Happily Ever After in the West Read online

  Molly moved along the boardwalk, smiling and speaking briefly to almost everyone she passed. In her short time in Spindler, she’d come to know and like so many people. Though Uncle Roy complained about the growing population, Molly enjoyed it.

  At Olive Caldwell’s dressmaker’s shop she grasped the doorknob, ready to go inside. Through the glass display window she saw Sarah and Sally Hamilton.

  Molly stopped. She was almost finished with her list of errands this afternoon and needed to get back to the Cottonwood for the supper crowd. She most certainly didn’t have time to listen to the two sisters arguing again. She was considering coming back later when she saw Olive waving at her from inside the shop.

  With no other choice, Molly went inside. The shop was filled with bolts of colorful fabrics stacked on shelves; bins of buttons and thread were everywhere.

  Olive was a neat, tidy woman who kept her composure no matter how demanding her customers were, but today she looked a little scattered.

  The Hamilton sisters had that effect on people.

  “You’re just in time,” Olive declared. She gestured to Sarah and Sally. “We were just talking about their wedding dresses.”

  “What did you find out?” Sarah asked Molly.

  “Which of us should wear our grandmother’s wedding dress?” Sally asked.

  Olive and the sisters looked at Molly as if she were about to issue a decree that would change the course of history. She wished she could—just to put an end to the girls’ bickering.

  “I read up on the matter,” Molly said, and offered a sympathetic smile. “But I couldn’t find anything definitive.”

  “So it’s up to them?” Olive blurted out.

  “That settles it,” Sarah declared. “I’ll wear the dress be cause I’m the eldest.”

  Sally puffed up with anger. “If we don’t get this settled soon, I’m calling off the wedding!”

  “No, you’re not,” Sarah told her. “I’m calling off the wedding!”

  The girls glared at each other, then rushed out the door.

  “Oh, dear…” Molly muttered. Olive shook her head.

  “I’d like to check with you about Constance’s dress,” Molly said, anxious to move on to a less troubling topic of conversation.

  Constance Morgan was engaged to marry a young man who worked at the Spindler Bank. Molly was especially glad to help with her wedding since Constance was such a pleasure to work with.

  “It will be completed in plenty of time,” Olive said. “Her final fitting should be in a day or so.”

  Molly thanked her and left the shop. The next stop on her list was the Spindler Bank. As she passed the Maxwell General Store she glanced at her reflection in the display window. She’d selected an emerald-green dress for today and told herself it was just another dress. But it was one of her favorites. She hoped Adam would like it.

  Inside the bank, customers—mostly men—went about their business, lined up at the tellers’ cages. At the rear, through an open door, Molly spotted Adam. He sat at his desk, head down, writing something. The pen looked too small for his big hand

  “Afternoon, Miss Douglas,” Rafe said, walking over.

  “I’d like to speak with Mr. Crawford,” she said, trying to sound as if this were an ordinary business meeting, though she doubted the men standing around her were experiencing a rapid heartbeat, as she was.

  Rafe walked into Adam’s office and spoke quietly. She saw his head come up. His gaze landed on her and he sprang out of his chair. In an instant, he was at her side. He escorted her into his office. Rafe’s gaze bobbed between the two of them before he left the room.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Molly said, as Adam seated her in the chair in front of his desk.

  “You are,” he said. He smiled and pushed aside the paper he’d been writing on. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

  Molly smiled, too. She glanced back and saw that Rafe had left the office door open. Several men craned their necks, looking inside.

  “I’d like to get started on your sister’s wedding,” she said. “I need the instructions she sent you.”

  Adam pulled open the center drawer of his desk and drew out the folded papers. He hesitated and said, “Now remember, you promised you’d do this.”

  “How bad can it be?” Molly plucked the papers from his hand, and just to show how unconcerned she was about the wedding preparations, slipped them into her handbag without so much as a quick glance.

  “Would it be all right if I come by your place this evening to discuss the social hall?” Adam asked.

  Molly suppressed a smile. “That would be fine.”

  She rose from her chair. Adam escorted her out of the office and across the bank, all under the close scrutiny of everyone in the building. Once outside, she thought he’d bid her a pleasant afternoon and she’d be on her way. Instead he walked her back to the Cottonwood. Neither spoke, but it was a comfortable silence.

  At the entrance to the hotel, Molly gazed up at him, thinking once more how handsome he was. She knew passersby on the boardwalk were staring, watching her every move, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.

  Adam didn’t seem any more anxious to part company than she was. Finally he said, “Until this evening.”

  Molly stood in the doorway for a few moments and watched him walk away, his square shoulders, his long back, his—

  She flushed and glanced around, hoping no one had noticed how she was ogling him.

  At the corner Adam turned back. He waved. She did the same and ducked into the lobby.

  A delightful haze enveloped Molly. With the warm thoughts of Adam that filled her head, she wondered if she could float through the rest of the day with her feet never once touching the ground.

  Then she caught sight of Carrie standing at the registration desk, her face pale. She hurried over.

