The Kitchen Marriage

by Gina Welborn

  “Zat would be helpful. Zank you.” Zoe looped her reticule around her wrist. By the time she reached the double front doors, the right one opened.

  Nico smiled at her. “Hey, Zoe.”

  She looked past him to Isaak. His eyes met hers, and she swore she could see right into his soul, feel his breathless longing. Or maybe it was hers. Marry me. Or maybe it was Marry me! Her heart beat too frantically for her to hear his thoughts—to hear her thoughts, not his. Indeed, she was no mind reader, despite her grand-mère’s Romany blood.

  Zoe felt her cheeks grow warm. “I am sorry,” she said to cover the awkward silence. “Did you say something?”

  Nico backhanded Isaak’s arm.

  Isaak removed his hat and said, “Good day, Miss de Fleur.”

  They backed up and motioned for her to walk past.

  She did. Before she could formulate a response, they walked inside the bank; the brass-covered door closed with a rattle.

  Zoe looked at the door, then down the boardwalk to where Mr. Deal was standing beside the wagon, waiting to take her to The Import Company. He waved.

  “Excuse me.” A gentleman brushed past Zoe to enter the bank.

  The door opened and closed before Zoe could catch a glimpse of Isaak or Nico.

  With a growl under her breath, she strode to the wagon. Whatever they were about was none of her business.

  * * *

  “Zis truly is a beautiful shop,” Zoe remarked, standing at The Import Company’s entrance as she studied the grandeur of Jakob’s creation. “Your parents must be proud.”

  Jakob nodded, his smile taking its own sweet time to grow. He gave her a mischievous sideways look. “My parents enjoyed yesterday’s lunch. They were looking forward to tonight’s dinner.”

  “Mrs. Wiley and Mrs. Forsythe can salvage dinner from what I had already prepared.”

  “Aunt Lily does work wonders with food.” He gripped the lapels of his suit coat. “I know I don’t deserve an answer, but I just have to know.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting. “Was it only Isaak for you from the moment you two met?”

  “He was hard to love at first.”

  “It’s not easy living in his shadow.”

  Zoe reached up and touched his cheek. “Jakob Gunderson, you are a good man. Just as good and kind and honorable as your brother is. Zere is a girl for you.”

  His eyes grew watery.

  Zoe pretended interest in her reticule to give him a moment to collect himself . . . and for her to blink away her tears as well. Her heart hurt. Like someone had hacked a cleaver into her breastbone.

  He cleared his throat. “Hey, um, how about a tour of the rest of the building?”

  “Zat would be lovely, but Mr. Deal is waiting outside. I promised him I would be but fifteen minutes.” She grimaced. “It has been twice”—she glanced at an ebony grandfather clock and corrected herself—“three times zat.”

  “Most of that time was spent listening to you apologize for ending our contract.”

  Zoe raised her brows. Jakob had talked and apologized far more than she had.

  Jakob broke into that easy laughter of his that never ceased to make Zoe smile. “You’re a good sport, Zoe de Fleur. Let me escort you out of here before I decide to charm you into staying in Helena.” He opened the door.

  Zoe stepped outside and stopped; Jakob bumped into her back.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, moving around to her side. “Is something wrong?”

  She blinked. “I believe I saw—” She leaned to the right to get a better look at Dr. Abernathy’s front window across the street, but all she saw through the clear glass was the dentist writing something in a book that rested on his counter. She could have sworn Nico and Isaak had been standing on either side of the man.

  She looked at Jakob. “What is on your brother’s schedule today?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night. Best guess is he’s organizing fire cleanup. Have you forgiven him?”

  “Not particularly.” Zoe looked back at the dentist.

  He waved.

  She did, too.

  “Miss de Fleur?”

  Zoe looked to where Mr. Deal stood next to the wagon. “Yes?”

  “We should get moving. The train leaves the station in less than an hour, and I need to take you back to the bank.”

  Jakob placed a brotherly kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “I hope you find what you’re seeking.”

