“Cordial is better than angry, I suppose.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but when I marry, I want so much more than that, don’t you?”
“Of course. I want what my parents had.”
“I want a romance story, one filled with heart-thumping adventures, like in the books I read.”
“I see.”
“I want to be swept off my feet, romanced, wooed. Is that asking too much?”
“Depends. Do you mean in the beginning or for the duration of the marriage? It would be a tall order for any fella, to keep the adventure going.”
“Oh, forever. I don’t want the flame to go out.” She seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. “Don’t you see? I want to be reminded—daily, if you please—that I am loved. That the man who has won my heart would scale the highest mountain just to be with me. That no obstacle he might ever encounter would keep him from me.” She faced him. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“Not if you’re marrying Don Quixote.”
She giggled, and her cheeks flamed pink. “Silly. I would never marry a man who spends most of his days on a horse, traveling from place to place, especially not one who drifted from woman to woman. I want a settled man, a peaceful man.”
Ah. Now things were looking more hopeful.
“A man who enjoys spending time with a good book.”
Hmm. Perhaps not.
“A man who will sit in front of the fireplace at night while I darn his socks, a man who will share his heart with me—his ideas, his ideals, his goals, and ambitions. Don’t you see? I want someone who includes me.”
“That’s how a fella romances a woman, then?” Sam realized his arm was still draped over her shoulders. He took a chance and pulled her a bit closer. “By involving her in the ordinary day-to-day goings on?”
“Sure.”
“Might not be as complicated as I’d feared.” He didn’t mean to speak the words aloud, but there they were.
She didn’t seem to notice. “I’m not saying I would object to flowers on occasion or to jewelry, even. But give me a quiet walk by the creek, hand-holding, sweet nothings, quiet conversations about the future, visits to places such as this.” Abby grew silent as she focused on the water. “I’d be in heaven,” she said after a few moments. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I guess I do.” He realized she’d just provided him the perfect segue into a conversation about Marcus. “I suppose you’ve got your pick of any number of men here in San Francisco.”
Her nose wrinkled. “What San Francisco lacks in quality, it makes up for in quantity.”
“I’ll try not to take offense at that.” He pulled his arm away from her shoulders in playful fashion.
She slugged him on the shoulder and laughed. “Silly. I wasn’t talking about you, of course. You’re different from all the men I’ve met here.”
“I’m not big and tough like Chet and Adam. Is that what you mean? And I’m not handsome like Marcus Denueve.” He paused to gauge her reaction, but Abby never so much as glanced his way. “God made me a little …” He paused. “Less inclined to dress like a cowboy and more inclined to be an ordinary Joe.”
“Really?” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have put it that way. I can imagine you in a cowboy hat and Levis.”
“You can?” He shook his head. “I tried the cowboy duds, when we first came here. Felt like a foreigner, as if I was trying too hard to fit in with the others. Finally decided that fitting in wasn’t what God wanted from me. He just wanted me to be myself.”
“I’m grateful you stood your ground, then.” She gave him an admiring look. “It’s one thing to change your clothing; another altogether to lose pieces of yourself to a place you barely know.”
He rested his hand on her arm. “I’m living proof that you can live in San Francisco without giving up who you truly are. It starts with spending time with the people you trust and not getting pulled into a web that could end in your demise.”
There. He’d said it. Hopefully she would take the hint.
“What are you saying?” Confusion registered in her eyes.
“Spending time with Marcus Denueve is dangerous business if you’re looking to stay the same.” Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he released the words to her ears. “That’s all.”
Abby pulled away from him. “What does my friendship with Marcus Denueve have to do with this conversation?”
“More than you know, Abby. And please don’t get angry. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Not in San Francisco. People think that all the time, but in this place, we have to look out for each other, trust me.” He paused. “And you can trust me, Abby. That’s all I’m saying. I have your best interest at heart.”
She kept her gaze on the waters, but the next words were clearly meant for him. “Then let me make my own mistakes. If they are, indeed, mistakes, then I’ll fix them.”
“I’ve known many a fella to say that same thing over the past two years, only to reach the point of no return.”
“So, now I’m headed toward a rocky cliff?” She swung around and faced him, defiant. “Is that it?” She pointed to the ledge in front of them. “Afraid I’ll fall?”
“If you keep on with Marcus, perhaps.” Sam fought to find the right words. “You don’t know him like I do. He casts a spell over people. Some would call it manipulation. Others call it greed. Whatever name you choose to give it, it’s dangerous. He’s dangerous. And I care too much about you …” Sam’s voice cracked. “I care too much about you to let him pull you into some sort of web.”
As the words were spoken, the pounding in his heart went to double-time. For, while he’d kept those thoughts to himself, he could no longer deny the truth: his feelings for Abby Effingham were rising faster than the yeast in Cookie’s bread dough.
Abby could hardly believe the direction the conversation had turned. Why did Sam continue to see her as a child?
“I thought your lessons went well last night,” he managed after a few moments of silence.
“Is this an attempt to change the subject?”
He nodded. “Yes, and I hope it’s not too late.”