  “It was awful, Molly, just awful,” Carrie said in a hushed voice. “I went into the kitchen to fetch the coffeepot and I heard Libby and Roy outside. They were arguing something terrible. He was shouting—and so was she.”

  Stunned, Molly could only look at her. In the time she’d lived at the Cottonwood Hotel she’d never once heard her aunt and uncle exchange a cross word, let alone raise their voices at each other.

  A frightening thought struck her. Were they arguing about her? Had they somehow found out that she’d been spying on the cancan dancers at the saloon and kissing Adam in the alley?

  “What were they fighting about?” Molly asked.

  “It wasn’t right for me to listen, of course,” Carrie said, “but I happened to hear something about a problem with the hotel.”

  Molly heaved a silent sigh of relief. “What’s wrong with the hotel?”

  Carrie shrugged and hurried back into the dining room. Molly went to the kitchen. Aunt Libby stood at the stove frying chicken. Uncle Roy was nowhere in sight.

  “Are you all right?” Molly asked.

  Aunt Libby’s eyes were red, as if she’d been crying, but she just nodded. “Everything will be fine, Molly. Help Carrie with the diners, will you?”

  Molly hesitated for a moment, but when Libby turned back to the stove she knew her aunt didn’t want to discuss whatever had happened.

  Slipping into her bedroom, Molly unpinned her hat, laid aside her handbag and hurried to the dining room.

  “Thinking about Molly Douglas again?” Travis asked.

  Adam looked across his desk at his partner. Only a few hours ago, Molly had occupied the same chair. Somehow, the room still smelled of her delicate scent.

  “No,” he insisted and gestured to the papers strewn between them. “I was thinking about—”

  “Stop kidding yourself,” Travis told him. “I saw the way you’ve looked at her since the first day she came to town. And since you started talking to her, you can’t keep your mind on business.”

  Adam waved away Travis’s concern. “I’ve got a lot going on, you know that.”
r />   Travis sat back in his chair. “You’re in love with her.”

  Adam opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

  “Think about it,” Travis said. “All this wedding nonsense Anna and your mama want done. You could have handled it yourself. But no. You insisted Molly do it. Why was that?

  “I’ll tell you why,” Travis said, before Adam could answer. “Because it was an excuse. An excuse to spend time with her and get to know her better. And now that you have, you’re in love with her.”

  Travis pushed himself out of his chair. “Think about what I said—but don’t think too long. A woman like Molly won’t be available forever.”

  Adam sat at his desk barely aware that Travis had left the office. The room still smelled like Molly, all right, but he didn’t need any sort of reminder that she’d been here. Everything the woman did and said was etched into his brain—and his heart?

  His pa had always claimed he’d fallen in love with his mama the first time he’d laid eyes on her. He said that’s the way the Crawford men did things. They saw what they liked—what they loved—knew it right away, and went after it.

  Was that true of himself? Adam wondered. He’d never felt this way about any woman before. Molly had somehow found a special place in his heart. Did that mean he loved her?

  And more importantly, did Molly love him?

  Adam got out of his chair and paced his office. Her kisses, her touch told him one thing. He’d been so stunned to find her in the alley outside the saloon watching the dancers inside, he could hardly believe it. Obviously there was another side of Molly that nobody knew about, one he’d only glimpsed.

  Yet her quiet reserve said something different about her. Was it her Philadelphia upbringing? Or was it something more? What was she holding back? What was she hiding?

  He needed to find out. Adam knew he’d never have another decent night’s sleep in his life if he let Molly get away from him.

  He paced some more, thought some more, then stopped. Despite himself, he smiled.

  He loved Molly. Travis was right. He’d probably loved her since the day he’d first seen her, but he’d been too busy, too consumed with business to realize it.

  Adam’s smile disappeared. Molly was holding something back. She was keeping a secret.

  A yearning grew inside him, demanding that he find out exactly what it was. Not that he cared about anything she might have done in her past, though he couldn’t imagine what the well-bred daughter of a respected Philadelphia family might have done that she wanted so desperately to keep to herself. He wanted to know because he could help her. Whatever it was, he knew he could take on the load, share it with her, make it easier for her to bear. Somehow, he’d have to find what it was, and to do that he’d have to get her to trust him.

  Adam nodded in the silent office. That’s exactly what he intended to do.

  Chapter Eight

  “A theater? With a balcony?” Adam asked.

  Molly looked up from the drawing that she’d sketched earlier, lying on the table between them. They sat in the private dining room at the Cottonwood. He’d come over just as the supper service was slowing down. Only a few diners remained in the main dining room.

  “Yes, won’t that be wonderful?” she said, pleased that he’d figured out her ideas from the rough drawing.

  Adam tilted his head and tapped the paper. “This big room in the back? It’s a kitchen?”

  “It will be heavenly to work in such a large area,” Molly agreed.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll need a big kitchen for—what is this? Three dining rooms?”

  She leaned forward. “A large one for big parties and a medium-size one for smaller events. Of course, we’ll need a private room, like this one.”

  Adam’s gaze met hers across the table. They’d made a point to sit on opposite sides, but Molly felt as if they’d never been closer.

  “Babies,” Adam said softly.

