A Bride in Store (42 page)

She staggered back a step, but he grabbed her other arm to keep her upright, to keep her close—for at least another second. “I just wanted you to know before I left. . . .”

He’d never have another chance to show her how hard it was to leave her.

“Will, I—”

He pulled her against him, dug his hands into her hair, and silenced her lips.

She melted against him like spent wax, and he sank deeper into the glue that held him to her. No other woman could replace her—not Nancy, not anyone he’d yet to meet.

She was the first woman he’d really loved, whose mere presence captivated his every thought, whose skin beneath his fingertips made him fight against the flames that wanted to consume her.

Kathleen had insisted he give Eliza a final good memory. Well, he’d certainly remember the time he’d kissed a woman like she ought to be kissed.

When he shouldn’t have.

When he couldn’t do anything but.

His hands slid down to wrap her against him, though he struggled not to squeeze her so tight she’d break. His restraint caused his arms to ache almost as much as his heart.

He couldn’t break away from her lips—not after a second, a minute, two. This moment had to last him a lifetime.

A man cleared his throat. “Um . . .”

Eliza broke away, staring back at him like a frightened kitten. Will’s hands lingered at her waist despite the unwelcome company breathing down his neck.

“I believe this next dance is mine?” A portly gentleman Will didn’t know scratched at his prematurely balding head.

He’d followed them all the way out here and still wanted to dance with Eliza after witnessing her kiss another man?

“But I guess if that’s not—”

“No.” Will’s throat clogged and his fingers slipped from the soft fabric of her shirtwaist until he no longer possessed her. “I can’t keep her . . . any longer.” If this man was still interested in Eliza after he’d kissed her in public, he hadn’t hurt her chance to marry—and she’d likely do so within the year.

Will shook his head, trying to find the air to speak his last words to her. “Good-bye, Eliza.”

Without waiting for her to repeat his farewell, he stormed off into the crowd.

Coming to the dance had been a mistake.

One far, far worse than he’d imagined.

Some man—whose name Eliza hadn’t caught—tried to twirl her under his arm, but all she ended up doing was jabbing him in the side with her elbow. He smashed her toe, trying to readjust.

“Are you all right, Miss Cantrell?”

She shook her head. Answering him would release the tears she’d barely stifled through the last two dances.

She tried to follow his lead, having no idea where they were in the reel, yet bobbled an entire set of steps.

The man pulled her out of formation. “Did you drink some of
the punch at the far table? They weren’t supposed to be giving it to the ladies.”

She raised an eyebrow. Someone put moonshine in the punch for a charity dance? “I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Well, maybe that’s your problem. It’s too muggy to dance all night with nothing to drink.” He tucked her arm around his and led her off the dance floor. “If you’re parched, I’m not going to force you to dance just because I bought a ticket.”

“That’s kind of you.” She ducked her head to hide her flushed face. Why were men still lining up to dance with her? At least one had seen Will kiss her like . . . like a man starving. And surely others had heard about the kiss or seen them on the dance floor. She’d never before danced so terribly, but the second Will had taken her in his arms, she couldn’t get the steps right for anything.

A hot tear escaped, so she yanked a handkerchief from her pocket to keep her escort from asking if she was all right again.

A matronly woman behind the table smiled at the two of them, but cocked her head after perusing Eliza for a second.

She must have looked a fright.

Her dancing partner gestured to the punch bowl. “The lady needs a drink.”

A lanky man, thumbs around his belt and hat jauntily cocked to one side, moseyed up next to Eliza as she awaited her lemonade. “Howdy, Miss Cantrell.” He glanced over her head at the man whose arm tightened about hers. “I was wondering if I’m up next. I’ve lost count of the rounds. I’m George Mason.”

The man on the other side, growled over her head. “The music isn’t quite over, George.”

“Just checking, Marvin.”

She pulled her crumpled list from her pocket and blinked at the names. The long, long list of names. Her hands shook as she tried to find either of them on her paper.

The cowboy poked his arm over her shoulder and pointed. “There I am. Got two more to go.”

The short farmer who’d interrupted one of her dances with Will came huffing up beside them. “I got some men to give up their tickets, Miss Cantrell. Thought I’d tell you who, seeing as you’re taking a break. Where’s William?”

“Gone,” she whispered.

“What?”

She closed her eyes and handed over her list. She couldn’t have said it louder if she tried—her throat had closed up.

Mr. Putnam took a stubby pencil from his pocket and started scratching off names. “George, don’t suppose you’d trade a dozen eggs or maybe a rabbit for your dance ticket with Miss Cantrell here?”

Mr. Mason leaned over the paper. “No. Especially now that I’m up next.” He took her free arm.

Marvin clasped her other arm. “She needs to rest.”

Mr. Putnam held out the list. “That’s seven men times two dollars. I’ll be needing fourteen dollars off my account. Where’d you say William was again?”

“He’s gone elsewhere, Mr. Putnam.” A female voice chimed behind them.

Nancy pried Eliza’s arm from Mr. Mason’s. “And I agree with Mr. Jamison here. Miss Cantrell needs a breather. She and I intended to sit one out together, so we’ll do so now.” Nancy put a hand against Eliza’s back and smiled cheerily at the three men surrounding them. “But I’m sure she’ll take her turn with you, Mr. Mason, when the time comes. . . .” She took the list from Mr. Putnam. “Two dances from now, as previously determined.”

Pulling Eliza away, Nancy bustled across the lawn toward the solitary bench where Eliza had eaten alone earlier.

“Thank you.” She took back the list and crammed it into her pocket.

“I figured you needed rescuing from all those knights in shining armor.”

Nancy probably expected her to laugh, or at least crack a smile. Probably didn’t expect a frown accompanied by a sniffle.

“How did you get out of dancing this round?”

