Hours later, Chris still couldn’t understand what Adelaide had gotten so upset about. Why did it matter to her whom he wooed or courted or proposed to after their engagement was over? She’d given up her claim on him long ago and obviously hadn’t changed her mind about that. And he was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to start softening toward the other romantically. He’d been down that path once before and had no intention of venturing there again.
Of course, he’d also had no intention of accepting her mother’s invitation for him and his father to stay at the Holdens’ house while they were in Houston, either. Now here he was lugging suitcases up to the rooms she’d assigned to them. Chris paused at the top of the stairs to glance down at Olan, who was only a few steps behind him. Keeping his voice to a low whisper, Chris asked, “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that Mrs. Holden is being so nice about all of this?”
“Who can understand the workings of a woman’s mind?” Olan passed him to open the door to the first bedroom. “She seemed so insulted by my initial refusal to stay here that I thought it prudent to agree. It probably worked out for the best, since this will give you plenty of time to spend with Adelaide and a chance to get to know her again.”
Chris gave a reluctant nod, not altogether sure that spending more time with Adelaide was such a good idea. They seemed to have a talent for getting each other into trouble whenever they were together. As far as getting to know her better...there was already so much about her he hadn’t forgotten that he wasn’t entirely sure that was necessary or wise.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he deposited his father’s suitcase on the bed, then turned a concerned gaze to Olan, noticing that the man seemed a bit out of breath. “How are you feeling, Pa?”
Olan waved aside Chris’s concern and sat on the bed to open his suitcase. “I’m a little tired from our travels, but I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
“All right. If you start feeling poorly or need anything at all during the night, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Don’t be afraid to wake me.”
“Fine. Fine. Now, off you go. Have a good night.”
Chris wished his father the same, but soon found himself tossing and turning in a comfortable yet unfamiliar bed. He turned the gas-lit sconce beside the bed on low and reached for one of the books he’d placed on the nightstand. Of course it turned out to be one written by Joe Flanders—hardly the distraction he was looking for. His stomach provided that with a rumble that reminded him of how little he’d eaten at the Holden’s party earlier. He’d been too busy being introduced to all of Adelaide’s lady friends, then joining them all in what had seemed to be a never-ending game of croquet. The Holdens had encouraged them to feel right at home so Chris tossed aside his covers, grabbed a robe and went in search of the kitchen. Once he found it, he hesitated at the sight of Everett standing at the counter near the ice box. The man glanced up from the plate of food he was making. “Hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
Everett nodded to a large oak kitchen table that was probably where the Holdens’ staff took their meals. “Have a seat. There are plenty of leftovers for the both of us. I never do manage to eat much at those parties. Too busy socializing with advertisers, I suppose.”
“Adelaide told me you run a newspaper here in Houston.”
“Yes, I’m the owner and editor of the Houston Gazette. I was in Peppin to do a little research for a story I’m working on. I was surprised to find a town of that size didn’t have a newspaper of its own.”
“I guess most folks get their news at the café in town. Of course, a good portion of that is just gossip. We do have a bulletin board in the mercantile for people to put up—well, I guess you’d call them classifieds.” Chris took the plate Everett offered him with a quick word of thanks before continuing. “If there is anything major going on in town, I put up a little notice about it for folks and try to spread the news through word of mouth. That usually works pretty well because most folks have to stop in at the mercantile at some point.”
Everett lifted a brow and took a seat across the table. “So, you’re a bit of newsman yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“Why not? It sounds like you’re disseminating facts to the masses in writing and by word of mouth. That isn’t any different than what I do every day. What’s the most exciting thing you’ve told people about in the last few months?”
Chris bit his lip thoughtfully. “We had a fire in town on New Year’s Eve. Afterward, some folks decided to hold a benefit concert to raise money to buy the town a new fire engine. I helped spread the word about that. Pretty much the whole town showed up. We raised enough money for the fire engine. It was great.”
Everett smiled a faraway look in his eyes. “That would have made an interesting news story.”
“It might have, at that, but who would read it? Pretty much everyone in town was there. They already know what happened.”
“There’s little that people like more than seeing their own names in print. Better yet, the story would serve as a record keeper for the town so that future generations could look back and see how their parents and grandparents came together to do something positive in the face of tragedy. You could even do a follow-up story that answers some of the unresolved questions. For instance, what kind of fire engine is the town going to purchase? Why was that model chosen? When is it going to be purchased? When will it arrive? Who is going to be responsible for its upkeep and use? Where will it be stored? Don’t you think the public deserves to know the answer to those questions since they are the ones paying for it?”
