Love in the Balance (39 page)

“Still, I wish you and Bailey all the luck, and I sincerely hope the new owners allow him to stay on. I worry, though. They seem set in their ways. Even after being told about our daughter’s wedding, they still insisted on the afternoon appointment.”

Molly watched the buildings as they passed. It was incredible. She was getting married today to the man she loved, yet she wasn’t allowing herself to believe it. Hopefully she’d believe it later, when he took her home to the parsonage. If she didn’t get it through her blond head that they were joined in holy matrimony by nightfall, Bailey was going to be put out with her for sure.

Her heart twisted. Her trepidation couldn’t be ignored for much longer. She’d thought that she’d put her disgrace behind her, but now she realized that the worst was still ahead.

She straightened her back. First there was business to conduct. A few words with Judge Rice, and then they’d await her father’s arrival at the attorney’s office.

“You look nice, Molly,” her mother said. “It’s a crying shame no one will see you, but under the circumstances it wouldn’t be fitting to have a big to-do.”

“Bailey will see me. That’s enough.”

Thomas smiled at his wife, still reveling in his good fortune. “You know, we were wrong about that boy. Molly should’ve married him in the first place.”

Molly dug her fingernails into her palms and swallowed any words that would mar her blessing. “Thank you for approving. I’ll be proud to be his wife.”

“We hope he’s proud of you, dear.” Her mother adjusted her hat and performed a minuscule nod at a woman crossing before them. “It was wise to have a modest proceeding, nothing showy. Perhaps that’ll give everyone time to get used to the idea.” She craned her neck over the crowd before her. “Why are you stopping here?”

“Open your eyes, woman. The road is blocked. As soon as I find a hitching post, we’ll get out and walk.”

“What is everyone looking at? It’s not market day. I’d hoped the square would be vacant. Oh dear,” Mrs. Lovelace sighed, “we’re sure to run into an acquaintance and will have to explain our meeting with the judge. I’d hoped to avoid sharing your news myself.”

Her father handed the two women down and took her mother’s hand in his, dragging her along as she frowned at the abandoned wagons on the side of the road. Mrs. Lovelace unfurled her fan as they approached the courthouse lawn and saw what was responsible for the crowds.

A white tent covered the northwest corner, and under its shade stood an arbor covered in pink roses. “How beautiful!” Mrs. Lovelace said.

Molly was impressed, too. People were milling at the edges of the tent, clumping together and whispering in wonder.

“What’s the arbor for?” Molly asked a man nearby.

“Someone told me it’s a wedding. I don’t know the happy couple, but they said I was welcome to attend.” He smiled, showing teeth that looked like he’d gnawed on gravel. “After the ceremony there’ll be cake.”

Looked like he’d eaten too many sweets already, but maybe she and Bailey could sneak some. With one last longing glance at the festive tent, she followed her parents to the courthouse steps.

Judge Rice met them inside the door. His kind blue eyes sparkled when she gestured at his corsage.

“Do you wear that to all your civil ceremonies?” Molly asked.

“For the important ones.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “May I kiss the bride?”

She nodded and accepted a peck on her forehead. “Is Bailey here already?”

“He’s been here since dawn.”

“Then let’s get this over with,” her father said. “We have important business waiting.”

“No, don’t go that way.” Judge Rice motioned to the gathering on the lawn. “He’s out there—inside the tent.”

Of course he was. Bailey never passed up a party. Molly followed Judge Rice through the milling crowd, searching for her fellow. What would he be wearing? It shouldn’t matter, but she’d worn her favorite silk gown with the princess Basque. She’d feel foolish if he was wearing his dirty canvas britches and an old vest.

As they approached the white tent, flaps blowing on the edge of the shelter, Judge Rice stopped them.

“Mrs. Lovelace, if you’d allow me to escort you to the front, we’ll let Thomas do his task.”

“She can’t leave,” her father protested. “We’re supposed to go to your office.”

Molly’s attention was drawn from her parents to the man standing under the arbor. He was obviously the groom, decked out in a ready-made suit. She smiled. His bride probably wouldn’t recognize him, for he’d obviously never worn those clothes before.

