The Unintended Groom

Propose? She gulped.

“Even though I will be leaving, I am willing to remain your partner. A silent one, in name only, if you will. And I will only take a dollar a month from you.”

“That’s hardly a partnership.”

“This would not be an equal-share partnership. The way I see it, you are helping me a vast amount more than I am you. I want to reciprocate by helping you, too, by remaining your partner in order for you to keep your license. You will be able to run the business the way you want without any interference from me. That way we both come out of this arrangement with exactly what we want—nothing more, nothing less.”

“Do you think the town will object to you not being here?”

“I don’t see how they can. You will still have a partner. I would even be willing to come back for let’s say—” he rubbed his chin “—once a month for six months.”

“You would do that?”

“Yes. I would. I am convinced that when they see the revenue your business will bring this town, and see what an amazing cultural place it will be, they will no longer care about such matters in time, anyway.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Or I wouldn’t have said so.”

Abby’s insides danced with the fact that everything was going to work out the way she’d always hoped it would.

* * *

Harrison couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was working out better than he had imagined. Only one question he needed to ask before he made this deal. “Do you have a dollar figure in mind of what you will need from me?”

“Yes. Five hundred dollars.”

That was it? He thought he would have to put up thousands and live on an even stricter budget than he was right now over the next three months. Relief poured over him, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. She didn’t need to know about his dire financial situation, and five hundred was definitely doable.

Right then, he determined that even though he would get his money back and then some, he would help her as much as he could to make her business a success. Not that she needed his help or anything, but he wanted to make sure her endeavor came to fruition.

“So what do you think?” Abby asked. “Are you in?”

Harrison turned his attention onto her and smiled at the expectant look in her eyes. “Only one question first. I hate to ask, but I need to know how you can guarantee a profit so quickly.”

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if she were brushing away his comment. “The reason I can is because even if the business doesn’t make a profit right away, the investor will. I am going to give them fifteen hundred dollars once we get the place up and running.”

Harrison swallowed his shock. Not only would he get the amount his father’s will stipulated, but his initial investment, as well. This was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was. Suspicion crawled over him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because. The investor or business partner, whichever you prefer, will be helping me to make my dream come true, so I want to make it worth their time. Your time. That is, if you’re interested.”

This woman wanted her dream. And she wanted it badly. He had a feeling she would do whatever it took to fulfill that dream, too, including giving the large sum she had guaranteed just for the trouble of helping her out. Before he’d left Boston, he’d had a background check done on her and knew she was good for the money. The woman came from wealth and her own bank account was hefty. The way he saw it, he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Not only would he get what he wanted, he would be helping her to get what she wanted. A mutual benefit arrangement. Those were the best kind of business deals. “I’m interested. Count me in.”

She clutched her hands together with a smack and tucked them to her chest. Her smile lit up her whole face. “Excellent. Thank you!” She tossed her arms around him, gave him a firm hug and released him just as quickly. Her exuberance was contagious. He found himself wanting to hug her in return, but he didn’t dare. “You won’t regret this, Harrison, I promise.”

He had a feeling that promise would hold true. Normally he would have had a contract drawn up, but that would only delay things. Knowing how much this meant to her, his gut told him she would hold to her end of the bargain, so he wouldn’t bother with a contract this time.

They continued to talk about what needed to be done, the expenses, her plans, his thoughts and the whole general situation. An hour later, he looked at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. “Well, I should go now.” Harrison stood. “What time would you like me to come this evening?”

“Five-thirty. Dinner will be served at six.”

“Very well.” They walked side by side to the front door. There, he grabbed his fedora off the hat rack and held it in his hands, then shifted his focus onto her smiling face. “I will see you at five-thirty, then.”

“Looking forward to it.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other.

“Until this evening.” With those words, he opened the door and stepped outside. Outside where the detestable smell of sulfur lingered in the air. But that vile stench didn’t detract from his fine mood. For the first time in years, hope glimmered inside him. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and looked up at the bright June sun. Forsyth would say God had arranged this whole thing because He loved Harrison so much. But Harrison didn’t believe in a loving God. How could he? His life had clearly proven otherwise.

Chapter Three

Standing in front of the free-standing mirror, Abby perused her appearance. The sides of her hair were pulled back and held with pearl combs and a dark blue ribbon. Tiny curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Her white, tufted-cotton bustle gown with the dark blue lace and ribbons and midlength sleeves would be cool, but not too cool for a warm evening in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. But just in case it wasn’t, she snatched up her knit shawl, then skipped downstairs to see if Veronique had everything ready.

The words to “Amazing Grace” sung by either Colette or Zoé, whose singing voices were very similar, floated through the massive room as she made her way into the formal dining room. “Hi, Zoé.”

Zoé, the middle sister to Veronique and Colette, turned from placing a silver chafing dish on the mahogany serving table and smiled. “Good evening, Abby,” she said in the same strong accent all of the sisters spoke with. Her soft gray eyes were the first thing a person noticed about Zoé. While the color was soft, because of the way her eyes were shaped, they appeared hard as if she were angry all the time, which she wasn’t.

Abby looked at the long table set for two. Her mother’s silver candelabra stood tall in the middle. Silver pedestal dishes set on each side piled high with fresh fruit and French pastries. Wedgewood bone china and crystal glasses sparkled like bright sunshine raining down on a clear mountain brook here in Colorado. Silverware...polished to perfection. “This looks great, Zoé.”

The eighteen-year-old girl’s face lit up. “You think so?”

“Yes. I sure do.”

“Zoé,” Veronique hollered from the other side of the swinging door.

Wisps of chestnut-blond hair swayed when Zoé yanked her attention in that direction. “I will be right there.” She curtsied and scurried into the kitchen.

Abby followed. Fresh bread, beef and pine aromas from the wood stove met her nostrils.

Veronique stood in front of the massive cook stove, wearing the same blue-and-white uniform as Zoé, stirring something in one of the copper pans sitting on the stove with a wire whisk. Without looking, Veronique told Zoé to grab the pastry-wrapped cinnamon apples out of the oven.

Colette sat at the table, slicing and peeling carrots. She, too, wore a matching uniform.

Abby wasn’t too keen putting on fancy dinners, but she had better get used to them for when she opened her dinner theater. “Something sure smells good, Veronique.” Abby raised the lid on one of the pans, leaned over and breathed deeply. “Umm. What is that?” She pointed to the dish.

“It is filet de boeuf charlemagne,” Veronique explained without taking her eyes off the pan she was stirring.

“Trans-la-tion...?” Abby drew out the word and let her sentence hang, waiting for Veronique to interpret what she’d said into English.

“Beef tenderloin Charlemagne.”

“Huh?” Abby frowned.

“Simply put, it is beef fillet steaks with mushrooms. What I am making now is a béarnaise sauce. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I haven’t eaten anything of yours yet that wasn’t absolutely delicious.”

Veronique flashed a quick smile Abby’s way before putting her attention back onto the saucepan.

Abby glanced up at the kitchen clock. Five-twenty. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Mr. Kingsley will be arriving in a few minutes.”