From Boss to Bridegroom

by Karen Kirst

  When the closing prayer had been said, she reluctantly returned Victoria to Josh’s arms.

  “Join us for lunch.” He cradled his daughter close to his chest. “You can cuddle with this little girl once she’s been fed.”

  Caleb and Rebecca added that they were going to be there, as well. Rebecca looked hopeful. “It’s been weeks. I’m dying to hear more about your young friends.”

  Nicole’s attention shot to the rear of the church, to where Lucian and Megan were introducing the siblings to folks. They’d arrived late and so hadn’t seen Nicole’s chopped locks. Dread soured her stomach.

  She hated to think of poor Lillian’s reaction. While she was thrilled about their change in situation, a tiny part of her was reluctant to expose them to her “real” life.

  “I’ll come,” she told Rebecca.

  “Well, if it isn’t the most stylish lady in Tennessee.”

  A shiver of awareness whispered down her spine and, spinning, she met Quinn’s shining eyes. “Hi.”

  Caleb and Josh took turns shaking Quinn’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough for what you did for Nicole,” Josh said.

  Before he could respond, the other male members of her family surrounded them in order to echo the gratitude. Others joined the circle to offer their pledges of support. Not everyone in attendance agreed with his decision, however. Some chose to take the young men’s sides. Out of the corner of her eye, Nicole saw the angry glances and scowls directed his way.

  When most everyone had trickled down the aisle, Rebecca invited Quinn to lunch.

  “I wish I could,” he said, “but Claude Jenkins and his wife asked me first.”

  “Another time, then,” Josh said.

  “I would enjoy that very much.” Quinn addressed Nicole. “May I have a quick word before you go?”

  Nodding, she accepted his proffered arm and allowed him to guide her out into the overcast day. They turned in the direction of the cemetery.

  Once they were away from prying ears, he glanced at her. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” Belatedly, embarrassed color suffused her cheeks. Focusing on the horizon instead of him, she said, “I apologize for blubbering all over you. I can’t believe I overreacted like that.”

  Quinn halted, silent until she looked at him. Gone was the easy charm. His brown eyes were intent. “Don’t apologize. You had every right to be upset.”

  His nearness proved too much of a temptation. She’d experienced the wonder of being in those arms and wanted to experience it again. She mustn’t want or expect such things from him. More importantly, she would be saying goodbye in the not-so-distant future.

  For much of her life, Nicole had relied on no one but herself. Whenever she’d been hurt or lonely, she’d escaped those feelings by losing herself in her work. She couldn’t start relying on Quinn.

  Pulling free, she walked a few steps away to rest her fingers on the cemetery gate, her attention on the procession of weathered headstones. A thick veil of whitish-gray clouds stretched across the sky. The air carried moisture that hinted of an impending rain shower.

  “By defending my honor, you’ve put yourself in a terrible position. I wish you hadn’t done that. I could’ve put up with their presence in the store a while longer.”

  He joined her at the gate. “My father taught me to stick to my decisions. He said that second-guessing them would foster distrust in my employees.” Angling toward her, he gently tugged on a curl. “I did what I thought was right. I’m trusting God to work out the rest.”

  Quinn’s solid faith was yet another quality she admired. Worrying wasn’t going to solve anything. Plus, it surely didn’t please God. She offered up a silent prayer for help in remembering to trust Him.

  “I should go,” he said, his reluctance plain as he gazed over his shoulder at the emptying churchyard.

  Nicole had mixed feelings. While she would’ve liked his company at dinner, it really wasn’t wise. His incredible gentleness held immense power over her, scattering her defenses like the wisps of a dandelion on the breeze.

  Starting off toward the church, she said, “I’m glad folks are beginning to extend the hand of friendship to you. It’s about time.”

  He fell into step beside her. “Your family has made me feel welcome from the very beginning. They’re good people.” His focus on his polished shoes traversing the trampled grass trail, he observed, “I have a suspicion you’ll miss them more than you realize.”

  Before Quinn’s arrival in Gatlinburg, Nicole would’ve refuted that statement with vehemence. Not now. Her relationship with the special women in her life had altered because she’d risked opening up to them. The move would interrupt that progress.

  “You’re probably right. However, distance from family and friends didn’t stop you from pursuing your goals, did it? You’re surviving.”

  “I am not trying to dissuade you. Simply warning you it’s not easy, starting over in a new place all alone.”

  Her own doubts surging, she stopped midstride. “You don’t think I can make it, do you?”

  His soft laughter surprised her. “Quite the opposite, my dear. If anyone can make it in the business world, it’s you. Not only do you have the mental tools—” he tapped his forehead “—you’re passionate and driven. I have no doubt the ladies of Knoxville and beyond will be clamoring to model your clothes.”

  They parted then, and Quinn’s words stayed with her the remainder of the day. As she sat in her living room and added inch-long ruffles to a skirt, she attempted to pinpoint why those words troubled her. While she wanted people to admire her creations and enjoy wearing them, her aim wasn’t popularity. She didn’t dream of nationwide renown.