Obviously, the answer was yes, but Chris couldn’t seem to form the word. His mind was too busy grappling with all of the questions Everett had just asked. Chris realized that he wanted to know the answers. What’s more, he wanted to be the one doing the asking. He leaned forward. “How did you come up with all of those questions so quickly?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at this.” Everett paused to give him a gentle yet measuring look before leaning forward, as well. “I think you could come up with a few questions yourself. Tap into your own curiosity. What concerns you or interests you about this topic?”
Chris thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess the main thing I’ve been wondering about is how the new fire engine will affect the volunteer firefighters. How is it going to change the protocols they already have? Who is going to train them to use the engine? That sort of thing.”
Everett grinned. “You’re a natural. I’d like you to come by my newspaper on Monday to take a look around. While you’re here, let’s see if we can teach you the basics of the trade and send you back to Peppin as a reporter equipped to write the next big story. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll be the one to start your town’s first newspaper.”
“Mr. Holden, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because...” Chris was going to run Johansen’s Mercantile one day. That was the plan. It had been the plan for nearly a decade. While he was still trying to find a way out of marrying a mail-order bride, he knew that taking over the mercantile was nonnegotiable. Olan’s health was questionable at best and his brothers were too young to shoulder the responsibility of running the store, so Chris needed to be ready to take over if or when the doctors advised his father to stop working. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by an outside interest like newspaper reporting. Not when his family’s main source of income was at stake.
Everett stood and clasped Chris’s shoulder. “Just go for a tour. Anything you decide to do or not do after that is up to you. I won’t pressure you. I simply like to encourage talent when I see it. I’d better get back to my room now. When you’re finished eating, simply leave your plate in the sink and someone will take care of it. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, then church.”
Chris offered a parting smile and a nod. Talent. No one had ever used that word in regard to him except when it came to his fiddle. That was a safe talent—something encouraged by his parents. He couldn’t see them approving of him becoming a newspaperman. The idea was completely impractical. He knew nothing about newspapers and even if he learned something while he was here, it didn’t mean he’d ever be able to start a newspaper in Peppin. No, it’d be far more worthwhile to focus on the slightly more attainable goal of finding himself a wife. In all the hoopla surrounding Adelaide’s return, he’d managed to forget something. He was still running out of options and time. The Bachelor List had been no help. Neither had its matchmaking author. Who else was there to appeal to?
The answer that arose within him seemed to resound in the stillness. God. He could appeal to God. That was the one thing he hadn’t done, the one Person he hadn’t talked to about this. Why? Because he was more than a little afraid that God was on his parents’ side in this. The Bible did say that Chris should honor his father and mother. What if marriage to Brigitte Salomon—or whatever her name might be—really was God’s plan for him and for her?
Chris shook his head, unable to even consider that. Perhaps he’d wait awhile and exhaust what few possibilities were left for him. Then, if he was truly desperate, he’d take the chance of asking God for help in finding a wife. First he had to make it through the rest of his stay in Houston. That was a situation Chris didn’t mind bringing to God because he had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.
* * *
Morning fog still clung to the ground when Adelaide stepped onto the veranda after an early breakfast with her family and the Johansens. She eased her shawl closer around her shoulders while waiting for the carriage to be brought around to take them all to church. The front door opened behind her. She turned, only realizing when she saw Olan that she’d hoped it would be Chris. Olan caught sight of her and offered her a smile. “A little chillier than normal for Texas, isn’t it?”
“Hopefully the sun will come out and warm things up.” She paused for a second. Then, because Everett had long since taught her the value of being direct, she addressed something that had been bothering her since the so-called family meeting yesterday. “Mr. Johansen, you asked my mother to be honest about the misgivings she had about Chris. I’d like you to extend the same courtesy to me. Why did you encourage Chris to fight for me if you don’t think we’re a good match?”
After a long, quiet moment, he finally shrugged. “You asked for honesty, so I’ll give it to you. I can tell him until I’m blue in the face that the two of you aren’t suited, but he won’t believe it until he discovers it himself. The more time y’all spend with each other, the faster he’ll figure it out. Once he does, he’ll be able to move on and find happiness with someone else.”
