The $10,000,000 Texas Wedding

“You’re being sarcastic,” Gabe protested.

“Why are you asking? Did you two have an understanding? I mean, it seemed kind of harsh to think you’d abandoned her when things got bad.”

Gabe heard the note of censure in his friend’s voice and it hurt. He said, “I didn’t abandon her. I asked her to marry me, move to Dallas with me.” Cal just stared at him, and he added, “I was focused on—on myself. I didn’t realize how hard things were for her.”

“We can all be selfish bastards at times. But that’s better than walking away from her, leaving her hoping.”

Gabe wasn’t sure about that. He was beginning to feel guilty about his behavior ten years ago. And it made him mad. She could have said something!

“So, when you asked her to marry you, she said…” Cal waited for him to fill in the blank.

“She said she’d fallen for someone else.” After a glimpse of the sympathy in Cal’s gaze, Gabe looked away. “I guess she lied.”

“Probably. It was a bad time for all of them. Maybe she couldn’t think about leaving her family.”

“I would have waited!” Gabe muttered. She hadn’t even given him a chance.

“For ten years?”

“Hell! They could have moved with us. We would’ve worked something out.”

Both men sat in silence, thinking about the events ten years ago. Finally Gabe acknowledged, “Okay, maybe that’s not realistic, but—”

“Maybe you should be having this conversation with Katie. You might be able to work something out that would take care of that pesky will.”

“No!” Gabe yelled, overreacting, he knew. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “Too much water under the bridge.” He thought about the husband she’d had, the years, the…hurt. Nope, he wasn’t willing to offer his heart again, to be carved up at will.

Cal shoved his chair back from the table. “So, what have you got planned for the day?”

“I’ve made a list of things I need to do. I suppose I’ll see how many I can accomplish.”

“Are you planning on staying?”

Gabe looked at Cal, a question in his gaze, as he said, “I’m thinking about it. If I have any chance of inheriting Gran’s estate, I have to live here a year.”

“We’d like having you around,” Cal said warmly, answering Gabe’s unasked question. “We sometimes rodeo on Saturdays. Think you can still ride?”

Gabe grinned. “Better than you, cowboy. If I’m going to stay, I might buy a couple of horses. Would Spence or Tuck have any to sell?”

“I reckon. They usually do. In fact, the last time I was over at Spence’s, he had a fine-looking gelding. I was thinking about him myself, but I’ve already got more than I can ride.”

“I’ll check with him,” Gabe said, reaching for his briefcase and his list.

“You and your lists,” Cal teased, rising to his feet.

“Hey, it’s the only way to stay organized.” Gabe stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for the breakfast…and the friendship, Cal.”

“No thanks needed. I enjoyed the breakfast…and you already had the friendship.”

THE THREE GENTLEMEN in suits were not dressed like the normal customers of The Lemon Drop Shop. In spite of the distraction Katherine felt, scanning the town square for any sign of Gabe, she went on red alert when the men entered the shop.

“Is Mrs. Hill here?” one of them asked as he stepped forward.

“I’m Katherine Hill. How may I help you?”

“We’re from the TGM Corporation, owner of The Last Roundup franchises in Lubbock.”

“Are you Mr. Frizzell?” When the man nodded, she added, “I believe I spoke to you on the phone.”

“That’s correct. We thought it would be a good idea to taste your product.”

When she made the four carrot cakes for The Last Roundup each day, she also made one for her shop, which she sold by the slice. Since the gentlemen had arrived before lunch, she still had some available.

“Of course. If you’ll be seated, I’ll bring you each a sample.”

Evelyn and Mary were working in the kitchen. Katherine stepped through the doors. “Can one of you watch the counter for a few minutes? I’ve got a business meeting.”

Though their eyes were filled with questions, the two ladies didn’t ask anything. Katherine figured they’d seen her tension. There would be a lot of profit in selling twelve to fifteen carrot cakes every morning. She charged twenty-five dollars a cake, which still left a large profit margin for the restaurants.

She prepared a tray with pieces of cake and cups of coffee and carried it through to the table the men had chosen. Just as she finished serving them and sat down to discuss their interest, the door was shoved open, the bell over it ringing mightily.

“Katie, I want to talk to you,” Gabe Dawson announced, as if his needs had to be met at once.

“Excuse me,” Katherine murmured to the men, and crossed over to Gabe’s side. “I can’t talk right now. I have a business meeting. I should be free in half an hour.”

Gabe glowered at first her and then the men. “I won’t take long,” he insisted.

Katherine gritted her teeth. “Not now, Gabe.” Then she turned around and hurried to the other table. She didn’t know what Gabe would do, but she prayed he wouldn’t mess things up.

“Gabe Dawson!” Mary called out. “It’s good to see you, boy. Why don’t you sit down and let me pour you a cup of coffee. And we’ve got a couple of sausage rolls left over from this morning. If you don’t eat them, we’ll just have to throw them out.”

Katherine vowed to give Mary a bonus if she improved Gabe’s mood, as well as kept him occupied until she could finish with the businessmen.

They had already begun eating their cake. Katherine could tell by the expressions on their faces and the quickly disappearing cake that half the battle was won.

Mr. Frizzell daintily wiped his mouth with the lemon-yellow paper napkin after scarfing down his piece. He cleared his throat. “Yes, um, well, very tasty cake, Mrs. Hill.”

“Thank you.”

“This was baked this morning?” the second man asked.

“Yes, it was. I bake four cakes every morning for The Last Roundup and simply make an extra for the shop.”

“I guess you don’t have much left over,” the third man, a little more rotund than the other two, asked, beaming at her.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed with a smile.

“May we see your baking facilities?” Mr. Frizzell asked, and Katherine proudly led the way to her kitchen. She’d been in business for five years. Each year she’d plowed as much money as she could into updating her facilities. Now the large room was state-of-the-art, with four large professional ovens on one wall.