A man stepped up to the groom, and Molly gasped. Reverend Stoker? What was he doing? Then her hand flew to her mouth and her stomach turned inside out. It couldn’t be. But it was. The uncomfortable groom wearing the hurriedly stitched suit was Bailey.

She took in the whole scene—the flowers, the hastily constructed shelter, the white sugar cakes on the table in the shade of the oak trees. Her wedding.

“We mustn’t,” her mother said. “It’s too extravagant. What will people say?”

“They’ll say that a man must love a woman very much to plan this on his own,” Judge Rice said. “There’s a place for us up front. Let’s go.”

What could Molly do? She touched her hair, suddenly insecure about her appearance. Did she look like a woman who deserved a wedding on the town square in the middle of the day?

Then Bailey saw her.

His smiling eyes blew her concerns away like dandelion fluff. She was marrying Bailey. It was going to happen. Right here. Right now. Her father took her arm and directed her to the center of the tent. No music, no chairs, but the curious crowd parted, pushing those on the farthest rim out of the shade.

Why would Bailey do this? It was enough that he’d give her his name. He didn’t have to act proud of it. But he certainly didn’t look humble. His chest rose, and he tugged downward on his satin vest with a satisfied yank. His smile widened, and he took a breath as if preparing to call out to her, but with a sheepish look he contained his enthusiasm.

She was moving toward him, pulled by her father before she knew what was happening. A hand extended between strangers to thrust a bouquet of pink roses at her. Molly peered over their shoulders and saw Prue on tiptoe. She didn’t have time to say thanks, because after years of dragging his heels, Thomas Lovelace was dragging his daughter to the altar. He didn’t even pause when Rosa stepped in her path for a quick hug. Molly squeezed her quickly and smiled at her impulsiveness. Leave it to Rosa to hug the bride on the way down the aisle. If Rosa was there, that meant Bailey’s whole family couldn’t be far away.

How had he pulled this off without raising a hint of suspicion?

They stood before Reverend Stoker as her father placed her into Bailey’s care. So many questions for him. So many things to say, but Molly couldn’t speak. She let her eyes do her talking for her. Over the noise of the Lockhart commerce and curious latecomers, they repeated their vows, Bailey struggling to keep his composure under the rose-scented lattice.

As suddenly as it’d begun, the ceremony ended, and he leaned forward to give his first kiss as her husband—and it was the best one yet.

———

“Y’all enjoy the cake and punch,” Bailey announced to the crowd. “We’ve got plans.”

“Bailey!” Molly clutched his arm and turned last year’s shade of pink as guffaws erupted. Molly chewed the inside of her cheek. What was she going to do? She probably didn’t have to say anything. She had no secrets from Bailey, but could she move on without acknowledging the past?

He offered his arm and steered her through the well-wishers. “Only a few more hours.”

She wouldn’t think about it. Not yet. “First we have an extremely uncomfortable appointment with our lawyer.”

“Do you think your parents are there already?”

“I’m certain of it. If Father had his way, he would’ve walked out as soon as he gave you my hand. He’s anxious.”

“Makes me wonder if we offered him too much.”

Molly glared. “I know how to figure a fair bid for a business based on profit and capital. The market—”

“Shh
.
”
He covered her hand. “Let’s not have our first spat before we leave the wedding party.”

“No one would be surprised.”

As they neared the attorney’s office, Molly grew even more thoughtful. Justice allowed her—nay, required her—to carry out this coup, didn’t it? To prove to her father in grand fashion that she was capable? After today he could never deny it again. Here was a maneuver that would leave him breathless, but would it be with anger or with appreciation?

The closer they came to the office, the more her doubts grew. Was she honoring her parents? Would they resent her secrecy?

Her legs stopped moving. Bailey pulled her a full yard before he realized she was digging canals with her feet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if we should do this. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you pulling my leg? Have you seen how happy your pa is? If we back out now, he’ll be disappointed.”

“But he’ll feel foolish when he realizes we tricked him. What about his heart?”

“Taking the business off his hands is the best thing we could do for his heart. He can finally relax. Let’s go.”

