Chapter One

 

Today's the day, Chelsea Carson thought, and although the rare smile that tilted her eyes widened a fraction, she couldn't deny the fierce anxiety that knotted in her stomach. Unwittingly, she pressed a quelling palm against her abdomen.

"I'm going to do it," she promised herself aloud. "I'm just going to go for it."

But her determined voice was lost on the cool spring breeze that blew through the apple orchard.

For nearly two weeks she'd worried, working at gathering the inner strength, the sheer guts it would take to make the offer, an offer that wasn't entirely unselfish. Chelsea was certain she could do it. She had to. Because when she did, she'd finally have her heart's desire, her lifelong dream.

And once her dream became reality, she'd never feel lonely again.

Loneliness. Lately it had engulfed her, nearly smothered her. Oh, it wasn't as though she were some kind of isolated hermit. She came into contact with people every day in her job as the bookkeeper and office manager here at Reed's Orchard. In fact, she could think only of a few times in her life when she hadn't been surrounded by people. It was just that she'd learned firsthand how dangerous it was to become too friendly with those who fluttered in and out of her life.

Yes, Chelsea had found it necessary to hold herself apart, and because of it, she'd often been labeled as cool, even aloof. But she didn't mind. These character traits were her armor, and they were essential for her survival.

But if her plan was successful, the loneliness that had plagued her for so long would be a thing of the past, a distant, unpleasant memory… an unpleasant memory she could shove way up high on the shelf in the back of her mind with all the others.

In order for her plan to come to fruition, however, Chelsea knew she first had to force herself to be…

"Bold," she whispered, rounding the corner of the brick building that housed the orchard's offices and produce market. What was the worst that could happen? He could say no, and she'd be no worse off than she was right now.

"March right up to him and say it," she murmured. "Just blurt it out before…"

The thought died mid-stream at the sight of Ben Danvers' broad, muscular back. He stood at the opposite end of the small asphalt parking lot. His feet were planted apart, arms crossed at his chest. He was obviously embroiled in a toe-to-to confrontation with the potbellied, balding man in front of him.

"Take it down."

Chelsea overheard Ben's demand, a demand made in a dangerously calm tone.

"But the auction's next week," the man protested. "That sign serves as advertisement. People will come in droves to buy up this land just as soon as they know it's available."

Ben stepped over to the newly planted sign promoting the auctioning of Reed's Orchard. Placing his shoulder beneath the rectangle of plywood, Ben rocked the post several times.

"Wait!" the fat man shouted. "You can't do that."

Ben hauled the whole works from the ground, and threw the sign at the auctioneer's feet.

"This land still belongs to me."

The fat man's face went ruddy. "Only until next week."

Ben's voice remained deadly calm as he stated, "You will not put that sign on my property."

The man's chin jutted, his jaw clenched, as he dragged the sign to the back of his truck and hefted it into the bed of the pickup. He grumbled under his breath as he climbed behind the steering wheel and threw a glare at Ben. "I'll be back. Don't you worry."

Chelsea watched the auctioneer drive away with a squeal of tires. Then her gaze riveted on the stiff posture of Ben's back. He was in deep trouble, she knew. His time was running out.

I can help him. The thought made nerves dance in her stomach like the flapping wings of a thousand butterflies.

He can help me. The selfish words came unbidden to her mind. A pang of guilt sliced through her heart and forced her gaze to slide to the ground.

With great effort, Chelsea lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. "I will do this," she whispered determinedly. "For once in your life, Chelsea, be bold."

Pushing open the door, she disappeared into the brick building.

Agitated beyond belief, Ben raked his fingers through his already disheveled hair. He turned and stomped across the parking lot, heaving a tremendous sigh. He had to do something to save his orchard, and he had to do it quickly. But what was he supposed to do? Pluck a woman out of midair? Grab some unknown female off the street and haul her to the altar?

Entering the country store, Ben saw Aunt May sitting behind the counter reading one of her coveted tabloid newspapers.

May glanced up, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "There's this little waitress in Mississippi who says she's been abducted by aliens forty-two times over the past eighteen months."

Usually, May's outlandish stories would give Ben a good chuckle, but today he didn't even smile. Evidently, she saw his distress because she folded the paper and tucked it underneath the counter.

"Why did he do it, Aunt May?" Ben could hear his growing frustration leaking into his question, but he couldn't help it. This ridiculous situation had him feeling pretty damned desperate.

"The auctioneer was only trying to do his job," Aunt May explained gently.

Ben shook his head. "I'm not talking about the auctioneer. I mean Granddad. Why is he taking all this…" he lifted his hands in a grand, sweeping motion "…away from me?"

"It wasn't his intention to hurt you." Her voice was hushed, almost a whisper.

"Aunt May, he's not only hurting me, he's cheating me." His voice had a matter-of-fact quality to it. "Cheating me out of everything I've worked for all of these years."

"Oh, Ben." The two little words held all the sympathy and compassion she could muster. "Please don't talk like that. I don't know what he was thinking. John Reed was my brother, but for the life of me I never could quite figure him out."

His gaze swept the shop, taking in the neat and colorful displays of fruits and vegetables, jars of golden honey, jams and jellies and nut butters, and the fresh baked goods that were home-made by a local Amish family. The familiar scent of apples and cinnamon did nothing to calm him.

"Forced marriage." Ben's tone was just as incredulous now as it had been over two weeks ago at the reading of his grandfather's will. "This kind of crap hasn't been done for a hundred years." Then he murmured, "Pardon my language."

May only offered an empathic nod.