She longed to ask him why he thought Chris hadn’t moved on, but she had little doubt that Olan was using what he’d seen in Peppin and Houston as his evidence—evidence she knew was false. Surely Chris couldn’t still have feelings for her when he’d pursued so many women in her absence. He’d been trying to find a bride of his own choosing so she had to grant that he hadn’t done anything dishonorable—once their engagement was over. However, all that meant was that he’d been prepared to marry another woman multiple times. Those weren’t exactly the actions of a man pining for a lost love. Perhaps that simply meant her mother had been right all along, and whatever emotions Adelaide and Chris had felt for each other had been immature and underdeveloped. A childish infatuation rather than love.
As though conjured by her thoughts, Chris stepped onto the porch looking debonair in a Sunday-go-to-meeting suit. His vibrant, navy blue eyes glanced black and forth between her and his father as he picked up on the tension in the air. “What are y’all talking about?”
“You, of course,” she said, not even realizing she was reaching for his hand until he caught her hand in his. Chris’s inquiring look went unanswered, for Rose stepped onto the porch, still putting on her gloves. Her gaze immediately settled on their joined hands. Adelaide battled the urge to remove her hand from Chris’s gentle hold. That would, after all, defeat the entire purpose of the exhibition. However, she couldn’t help feeling the uncomfortable prickles of warmth that spread across her cheeks until Rose focused on something over Adelaide’s shoulder.
“Ah, here comes the carriage. It’s right on time...and so is the buggy.” Rose turned to look at her husband as he stepped through the door. “You don’t think we’ll all fit in the carriage?”
“I thought Chris and Adelaide might want to do a little courting.”
Adelaide felt her eyebrows rise at the realization that her stepfather was matchmaking. In fact, he had been since the moment she’d divulged the truth about her past with Chris to him in Peppin. That’s why he hadn’t tried to dissuade her during the Johansen’s put-together wedding ceremony. It was why he hadn’t blown the whistle on this second attempt at a faux courtship. What’s more, she wasn’t the only one who’d come to that conclusion if the thick, uncomfortable silence descending on the veranda was any indication. She nearly cringed at the utter awkwardness of it all. Finally the silence was broken by Olan’s resigned sigh. Everett grinned at Chris as though impervious to the disapproving glare of his wife. “You don’t mind driving, do you, son?”
Chris’s face looked almost frozen—a sure sign that he was desperately trying to keep a straight face. “No, sir. I don’t mind.”
“Good. Just follow the carriage, then. If we get separated, Adelaide knows the way. Let’s get going, shall we?” Everett led the way down the front steps. After a regal lift of her chin, Rose swept down the steps behind him. Olan shook his head as he followed them, murmuring something in Norwegian. Adelaide waited until the carriage door had closed before daring to meet Chris’s laughing gaze. “It isn’t funny. They’re driving me crazy. There’s enough tension in the air to put the humidity to shame. I’m like a sponge soaking it all up.”
He caught her arms and squeezed them gently. “Don’t let it get to you. Remember why you’re doing this.”
“For my writing and to stop my mother’s matchmaking attempts.”
“Right. Wait. How does this help your writing? I don’t think you ever explained that.”
It didn’t seem particularly nice to tell him that she was counting on the fact that her mother would put up with anything—even Adelaide’s writing career—rather than see Adelaide married to him. Instead, she shrugged. “It’s complicated, but I’m certain what we’re doing is going to help.”
She thought it prudent to head for the buggy before he could ask any more questions. He helped her into it, then took the reins, hurrying to ease into line behind the carriage, which was waiting for them at the front gate. After they turned onto the street, he sent her a sideways glance. “I’m debating whether or not I want to know what you and my father were discussing earlier. On one hand, forewarned is forearmed. On the other, I think we need to stop trying to figure out what our parents are up to and stay focused on what it is that we’re trying to accomplish.”
“Well, I for one think it might be refreshing not to talk or think about them at least until we get out of church.”
He shot her a heart-fluttering grin. “Deal.”
She leaned her shoulder into the cushioned seat-back to survey him. “What are you going to do when you go back to Peppin? You still don’t have a bride.”
“I reckon I’ll just have to keep going down my list of possibilities. There are still a few women left on it, though I think my chances with them might be slim.”
She narrowed her eyes, unable to decide which was worse—that he’d made a list of women to woo or that there were only a “few” left in town that he hadn’t gotten to yet. In the end, she decided that she didn’t have the energy to challenge him on either statement. Even so, she couldn’t help but wonder if the friends she’d left behind in Peppin were blind, deaf or dumb. For all of his maddening qualities, Chris was still a catch. How could he still be unmarried? Of course, there was the possibility that they’d known exactly what they were doing by rejecting his suit. Adelaide might not have warned Amy about Chris’s wandering ways, but that didn’t mean the women in town hadn’t warned each other.