  Zoe nodded and walked away before she gave in to her tears.

  Northern Pacific Railway Depot

  Zoe settled onto the two-person upholstered seat, impressed at how the gold baroque fabric matched that of the rolling shade. Mr. Deal had been more than generous to upgrade her ticket from second class to the plush Pullman Palace car. The ornate rococo style, with its gold accents, shell-like curves, and mahogany wood, made her feel like she was in a chateau.

  She peeked around the shade and breathed a sigh of relief. Yancey had been too busy in the telegraph office to notice Zoe walking through the depot.

  Saying good-bye to Jakob had been difficult enough.

  The train whistle blew one final call for boarders.

  The blue-uniformed railroad officer who had escorted Zoe to her seat stepped back into the car. His gaze moved past the two older ladies in the seat two rows ahead of Zoe. “Miss de Fleur?” he said, looking at her.

  “Yes?”

  “Excellent.” He turned around, and after saying, “She’s in here,” he exited the car.

  Nico dashed down the aisle, tapestry bag in one hand, rolled up sheet of paper in the other. “Sorry I’m late,” he said breathlessly. “I had Mr. Deal write down the address for us to go to in Coeur d’Alene in case his niece is unable to meet us.” He looked around and whistled. “Whoa, this is what I call first class.”

  “Sit down.”

  His gaze shifted from her seat to the one facing hers. “Does it matter where I sit?”

  “I do not know,” Zoe said with a sigh. “Never have I been in a car like zis. Ze railroad officer said zere is also a dining car and”—she pointed to the upper berth—“zat folds down and zese two facing seats fold over to make a bunk for sleeping.”

  “Humph. Seems like a lot of work just to have somewhere to lay down.” Nico tossed his tapestry bag onto the seat across from her. He plopped down next to his bag. “Ready to start a new adventure?”

  Zoe nodded. “Why were you late?”

  “I had things to take care of.”

  “Oh?”

  “Things,” he answered, tapping the rolled paper on his thigh. “Important ones.”

  Zoe eased the shade back enough for her to see the boarding platform. Mr. Deal stood there. The remaining people milling about were unfamiliar to her.

  The train jerked forward, momentum increasing with each turn of the wheels.

  “You looking for someone?” Nico asked.

  Zoe released the shade and the smidgeon of hope that Isaak would chase her down and beg her not to leave him because she was his forever. Life would be wonderful because they were together. Or so he would say, and so she would agree. If he had chased her down.

  “Why do you zink I am looking for someone?”

  Nico shrugged. “You seem lonely.”

  “I am happy you are with me.”

  “We’re a good team, aren’t we?”

  “Zis is true.”

  He shrugged off his corduroy coat, then laid it and his flattened derby next to his tapestry bag, which he then opened to remove a leather-bound book. He looked up and saw her watching him. “It’s from Miss Lester. She said the author, Jules Verne, is French.”

  “Papa used to read his stories to me when I was a little girl.”

  Nico said nothing for a long moment. “I did all of this for you because we’re family. We’ll always be family. Always. Sometimes a team is better with three. Or four. Or twelve.” And then he opened his book and started reading aloud. “‘Chapter on
e in which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other, the one as master, the other as man. Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at . . .’”

  Zoe closed her eyes and listened.

  When she lived at the Crane house, she had dreamed of her husband and the cottage where they would live with their children and a bird that talked. He would bring her fresh flowers every day when he returned home from work. She would love, feed, and cherish him. Not once had she imagined Nico in her idyllic dream. But here he was. And here she was. They would be happy.

  Because they were together.

  Carpe diem.

  The tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and the pad of a thumb gently brushed it away.

  Zoe jolted and looked up.

  Isaak stood there, gripping a traveling bag and a small paper sack. He reached inside his suit coat and withdrew a train ticket. “According to this”—his gaze flickered to the space next to her—“that’s my seat.”

  His seat?

  “Hey, Isaak.”

  “Hey, Nico.”

