Love in the Balance (10 page)

“I’ve spent a fair amount of time imagining my future, but never did it take place outside of Caldwell County.”

“But you’ll consider it? I could certainly use your help investing my legacy. My family has been after me for years to take more interest in the family finances, and I think I could learn to enjoy the dreadful task with your help.” Before she was ready, Edward stood. “But now for a treat. I want to make another purchase on your behalf.”

Molly stroked the mink. “I must refuse. It’s unseemly.” Good thing she wasn’t under oath. The chilly wind had pinked her cheeks and made her blue eyes sparkle. At least that’s what she’d been counting on when she’d let him purchase the powder blue frock coat. Present such a pretty picture that Bailey would find her irresistible.

“Unseemly?” He laughed. “The taxpayers will question county salaries if you don’t admit the source of your new duds.”

“Maybe it’s acceptable in New York, but this is Texas. A man doesn’t buy clothing for a woman unless . . .” She lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to encourage him further.

Edward took Molly’s elbow and assisted her to her feet. “Isn’t there a cobbler on Market Street? Let’s get you measured for climbing boots. Shoes should be exempt from your warped sense of propriety.”

“Climbing boots? There aren’t any mountains around here.”

“You never know when they might come in handy. Go on, unless walking unescorted will soil your reputation. I must send a wire, but I’ll be there directly.”

Molly pushed a curl behind her ear. She could only imagine the nature of his wire. Was he notifying his family? Was he sending for more money? She felt his eyes follow her as she made her way across the dried yellow lawn and the busy street.

Her thoughts raced ahead. Why did she need climbing boots? She generally disliked all manner of physical exertion, but his secretive mien intrigued her. She walked past the barber shop and the mercantile, her breath quick and shallow. Was he going to propose? Already? They hadn’t known each other long, but he seemed to be an impatient man. He’d probably never been refused anything in his life. Would she be the first?

And was he truly besotted with her? Edward’s eyes didn’t burn with the same intensity as Bailey’s. She couldn’t imagine him getting sulky when she tarried with another man. For her part, Molly didn’t miss the possessiveness she felt whenever Bailey spoke to an eligible lady, the fear and uncertainty she suffered, wishing they could be together, wondering if they ever would.

Edward was warmth while Bailey was fire. Edward was pleasant, civilized. Bailey’s excitement often threatened to sweep her along in the current, dragging her away from her family’s carefully structured plans, but maybe that had changed. For all she knew, Bailey burned for Prue now. From Carrie’s reports, they’d been seen around town enjoying each other’s company.

The bell jangled as she entered Mr. Hernandez’s shop.

“Have a seat,” the shoemaker’s lilting voice called out. “Someone will be with you in a minute.”

Molly chose a high-backed chair and turned to watch the shoppers passing by the window. She breathed deeply of the leather scent. Did the seats in the Pierrepont private railcar smell this good?

Marrying Edward could give her father the financial stability he desired. No longer would their fortunes depend on the amount of water in the rain gauge. As far as her mother was concerned, Edward’s social connections placed him far ahead of anyone in their acquaintance. Of course, Molly wouldn’t live in Caldwell County any longer, but think of the places she’d go and the people she’d meet. Her parents would pass around her letters describing her adventures from family to family, everyone awed at how far in society their little Molly had risen. Climbing boots might be the perfect accessory after all.

The stool before her creaked. Molly straightened in her chair to face the attendant.

Like a prairie dog, this man popped up everywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Bailey.

She gripped the arms of her chair. He never left her thoughts. Not a moment passed that she wasn’t wondering where he was, what he was doing, but little had she expected him to appear at her feet.

Bailey smiled, as if he expected her pleasure to match his own. “Miss Lovelace, how nice to see you.” Without pausing for permission he reached under her hem and pulled her foot out to hook her heel on the edge of his stool, his leather apron hanging between his knees spread akimbo on either side of her. “I’m new to shoemaking, but I think these boots need to come off to measure you.”

“Is there someone else who could help me?” She swallowed as his fingers brushed where they shouldn’t. Explaining Edward was going to take finesse. She didn’t have time to spare.

“I’m doing what Mr. Hernandez pays me to do. Besides, you’re the one who keeps showing up at my place of employment.” He untied the lace that crisscrossed halfway up her shin. With sure movements he ripped the strap through the eyelets at the top and worked his way down to her ankle.

“What kind of shoe are we commissioning for you?”

He was cheerful. Too cheerful. Molly ground her teeth together, knowing the situation could explode like a powder keg.

“I’ll do that.” She pulled her foot down and bent to finish the job he’d begun. “I need climbing boots.”

Bailey frowned. “When have you ever stepped off the boardwalk?”

“I didn’t ask you.” She kicked the boot off her foot. “Where is Mr. Hernandez?”

Molly jumped when the bell rang again. She pulled her skirt down primly as Edward entered the building. He eased himself into the empty chair next to her and crossed his leg. Pulling out his watch fob, he frowned and then returned it. “Continue, please. Don’t mind me.”

Edward’s foot tapped lightly against the floor. A mallet pounded somewhere behind the red velvet curtain, but Bailey was silent.

At her feet he remained motionless. He didn’t move until she raised her face to meet his brown eyes. Unbelief. Hurt. Not until he’d inaudibly communicated his reproach did he reach behind him and produce a sheet of heavy white paper. Pulling out a short pencil tucked behind his ear, he made some notes on the bottom corner, the scratching noise of the soft lead audible in the still room.

“Climbing boots, you say?” His tone had lost the cheerfulness it’d had before. Molly missed it, hating that she’d destroyed it. “What specifications, exactly?” His head was bent over the page, pencil poised.

