by Gina Welborn
Her heart leaped.
It was him! It had to be. Alike but not identical.
The old-enough-to-be-her-father gentleman on Mr. Gunderson’s right said, “Let me know if Tuesday doesn’t work. We would be happy to reschedule.”
“Tuesday is perfect, sir,” answered Mr. Gunderson, drawing Zoe’s attention. He smiled at the man’s wife. “Aunt Lily, I sure do like your apple pies.”
“Oh, Jakob, you know you just have to ask and I’ll make you one. I can never say no to you.” She looked at Zoe. “Miss de Fleur, I’m looking forward to visiting with you more over supper.”
Supper? Zoe felt her stomach drop. Oh no! She had missed part of the conversation.
She smiled at the woman. And hoped her initial expression had not conveyed her confusion. “I am looking forward to it, too.”
The woman—Aunt Lily—stepped closer, and Zoe breathed in the familiar orange-blossom cologne, the same delicate and expensive perfume Mrs. Gilfoyle-Crane favored.
“Meeting so many new people at once can be overwhelming.” The elegant woman’s voice softened with motherly concern. “That’s why I insisted to Jonas that we have you and Jakob over for a more relaxed time on Tuesday to get to know one another. Meals are easy moments to build friendships.” She hugged Zoe. “Marilyn and David will be so pleased.”
Marilyn and David? The names were familiar.
The dignified gentleman tipped his black top hat at Zoe and gave her a nod, small and polite. He then escorted his wife on to the church. This well-dressed, gracious couple should be a part of Mrs. Gilfoyle-Crane’s social set, not residents of a frontier town. Who were they?
“The Forsythes,” Mr. Gunderson whispered, even though he and Zoe were the only two remaining on the church lawn. “Your wondering is all over your face.”
“Is zis unflattering?”
He chuckled. “Nothing about you is unflattering.” Before Zoe had time to ponder his remark, he added, “Jonas Forsythe is one of four Montana territorial judges. And he’s my godfather.”
Judge Forsythe? She knew that name. Oh! He had written one of the letters of glowing reference for Mr. Gunderson. The words of his wife now made sense. Marilyn and David were Jakob Gunderson’s mother and stepfather and were bosom friends with the Forsythes. Love for one another had proliferated every letter Mrs. Archer had read Zoe about Jakob and his friends and family.
If only she had taken notes . . .
All in Mr. Gunderson’s file would stay in Mrs. Archer’s possession until he married or canceled his service with her.
Zoe looked up at Mr. Gunderson. “I would like to share a meal with ze Forsythes.”
“Is Tuesday all right?”
“I zink my schedule has an opening.”
He let out a little laugh. “I hope so.”
Zoe looped her arm around Mr. Gunderson’s, then fell into step with him.
As they walked, she tilted her head and studied Mr. Gunderson’s face. His gaze stayed fixed ahead. A growing scowl replaced his smile; unlike before, his pace seemed slower, the muscles under her palm tense. Something had soured his joy.
The most logical thing was—
She focused on the two men atop the church steps. Neither smiled. They exchanged words, their gazes on her, and then the dark-haired one disappeared inside the white-washed building.
“Zat is your brother, yes?” she said and wondered if she sounded as breathless to Mr. Gunderson as she sounded to herself. “Zere on ze church steps?”
He regarded her with a peculiar, steady gaze before looking to where his brother stood greeting church attendees. “That’s him.”
The church bell rang again.
A trio of redheaded boys raced around the building. They stopped abruptly at the bottom of the steps and lined up according to height.
“Ollie!” one yelled.
A fourth child—a girl with strawberry-blond braids to the middle of her back—skipped around the building, dangling a rag doll in her left hand and wearing black stockings with a hole in one knee. She slid between the second and third boy. In a sedate fashion, the four marched up the steps and took turns shaking Mr. Isaak Gunderson’s hand.
He then withdrew something from a waistcoat pocket, laid it in the girl’s upturned palm, and curled her fingers around it.
She nodded.
He said something to the three boys.