Holding on for dear life, Molly moved lead feet up the steps to the front door of the solicitor’s. Her heart pounded when she spotted her parents’ surrey parked at the side. Where had her sense of triumph gone? All she anticipated now was her parents’ anger.

Bailey held the door open for her and ushered her inside the gleaming office. The foyer was deserted. On their last visit Molly had noted the shelves of stuffed folders lining the walls above the cushioned benches. Now she wondered if each of those deals wrought the same level of emotional turmoil that hers did.

“They’re in the office.” Molly couldn’t tear her eyes from the closed door.

Bailey took a seat. “If you want to change your mind, it’s not too late. He keeps the mill, you keep your money. We’ve already settled the important matter.”

The door opened. Molly jumped, but it was only Mr. Mooney. He closed it carefully behind him, not allowing any stolen glances to reach the foyer.

“Mr. Lovelace has signed the contract and is more than a little pleased with himself, although naturally he’s trying to disguise his glee.”

Bailey rose and stood at Molly’s side. “Have you told them we’re here?”

“Not directly. I told them the new buyers might meet with them today to facilitate a smooth transition. Are you ready?”

Bailey leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Nobody can keep your father happy. At least make him proud.”

Bailey was right. She’d tried all her life to please her father. She’d worked to fit his expectations only to learn that he was trying to mold her into a person he couldn’t respect. She was doing nothing illegal or immoral, and as Mr. Mooney had pointed out, her father was pleased with the deal.

With a tight nod from her, Mr. Mooney opened the door wide.

“I didn’t expect to see the two of you here.” Her father laughed. “Did you come to meet the mysterious new owner? Beg him to keep you on at your position?”

Molly’s doubts shriveled up like feathers in a flame. He wasn’t worried about their future. He didn’t know how to worry about anyone besides himself. Her allegiance belonged to Bailey.

Mr. Mooney had pulled two more chairs into the room and crowded them around the rectangular table.

“Don’t bother with those chairs, Mooney,” Thomas said. “I don’t want a whole gaggle of people in here when the investor arrives.”

Mr. Mooney straightened and raised an eyebrow at Molly. It was time.

Using all the grace her mother had pounded into her, she lowered herself into the chair. “No one else is coming, Father. Your offer came from us.”

The silence was rancid. He almost began to laugh, but he looked at Bailey and stopped. His chin jutted out as his belief grew. Molly had expected a storm, and it seemed that one was brewing. He reached for the papers on the table, but Mr. Mooney reached them first.

“Of course, once Mr. and Mrs. Garner have signed the contract, you’ll be able to take a copy with you.”

“This is preposterous.” He turned to Adele, who couldn’t hide her astonishment.

“Molly, how could you? You foolish girl,” her mother said.

“Consider the terms, Mother. Father is content with the amount. Wouldn’t you be uncomfortable going into business with strangers?”

She closed her fan. “Well, I suppose it would be better to have family on the property.”

Thomas’s eyes ran over the contract in Mr. Mooney’s hand again. He leaned back in his seat and swung one boot across the other knee. “I have half a mind to nullify the contract. I never consented.”

“You signed it to an anonymous bidder,” Mr. Mooney said.

“But they aren’t anonymous. I know them.” When no one answered he tried a different tact. “Where’d you get the money?”

“From my settlement,” Molly answered. “That was enough for the down payment.”

“Your settlement?” He rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have put that money in Fenton’s bank.”

“It’s my money, and I’m not squandering it as you feared.”

“You’re not? Seems like you lost every penny. Why buy the mill when you knew I was going to give it to you?” He squirmed under the disbelieving looks from every person in the room. “I would have . . . eventually.”

Molly leaned forward and rested both hands on the table. “Father, we worry about your health, and nothing made me happier than to see your relief when you got our offer. Can you hold on to that joy? Can you remain pleased that you no longer have that responsibility?”

Bailey took her hand as they waited for his reply.

His mouth grew small and his nostrils grew large. “My concern is that you’re going to constantly ask me for help. There’s more to it than either of you realize. You won’t manage very well without my years of expertise.”

“We’ll do quite well,” Molly huffed, but Bailey interrupted.

“But we’d do better with your counsel. What if, once a week, say, we got together, maybe over a game of checkers, and you could advise me.”