“In response to what you’ve said, yes, the first lesson went well. The men were more cooperative than I would have imagined.”
“Yes, I was pleasantly surprised.”
Her angst dissipated as she remembered how he had come to her rescue last night and participated in the class session. She gave him a tender glance. “Thanks for helping, by the way. You’re very …”
“Reliable?”
She nodded. “That’s a good word.”
“That’s me—good old reliable Sam.”
Strange, he sounded pained by his own words.
Off in the distance the church bell chimed three times. Sam startled to attention. “Time to get back to the restaurant. Cookie will be looking for us.”
“I suppose she will, though I don’t know if I can make it through another round of service today. I’m aching all over from carrying those heavy trays.”
“Maybe when your Don Quixote comes along you won’t have to work.” Sam roused the horses from their rest and nudged the wagon away from the overlook.
“What?” She could scarcely believe he’d said such a thing.
Sam clucked his tongue at the horses, never giving her a look. “I meant Prince Charming, not Don Quixote.”
There he went, treating her like a child once again. “You’re poking fun at me,” she said, her spine stiffening at the very idea.
“I’m not.”
She brushed her hands against her skirt. “Go on and ridicule. But one day Prince Charming will come along and my life really will be the thing fairy tales are made of.”
“Until then?” he asked, his gaze penetrating to her very soul.
“Until then …” She glanced away, her thoughts in a whirl. “I wait.”
Abby spent the next couple of days thinking through a plan for managing her parents’ arrival. Hopefully things would go well. She would have spoken to Neville about it once again, but he seemed distracted with Les, who had been spending more time than usual at the restaurant. Every time she found Neville missing, he turned up with Les. Just proved to confirm Abby’s suspicions.
On Friday morning, just about the time Neville and Cookie headed off to the mercantile, Abby happened to catch Les alone in the dining hall, playing solitaire.
She took a seat near her friend and rested her palms on the table. “Lesley, can I ask a question?”
“Well, sure.” Les looked up from her cards. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book. Speaking of books, I’ve finished Wuthering Heights. Not my favorite. Wasn’t fond of the ending.”
“I felt the same. Strange, how some stories turn out.”
Les sighed. “Why isn’t love ever simple?”
Perfect segue. Abby patted Les’s hand. “It didn’t take much detective work on my part to figure out who you’ve got your eye on.”
“Oh?” Les pursed her lips and her cheeks flamed bright pink. “Guess I’m a little too bold, then, if I’m that obvious. My secret is out?”
“It’s out, indeed. And you couldn’t have chosen a finer man.” Abby’s heart quickened at the idea of it. Just as quickly, she thought about how sad it would be, once her parents arrived. Would her father tug Neville back to Philadelphia, away from the woman he so clearly loved?
“I agree.” Lesley clasped her hands together at her chest. “Though, for all the tea in China, I can’t get him to give me a second look.”
This made no sense at all. “What do you mean, give you a second look? Why, it was all he could do not to stare at you all morning long. In fact, I’ve noticed for days now that he has paid you more attention than ever.”
“Really?” Lesley’s lips curled up in a smile. “I guess I didn’t notice.” She reached to grab Abby’s hand. “Oh, but he’s a handsome devil, isn’t he? And such a fine, proper man.”
“He is. And I can tell you with all assurance that he’s a complete gentleman,” Abby assured her.
Lesley sighed. “I know.”
“I’ve known him for years, and can bear witness to the fact that—while he’s a bit crusty on the outside—Neville is as sweet as sugar on the inside.”
“Neville?” Les paled. “Your Neville?”
“Well, of course. I saw him at your table again this morning. Everything about him says he loves you. The look in his eyes as he watched your every move. The kindness in his voice as he spoke to you. My goodness, but he’s got it bad.”
Les scooted her chair back and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table. “Abby, if you saw that as anything other than friendship—and I do mean friendship—then you are sorely mistaken.”
“What?” Abby shook her head, her heart beginning to pound against her chest. “Now I’m confused. I’d just adjusted my thinking to the notion that the two of you were …” Her words drifted off.
Lesley pushed herself to a standing position and brushed her palms against her skirt to smooth it. “Abby, he’s old enough to be my father.” The words came out in a hoarse whisper.
“Cookie says no one around these parts pays any mind to age differences.”
“Are you saying Cookie thinks this too?”
Abby nodded. “Well, I don’t know if she thinks it, exactly, or if she’s confused by the whole thing. She didn’t exactly take to the idea with ease for some reason.”
“No doubt she didn’t.” Lesley paused. “You know what’s really going on here, Abby?”
“Clearly, I do not. I’m as lost as can be.”
“Neville knows that Cookie and I are friends. He approached me about, well …” Lesley paused and lowered her voice. “Winning her affections.”
“What?” Abby didn’t mean for the word to come out with such volume, but couldn’t control her excitement. “Are you sure?” If so, then Cookie must feel the same way. This certainly accounted for her odd behavior the other day, at any rate.
“Well, of course I’m sure.” Les chuckled. “No one knows Cookie like I do. I know her favorite foods, her preferences, the things that make her jump for joy. I’ve been helping Neville put together a list to woo her.”