This time they nodded.
“. . . find you after the service,” he was saying when Zoe and Mr. Jakob Gunderson reached the church steps.
“Mornin’, Jakob,” the tallest boy called out before ushering the other three children—presumably his siblings—into the church.
Mr. Isaak Gunderson said nothing.
His green eyes fixed on Zoe, and her breath caught. He looked at her exactly as Chef Henri always had. It took all her fortitude not to lower her gaze, as she had four years ago and every other time she had been in Chef Henri’s presence. She held still. This man was not Chef Henri.
She lifted her chin and smiled. “Bonjour, Mr. Gunderson.”
“Welcome to Helena, Miss de Fleur.” He glanced over his shoulder into the church, then looked back and said, “The service is about to start.”
“This is the moment”—Mr. Jakob Gunderson squeezed Zoe’s hand, which lay on his arm—“when you should start calling me Jakob or things will get confusing. Trust me, if you say Mr. Gunderson, everyone in town will think you’re talking about him.”
Zoe looked from brother to brother. Two Mr. Gundersons. Jakob, with his happy eyes and easy grin, was the more attractive.
And charming. And likable.
Although Mr. Isaak Gunderson’s dislike might not be aimed at her, he was glaring at his brother with bristling hostility, and Jakob’s smile seemed forced. Twice in her life, she had awoken to discover a parent was gone: her mother, when she left to live in Italy, and then the day her father died. The Gunderson brothers needed to be reminded of the importance of family.
She must do something to help. But what?
Meals were easy moments in which to build friendships. Zoe had no kitchen to prepare a meal. Perhaps a good solution would be to ask Mr. Gunderson to join them for lunch. Surely the hotel restaurant could accommodate a third person added to their reservation.
“Jakob,” she said, and instantly liked the way his name sounded on her tongue.
“Yes?”
“I zink we should invite your brother to share a meal with us.”
* * *
The woman was everything Isaak feared she’d be: exotically beautiful, speaking with a fake French accent, and already bossing his brother around. He didn’t see the poor relative but had no doubt one would turn up in a day or two.
And she’d made her first big mistake.
Isaak stared down at her from his superior height. “I think a shared meal is a wonderful idea. I’ll cook.”
The woman turned her chocolate-brown eyes on Jakob, who was too busy staring daggers at Isaak to notice.
Isaak smirked. Perhaps the vixen didn’t have her claws in quite as deep as she thought. He raised his eyebrows and continued to meet his brother’s glare.
“Zat will be lovely.” There was a bit of uncertainty in her voice, which should have thrilled him.
It didn’t. Isaak slanted his gaze to her, surprised and annoyed at the prickle in his soul warning that he’d done something to upset her.
Oh, she was good. No wonder Jakob couldn’t see past that pretty face and perfect figure.
“Church is about to start.” Isaak stepped back to let them pass. “Meet me at home after service is over.”
Miss de Fleur looked between him and Jakob before stepping across the threshold.
Jakob leaned close to whisper, “You can’t invite a woman over to the house without a chaperone.”
Isaak stiffened. As if he didn’t already know that.
“I’ll take care of it.” He patted his brother’s shoulder to move him along. Too bad Mrs. H
ollenbeck wasn’t back from her European tour. The conversation would have turned to travel, and then the de Fleur vixen would be caught in her own trap. Isaak doubted she knew anything about France except what could be gleaned from books.
Windsor Buchanan returned from wherever he had gone and closed his side of the double doors. “Thought you said she’d be ugly and at least fifty.”
Isaak shut his door and turned to look at the pew where Jakob and Miss de Fleur stood chatting with Yancey Palmer. “I was wrong about that, but I’m not wrong on the whole.” Sure, her appearance wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but Miss de Fleur was too pretty, with her curling black hair that refused to stay pinned up so little ringlets framed her heart-shaped face and danced along the curve of her shapely neck. Had he not read the article about the intelligent men taken in by women claiming to be foreign brides, he might have fallen for her himself.
Windsor crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever you need, I’ve got your back.”
