Groom by Design

by Christine Johnson

  The compliment heated her cheeks. “I meant the river.”

  “I know.” He placed his hand beside hers on the railing.

  So close. Almost touching. She could barely breathe.

  “What is its name?” Sam asked.

  “What? Oh. The river. It’s called the Green River, and that’s Green Lake, even though it’s more like a pond.”

  “The Green River. After the color of the water.”

  “One of the colors.” She squinted into the sunlight. “It’s clear brown in the shallows and white at the rapids.”

  “And on the far side of the pond, it’s ultramarine blue.” He pointed to the northeast, where several boats lingered in the bright sunlight.

  “That’s the best fishing hole.”

  “I noticed you brought fishing poles. Do you fish?”

  Ruth gulped. This was her chance to tout Jen’s ability with rod and reel. Her sister could fly-fish with the boys and outcatch most of them. Ruth should implement her plan, but she couldn’t let go of this moment with Sam.

  “I haven’t fished since I was a little girl. Daddy used to bring me and Jen here.”

  She must have sighed because he chuckled softly. “Good memories?”

  “The best. Though I was a terrible fisherman. My line always got tangled, and the fish would swallow the hook. I never felt them bite. Jen, though, can catch anything.” It hurt to promote her sister, but she mustn’t think of herself. She must consider what was best. “Do you like to fish?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t done it since boyhood.”

  What a relief. He wouldn’t want to fish with Jen. “Did your father take you and your brother fishing?”

  He looked toward the pond. “We lived near a river. Harry and I would go down there often, but he was the better fisherman.” He turned back with that broad smile. “A bit like you and Jen.”

  “Except you probably didn’t kill the fish in the process of catching them. Daddy would scold me, and I felt terrible.” A sudden pang of regret caught the words in her throat. She swallowed hard and leaned on the railing for support. “I stopped going along. I—I wish I hadn’t. But you can’t turn back time.”

  “No, you can’t.” He sounded almost wistful, memories playing across his face for just an instant before he shut them down. “But we could give it a try. What do you say we take those poles of yours and throw in a line?”

  Fish with Sam? She couldn’t cast a fly. Hadn’t attempted it since she was ten or twelve. If she tried now, the hook would end up caught in a tree or—even worse—in his clothing. That was not the kind of catching Jen had in mind with her marriage idea.

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, Jen’s the better fisherman.”

  If he were disappointed, it didn’t show. He shifted his weight, and his hand grazed hers, sending a pleasant warmth up her arm. This was a man who would take care of those he loved. He would protect and hold them close. The way he’d stepped in to help Beattie revealed his generous, compassionate nature.

  “It’s not about the catching,” he said. “It’s about enjoying time with someone, like you did with your father.” His smile could light a cathedral, but it couldn’t dispel the pang of regret that hit her at the mention of her father.

  She bowed her head. Daddy might never come home. He might never fish again. She had wasted precious years.

  Sam laid his hand on hers. “You love your father dearly, don’t you?”

  She drew in a shaky breath. How could she explain? All her life she’d known her father suffered from a weak heart, but his condition had grown worse in the past year. Many days he’d stayed on the sofa or in bed. He hadn’t gone to the shop since October. Mother had brought the ledgers home then, so he could keep the accounts, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t do even that. The sanitarium was his last hope. She blinked back tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Before she realized what had happened, he’d taken her in his arms. The thrum of his heart steadied her, and the warmth of his arms felt oh-so secure. For a moment, she closed her eyes and drank in his strength as she struggled to regain emotional control. How good it felt to be held. She wanted to linger there, but people would soon notice.

  She pulled away and forced a smile. “I’m all right. I know he’s getting the best care possible at the sanitarium. We’re optimistic the regimen will strengthen his heart.”

  “Heart?” His brow pinched in concern.

  “My father had rheumatic fever when he was young, and it weakened his heart.”

  “I see.” He sounded sympathetic but withdrew to the railing and stared across the pond.

  A chill swept through Ruth. The momentary closeness had been lost. Sam wanted no part of a family poised on the brink of loss.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You don’t want to hear my troubles.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” But his jaw remained set, and he wouldn’t look at her.

  Desperation made her panic. She hadn’t meant to turn him away. “Normally I wouldn’t talk about such personal things. You must think me overly emotional.”

  “Your father sounds like a good family man.”

  “The best.”

  “Did he teach you to sew?”

  “He taught me how to follow a dress pattern, how to sew straight seams, how to keep the books. He taught me everything.” She struggled against the memories that threatened to bring tears. “He encouraged me, even when my results were awful.” Despite the pain, a laugh bubbled to her lips. “I made him a little stuffed elephant each year. The first one was terrible. Only Daddy could tell that it was an elephant. He said it was perfect.”

  “That’s what a father should do.” Sam sounded almost wistful.

  “Your father must have taught you a lot, like how to sell things.”

  He looked perplexed for a moment. “Ah. Sales. Yes. He did teach me the business, but not like your father taught you. I attended college.”