"If I don't comply with that idiotic clause…" Ben rubbed at the tension building in the muscles at the back of his neck. "If I don't get married by next week, my orchard is going to be auctioned off." He pointed vaguely toward the door. "That pack of apathetic lawyers in town is going to sell my land to the highest bidder and give the profits to a list of charities that's longer than my arm."

Ben knew it was unfair of him to blame the lawyers who were handling his grandfather's estate. Hell, he didn't even know them. But the need to lash out at someone or something was strong, and at the moment Ben didn't care to deny it.

Pressing her lips together, May looked as though she couldn't think of a proper response.

"This land has been in our family for five generations." Stress fueled Ben's frustration. "And now that it's time for the orchard to be passed on to me, I'm going to lose it all. All because of a willful, old coot!"

May's spine straightened with affront. "I want to remind you that the man you're calling an old coot was your grandfather. I won't have you talking about him that way. You were just a baby when your father died, and your grandfather saw to it that you and your mother were taken care of. And then after your mother passed, he raised you the best he could."

"I know. I know, Aunt May," Ben relented. "I owe you and Granddad everything. I do know that." He planted one fist on his hip. "But why this?" he asked. "Why force me to get married?"

May shrugged. "Maybe John wanted you to have someone you could share all this with. Maybe he wanted you to have a wife and children of your own so you could experience the same happiness he'd found with your grandmother and your mother."

Ben thrust his hands up into the air, his eyes imploring. "But why the time frame of twenty-one days? I had no objection to marriage. I would have settled down one day. Eventually, I would have found myself a wife and had a few kids." He shook his head and sighed. "But all that takes time. And I've been spending all of mine building up Reed's Orchard."

"Maybe your grandfather noticed that too."

A disgusted sound burst from the back of Ben's throat. "But, Aunt May, how am I supposed to get a woman to the altar in such a short time? I mean, I don't see it happening unless I toss some stranger over my shoulder, caveman style, and carry her off to the church. And all that would do is get me arrested."

After a moment of silence, his aunt pointedly reminded him, "Time's getting shorter every day."

"You think I don't know that? This situation is impossible, I'm telling you." Ben ran a hand over his jaw. His tone lowered as though he were speaking to himself as he asked, "What could Granddad have been thinking?"

May rested her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. "John was a loving and caring man. He provided for his family. He went to church regularly. He was an upstanding citizen." She tucked a wispy strand of gray hair back into place atop her tightly teased beehive hairdo. Styles may have changed over the years, but May staunchly maintained that what was good enough for Margaret Vinci Heldt was good enough for her… besides, she claimed the do made her look taller, and everyone knew looking taller meant looking thinner. "But I must admit that at times he could get some quirky notions into his head."

A small chuckle rumbled in her ample chest before she continued. "Remember the time... you were just a boy… when your grandfather found that clay pot shard on a plot of ground he bought off Duck Neck Road?"

Although Ben knew the place his aunt spoke of, there was a well-developed grove of apple trees there now, he shook his head, unable to recall the particular incident.

May didn't bother to contain her grin. "Well, John was certain he'd come upon a great archaeological find. He contacted the community college, but they weren't interested. So he called some of the universities in Philadelphia. Two professors came out to have a look-see, but in the end they told John it was nothing, that he should just go ahead and plant his trees." May leaned back, resting her chubby forearm on the nearby window sill. "John wouldn't listen to the experts, though. He decided to excavate himself. He didn't know a thing about digging up ancient relics, but he dug just the same."

"What did he find?" Ben asked.

"Dirt."

Ben was helpless against the smile that curled the corners of his mouth. "I do remember when he lost all that money."

May laughed at the memory she, too, obviously remembered well.

"He'd had a dream," Ben said. "Granddad was certain he knew the winning lottery numbers. He was going to be a millionaire. He played a hundred dollars a day for nearly a month before he gave up."

"And that stubborn man never did admit defeat," May added. "He simply grumbled about the whole setup being fixed. Of course it wasn't fixed. He'd just dreamed the wrong numbers, is all."

There was a moment of silence as both Ben and May thought about some of John Reed's other odd exploits. Ben had loved his grandfather dearly, but he did have to admit that there were times when the man was slightly off kilter. And this forced-marriage deal was simply another one of those times. But on this particular occasion, his grandfather's peculiarities were going to cost Ben everything.

"Like I said," May finally commented, "sometimes John got some funny notions into his head. But don't go thinking you can fight the will. Having John Reed declared incompetent would be impossible, because he was as sane as Solomon." She hooted before she added, "Too bad he wasn't as wise."

"My lawyer agrees with you," Ben said. "About fighting the will, I mean. He says there are too many people here in Kemblesville who would testify to Granddad's 'soundness of mind.' Besides, the legal fees alone would force me to mortgage the orchard, or worse, sell some acreage. Which would defeat the whole purpose, anyway; so I don't see how I can win in this situation." He inhaled deeply. "I really don't believe Granddad was incompetent, Aunt May. If he had been, he couldn't have kept Reed's Orchard going all these years. I guess he was just..." His voice trailed off as he searched for the correct adjective to describe John Reed.

"Quirky?" May provided.

Ben closed his eyes and nodded.

He perched his hip on the counter, hung his head and rubbed the knuckle of his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip in contemplation. Finally, he said, "Well, Granddad's eccentricity is sure to ruin me this time. I can't for the life of me think of a way out of this one."

"Looks pretty cut and dried to me," May said, her tone blunt and to the point. "You need to find a wife."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Look for His Wife For A While, coming soon!

 

Other titles by Donna Fasano

 

The Merry-Go-Round

 

Mountain Laurel

 

Taking Love in Stride

 

Return of the Runaway Bride

 

For a full list of the authors back titles,

visit her website at http://www.DonnaFasano.com