“I don’t know,” she croaked. Why was her throat so raspy? She looked to Edward, whose face grew thoughtful.

“Oh, they need to be tall but flexible. Sturdy, low heel for a good grip.”

“You mean for real mountains? Moccasin looking?”

“Precisely.” Edward beamed. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you planning to accompany the lady? We could make you some, if I can find a man’s form in such a small size.”

Edward laughed easily. “No, my friend. I won’t need any, but if you are going to try to sell extra pairs, it doesn’t do to insult the customer.”

Molly bit her lip. She didn’t like this. It seemed impossible that the two of them could be in the same room. They occupied different spheres, different arenas of her life that should never overlap. Edward was fantasy, an apparition that served a temporary need. Bailey was her future, although an uncertain future.

She squared her shoulders. She couldn’t allow Bailey to humiliate her again. Not in front of Edward. “We’re in a hurry. Please measure me so we can be about our business.”

Bailey’s eyes smoldered, but he laid the paper flat on the floor. Rising, Molly stepped with her stockinged foot onto the paper. On his knees went Bailey. He covered her foot with his left hand without hesitation—a warm and steady pressure—and pressed the pencil against her instep. Molly glanced at Edward’s spotless gloves. Naturally Bailey didn’t pause before touching her. Only on unfamiliar ground did one proceed with caution.

Once again Molly couldn’t see his face—or hardly his head—over her billowing skirt as he leaned in closer to judge the pattern as he traced.

How could she be so conflicted? How could she want to draw Bailey to her, run her fingers through his hair, and talk for hours about all that had happened? All that had happened? Edward’s offer was what had happened, and Bailey wouldn’t want to hear about it. The burden she most needed to share, the situation she could most use advice on, she had to find her way alone.

She forced herself to breathe as his pencil worked its way around her toes and along the outside of her foot. Molly didn’t dare look at Edward but sensed that he was messing with his gold watch again. What was taking Bailey so long?

“Are you about done?” She wished he would look up to see the impatience in her eyes that she didn’t have the nerve to express with her tone.

The pencil finished its trek behind her heel and back to the beginning point. Not allowing his hand to linger a moment longer than necessary, Bailey sat back on his heels. Molly moved her foot so that Bailey could examine the sketch. “That’ll do.”

Edward nodded. “All right, lovey”—Molly winced at the endearment— “remove your other boot and let’s get your left foot traced.”

“That’s unnecessary. We can reverse the pattern and use it for both.” Standing, Bailey turned his back to them and started toward the red velvet curtain that led to the workroom.

“How soon will they be done?” Edward called.

“You can give them to her for Christmas.” Bailey’s steps never slowed as he slung the curtain behind him and disappeared from view.

Bailey spread the paper smooth and leaned heavily against the work table, elbows locked, shoulders up around his ears.

She belonged to him. How could she sit within arm’s reach—in his grasp, even—and allow another man to call her
lovey
? Molly knew better.

He squeezed the tabletop until he thought it’d crumble in his hands. She didn’t love that man. Impossible. If she loved that other fellow, wouldn’t she be following his every move with those blue eyes? Wouldn’t she spark when the city dandy took her arm the way she trembled while he traced her foot?

Bailey straightened and pounded the table with his fist. He’d hurt her when he broke off their courtship, but his ardor hadn’t cooled. Was she testing him? Trying to make him miserable in hopes that he would get his act together more quickly? Well, she was doing a fine job plaguing him, but did that other fellow understand she wasn’t available?

“See to the man up front.” Hernandez sped by, snatching his awl off the workbench.

Bailey left his sketch on the board and headed to the storefront. How much more cash did he need before he could resume their relationship? How much before God opened the chute and set him free again? His commissions on shoe sales were adding up. ’Course Christmas came only once a year, but he’d have enough to set up housekeeping if Molly could be content with something similar to the little house in Prue’s neighborhood. Would it be soon enough?

“Mr. Garner, just the man I’m looking for.” Mr. Fenton stood, stance wide, arms crossed, as if daring Bailey to try to push him over.

“You found him.” Bailey removed the pencil from behind his ear and tossed it onto the countertop. “How may I help you?”

“It’s come to my attention that you are mooning for a woman who is far superior to you.”

Bailey shrugged. “I don’t deny it. What’s on your mind?”

“I came to appeal to your sense of decency. I can better provide for a wife. I’m already established and offer a secure living for a family.”

Bailey held up his hand to interrupt. “So if another bloke showed up with deeper pockets, you’d step aside?”

“I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Hate to tell you, but you’re beating a dead horse. I’m not the one standing in your way.”

Fenton’s mouth twitched. Bailey could tell he wanted to know more, but he restrained himself from asking.

“I don’t fear the future, Mr. Garner. Not when happiness is within my grasp. If you’ll excuse me, I must be about my plans.”

Bailey almost choked. Drivel. Unless he was on a stage, a grown man didn’t voice such ridiculous sentiments.
Happiness within his grasp?
Maybe Fenton would go home and stitch it on a sampler. He’d need something to fill his lonely nights, because Molly sure as shooting wasn’t interested in him any longer.

7

No lamp from within the modest yellow house shone to light her way through the dark yard. Molly crept close enough to spot the wash line tied to the porch-swing chain. According to the courthouse records, this was the address, and if she remembered correctly, she’d heard that Bailey’s aunt Frances let her children swing after she hung the laundry in the hopes that the movement would dry it faster. With all the washing she took in, those children must have unflappable balance.

Now, how to find the correct window? All were opened to take advantage of the cool weather. Molly crept to the left and heard unabashed snoring wafting over the sill. If that was who she thought it was, she’d turn around and sneak back to Mrs. Truman’s boardinghouse immediately. She wanted nothing to do with any man capable of such offensive noises.