  “Oh.” The differences between them loomed large again. Rich, handsome and a college man. Just like Reggie Landers. How could she ever interest someone like Sam? She couldn’t, and she’d best accept that now before the inevitable heartache. No more personal chatter, no sharing and no sympathetic hugs. She’d stick to business.

  “I brought the catalogs with me.” She cleared her throat. “After lunch, I’ll show you which dresses Mrs. Vanderloo chose. I will repay you, but it might take a while.”

  He said nothing for long minutes, nor would he look at her. The silence loomed like a wall of dense fog. When he finally spoke, indignation cracked his voice. “Dresses? In the middle of our conversation you’re thinking about those dresses?”

  She shivered. “You did ask me to give you the catalogs.”

  “Yes, give me the catalogs but not repay me. I won’t take one penny from you.”

  Ruth could not accept charity. He didn’t yet know that Mrs. Vanderloo had chosen the most expensive gowns in the catalogs. One cost a shocking ninety dollars. Ninety! For just one dress. And Ruth had promised her three, one more than Sam had offered to buy.

  She wrung her hands. “I-it turned out a little differently than planned. She insisted I give her a third dress. I must pay for that one at the very least.”

  She waited for the explosion of anger.

  Nothing.

  She hazarded a peek.

  His jaw worked, and his expression had frozen, but he didn’t shout. Instead he nodded slowly. “I see.” Then he walked to the far side of the platform, his back to her.

  * * *

  What had happened? One moment Sam was comforting Ruth. The next she’d turned as cold as her icy eyes. Business! He didn’t want to discuss business. He wan
ted to know more about her, her family and her childhood. He wanted to hold her until her sorrow lifted. He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. He wanted to help. Or maybe it was just guilt. Maybe he’d overstepped propriety, and she’d rightly stepped away.

  He stared across the pond, not seeing the fishermen or couples in rowboats. He didn’t care about catalogs or Mrs. Vanderloo’s dresses or how many Ruth had promised the conniving woman. He liked Ruth. She was nothing like Lillian. Polar opposites, and not just because of social standing. Ruth was honest and compassionate. She cared about others. She cherished her family. The antithesis of Lillian. Ruth backed away when he got too close.

  He yanked off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. What had he been thinking? Sam Rothenburg had come to Pearlman to open a department store, not get involved with a woman who would despise him for doing just that.

  Therein lay the problem.

  Unlike his father, he couldn’t crush the competition, not when he could look in her pale blue eyes and see the obstacles she faced. He hated to see good people struggle. Ruth couldn’t possibly afford to buy even one of the replacement dresses. No matter which ones Mrs. Vanderloo had chosen, all would be too costly, for Sam had given Ruth catalogs from the most expensive stores in New York. He could kick himself for that blunder, but then, he’d never intended for her to repay him.

  He heard her footsteps draw near.

  “I didn’t mean to chase you away.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, the kind of voice he longed to come home to each night.

  He shook that thought out of his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I needed a moment.” Until he’d arrived in Pearlman, Sam never apologized, yet around Ruth he seemed to do nothing but apologize. If a business relationship was all she wanted, then he must respect her wishes.

  He faced her. “Why don’t you show me which gowns Mrs. Vanderloo chose?”

  “All right.” She looked past him. “The catalogs are in the picnic basket.”

  He offered his arm, but something on the far side of the pond caught her attention. She stepped to the rail, her brow furrowed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She jerked away from the railing and smiled quickly. Too quickly.

  Her pinched expression belied her words. She’d seen something or someone that troubled her deeply. Yet when he followed her gaze, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever it was, she must not want to explain, for she hurried back toward the park without him.

  Chapter Six

  Ruth couldn’t keep her mind on conversation during the picnic. After what she’d spotted across the pond, she wanted to circle to the other side and give Blake Kensington a dressing-down. But she had asked Sam to join them and couldn’t very well disappear in the middle of lunch. So she nodded occasionally to something Jen or Sam said and kept a lookout for Blake’s return.

  Sam apparently shared Daddy’s interest in politics. He rattled on about President Harding’s West Coast trip. Her gaze drifted back to the north end of the park. Anyone hiking to the far side of Green Lake would return by that path.

  Jen elbowed her.

  “What?” Ruth snapped to attention.

  Sam repeated the question about President Harding’s intentions for the trip.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not terribly interested in politics.”

  Jen, who loved to debate Daddy, took over. “My father thinks he’s trying to escape scandal. I think he wants people to see him as the next Teddy Roosevelt. Ridiculous. Real adventurers risk their lives trying new things like flying.” She then droned on about the airfield and the airplane-motor factory until poor Sam’s eyes glazed over.

  Ruth should rescue him, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but Beatrice’s marriage. Hadn’t her sister intimated there were problems? Didn’t she look exhausted and worried lately? Ruth couldn’t stomach food. Instead she folded and refolded her napkin while she watched for her brother-in-law. The longer lunch dragged on without a sighting, the less certain she became. Maybe the man only looked like Blake. Maybe her brother-in-law had a good explanation for going to a secluded part of the woods with another woman.

  Another woman! There was no excuse.

  Ruth clenched her fists as the image of Blake putting his arm around the waist of the dark-haired woman burned into her brain. The man had the same build and coloring as Blake. It must be him. If she spotted him entering the park from the northern path, she’d have proof.

