Love in the Balance (38 page)

“Sounds like a good plan, if you were selfish.”

“But I’m not.” Molly crossed her arms, daring him to contradict her.

“You have your moments. Unfortunately you usually repent before anything comes of them. Stop glaring at me. All I’m saying is it sounds like we’re both trying to be good by sacrificing what we most desire. Isn’t that true?”

Molly’s cheeks pinked at the word
desire
, but she didn’t protest. He knew her too well.

———

“Do you know how badly I wanted to marry you?” Molly asked. “How much I regret that I didn’t?”

Bailey couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. The dust motes in the abandoned house caught the sun, giving the room a dreamlike quality, but she was really there saying words he’d wanted to hear for years.

“When it didn’t work out, I contented myself with loving you from afar.” Molly’s inky lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she lowered her eyes.

Bailey’s head spun. His chest felt filled with cottonwood down. She’d said that she had wanted to marry him, but did she still?

He cleared his throat. “What if us being apart isn’t the best? Could it be that God gave us this love for each other because He wants us to be together?”

She looked like his suggestion halfway scared her.

“Are you after my money?”

“Sweetheart, there’s not enough money in the world to make messing with you worth it—not unless I was plumb crazy about you.”

From opposite ends of the room they watched each other—a standoff—wondering who would be the quickest to draw. Molly flinched first.

“You can’t be a preacher married to me. Imagine what people would say.”

“I’ve never stood behind a pulpit on Sunday, but I think I’ve preached enough sermons already. Besides, I think we’d be so busy visiting sick folks, helping widows and such, I wouldn’t have time. As far as my reputation, I’ve already told the reverend everything. I’ll make an announcement from the church steeple if you’d like.”

“You’re staying in Prairie Lea?”

“Unless you want to live here with the haint.” He smiled. “I do enjoy working at the mill, though.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying in Prairie Lea. I didn’t want to leave my new friends.” Her face took that calculating look that usually meant a counteroffer was pending. “Wait a minute. What exactly are you proposing? Never again am I going to assume—”

She didn’t need to finish her statement, for Bailey had no problem declaring his intentions.

“Molly Lovelace, will you marry me?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Tomorrow? The next day? As soon as possible.” Could they really do that? Could it really be that simple?

“Who’d do the ceremony? It must be someone I know personally. No more anonymous parsons.”

“Absolutely! Reverend Stoker approves now that I’ve explained to him, or I could ask Judge Rice. Even better, I’ll ask them both.” His heart pounded against his ribs as she considered his offer. That was his girl. Not going to enter into a contract without reading the fine print.

“I have an idea,” she said.

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” He didn’t take a step closer, but somehow she read his mind.

Her head tilted and her mouth pulled down in exasperation. “Behave yourself. We’ve got some business that needs attending. If you disapprove, you’d better speak up.”

“You know I will.”

Bailey barely got the door pulled shut behind him before she had reached the road and was marching toward the square.

“Slow down, will you? I think I have a right to escort my fiancée.”

“I’m not your fiancée. I’m not accepting your proposal until I’m standing before a bona fide minister of the gospel or a justice of the peace. I’ve got to be legally wed before you take any more liberties.”

“Then it’ll be a short engagement.”

Molly sailed into Fenton’s bank like she owned it, unaware of her ragged appearance. Behind the counter, Prue’s eyes traveled from Bailey to Molly and then back again. A gentle smile crossed her face. “Back so soon?”

“I need to get my money out of the bank.”

Bailey’s eyes widened. She wasn’t playing for peanuts.

“But the settlement is in Mr. Lovelace’s keeping.”

“It’s my money, and if everything goes as planned, he’ll get it soon enough.” Even Molly’s bedraggled dress couldn’t disguise the strong lines of her figure. Stonewall Jackson had nothing on Rockfortress Lovelace. “I need to find a representative to make an offer on the mill in my behalf.” With a firm jaw she amended her statement: “In our behalf.”

31

Two days later Molly’s sunburn was at its pinkest. Her skin had prickled at the cool water in her basin that morning, but she felt cleaner than she had in a long time. Her parents couldn’t shut the door in her face when she arrived the night before with her trunk on the porch, so they accepted her return with grace stretched thin over their many disappointments.

She ran her hands over the smooth tablecloth and inhaled the rosy smell of Lola’s supper ham. Such a feast, and it seemed like she was still full from dinner. “It’s good to be home.”

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be gone long. Not with my luck.” Thomas Lovelace’s silverware clinked together over his plate.

“Thomas, don’t be cruel,” her mother said.

“What? She knows I’m joshing her. Isn’t it the tiniest, most helpless kitten that’s the most adorable?”

Molly closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Surely they loved her, but they had no idea how to be the support she needed. Praise God, He’d sent someone who did.

She raised her eyes to meet Bailey’s across the table. If he didn’t stop grinning at her, her parents would suspect something. Molly stretched her foot out until she found his, and then gave him a good kick in the shin.

The boyish glee didn’t leave his face. He merely winked and tucked his napkin into his collar. “Y’all must be glad to have Molly home.”

She tried not to let her voice become too chipper. “I can resume my charitable visits with Mother.”

Mrs. Lovelace frowned. “Maybe you should go with your father to the store and play checkers.”

“No. She always beats me.” Mr. Lovelace pushed a thick slab of meat between his teeth. “But I’ll tell you this, I’m practicing. Now that I don’t have to be at the office every day, I have time for more gentlemanly pursuits, like checkers.”

“And horseshoes,” Bailey added.

“Yes, horseshoes. Did you hear that I beat your father? First person to trounce George Garner in a decade.”

Bailey was smiling at her again. She tried to look stern. Hopefully he’d be gone before the offer arrived, because at this rate he would ruin everything.