She sighed and barely resisted the urge to reach over and pat his knee in sympathy. She really shouldn’t feel badly for him, given his roguish tendencies. However, it was undeniable that he was in a just as sticky a situation as she was. Perhaps that was why it was so easy for her to feel an affinity for him. The least she could do was try to take his mind off his troubles for a moment. “So, tell me, what do you do for amusement in Peppin when you aren’t chasing—uh, I mean looking for a bride?”
“Well, the mercantile hasn’t left me much free time lately. When I do have a moment of my own I like to play my fiddle, spend time with family and friends, and attend whatever social the town might be putting on.” He glanced around at the grand buildings lining the street. “I guess that must sound pretty boring to you after living here for so long. You’ve got such a full life here.”
She gave a soft laugh of disbelief. “What makes you say that?”
“The books you write. The house you live in. All of those friends at the social. I could go on.”
“Please don’t. The books I write have nothing to do with where I live. In fact, I write better when I’m away from home. That house belongs to my stepfather. As nice as it is, I’ve no claim on it besides what he allows me. Those people at the social are more acquaintances than friends. I don’t have any close friends here. All of those women around my age who wouldn’t leave us alone last night were far more interested in you than they were in me.”
He frowned as he slowly turned into the church’s lot. “Why would they be interested in me? Because they were curious about your new beau?”
“No. I mean, I’m sure they were a little curious, but that wasn’t the whole reason. You know that.” The blank look he sent as he set the brake surely had to be manufactured. She shook her head at him. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?”
She rolled her eyes. “That you are ridiculously handsome.”
His eyebrows rose. His neck and cheeks flushed. He glanced away, then back at her. “I’m—what—you think I’m—really?”
She stared at him, finding his genuine surprise and embarrassment confusing to say the least. It was almost as though he wasn’t aware of the effect he had on women. That didn’t make any sense. For a rogue to use his charm to his advantage, he had to know that he possessed it and understand how to wield it. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to tell the truth. “Of course I do.”
His somewhat bashful smile was absolutely heart-melting. “Thank you, but that doesn’t explain why you don’t have any close friends here.”
“I didn’t see the point of making any at first. After all, I was planning to return to Peppin in a few short months to...” She stopped herself from continuing, but the words hovered between them anyway. She almost wanted to speak them after all, to finally acknowledge exactly how much of her life she’d sabotaged by clinging to the idea that they would marry one day. Looking back, she could see the foolishness of it all. Perhaps if she’d been friendlier, more willing to really settle into Houston, then she wouldn’t feel so alone now. At the very least, society would have been more accepting of her if she’d allowed Everett to go through with his plan to formally adopt her before she legally became an adult. It had seemed unnecessary to become a Holden since she’d thought her last name would soon be changing to Johansen.
Lost in her reverie, she was barely aware of Chris hopping from the buggy and tying the reins to a hitching post before he was at her side to help her step down. She made the mistake of meeting his gaze and couldn’t look away. Up close, it was easy to be mesmerized by the way his eyes darkened to a rich midnight as they searched hers. His voice was quiet and deep. “What changed your mind about us, Adelaide? Your letter said that this city had made you outgrow us—outgrow me. From what you’ve said on the ride here, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Surely that small misunderstanding about Amy wasn’t reason enough to call everything off.”
“I think we have different definitions of what qualifies as ‘small,’ but no.” She stepped past him toward the church, glancing back to say, “That wasn’t the only reason.”
It had been, instead, the tipping point. She’d become convinced that Chris was not a man of integrity and that a life with him would only be another version of what she’d grown up watching. She hadn’t wanted to end up like her mother, who’d been married at sixteen to a man who’d made marriage nearly unbearable. Adelaide wasn’t sixteen now, though. She wasn’t seventeen, either, which was the age she’d been when Chris had proposed. Enough time had passed for her to become someone she didn’t altogether recognize. And Chris? His words often seemed to confirm her fears that he’d grown into exactly the kind of man she’d feared he would. But sometimes the honesty in his voice and the uncertainty in his eyes made her think there was a possibility she was doing him a disservice by assuming the worst.
Now, that was a fearsome thought, and one she wasn’t sure she had the courage to entertain. It would be much safer to continue believing the worst. However, to be absolutely honest with herself, she had to admit that she couldn’t make out his character at all. For now, it was best to leave it that.