“Actually…I hardly wanted the two of you to know,” Adam admitted. “But since you do, you might as well have these.”
Cheerfully he offered the flowers again. Marcus took his, finding their delicate blossoms strange in his big hand. With a fond shake of her head, Molly accepted her nosegay as well. She lifted it to inhale its sweet fragrance, then twirled the blooms as she gazed over their colorful tops at Marcus.
“So, now you know the truth,” she said.
He nodded. “I’d never have guessed it.” He probably should not reveal this now, but Marcus couldn’t help it. His curiosity was too strong. “Especially since the matchmaker’s handwriting matched the script in your account books, Molly.”
It was her turn to look enlightened. “Aha. No wonder you were so certain about me! But you were wrong. Papa tried to help me with my accounting methods, remember? That is why you saw his handwriting there, while you were snooping.”
Marcus accepted her teasing, knowing he deserved it and knowing they’d settled things between them at last. “That makes sense. But how…why—”
“Oh, Copeland. If you were the father of three daughters, you would understand.” Adam gave a long, weary sigh as he settled into one of the wirework chairs. “I told them they could marry for love. But when year after year passes with no daughters leaving the house, a man gets a tad desperate. You’d do the same, for a little peace and quiet.”
“Papa!” Molly gave him a mock-censorious shake of her head. “You know there’s more to it than that.”
With a shrug, Adam gazed at the pair of them. “I only want to see my daughters happy. Truth be told—”
“Truth be told, he likes matchmaking,” Molly assured Marcus. “He likes to meddle, he likes to stir up trouble, and he likes to have a hand in everything. Isn’t that right, Papa?”
“Truth be told,” Adam repeated with genial patience, directing his answer at Marcus, “I think you just might be the man to make this particular daughter happy. Welcome to the family, son.”
“You may live to regret it,” Molly warned.
Adam harumphed. “Aside from the bark and berries dinners and the excess of hair ribbons in my parlor…it’s not so bad.”
“I welcome it all,” Marcus said. “So long as Molly comes with it.”
Giving him a sweet smile, Molly moved to stand beside him. They joined hands, comfortable together now. “Thank you, Marcus.” She paused. “But I insist upon making our home at your house.”
They all laughed. Moments later, a knocking at the bakery door surprised them. Grunting, Adam Crabtree went to answer it.
“I’ll get that. I’d better be off to the newspaper office anyway.” He stopped beside Marcus and gave him a no-nonsense look. “You can have my daughter, Copeland. But I’ll need one thing from you in exchange.”
“Anything.” Marcus squeezed Molly’s hand, filled with joy.
“You’ll have to keep my secret, like my daughters do. No one can know I’m the matchmaker. Not even the Morrow Creek Men’s Club.”
Silently, Marcus considered it. For the entire space of a hairbreadth. “Agreed. You have my word. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Fair enough.” Adam nodded, then opened the door. As he left, Marcus and Molly stepped backward, surprised to see several more men filing in after him.
First was Smith, rolling in a familiar-looking barrel. He upended it as several more lumbermen followed behind him. The rattle of coins inside it was music to Marcus’s ears. He sneaked a glance at Molly.
She stared, dumbfounded, as more and more lumbermen made their way into her small bakeshop. They occupied all the chairs, crowded into the corners, filled the place near to bursting. A hubbub rose as they shuffled their feet and whispered to each other, several men wearing wide grins.
His foreman met Marcus’s eye. In that single glance, Marcus understood. He nodded his agreement to Smith.
“Shouldn’t you men all be at work?” Marcus demanded. “What are you about, heading into town during a workday? There’s timber to be felled, lumber to be hauled! Get your sorry selves out of this bakery and get to work.”
Beside him, Molly tensed. She shot him a worried glance.
Smith shook his head. “The men are on strike, boss.”
“On strike? That’s outrageous.”
His foreman gave an apologetic shrug. “It seems they won’t work without having their conditions met.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, enjoying his role. He tried to appear as menacing as possible. “What conditions?”
“Well, first…” Smith loosened his shirt collar as though desperately afraid of what might happen next. The man always had been a bit of a show-off. “First, you have to agree to take back this here delectables money. The men have been paying for their own sweets for weeks now, and you know it.”
Molly gasped. Marcus made a small show of grumbling, even kicked his foot a little. “Fine. What else?”
“Cinnamon buns!” came the roar of the assembled men. “We won’t work without cinnamon buns!”
“And snickerdoodles!”
“Lemon tarts!”
“Apple tea cakes!”
Amid the shouting out of sweets, Marcus turned to Molly. She seemed truly flabbergasted. She laid her hand over her heart and looked out over the rough-hewn lumbermen clamoring for her baked goods. A wide smile broke across her face.
She met his gaze. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“My pleasure.”
Marcus shooed a man from a nearby chair. Spanning Molly’s waist with his hands, Marcus lifted her onto it. Standing there, she addressed his men.
“I’ll get to baking right away,” she promised.
“Hurrah!”
The lumbermen’s roar of approval was deafening. As one, they pushed forward with money in hand. Molly burst out laughing.
“She can’t very well bake if you won’t give her room to breathe,” Marcus said, commanding quiet from the men. “Head on out, now. Miss Crabtree will make an appearance at the mill soon enough.”
Still talking and cheering, the men obediently filed out again, their wishes fulfilled. Smith was the last to leave. He thumped the money-filled barrel with a satisfied motion, then offered a salute to Marcus and Molly.
“Happy things worked out for you two,” he said with a smile. “I knew I had the right of it, boss.”
They watched the foreman leave. Then, alone in the shop, Marcus lowered Molly from her perch on the chair.
He pulled her into his arms once more. “Finally. I thought they’d never leave.”
She smiled up at him. “I know. I need to get baking! Can you imagine the orders I’ll have? It will be wonderful. With steady customers, I’ll be free to try new recipes, to invest in supplies, to buy new baking pans! In a few years, I might even have the where-withal to enlarge the bakeshop. Oh, Marcus! Isn’t this exciting? I’d better get started right away.”
“In a minute,” he assured her, delighting in her nearness, her excitement, her happiness. No one could chatter like Molly, but now, he loved her for it. “First, there’s something I have to show you.”
“Oh?” Her nose scrunched adorably. “What is it?”
“This,” Marcus said, and lowered his head for another, lingering kiss. “Because in all this world, the only thing sweeter than those cinnamon buns of yours is the two of us, together.”
“Forever,” she agreed.
And when their lips met again, Marcus knew that she was right. However it had come about, he and Molly were a match made in magic. A match that would last…forever.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4322-4
THE MATCHMAKER
Copyright © 2003 Lisa G. Plumley
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Lisa Plumley - [Crabtree 01] Page 25