Isaak thanked him with a nod and surveyed the church attendees who were gradually taking their seats in search of anyone who had taken a European tour or had relatives in France. Only Edward Tandy fit the bill, and a third man around the dinner table with a lone woman was not appropriate.
If Isaak couldn’t have Mrs. Hollenbeck as a chaperone, the next best person was his godmother, Lily Forsythe. Uncle Jonas was taking her to Paris for their tenth wedding anniversary, and she was a voracious reader. She’d know if something Miss de Fleur said about her supposed homeland was wrong. Isaak turned to his right and made his way down the aisle to the third row, where the Forsythes were sitting.
Murmuring his apologies, Isaak scooted past the Watson family. He reached the vacant seat next to his godmother just as Reverend Neven called for everyone to rise for the first hymn. Isaak took the hymnal from the pew back in front of him and opened to hymn number 323, “Blessed Assurance.” He held it low so Aunt Lily could share it with him.
She chuckled. “Can you see the words from that great a distance?”
Isaak’s lips twitched and the tension in his gut eased. “Shall I sit down so we’re the same height?”
“That would help.” The voice was Yancey Palmer’s and came from behind him.
He craned his neck to look at her. “Sorry, Yance. I’ll slouch during the sermon.”
She grinned at him, and he was glad to see the humor reached her eyes. After Joseph Hendry died—and their engagement along with him—her parents had sent her to Denver for a long visit with her sister, Luanne. It had done her a world of good.
Isaak returned his attention to the hymnal for the duration of the song, but as they were sitting down, he leaned close to Aunt Lily and whispered, “Would you be available to come for lunch after church? I need a chaperone for Jakob’s Miss de Fleur.”
She placed a gloved hand at the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry, but we’re promised to the Cannons this afternoon.”
“I can come,” Yancey spoke again. “And I’ll bring Carline and Geddes, too. We’ll have a merry time.”
Isaak groaned.
Chapter Seven
“Zat is why your brother is upset with you?” Zoe whispered back in shock as she and Jakob stood in the foyer of his parents’ home, still wearing their outer garments. She had been right to suspect a conflict between the brothers. “Oh, Jakob, do you not see how keeping your contract with ze Archer Matrimonial Company from your brother was most hurtful?”
“It wasn’t Isaak’s business to know.” His expression grim, Jakob shrugged off his greatcoat. He laid it on the mirrored hall tree bench, atop the other coats and cloaks of those who had arrived before them. “Besides, Zoe, his feelings don’t get hurt like a normal person’s.”
Zoe held back her retort. Everyone had feelings, even his brother.
She untied then removed her bonnet. “Are you ashamed of me? Is zat why you kept me a secret?”
“How could I be ashamed of you?” He hung her bonnet and his black hat on empty hooks and then continued to speak softly so no one in the drawing room would overhear them. “The only thing I knew about you was your name and that you’d arrived in Denver because you wanted to be my mail-order bride.”
Zoe grimaced. Becoming his bride had never been a consideration until Mrs. Archer revealed Nico’s falsehood about someone wanting to hire a chef for the finest kitchen west of the Mississippi. She opened her mouth with the intention of finally telling Jakob about Nico, but this moment was about Jakob and his brother, not her and Nico.
Instead she said, “Zat was a misunderstanding.”
“And I for one am quite thankful. What brought you to me matters little in light of the fact you are here.” A smile lifted the corners of Jakob’s lips. “We covered at least three months of correspondence with all the talking we did yesterday.”
She nodded in response. Yesterday had been one of the best days of her life. Never before had she met someone with such an effortless ability to fill silences. Most of all, she appreciated the way he never pressured her for information she felt uncomfortable sharing.
She removed her gloves, then handed them to him before she unbuttoned the mantelet covering her crimson dress.
Jakob slid it from her shoulders. He added her belongings to the mirrored hall tree. “I’d planned to tell Isaak about you—or whoever answered my advertisement—when the time was right.” He shrugged. “Things went faster with you than I expected. Don’t look at me like that. I know . . . yesterday was the right time.”