  “What took you so long? I’ve been stalling as best I could, but my sister is impatient.”

  Zoe stared speechless at them both.

  “Sorry.” Isaak set his traveling bag next to Nico’s, then settled next to Zoe. “They put me in the dining car. There were pastries.”

  “Whoa. Could you eat as many as you wanted?”

  “As many as they let me.”

  “That’s less impressive.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you really let free pastries delay you when the love of your life is waiting for you to sweep her off her feet?”

  “I figured a little delay would make her miss me more. Did it work?”

  Nico laughed. “Sure did.”

  Isaak tossed the paper sack onto Nico’s lap. “Those are for you.”

  Nico gave Isaak the rolled-up paper. “Don’t know if this’ll help Sheriff McCall, but it’s something.”

  “Sure is.” Isaak tucked the paper inside his suit coat.

  Zoe finally found her voice. “What is going on?”

  Nico sent Isaak a meaningful look. “We’ll tell you in a minute, but first, me and Isaak want to know if our plan worked.”

  “Worked?” Zoe repeated, still at a loss.

  Isaak cradled her left hand in his right one. “Your brother and I have spent the day fishing.”

  “That was my idea,” Nico put in.

  “Fishing?” Zoe looked back and forth between the pair. Their smiles gave it away. “I am ze fish you were baiting.”

  They both nodded.

  “But what makes you zink I wish to be caught?” she said with as much false indignation as she could muster.

  Isaak looked at Nico.

  “Excuse me, Zoe.” He closed his book, grabbed his sack of pastries, and stood. “This is my cue to give you two some time alone.” He eased past Isaak and moved up to the front of the car, sitting on the bench to the right of the car’s only other passengers.

  Isaak shifted to face Zoe. “After the way I mucked things up yesterday, I figured you’d never wanted to see me again. I used all my fine words in my proposal. I was out of ideas, so I found your brother.”

  She spoke softly. “You know Nico is not my real brother.”

  “He’s as much your brother as Jakob is mine.”

  “You truly believe zat?”

  “With all my heart.” His gaze flickered to Nico. “He loves you.”

  “I know,” Zoe whispered.

  “Not as much as I love you.” Isaak eased the glove off her hand, then placed a kiss on her upturned wrist.

  Zoe’s pulse quickened.

  He threaded his fingers through hers. “Today has been torturous. Being that close to you yet unable to hold you in my arms. You’ll never know how many times I imagined—” He cleared his throat. “I want to marry you, Zoe de Fleur. I started falling for you when you made me close my eyes and listen to Ma’s finches.”

  “But for Jakob . . .”

  Isaak sighed. “But for him . . .”

  Zoe rested her head against the side of his arm. “Your brother and I agreed to end our courtship contract. I zink we are still friends.”

  “He and I are still friends, too. Did I mention my train ticket goes all the way to Portland?”

  She shifted to face him. “Why are you going all ze way to Portland?”

  “I have tickets for you and Nico to go to Portland, too.” Isaak looked hesitant, tense, worried.

  “Are you moving to Portland?”

  “I will if you will,” he said firmly. “I’m running away with you and Nico, if you’ll let me.”

  “I have no wish to live in Portland.” Zoe moistened her bottom lip. “Or Coeur d’Alene, no matter how lovely ze Deals say it is.”

  “There are things lovelier than Coeur d’Alene. Trust me.” His gaze fell to her lips. He slowly met her gaze. “Where do you want to live?”

  Zoe dipped her chin, hoping the brim of her bonnet would shield her teary eyes. Her pulse raced as the words formed in her mind, growing from her heart, spreading out from her soul. She could no longer hide from him.

  She breathed deep and looked him straight in the eye. “I want to live wherever you are. I love you more zan you love sweets.”

  “Then how about we get married?”

  “Married?”

  “We can elope in Portland. Does that interest you?”

  Her heart fluttered with thousands of yeses.

  “What about Nico?” she whispered.

  “He can tag along. We need a reliable witness.”

  “He is family.”

