
Her father walked in during the planning session, and hearing them reviewing the invitations, furrowed his brow. “I hope to heaven no one thinks this hastily finagled affair is being held at the end of a shotgun.”
Cecile’s mother glared at him. “Oh for goodness sake, Harve, have you no faith in your daughter’s good reputation? If people want to be that small-minded they need not come to the wedding.”
Her words seemed to put his fear to rest, as he gave a shrug and left the room. Cecile and her mother returned to making sure they hadn’t left anyone of importance off the guest list.
Everything happened so quickly, Cecile was in disbelief. In a whirlwind of preparations for embarking on a new life and readying for the ceremony, the big day arrived, blossoming sunny and bright—a reflection of the bride’s mood. Like always when extremely nervous, she nibbled on her bottom lip. It was either that habit or attack a fingernail, and she’d just trimmed hers last night.
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