“Zen why did you not confess all?”
“It’s a brother thing.”
“What is a ‘brother zing’?”
“If you had a sibling, you’d understand.”
Zoe winced at the sting his words brought. Her life would be different had she had a sibling. Or a mother. Or if Papa were still alive.
Jakob rubbed the back of his neck. “Isaak and I are each other’s best friend and worst enemy. We say and do things to each other that we’d never let someone else do. Does that make sense?”
How could something be both good and bad? Oh!
“You are salt,” she said with a smile. “Too much ruins a dish. Ze right amount makes ze meal—parfait!
“Par-fay?”
“It means perfect in French.”
“Isaak and I are both salt.” He chuckled. “All right, I like that comparison. It makes us equals.”
Zoe gripped his hands. “My heart breaks knowing you and your brother are at odds.”
His hands moved to cradle hers. “You think now is my new right time to talk to him?”
She lifted her shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. It was not her place to force her opinions or views on anyone. But she wished harmony upon the twins. She could only hope in time they would repair the rift between them, preferably sooner than later.
His troubled gaze shifted to the drawing room, where the other guests were waiting. “Now isn’t the right time anyway. I need to stay and help you socialize. When Yancey and Carline are together, they can be overwhelming, especially to people who are shy, like you are. Geddes will find something to distract himself from their loquacious exuberance.”
Unsure of how to respond, Zoe stood there and waited. Clearly, he had to talk himself into a decision.
He released her hands, then gripped both lapels of his black suit coat. “The problem with discussing this with Isaak right now is that, when he’s cooking, he doesn’t want anyone talking to him.” His shoulders slumped as he let out a long, loud exhale. “Seems to me the ‘right time’ would be when it’s a good time for both people.”
Zoe lifted her shoulder in another noncommittal shrug.
He groaned. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t know Isaak like I do. Nothing I say will make a difference,” he argued aloud, as if trying to convince himself. “Once Isaak believes he’s right, he doesn’t change his mind.”
He fell silent.
After a long moment, and several paces around
the foyer, he remarked, “If my parents were here, they would say, ‘A kind word chases away wrath.’”
“It does.”
He shook his head helplessly. “I really don’t have a choice.”
Zoe sighed.
“I need to go talk to Isaak anyway,” he continued. “He ought to be warned that you’re a highly trained chef—”
“Household cook,” she corrected.
“—since he’s so proud of his cooking,” he finished with more conviction than anything else he’d said since their arrival at the house. He sighed wearily. “But first I’ll apologize to him for keeping him in the dark about my contract with the Archer Matrimonial Company.”
For a moment, she was struck dumb. Jakob Gunderson was such a good man to admit he had been in the wrong.
He stepped closer to her. “I probably ought to ask you this officially, instead of just depending on the contract you signed.” He drew her hand to his chest, resting it palm down over his heart. “Zoe de Fleur, would you do me the honor of allowing me to court you for the next sixty days?”
“Fifty-nine,” she corrected. “Ze contract began yesterday.”
“Indeed it did.”
She smiled. “Indeed you may.”
* * *
Isaak was stirring potatoes on the cookstove when Jakob strolled into the kitchen and announced, “Zoe is worried that we’re fighting.”
This morning she was Miss de Fleur and now Zoe! Typical of Jakob to remove respectful status boundaries after so short an acquaintance.
Isaak kept stirring, letting the rest of what his brother said sink in. “What did you say that made her think we were?”
Jakob leaned his hip against a cupboard. “She just sensed it. She wanted me to come in here and apologize to you for not saying anything about her before she arrived. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Isaak stopped stirring. Clearly, the woman had figured out that, despite their current disagreement, both brothers would need to be persuaded into this crazy matrimonial plan.
Not going to happen.
Jakob crossed one ankle over the other. “I don’t want to argue again. It seems it’s all we’ve done for the past few days. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about my contract with Mrs. Archer, but I’m not going to have you treat Zoe with disrespect because you don’t agree with how she ended up in Helena.”