“I’m not nearly as popular as you are.” She let go of Eliza’s arm and sat.

Eliza lowered herself onto the bench beside her, fighting the urge to roll up in an unladylike ball on the stiff wooden planks. “You’re far more attractive. Your list should be longer than mine.”

“I’m also a well-known jilter, and I have a sickly stepdaughter to care for.” She patted Eliza’s knee. “Though I’ve got male interest enough to be nursing plenty of calluses on my feet tomorrow.”

Eliza took a sip of her lemonade, then ran the sweaty glass around in her hand.

“Want to talk about it?”

She shrugged. “You probably wouldn’t want to talk to me about Will.”

“It’s all right. I’ve had my suspicions.” She gave Eliza a sad smile. “And so has my mother. And, well . . .” She played with the ruffle on her skirt. “I saw him kiss you earlier.”

Eliza’s cheeks warmed. Her reputation was likely shot. How many people had seen her melt into him like an ice block trying to hold back a wildfire? Yet she wasn’t at all angry at Will for kissing her like that.

Why hadn’t she realized how deeply he felt before now? Every action since the day they’d met had shown he cared. His other two kisses had been sweet, but that one . . .

Instead of allowing herself to love him back, she’d followed her mother’s example. She’d put her dream above all else—family, friends, love—and let him walk away.

She’d never wanted to become her mother, and yet she’d managed to turn out worse.

At least her father had ten years to love his wife, ten years of memories. Will would go out alone, with only a handful of stolen kisses from the woman he loved.

“I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I.”

“How’s that?”

“I let him go.”

“After he kissed you like that?”

Eliza put her hands to her cheeks hoping to cool them down. She took a glance at Nancy. “Do you regret leaving him?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “And Will
never
kissed me like that.” She looked at the clouds above, growing orange in the dusky light. “No man has ever kissed me like that.”

Eliza closed her eyes. How had he kissed her exactly? Like a man saying good-bye to his most treasured possession, placing it on the altar and stepping away. “But we can’t be together. We can’t both have what we want if we were.”

“Then you should be happy.”

He sure didn’t seem to be, and this was the least happy she’d ever felt.

“Did you get what you wanted most?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed.

“Did he offer to marry you?”

She shook her head. “If I’d given him any indication I wanted him to, he probably would’ve.”

“My husband died within a month, leaving me widowed with children, each one following him into heaven except Millie.” She rubbed at her finger where a ring ought to be. “There’s no assurance you’ll be blissful for long. God doesn’t promise us a life void of hardship.”

Eliza rubbed her temples. She knew that full well after losing her parents, her store, her brother, her money. If she chased after Will, she could end up like Nancy, a widow with nothing to fall back on.

Me. Me. Me.

What about
him?

Did he not need her? Did he not love her? Even if they were together for only a month, she could care for him as he deserved.

And she did want what was best for him.

Because she loved him. More than anything.

Chapter 26

Mr. Raymond ushered Eliza inside his office. “What brings you here this morning?”

She wrung her hands and plopped down in his uncomfortable, pretentious chair. “I need to sell the business.”

He shut his door, dampening the noise of the customers out front. “Pardon me?”

“I need you to buy me out,” she said with more conviction this time.

“I don’t want to buy you out.” He perched on the front of his desk. “I’m a silent partner. I’ve no interest in finding someone to do your job, and I’d rather have you pay off your loan than own a business I don’t want.”

“Even if I include all three buildings?”

He rubbed the creases in his forehead. “Why?”

“No one’s helping Will get to school, but I can.”

Mr. Raymond’s eyebrows squeezed together. “I thought I’d asked you not to come in again if you’re going to let emotions overrule your brain. Within a year, your tenants’ rent alone would likely cover his expenses—no need for you to sell at all.”

She rubbed the chair’s arms. She couldn’t be persuaded to change
her mind. The temptation to look out for just herself was still enormous. “No, I’m selling.”

Mr. Raymond’s sniff jolted her gaze back onto him. “If you’re stupid enough to give up everything—which you’ve yet to spend a dime of your own on—I won’t partner with you again. I won’t take you back.”

Was greedy Mr. Raymond trying to talk her out of selling him the buildings? “You don’t want the property?”

“Of course I do, but what good is an empty store? You’re making me guaranteed money right now.”

He wouldn’t resist if she offered him a really good deal. “I talked to Dr. Benning this morning. He said some medical universities like the one he attended in Michigan don’t charge tuition. However, out-of-state fees are higher. He thought three thousand dollars for three years of education would be sufficient. Of course, Will would need money to travel—”

“Miss Cantrell—”

“And that’s only room and board for a single person.” She closed her eyes. Would he have her after she’d rejected every subtle offer of his heart time and again? She’d need something to do while she waited . . . if he’d accept her.

Her every scheme had turned awry, yet God kept blessing her. What would He want her to do with the businesses He’d freely given her?

“Pay me bottom dollar for the buildings and inventory minus my loan.” She stood. “Or I’ll find someone else to buy them.”

The clock ticked a few seconds before Mr. Raymond let out a quizzical exhale. “All this for Mr. Stanton?”

“Yes.” She sat back down and clasped her hands in her lap. The fluttering in her chest grew exponentially, but the sudden panic over selling everything wouldn’t deter her. “All I ever wanted was for someone to believe in me. My family, Axel, you. But no one did. Not like Will. He’ll give up what he wants most to make sure
I have a chance to succeed.” Her lips quivered and her eyes grew hot. “Though everyone takes advantage of him, no one helps him. Not even you.”

Mr. Raymond let his crossed leg thunk to the floor. “Now, wait a minute.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve not paid far less for his medical services than they’re worth.”

One of his eyes drooped warily. “He doesn’t ask for much, and it’s common practice to trade for medical services.”