They each had warm slices of sweet potato pie on their plates when a horse pulled up the drive. Molly dared one last look at Bailey and then allowed an expressionless mask to settle over her face.

“Who is that?” her mother asked.

Before her father could make it to the window, Lola had escorted the man inside.

“Good day, Mr. Lovelace. You might remember me from Lockhart. I’m Augustus Mooney, attorney-at-law. May I have a minute of your time?”

Mr. Lovelace scowled. “
Humph
. What is this about? Do I get to testify against Russell James?”

“I couldn’t say. My business doesn’t involve any criminal proceedings. Rather it’s an offer that I’ve been retained to present to you, an offer for your business.”

Her father took a step backward and wiped his hands on his napkin. “An offer to buy the sawmill?”

Mrs. Lovelace fingered her pearl necklace as though it were a rosary. “You could sell it? We’d get money and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore?”

“Not so fast, dear. Don’t forget we have our children to consider. We’d be selling their legacy.” He eyed the man’s portfolio, as if he could read the numbers through the leather.

“Nicholas doesn’t want the mill. He’s too busy,” Adele said.

“But there’s Molly to consider. I dote on the gal. Can’t seem to keep anything from her.” He flashed a quick wink at Molly out of the attorney’s sight.

With well-practiced ease, the lawyer spoke. “Do you mean to suggest that your daughter could manage a sawmill?”

“Father, I can’t allow you to mislead this man. As you’ve pointed out numerous times, I can no more balance a ledger than I can shed my skin.” She scratched at a patch on her sunburned nose.

“But Bailey can,” Thomas said. “I’m not saying that I’m rejecting your offer, Mr. Mooney, but it’d have to be a rich one indeed. We have hopes for Bailey and Molly, here. There’s more than one way to keep the business in the family.”

“Actually, Miss Lovelace and I are getting married this week.” Bailey’s smile was wider than the San Marcos River.

Molly’s mother gasped. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“
Shh
, Adele. You shouldn’t be surprised.” Thomas beamed at Bailey. “All our worries about the business will be set at rest. Any offer made now would have to soothe my conscience if I snatched this moneymaker from the hands of my son-in-law and daughter. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, “what is your offer?”

“First let me offer congratulations to Miss Lovelace and, er . . . Mr. Bailey.”

Pretending to forget Bailey’s last name? Molly choked on a giggle. My, but he was good.

“This might be a conflict of interest, but if Mr. Lovelace doesn’t accept this bid, I’d like to offer my services to write up the transfer of the business to you. A wedding gift, if you will. We could even do it tonight.”

“Whoa, there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” her father said. “I’d like some time to think it over. Let’s go into the study, where we can have some privacy.”

Still clutching the portfolio, the man followed Thomas out of the room.

“That man,” her mother huffed, “has no conscience at all. And you, Bailey, you’re just as corrupt. Scaring me like that.”

Molly leaned over her plate. “Mother, we are getting married. Bailey wasn’t playing along for Father.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “What about our objections?”

“If anyone could object, it’d be Bailey’s family. Not ours.”

Although she never came close to touching the back of her chair, Adele’s slouch was visible. “How did we get here, Molly? I’d hoped for more.” She blinked at the tinkling chandelier. “We’d all hoped for more.”

“You were hoping for the wrong more. That’s what led me astray. I didn’t stop to consider what was important, and I’ve paid for my mistake. But if we have a second chance, then the sooner we get started the better.”

Bailey laid his hand on the table, palm up. Molly grasped it. Then he offered Adele the other hand. She looked uncertain.

“I’m sorry we’ve been rough on you, Bailey. I hope you don’t take it personally.”

“Makes me feel like one of the family, Mrs. Lovelace.”

She took his hand and squeezed.

The dishes hadn’t been cleared before Thomas danced into the dining room. A chair fell over as he brushed past it to embrace his wife. “I’m doing it. I’m selling the mill.”

“You are? I thought you were giving it to Molly and Bailey.”

“That’s what I wanted him to think, and they did a fine job convincing him. Brilliant.” He beamed at them. “Bailey, I hope the new owner keeps you on. You’re a real hand.”

“So you like the offer?” Bailey asked.

“I could wish for more, but I’m ready to retire. The deposit will give us a nice nest egg, and then we’ll get a share of the profits for a decade.”

“Do you trust the new owners?” Molly tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but her father didn’t notice when she failed.

“Their credentials are impeccable. They’ve worked at a mill similar to ours and run it successfully. Surely they can hold it together for ten years. They do the work and I’ll take my share.”

Bailey stood. “I’d best get to the office and lock up for the night. You probably don’t want me to mention this to anyone.”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to Lockhart to sign the papers Thursday.”

“Perfect,” Bailey said. “That’ll give me time to get the wedding ceremony planned.”

Before Thomas could say a word, before Molly could protest, Bailey leaned over the table and kissed her firmly on the lips—on the lips, in the dining room, under the crystal chandelier that swayed when she opened her eyes.

“Bailey, I told you that until we’re wed you’re to pretend there’s no agreement.”

“Must’ve forgot.” He picked up his hat and strutted out the door before her shocked father could stop him.

It was a beautiful day for a wedding, but this wedding wouldn’t be beautiful. Instead of getting a new dress and making sweets for a reception, Molly had been reading contracts and arranging funds. Trying to do it without arousing her parents’ suspicions had consumed most of her time.

“When are you supposed to meet with Mr. Mooney?” Molly asked for the hundredth time.

“Four thirty,” her father answered, slowing his team as they rolled into Lockhart. “Too bad we can’t sign the papers first. It’ll be hard to concentrate on your wedding until the deal is sealed.”

“I don’t think this wedding will take much concentration,” her mother said. “A few words before the judge hardly qualify as a grand occasion.”