  “That he is. I love you,” Isaak whispered, and then winked, “almost as much as I love sweets.”

  Zoe gasped. “You are most—”

  “Wonderful?”

  A host of adjectives rose to mind as a response, but Zoe chose to be harmonious and say, “Yes, you are most wonderful, indeed.”

  Epilogue

  Saturday, May 5

  He was admiring a set of silver candlesticks imported from Spain when Madame Lestraude strolled up, a primal smile on her rouged lips. She held out a folded piece of parchment sealed with burgundy wax imprinted with a solitary rose.

  Furious at her bold approach, he took the letter. “I hope you’re enjoying the grand opening.”

  “Immensely. Everyone is abuzz with the grandeur of the store and Mr. Gunderson’s withdrawal from the mayoral race. I can only imagine your feelings on the matter.”

  “It came as something of a shock.”

  “Ah.” The puff of air conveyed nothing. “As for me, the announcement was . . . enlightening. A pleasure to see you as always. I trust we will meet again very soon.” With that, she bid him adieu and slipped back into the crush of people eager to touch, smell, and own pieces of the world outside Helena.

  He snapped the wax seal while checking to see how many people noticed their exchange. No one was looking at him with shock or censure—why would they, when Big Jane, Chicago Joe, and several other wealthy brothel owners were shopping and exchanging pleasantries in their midst?—but his chest remained tight. He glanced down and read:

  C’eWst guerre!

  ML

  Why declare war? He’d done nothing to her family. Emilia McCall had escaped the fire with no damage save a bit of ash falling on her hair and shoulders.

  He crumpled the parchment between his fingers. The madam and her enigmatic message would have to wait. He weaved his way closer to the door. His lungs needed air untainted by scented candles, quarreling perfumes, and hair pomade. As he stepped into the sunshine, he saw Madame Lestraude step into her carriage. Her driver closed the door and mounted the box.

  Madame turned, her eyes on him as deliberate as her slow pull drawing down the shade.

  Did she think he would come to her now? No, their next meeting would be the time and place of his choosing.

  Only . . .

  He craned his neck to look over his left shoulder and then his ri
ght. No one would think twice if he crossed the street to join husbands biding their time with cigars and conversation while their wives spent money on things they didn’t need but could afford. From there, he could stroll to the shuttered bank as if he was returning to his office and duck into the carriage when no one was looking.

  Fisk lifted a hand in greeting.

  He waved back and stepped into the street, careful to avoid the dense piles of manure testifying to the success of today’s grand opening.

  He took his time chatting with Fisk, Cannon, Watson, and several other important men of Helena, relishing the way it kept Madame Lestraude waiting. Her carriage remained motionless except for an occasional horse’s stamp of impatience. Anyone who had noticed her ascent was gone, and everyone else would think it empty.

  He excused himself from the men after sparking a debate sure to consume their full attention. As he drew even with the door of her carriage, he stopped, pulled out his pocket watch, and pretended to check the time while skittering his gaze left and right to see if anyone was watching him.

  No one.

  He opened the carriage door and climbed inside. “I am not your lackey to command.”

  “Yet here you are.” Madame Lestraude knocked on the wall of her carriage and it sprang to life. “Don’t worry, we shall set you down somewhere close enough for you to walk back to the grand opening, but far enough away that no one will observe your descent.”

  “What if someone had seen me?”

  “Then you should have taken even more care in your circuitous route.” She inclined her head toward the curtains. “I find it quite useful to observe without being observed myself.”

  He picked up the cane he’d tossed inside before his hasty ascent to cover his embarrassment. “What is so important it couldn’t wait until a more opportune time?”

  “Ah.” The syllable scraped across his nerve endings. “I shall enlighten you, because Helena has grown too large for one man to know all that goes on within it.”

  His pride pricked, as she’d meant it to. Once upon a time he had known everyone and everything that happened inside of Helena. Had campaigned on it, as a matter of fact. The city was too large now. He was no longer at the center of every social circle as he once had been.