  “Who are you looking for?” Jen’s question broke through the worry fogging Ruth’s mind. “Minnie is talking to Anna Landers.”

  “I know.” Ruth couldn’t very well pretend she’d been looking for Minnie when her baby sister sat not twenty feet away. “I was just looking around. Not for anyone in particular.”

  “You are, too. Your head will snap off if you swivel around one more time.”

  “Really, Jen,” Ruth scolded. “Where I look is none of your business.”

  Her sister leaned close and whispered, “You should pay attention when Sam’s talking to you.” The expression on his face confirmed that he had indeed been trying to catch her attention. “He must have asked you about some stupid dress catalog a hundred times.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” She pulled the catalogs from the bottom of the basket. “I should have given these to you when we first returned.” An hour earlier, she’d been dismayed by his reaction to the news that she’d promised Mrs. Vanderloo three dresses, but that worry had disappeared the moment she saw Blake with another woman. She handed over the catalogs. “I marked each gown with an X.”

  Jen’s jaw dropped. “You’re buying dresses from a catalog?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Ruth said.

  “Mr. Roth is buying you dresses?”

  “Jen!” Ruth could not believe her sister would say such a thing in front of Sam.

  Sam laughed. “I wish I was. Instead, I’m replacing the gowns that got ruined when I barged into your sister.”

  “Ooooh.” Jen gave Ruth a smug look. “I understand completely.”

  Ruth cringed at her sister’s tone. No doubt she figured her matchmaking was well under way. As soon as Sam left, Ruth would put an end to that speculation, but for now she could only confirm Sam’s explanation. “Mr. Roth did make that generous offer.”

  Jen’s grin broadened. “I can guess why.”

  “I’m sure you can’t.” Ruth glared at her sister before shifting her attention to Sam. “I’m sorry about the cost. I asked her to stay within reason, but she insisted on choosing the priciest gowns.”

  “She would,” Jen muttered before sticking her nose in the air to mimic the uppity woman. “Nothing is too good for a Vanderloo.”

  Jen’s imitation of Mrs. Vanderloo’s voice was so accurate that Ruth would have laughed if they hadn’t been in public. “That’s not nice!”

  “Why—” Jen fluttered her hands just like the socialite “—we’re practically related to the Vanderbilts.”

  “Hush,” Ruth hissed, before checking to make sure none of the Vanderloos was seated nearby. “What if she ends up being your mother-in-law?”

  That stopped the mimicry. In fact, Jen looked as if she’d swallowed one of Mrs. Vanderloo’s famously large hats.

  Ruth turned back to Sam and found him mildly amused. “Jen is quite the actress.”

  “So I see. I hope I don’t fall into her repertoire.”

  “Never,” Jen insisted. “You are thoroughly unmockable.”

  Ruth felt a pang of regret. The romance she’d sought to encourage was under way. She should promote Jen’s best qualities, as they’d agreed, but she couldn’t get the words out.

  Minnie chose that moment to drop onto the blanket. Her eyes looked swollen and her lower lip quivered. R
uth could guess why. Minnie must not have seen Reggie all day. Instead, she’d spent the past hour talking to Reggie’s sister-in-law.

  Ruth gently touched her baby sister’s arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” Minnie scowled and edged away. “It’s a perfect day. Just per-fect. Can’t anyone give me a little peace?”

  Something had happened, but Ruth would never learn what in front of Sam. She’d have to ask Minnie later.

  “It’s been a long day.” Ruth began packing up the remains of the picnic. “And I have an early day tomorrow.” She screwed the lid on the empty beet jar.

  “Me, too.” Sam stood abruptly, catalogs in hand. “Ladies.” He touched a finger to his hat. “Thank you for the excellent luncheon and even better companionship.”

  “Thank you for the cake. It was nice to meet you, Sam.” Jen extended her hand, which he shook. “Hope to see you again soon. I know Ruthie does. Isn’t her hair pretty today?”

  Goodness! Ruth could slap her sister. If this was the type of assistance Jen planned to offer, then her marriage idea was bound to fail. Any man, especially one as experienced as Sam, would run fast and far.

  But instead of running, Sam laughed. “Yes, it is. And I look forward to seeing you again, too, Miss Jen.” He reserved his smile for her and merely nodded at Ruth and Minnie.

  Ruth should be pleased. That was what she’d wanted. Instead, dejection settled over her as she packed up the remainder of their picnic.

  Sam walked away with the catalogs tucked into his jacket pocket and a tune on his lips. The casual ease of his stride and the jaunty angle of his hat caught and held Ruth as firmly as a spider’s web snared a fly.

  “He likes you,” Jen repeated for what had to be the hundredth time.

  Ruth gritted her teeth. “I think his affections lie elsewhere.”

  Jen plopped down next to her. “Have a little faith.”

  It would take more than faith. Ruth stacked the plates and shoved them into the basket. They were a sorry lot, moping over liaisons that could never happen. Maybe that was for the best. She scanned north one last time. She had either missed Blake or mistook him for someone else. She prayed it was the latter.