  What she wanted was to be a successful boutique owner, to consult clients and create fashions that would best suit their coloring and figures, kind of like what she’d done with Nathan’s wife, Sophie. A tomboy growing up, the girl had had no one to guide her in the ways of feminine dress or grooming. Helping Sophie transform into a stylish young lady had been one of the most fun experiences of Nicole’s life.

  She would love to repeat it. To help others achieve their fullest potential.

  Couldn’t you do that here? a tiny voice prompted. In Gatlinburg?

  Quinn’s disturbing questions that night in the springhouse came rushing back.

  Are you sure this desperation to leave isn’t a simple case of you running from your family? Your reputation?

  Lowering the material to her lap, Nicole stared unseeing at her surroundings. Could he be right?

  Squeezing her eyes tight, she tried to will away the unease tightening her midsection. This was her lifelong dream. She couldn’t allow petty doubts to derail her plans.

  Or the memory of strong arms. Sturdy shoulders to cry on. Quinn calling her Duchess in that cultured accent of his.

  “I’m going to Knoxville,” she announced to the empty room. “I’m going to open my business. Make scores of interesting friends. And I’m going to enjoy every single minute of it!”

  * * *

  Business was slower than usual for a Monday. On edge and self-conscious about her hair, Nicole kept busy dusting shelves and sweeping the floor of debris. Some of the customers who came in were vocal in their support of Quinn and had gone so far as to express encouragement to her. Those opposed to his actions didn’t openly voice their feelings, instead conducted their transactions with pinched expressions and obvious disdain. Through it all, Quinn remained pleasant and upbeat. He treated everyone with respect and civility.

  She was going to miss him. A crazy thought considering she’d once dreaded the prospect of working with him day in and day out.

  That morning, he’d informed her that her wage increase took effect today. And while she’d wrestled with accepting it, in the end she�
��d set aside her pride. The more time she spent with him, the more entangled her emotions became.

  She’d just finished restocking the sewing needles when the bell above the door announced new arrivals. Looking up to offer a greeting, the words died in her mouth.

  Her sister Megan and Lillian were coming down the outside aisle toward her, goofy grins on their faces. Gone was Lillian’s signature ponytail. Her beautiful blond hair had been cut off to match Nicole’s length, and it fell in soft waves about her cheeks.

  When the girls reached her, Nicole lifted a hand to gingerly touch the short ends. “What have you done?” she whispered.

  Megan proceeded to pull off her bonnet, revealing her own haircut. Not as short as theirs, her curls brushed the tops of her shoulders.

  Nicole promptly burst into tears.

  Lillian’s arms came around her, and Nicole rested her forehead on the slender but sturdy shoulder. Megan patted her back.

  Then Quinn’s distinctive footsteps neared. “Is she all right?”

  The grave concern vibrating in his low voice only made her cry harder. More than any other time in memory, she felt deeply cared for.

  Pulling herself together, she scooted back and found a handkerchief pressed into her hands. Quinn’s, of course. Sniffling, she wiped her cheeks and shot the girls a tremulous smile.

  “I can’t believe you cut your hair for me.”

  “We love you.” Megan’s eyes grew misty.

  Lillian waved a hand. “This is nothing compared to what you sacrificed for me. Besides, it takes a lot less time to dry.”

  Quinn stood watching them, the crease in his brow slowly smoothing. He looked impressed. Proud. And happy for her. Happy that she had friends and family who supported her.

  “Lucian was okay with this?” she said, disbelieving.

  Megan smiled. “When I explained my intentions, he encouraged me to do it.” To Quinn, she said, “He would’ve liked to come with us, but he’s taking Patrick to see Doc Owens.”

  “You’ll let us know what he says, right?” Nicole said, worry mingling with hope the doctor could do something to alleviate Patrick’s pain, as well as restore the full use of his leg.

  Promising she would, Megan invited them to that Friday’s story hour. “Lillian’s going to read to the children this time.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nicole said. “You’ll be wonderful.”

  Her friend was blossoming in Lucian and Megan’s care. Healthy color had been restored to her cheeks, and happy sparkles replaced the disquiet in her eyes. Thank you, God, for providing for them. I shouldn’t have tried to shoulder their care alone. Forgive me for not seeking Your guidance.

  Quinn slipped away to help a customer interested in the china collection.

  Megan sidestepped Nicole to observe the row of fabric bolts on the shelves. “As you know, sis, Lillian could use new clothes. I’m planning to make most of them myself since your time is limited. However, I’d like to hire you to make several Sunday dresses. What do you say?”

  Nicole tucked Quinn’s now-damp handkerchief in her apron pocket and linked arms with Lillian. “I say that sounds like a fine plan to me.”

  The younger girl flushed with excitement. “Pink is my favorite color.”

  Megan dangled a fat ribbon in that color. Snatching the silky length, Nicole held it up to Lillian’s hair. “Perfect.”

  “This is going to be such fun,” the younger girl gushed, handling various ribbons.

  By the time they’d chosen the necessary articles for Lillian’s wardrobe, two hours had passed. Nicole couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed around her sister. And she thrilled to see her young friend’s excitement.

