A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

“You don’t think she and Homer are rushing things?”

“Dad asked Mom to marry him on their fifth date and look how that turned out.”

Molly’s sister made a valid point. If not for the driver running a stop sign, their father might still be alive today and their parents celebrating thirty-three years of wedded bliss.

Sadly, the driver had run the stop sign. And after sixteen years of loneliness and misery, Molly and Bridget’s mother had recently married again and moved to Casa Grande.

Doug paled in comparison to their father. While not mean or abusive—Molly and Bridget would never tolerate their mother being mistreated—he was frequently needy and narcissistic and extremely stingy with money. The sisters suspected their mother was just as lonely and miserable now as after their father died. But she refused to divorce Doug, claiming men like her late husband were few and far between.

She was right, but that didn’t deter Molly and Bridget from trying to find such a man and refusing to settle for less. It wasn’t easy, their mother had been right about that. Molly need only examine her own track record.

Nora abruptly called from the foyer. “Florist is here!”

“Go.” Bridget waved Molly away. “I need to start decorating the wedding cake.”

The delivery man was setting the first arrangement on the table in the parlor when Molly got there. One look and she stopped in her tracks.

“Those aren’t the right color roses.”

He checked his delivery schedule, squinting his eyes at the electronic device in his hand. “Ten dozen arrangements in glass vases.”

Molly approached the table and fingered one of the blooms. “We requested pale peach. These are orange.”

“Let me call the office.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m at Sweetheart Ranch. The customer says the roses are the wrong color.” After a pause, he passed the phone to Molly, who put it to her ear. “It’s the manager,” he said.

“Hi. Molly O’Malley here. The roses are supposed to be peach.”

“Hold on a second while I pull up the record.”

Molly silently fumed. She knew precisely what the bride had requested. She’d reviewed the order herself.

“According to my records, I spoke to Emily O’Malley on Thursday morning at ten twenty.” The sound of flipping papers could be heard in the background. “I told her we didn’t have the exact shade of peach you ordered, and she said the darker color would be fine.”

“I see.” Molly searched her memory. She’d been at the print shop on Thursday morning picking up their new brochures.

“Is Emily there?”

“No. She’s out of town.”

Grandma Em had probably forgotten to mention the call or note the change in the bride’s file. Too many distractions, like her impending elopement and road trip. Molly couldn’t hold the florist responsible.

“What would you like us to do?” the woman asked, a tinge of impatience in her voice. “We can substitute white or yellow roses.”

Molly debated her choices while two pairs of eyes watched her, Nora’s and the delivery man’s. The bride had been specific about her wedding colors; white and yellow weren’t included. Then again, neither was orange. Come to think of it, had the bride even been informed about the unavailability of peach roses? Hopefully, yes, but Molly didn’t want to assume. And if Grandma hadn’t informed the bride, news of the orange roses could upset the poor woman who was surely already frazzled.

Molly’s first problem as fill-in wedding coordinator, and she was stumped.

“We could call your grandmother,” Nora suggested.

Not happening, Molly decided. She’d deal with this on her own. “It’s fine,” she told the shop owner. “We’ll take the roses.”

Once all ten arrangements were brought in, Molly and Nora went about placing them in the chapel. After the service was concluded and photos taken, the roses would then be moved to the parlor for the reception.

“What do you think of Owen?” Nora asked.

Why was everyone eager to know Molly’s opinion of him? “He seems nice enough. The better question is how good is he at marrying people?”

“Gotta admire a man who’d quit his job to spend more time with his kids.”

Molly had been thinking he wouldn’t be able to support his kids without a job or make the monthly payments on that slick new truck of his.

“I guess, but won’t he need a job soon? Unless he’s independently wealthy.”

“Well, according to Homer, Owen took stock options at Waverly. They bought him out when he quit, and he’s got enough to carry him for a while. Which is good because finding a job at his level and in the Phoenix area will be a challenge.”

Nora filled a bowl with small packets of birdseed to toss at the bride and groom while Molly arranged candles on the altar.

Unable to resist, she said, “He seems kind of young to be the father of three kids.”

“He and his wife married in their early twenties and had Cody within the first year. His wife was the one who insisted he quit rodeoing and stay home. Which was a shame, Owen loved it. He took the job at Waverly on the promise he wouldn’t travel so much. That quickly changed, however, and, as you can guess, his wife wasn’t happy. ’Course, she did like the nice things his salary bought them.”

“Can you really blame her? Not about the money but him traveling extensively. They had three children.”

Finishing in the chapel, Molly and Nora returned to the parlor where everything sat in readiness for the open house. Molly knew she should get changed soon. Instead, she listened to Nora go on about Owen.

“It was an excuse.” The older woman made a sound of disgust. “The marriage had run its course. But rather than just admit they were better off apart than together like two sensible adults, she blamed him and his job and made him suffer.”

“Did Grandma tell you all this?”

“She figured you’d be interested in him and wanted me to tell you.”

“Interested in him?” Molly feigned shock as if nothing could be further from the truth. “Whatever gave her that idea?”

The next second, Owen and his three kids strolled into the parlor. Molly went still, wishing she could disappear. How much of her and Nora’s conversation had he heard?

The last part of it, certainly, judging by the amused expression he wore.

CHAPTER THREE (#u4ba41d38-ea7f-5a4c-8454-326533601e69)

“PLEASE, DADDY, can we stay with you?”

“Sorry, son.” Owen gave Cody’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He and his kids stood in the parlor, waiting for Nora. “I’ve got to work.”

Not work exactly. It was, however, the simplest explanation and one his kids were used to hearing.

His attendance at the open house wasn’t mandatory. The brochures on display in the foyer mentioned an on-staff minister as one of the many services offered at Sweetheart Ranch. No need for the temporary wedding officiator to make a personal appearance.

But after spending half the morning helping Molly, her sister and Nora finish readying the downstairs public rooms, he felt invested in the open house and wanted to see the outcome for himself.