  Molly’s stomach did a quick flip and she gasped softly.

  “You’ve thought of them?” he asked.

  The low timbre of his voice sent a flash of heat through her before she realized he was pointing to another room on the diagram.

  Molly shook off the desire that had unexpectedly claimed her. Good gracious, what was wrong with her? They were supposed to be talking business.

  “A large room for babies and small children,” she said, glancing away. “Their mothers would appreciate a place for them to play, I’d imagine.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” he asked.

  She felt the heat of his gaze on her but didn’t look up. The last thing, the very last thing, she wanted to discuss with Adam—or any man—was children.

  Molly shrugged. “I’ll never marry. Children won’t be part of my future.”

  “That seems like a damn shame to me.”

  His words stirred something inside her. Molly pushed it away.

  “My future lies elsewhere,” she said, lifting her chin and putting a little force behind her words. “I want to take responsibility for my success. Running my own business is the only way I can do that. Here in Spindler, I see women doing just that. Olive’s dress shop, the boardinghouse that Ruth Pauley runs, the sweet shop and the millinery store the Palmer sisters own. Grandmother would never give me the funds to do something like that, and I’ll never be able to do more than scratch out a meager existence as long as I work for Uncle Roy. I want to take charge, do it myself.”

  “So you can be free?” Adam asked softly. “Like the cancan dancers?”

  Molly’s cheeks heated, yet she didn’t turn away. He knew the truth. She didn’t have to pretend with him—not about this. It was a good feeling.

  “Can’t say that I blame you for feeling the way you do. A long time ago I had my fill of toeing a line drawn by somebody else,” Adam told her. His expression hardened. “What I don’t understand is why a husband can’t be part of that?”

  For a moment, the need to explain her past nearly overwhelmed Molly. She wanted to unburden herself, explain about her mother and how her actions had destroyed every chance Molly had to succeed in Philadelphia. But after she told him, what would he say? What could he say?

  In her heart, Molly knew she couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment on Adam’s face. She’d seen it too many times before. The instant when respect dimmed, then disappeared.

  Molly turned away. “That’s just the way I want things,” she said, her voice straining to get the words out.

  “You’re not telling me something.”

  Adam’s hand closed over hers. It was warm. Soft, yet rough. Both soothing and exciting, somehow. A flash of heat ran up her arm, straight to her heart.

  She struggled to tamp down her feelings and pulled her hand from his.

  “I could say the same about you,” Molly said, managing to put a little challenge in her voice. “Those secretive trips you make to Keaton.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Is the town still gossiping about that? Is that what’s bothering you? Come with me.”

  He shoved out of his chair and clamped his hat on. “We’re settling this right now.”

  Adam circled the table and pulled Molly’s chair out, then caught her elbow and urged her to her feet. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Molly pulled away. “But—”

  He leaned down a little. “You want us to be partners, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, of course, but—”

  “Partners trust each other,” he said. “Now, come on.”

  Adam headed for the door. Molly had no choice but to follow.

  He pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. Aunt Libby and Carrie looked on, wide-eyed as they walked through.

  “I’ll have her back in a few minutes,” Adam said.

  Molly grabbed her shawl from the peg by the door and followed him outside. The alley was dark. A cool breeze stirred, hinting at a rain shower.

  They walked through the alley and crossed
Main Street. Molly was thankful for the darkness and that so few people were out at this hour. Adam looped her arm through his as they walked to the rear of the Spindler Bank.

  “Here’s my big secret,” Adam said, as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to one of the outbuildings.

  He disappeared into the darkness. A match sparked to life as he lit the lantern beside the door. Molly crossed the threshold as Adam moved around, lighting a half dozen more lamps.

  A workroom, she realized. A large bench dominated one wall. An array of tools hung above it. Glass jars were filled with nails. Cans of paint and brushes sat on a wide shelf. Stacks of all sizes of lumber filled every corner. The place smelled of sawdust and turpentine.

  “Take a look,” Adam called. On the far wall, he opened the door to a big cupboard.

  “Toys?” Molly asked, walking over.

  The shelves were filled with wooden blocks, wagons, tiny cradles, carved horses and dogs, all manner of toys, gleaming with bright paint.

  Molly stared up at him. Did this confirm her worst fear? Did Adam have a baby on the way—or worse, a child in Keaton?

  “The only babies or children in Keaton I’m involved with are the orphans,” he said. He waved his arm around the door. “I make toys here and take them over from time to time.”

  Molly’s heart melted. She hadn’t thought it possible to love Adam more than she already did, but now, seeing this new side of him, she realized how easily that could happen.

  “Why don’t you tell anybody?” she asked.

  “Because it’s nobody’s business,” Adam said.

  “But the whole town thinks—”

  “The whole town is always going to think something,” Adam said.

  Molly couldn’t disagree.

  “I like making the toys. It takes my mind off things,” Adam said. He angled closer. “Everything but you, that is.”

  Adam slid his arms around her waist and drew her nearer. He placed a finger under her chin and raised it, then lowered his head and kissed her. The sheer delight of his touch captured Molly. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.