Grand Coeur was not the sort of place Luvena had imagined. She hadn’t expected a smaller Boston, but this was so . . . so much less. It was a frontier town, rough-hewn and dirty. She’d expected small. She hadn’t anticipated . . . this. Why would anyone want an opera house here?
She lost count of the number of saloons they passed on their way from one end of town to the other. And in all that way, she didn’t see a single female on the boardwalks. Worse yet, most of the men she saw were unwashed and unshaven, many undoubtedly crawling with vermin.
“Whoa, there.” Clay drew in on the reins, stopping the team. Then he looked over at her. “Well, we’re here.”
Weary, hungry, despondent, Luvena turned to see his home. The place she’d expected to be her home as well. But what she saw was a three-storied building made of red brick. The only brick building she’d seen on Main Street.
“Is this the opera house?” she asked, already knowing it must be.
“Yes. Want to see the inside?”
She was too tired to care, but she nodded.
Clay hopped to the ground and turned to help her descend more gracefully.
“Children.” She looked at them. “Come with us.”
“I’m hungry, Aunt Vena,” Ethan said.
“I know. We’ll get something to eat soon.” She hoped she spoke the truth. They were dependent upon Clay Birch’s charity at this point.
Clay frowned. “Maybe we’d better have supper and get the kids settled for the night. I can show you the opera house tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded through her. “That might be for the best.”
Clay tied the team to a hitching post, and the five of them walked two blocks to Polly’s Restaurant. They discovered only a couple of tables were empty when they went inside. They moved to the larger one farthest from the entrance.
Clay held out a chair for Luvena. “The food here’s plain but good. Restaurant’s been around almost from the start, although this is their second building. First one burned down in a fire years ago.” He sat in the chair next to her. “That’s why the owner of the Grand Theater built it from brick. Costly, but less likely to be destroyed in a fire.”
The Grand Theater? More than a little pretentious. But perhaps no more so than Clay’s intentions to start an opera house in this little backwater town.
A waitress arrived. At least Luvena knew that there was one other female in Grand Coeur besides her and her nieces.
Clay ordered the first choice on the menu for all of them—boiled ham, cheese, carrots, corn bread, and mince pie. They waited in silence for the food to arrive.
Luvena was almost too weary to look at her surroundings and, when she did, became uncomfortable from the stares of men at other tables. “Why are they all looking at me like that?” she whispered to Clay.
“I reckon because they haven’t seen a woman as beautiful as you in a month of Sundays.” He winked, then smiled. “If ever.”
It was strange, the way his comment made her feel. Although some had called her “pretty enough” in years past, she’d come to believe her eyes were too far apart, her brows too arched, her mouth too wide, her lips too full, and her teeth too large for anyone to consider her beautiful. Those flaws in her features might have been overlooked if there wasn’t a scandal attached to the Abbott name or if the family still had their wealth. But with the scandal and without the Abbott fortune, being “pretty enough” wasn’t enough. She’d become completely unattractive to the men of her acquaintance, and she’d grown used to thinking of herself as unattractive too.
But Clay Birch thought her beautiful, and something warm blossomed inside her heart because of his words.
•••
Clay wasn’t sure what just happened. It was as if the earth shifted beneath his chair. His pulse quickened. His mouth went dry. Voices in the restaurant receded to a dull hum in his ears. And he felt an almost irresistible urge to kiss Luvena Abbott, if only to discover if she tasted as sweet as she looked.
Heaven help him!
Apparently God was listening, for their supper arrived at that moment. As plates were set before them, Clay’s world righted itself again. Conversations throughout the room returned to their normal level.
Luvena and her wards looked at him expectantly, but it took a moment to realize they were waiting for him to bless the food. Living alone, he was used to saying a quick, silent prayer before eating. It seemed that was a habit that must change if he was to marry her.
If he was to marry. Where had that “if” come from? Everything had changed when she’d arrived with children. He didn’t intend to marry her now. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t be prudent. It wouldn’t be fair to them or good for him. Only, how was he to be rid of them? That was the most pressing question in his mind.
He closed his eyes and gave thanks for the food. Then he focused his attention on his plate, making certain not to invite any further conversation around the table. Even the youngest girl—Elsie?—seemed to understand. Few words were exchanged throughout the meal. Perhaps they were all too tired or perhaps his mood warned them to be silent. He didn’t much care the reason as long as they kept quiet.
When everyone was finished eating, Clay paid for the meal and escorted the little group back toward the opera house. The sun had fallen behind the mountaintops in the west. Long shadows darkened the town. Prospectors were already filling up the saloons. This was what he hadn’t wanted his bride to see. Not yet. He’d hoped to bring her to town, get her settled in for the night, give them time to get better acquainted, and help her understand what he wanted to accomplish in Grand Coeur.
But what did any of that matter now? Luvena needn’t know or understand. They wouldn’t be married. She wouldn’t be staying. Not any longer than it took him to figure out what to do with her and those children.