Chapter 38

A holiday wedding couldn’t be more festive.

Clara grabbed another glass of champagne at the reception and put her arm around her husband’s waist. “It’s so wonderful Annie and Flynn decided to have their reception here at Shawn and Assumpta’s house to kick off our Christmas Eve celebration.”

The wedding had been family only and simple, the couple wanting to marry as quickly as possible to start their lives together. Emily had been a lovely maid of honor, and it had been dear to see both Annie’s mother, who’d flown in from Florida, and June stand up for her with the girls as they said their vows.

“Perhaps later, you’ll take a walk through the vineyards with me and have an eggnog,” Arthur said.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling as Flynn picked Amelia up so the little girl could dance with them, and Boyd sidled up to their circle, turning Michaela in a quick spin before they started to move together in harmony. The twins were dancing with J.T. and Caroline, some line dance Clara wanted to learn. Perhaps later. She also needed to catch June so she could invite her to visit them in Dare Valley. Her friend had some hard decisions to make in the weeks and months to come, and Clara wanted to be there for her all the way. Arthur and Hargreaves had both enthusiastically agreed to the suggestion of an extended visit.

“Why drink eggnog when you can have champagne? But yes, I would be delighted to take a walk with you so long as it involves kissing in the moonlight.”

“It’s a specialty of mine,” he said with a wink.

She laughed. “That’s a kind of specialty I can approve of. Well, while we didn’t need to do much matchmaking, I feel good about what transpired.”

He gave a familiar harrumph. “Me too. They’re perfect for each other, and the girls are a bonus beyond any man’s belief. That little Amelia had my heart from the moment we met. So did her pony, I’m loath to admit. I certainly hope they settle in Dare Valley. It would be good to see them both frequently.”

The happy couple was still discussing their future residence. “We’ll be seeing them wherever they end up. But I too hope they end up in our hometown. Amelia has talked of little else, wanting to work at your newspaper.”

“Black ink in her blood, that one,” he said. “I’ve already told Meredith and Tanner I’ve found someone for them to consider even if she’s a touch young.”

As if she knew Arthur was speaking about her, Amelia was suddenly wiggling down and running their way.

Clara smiled and squeezed his arm. “Your little friend beckons.” 

“Mr. Hale!” she cried, her purple princess dress, as she called it, flowing behind her. “I have an idea for another article. If we move to Dare Valley, can I publish it in your newspaper?”

Clara arched a brow. She wondered how her husband was going to respond.

“Amelia, if the article passes muster, it will be published no matter where you live,” Arthur said.

“Yay!” The little girl danced in a circle.

“You want to tell me what it’s about?” Arthur asked Amelia, stooping over and picking her up.

“Matchmaking,” she said, clapping her hands. “It’s where you help a guy and a girl find each other so they can live happily ever after.”

“Did you tell her about that?” Clara asked Arthur.

He shook his head. “Not me.”

“It was Hargreaves who told me,” Amelia said. “He said it’s a longstanding tradition. I think that’s right.”

“Hargreaves, eh?” Arthur asked. He shot Clara a look. “Your butler’s fingerprints are everywhere, from the holiday baskets to the flower arrangements for the wedding, I hear.”

She lifted her shoulder. “He’s a man of many talents.”

“Mr. Hale, will you dance with me? I want to twirl in my dress. It’s so pretty.”

“You bet.” He took Amelia’s hand, but he turned to wink at Clara. “Then I’m coming back for you, dear.”

She shivered at the promise in his gaze. “I can’t wait.”

Shawn waved at her as he danced past her with his wife, and she lifted a hand in return. Connor was laughing as Louisa did some terribly uncoordinated moves, much like a robot. Clara found herself chuckling as well. 

But it was Becca swaying in her husband’s arms that made Clara feel a little emotional. Only six months ago, the poor woman had been in her own tower, and now here she was… Her very presence was a testimony to the tenacity of the human spirit. Clara thought about all the years she’d been like Becca. Those times were in the past, thank God. She was living life to its fullest, and she’d told Arthur he’d best prepare to go back to their village in Africa soon. They had things to do.

“Would you like more champagne, Madam?” Hargreaves asked, appearing with a fresh glass.

“I was just talking about some, actually.” She traded him the almost empty one in her hand. “Well, usually this is the time Arthur and I fall into conjecture about the next Merriam up for matchmaking. However, there is only one person left, and Arthur thinks Quinn is so beaten down with work there is no way we’ll be doing any matchmaking soon.”

Even the lovely Emily had failed to engage him in conversation. Clara had cornered him earlier, but he’d spoken only of work, although it had been downright satisfying to hear how many emails and personal thank yous Quinn had received praising Annie’s holiday baskets.

“Arthur went so far as to suggest we might not be matchmaking for some years now. His assertion was downright depressing, Hargreaves.” 

If that were the case, she’d have to content herself with the upcoming weddings: Michaela and Boyd’s in February, Connor and Louisa’s in March, and Caitlyn and Beau’s in May. At least they had a full wedding season to look forward to.

“I imagine it was quite distressing, Madam,” her longtime friend said. “I, however, hold a different theory on Master Quinn’s predicament.”

She turned to her butler and regarded him with her full attention. When he sounded like this, she knew to pay attention. “What is it, Hargreaves?”

“Master Quinn is nearing his breaking point with work and, I believe, his life. They have been one and the same until now. I am not sure he will be able to continue it.”

Her eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted Quinn. He was standing alone next to a reception table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Even from here she could make out the dark circles under his eyes. “He’s had a rough go of it lately, what with the negative press about the transition of leadership.”

“Yes, Madam,” Hargreaves said. “Somehow I don’t believe he’s faced the worst of it yet, but when he does, something will have to give, like the Americans are fond of saying.”

She loved it when Hargreaves talked like a good old-fashioned Brit. “I wouldn’t wish him any bad fortune. But sometimes it comes, and the only thing we can do is rise from the detritus. Do you have any idea what this bad fortune will look like, Hargreaves? The stock price? I know it’s down for Merriam Enterprises.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she was so attuned to him that she felt her heart start to thud in her chest. “Well, don’t mince words with me, Hargreaves. What is it?”

His gaze was steady when he looked her straight in the eye, something he’d only done less than a dozen times. “There’s a virus, Madam, starting to infect thousands of people in China right now. I fear it’s only the beginning. I’ve been following it as I do with all major world events. I fear it will continue to spread.”

She clutched her heart. “How bad is it?”

“There is a lot of differing information, Madam. The cases are rising exponentially, and the Chinese economy is in serious hardship with factories closing and people being told to stay home. From what I can glean, I fear it could come close to the Spanish flu of my father’s generation.”

Her gasp echoed across the courtyard. Even she’d heard the stories about that dark time from her parents and grandparents. They’d lost relatives and friends. 

She looked over at her beloved family, all laughing and dancing before her. She’d been so long without them, and she’d only just gotten them back. “No, Hargreaves. No!”

She reached for his hand, and he took it, another rare gesture.

“What can we do?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

“We pray, Madam, and then we plan to fight.” His voice was steady. “And we make sure the family is safe. At all costs.”

Her mind spun at what he was saying. The implications suddenly hit her—if the issue became global, the family business would be hit hard. Ah, that’s what he meant by Quinn and his catalyst.

“I pray you are wrong, Hargreaves,” although he never was.

“So do I, Madam.”