“Well, you could blow me over.”
Les chuckled. “I still can’t get over the fact that you thought Neville and I …” She slapped herself on the thigh. “Oh, that’s priceless. Wait till I tell him.”
Abby’s cheeks heated at the very idea. “No, please don’t. Then he’ll know that I know about his feelings for Cookie. That will just make things uncomfortable.”
“Won’t be long before everyone figures that one out. But in the meantime, Neville has been doing me the most wonderful favor.”
Now Abby’s curiosity was truly piqued. “What’s that?”
“Teaching me to speak like a lady. My speech has been lazy and fraught with poor habits. He’s been giving me diction lessons.”
“Outside of my etiquette lessons, you mean?”
“Yes.” Lesley sat up straight and cleared her throat. “How very kind of you to invite me to this lovely reception,” she said with crispness and perfect tone. “See what I mean? I’m getting better already. Before long, Mr. Denueve will see me for who I really am.”
“Marcus Denueve?” Abby put a hand over her mouth. “Is that who you’re enamored with?”
“You betcha.” Les’s smile faded into a pout. “He doesn’t seem to notice me coming or going, though.” She grew more thoughtful and turned Abby’s way with a somber expression. “But he sure spends a great deal of time trying to win your heart. At least he did the other morning at breakfast.”
“I have no aspirations in that direction,” Abby managed over the lump in her throat. At least none she’d voice aloud.
“Thank goodness.” Lesley’s face brightened. “I’ve had my eye on him for years.”
A tight cord wound itself around Abby’s heart as she thought about Les and Marcus Denueve as a couple. Not that it was any of her business, of course, but she couldn’t picture the man with someone like Les. No, he needed a woman of refinement, one who would help him with his goals and aspirations. And Les needed to be with someone more … well, she couldn’t think of anyone at the moment, but someone other than Marcus.
Marcus. Abby sighed as the cord twisted a bit tighter.
“You all right over there?” Lesley asked.
“Hmm?” Abby looked up and snapped to attention. “Oh, of course. I’m just tired, I think. Lots to do. Best get to the kitchen to help Cookie with the dishes.”
“She’s gone to the mercantile, remember?”
“Oh, right. But I did promise to finish up the dishes and start on tonight’s pies.”
Lesley laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were smitten as well.”
“Not at all. I’m just passing through, remember? Why, when Mother and Father arrive, we’ll all head back to Philadelphia in a hurry.”
“And leave a broken heart behind, no doubt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, everyone in town has you pegged for Sam.”
“They … they do?”
“Of course. From the minute he saved you from the fellas that first day. I know you think you’re bolting after your parents arrive, but why not give this a go while you’re here? Might as well make the whole town happy and start the courting process now to see where things lead. That’s what I’d do, anyway. If I wasn’t pining for Marcus, I mean.”
“Sam … has feelings for me?” Abby shook off her ponderings.
“I’m no expert in courting, but I would think so, from the way he looks at you.” Lesley chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’ve been blind to that.”
“I guess I have.”
Suddenly, Abby felt completely out of sorts. She wanted to jump and run from the table, to spend a few quie
t minutes in her room, thinking about the condition of her heart. Instead, she headed to the kitchen to wash dishes.
A short while later, Cookie and Neville returned, their arms loaded down with items from the mercantile.
The heightened color in Cookie’s cheeks caused Abby a bit of concern. “Is it hot out there?” she asked. “You’re flushed, Cookie.”
“Am I?” Cookie dropped a crate of produce on the counter. “Hot and bothered, is more like it. You wouldn’t believe the prices on these things.” She yanked several items out of the crate and set them to the side. “That Marcus Denueve has us painted into a corner. We have to buy the ingredients for the baking from his store—the flour, the baking powder, and so forth. He knows that. So, he’s upped his prices, and not just on baking supplies, but other food items we use daily as well. In the meantime—mark my words—he’ll charge lower prices at his new restaurant over at the saloon. He’ll feed the fellas for half of what they pay here.” She slammed a bag of flour on the counter. “It’s just like Sam said. The man knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“He’s been so kind to me, though,” Abby countered. “Even offered me a good wage to play piano at his establishment.”
“Establishment. That’s a fine word for it.” Cookie muttered something under her breath. “Anyway, I’d like to put the man out of my mind, but it’s very difficult with that grand opening happening tonight. Most of the fellas are going.” She mumbled something else and then added the word, “Traitors.”
Abby garnered the courage to say, “Just call me a traitor too.”
“What?” Cookie spun around on her heels.
“I was invited.”
“But surely you wouldn’t go there, Miss Abigail,” Neville said. “It’s not a fitting place for a lady.”
“It’s a restaurant,” Abby countered. “How bad could it be?”
“And here you think you know a person …” Cookie clucked her tongue. “I’m so stunned I hardly know what to say.”
“Mr. Denueve personally invited me to the grand opening. I believe he wants me to look at the piano, to see if I might be able to play on occasion. I have some wonderful classical pieces in mind.”