  All those years she’d dreamed of a different life in Knoxville, she hadn’t had connections to anchor her here. She would’ve thought strengthening ties to the people around her would be a positive thing. Only now did she understand how difficult they’d be to sever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Quinn honored his promise to escort Nicole to the children’s story hour Friday evening, despite the fact he’d rather be drawing out plans for his house. He was both physically and mentally exhausted. Maintaining an upbeat disposition for Nicole’s sake, not to mention the constant effort of keeping his distance, had taken its toll. Craving space, he left her in the parlor with the other guests and found his way onto the back porch.

  Deserted. Good.

  He sagged against the railing and looked out over the rainbow-hued gardens. The rain clouds that had stuck around much of the day had finally dispersed, and water droplets clinging to the petals and blades of grass winked in the evening sun. The pungent smell of moist earth mixed with the sweet scent of the rosebushes hugging the porch.

  Roses were his mother’s favorite flower. More like obsession. Didn’t take much to picture her in the estate gardens, on her knees in the dirt, babying her precious plants.

  He missed his family. His mother’s latest letter had been filled with nonessential tidbits about friends and business associates. Nothing substantial, like how Trevor was getting along and whether or not Tilly had been accepted in the ballet school she’d set her heart on. Frustrated, he’d penned an immediate response posing those questions and more and, on impulse, bragging about his efficient assistant and lamenting her impending departure. Only after he’d posted it did he realize his mother would likely seize on such information and assume there was more to what he’d shared. Like many mothers, his wanted him happily wed and producing grandchildren.

  Instantly, the image of Nicole snuggling with baby Victoria filled his head.

  He shook it away. Nope. Can’t go down that path.

  The door opened and closed, and Shane sauntered over, dainty china cup out of place in his big hand.

  “Been looking for you,” he said.

  Turning so that his hip supported his weight, he folded his arms. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been waiting for you to find me. What did you learn about the stepfather?”

  “Simmerly claims they stole from him, and that’s why he has persisted in the search.” Shane’s fingers tightened on the cup until Quinn thought it might shatter. “The man’s shifty. My gut says there’s more to the story than he’s telling.”

  Quinn had figured as much. “Did you question him about the mother’s death?”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t wanna scare him into bolting.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  Glancing at the house, the people mingling beyond the windows, Quinn thought of the vast improvement in Lillian’s appearance and overall demeanor in the short time she’d been here. And the doctor had given them hope Patrick’s leg could be rehabilitated. Returning them to that monster was not an option.

  “I’ve written to the sheriff and other local leaders near Simmerly’s homestead asking for information. I need to put together the entire picture before moving forward.”

  The door banged open then, and both men jerked.

  Nicole’s eyes were huge in her face. “Quinn! I need you. Please hurry.”

  Closing the distance between them, he took her hands. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Carl. He’s here, and he’s demanding Patrick and Lillian go with him.” Her grip tightened to an almost painful degree. “Quinn, you have to do something.”

  Shane was already striding through the door.

  “I promise they aren’t going anywhere with him,” Quinn vowed.

  She looked so distraught he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Go. Stay close to Lillian. She’ll need you nearby while we deal with Carl.”

  “All right.”

  Nicole trailed him inside. Although foolish sentiment, he couldn’t help being pleased she’d come directly to him for help. Not the sher
iff, who was the obvious choice to handle matters. Him.

  Striding down the hall, he caught sight of Megan and her friends, Cole and Rachel Prescott, calmly shepherding the parents and children out the front door. Loud male voices reached him from the library up ahead on his right. He paused in the doorway to give Nicole a reassuring nod as she continued on to the parlor to where Lillian waited.

  Carl’s irate voice boomed through the arched opening. “You can’t keep them from me. I’m their legal guardian.”

  Quinn surveyed the room’s occupants. Carl stood in the middle, nasty boots dirtying the brilliantly hued rug. Lucian had taken up a post at the window. The New Orleans native looked displeased but surprisingly calm considering his home had been invaded and guests asked to leave. Shane had parked his large form between the older man and Patrick, who was seated on the far end of the sofa.

  Although his features lacked color, Patrick’s eyes burned pale fire. “We don’t belong to you,” he cried, surging forward. “You killed our ma!”

  Carl’s face turned an ugly shade of puce. “That’s an out-and-out lie.” To Shane, he said, “Don’t believe a word this boy says, Sheriff. He’s hated me since the day his ma brought me home. He’ll say anything to be rid of me.”

  Shane held up a hand, the other resting on his gun holster. “You’ve wasted your time coming here, Simmerly. These kids aren’t going anywhere until I’ve completed my investigation.”

  Carl’s hand sliced the air. “What is there to investigate? I told you they stole from me. Did you search their things?”

  “The necklace belonged to my ma.” Patrick gripped the cane propped across his knees. “She always said it would go to my sister one day.”

  “You’re lying through your teeth,” Carl snarled, took a step toward the boy until he caught himself, seeming to recall there were onlookers.

  Quinn had no doubt that if the siblings were ever returned to his custody, they would be in grave danger. Shane obviously agreed. He edged sideways so that he blocked the older man’s view of Patrick.

  “It’s your word against his, I’m afraid. Like I said, I’m sorting through the situation and will let you know what I decide.”