by Tina Leonard
The four of them sat in the front room of Pansy’s house, and from her large picture window they had an excellent view of anything of interest that went on outside. They’d seen Duke stomp off, for example, and knew he and Liberty weren’t exactly falling in love like a couple of teenagers.
“We’ve not come up with a damn thing,” Bug said. “And we’re not sure Duke’s going to rubber-stamp the Men’s Day thing. The last thing on his mind will be growing the town. He’s got his own ‘growth’ on his mind.”
“He’ll definitely be too overwhelmed now,” Mr. Parsons said. “Liberty’s got him in a twist.”
“It’s his own fault,” Pansy said crossly, and they all stared at her, shocked because she was never out of sorts. “He’s such a man.”
“Oh, no,” Bug said, “let’s don’t drag out Man-Cussin’ 101.”
“Pooh,” Helen said. “You keep running off like you do, Bug, and one of these days, your wife’s gonna give you the goodbye boot, right in your saggy—”
“We’re all setting a bad example for Duke and Liberty, and all our young people,” Pansy interrupted, her voice quavering. “It’s not like any of us really get along with each other. We really just form partnerships out of necessity. And how is that inspirational?”
They thought about that for a minute, and Helen almost wished Pansy hadn’t pointed out the truth. Pansy didn’t mean she and Helen didn’t get along, of course, but it was true that “The Battle Of The Sexes” raged fiercely in Tulips.
In the nicest kind of way, of course.
“Who is the real villain here?” she asked. “Why can’t we get anything right?”
“Well, the villain is not a sole thing or person,” Mr. Parsons said importantly. “It’s many persons and things.”
“Such as?” Helen demanded.
He looked at them all. “My name’s Hiram. Don’t think I’ve ever heard any of you call me that in the entire time I’ve been living here.”
Pansy’s eyes bugged. “You’re too old for any of us to refer to you by your first name, you old goat! That doesn’t make us villains, it makes us mindful of our manners and good upbreeding!”
Bug snickered. Helen stared at Pansy.
“You’re no spring chicken,” Hiram Parsons said with some dignity, “and my point is that we never get past the surface niceties with one another. The formal veneer, if you will.”
“What does that have to do with Duke and Liberty? Or even a villain in the piece?” Pansy asked. “I’m going to need some more tea if you keep this nonsense up, Hiram.”
The handsome elderly gentleman shrugged. “To understand what we need to do, we have to dig deeper.”
Helen blinked. “If we dig any deeper, Duke’s going to tell us to mind our own business.”
Bug nodded. “No one likes their skeletons dragged out in the open for public scrutiny.”
They stared at him for a minute.
“What if I told you,” Hiram said, lowering his voice for an instant, though no one could hear them outside the cozy kitchen, “that every single person at this table is hiding a secret? And that each of our secrets could, in fact, change Tulips and the way it operates, forever?”
Helen’s heart began a slow pound. “If we did, why would it matter?”
Now everyone looked at her curiously. Helen felt a hot flush creep up her neck.
“Because we’re the villains,” Hiram said. “We’re just as guilty as anyone else of being prideful and stubborn and deceitful. So why do we try to fit, say, Liberty and Duke, into a tidy, perfect box?” He blinked at them. “We certainly couldn’t live up to that kind of close inspection.”
“You’re right,” Bug said. “We’re like overeager parents trying to do everything for our children because we want to protect them from stumbling and falling.”
Pansy looked at them owlishly behind her glasses. “I think you’re trying to get out of having a ball, Hiram Parsons.”
He waved his hand. “I’m only pointing out that maybe Tulips is what Tulips is, and all this striving to make it better might actually make it worse. Maybe we should just leave well enough alone and let the town grow naturally.”
“Heaven forbid we should get up off our lazy hides and bones to improve ourselves,” Helen said tartly. “If that’s your idea of villainy, it’s dumb.”
A knock sounded on the door, making them all jump. “It’s Duke,” Helen said, “I can see his hat through the glass.”
“Poor Duke,” Pansy said, getting up to let him in. “Surrounded by villains. Helen, put the kettle on to boil, please. I’m sure the man could use a good hot steaming cup of fortifying tea before he faces the town baddies.”
Helen noted Bug and Hiram sat up straighter and smiled at hearing “put the kettle on to boil.” More tea meant more cookies—the big babies, Helen thought. No villains at this table, unless cookie-begging could be considered a crime.
Duke followed Pansy inside and took the hat off his head out of politeness—but didn’t wipe the scowl from his face.
“I’ve got something to say,” he said, and they all looked at him expectantly.
“Every one of you in this room knew Liberty was expecting my child, and not one of you told me.” He looked at each of them individually, giving everyone a very narrow, disappointed gaze. Helen felt herself shrink a bit inside her starched dress.
“Congratulations, Duke,” Pansy offered.
“Well, I should say thank you, and I might even be happy, except that none of my friends cared to give me the good news.”
“We felt it was Liberty’s place,” Bug offered. “We’re not much for poking our noses into other people’s business.”
Duke grunted. “I disagree. The town’s resident schemers sit at this table, and you two,” he said to Pansy and Helen, “are the very worst.”
Pansy gasped. Helen patted her friend’s hand. Darn Duke for being such a blunt speaker!
“The plotting stops today,” he said firmly. “Right now. No more keeping things from me. No more hiding, secreting and ferreting away from me. We’ve had our fun with the game of ‘what the sheriff doesn’t know won’t hurt us,’ but now you’ve gone too far. And I blame you two the most.”
“Blame yourself,” Helen said. “We weren’t the ones engaging in premarital affection.”
The room went silent.
“Without birth control, even,” Pansy piped in, moving the moment from minor embarrassment to downright too-much-information. “You can’t pin this situation on us, Duke.”
Duke glared at her. “A man has a right to know that he’s a father!”
“But we didn’t have the right to tell you,” Mr. Parsons pointed out. “As you know, Duke, I pride myself on my ability to keep my silence on the private matters of people living in Tulips.”
Duke stared at the four people sitting at the table with some consternation. What they were saying was true. He couldn’t blame them for keeping quiet about Liberty’s secret. If he had an issue with the fact that his fatherhood had been known by all but him, he could only be angry with his ex-bride-to-be next door. But he felt slighted, in some way he couldn’t explain, by the people he most trusted, if he trusted anyone at all anymore.
Of all the scenarios they’d plotted against him, this one felt the most personal and hurt the most. He wanted to be happy that he was going to be a father, but joy had not yet entered his heart. He felt that joy had been stolen from him.
He felt so crosswise and torn.
“How can we help you, Duke?” Pansy asked quietly. “This should be the happiest day of your life, actually.”
He blinked. “I need to trust you.”
“You can,” Bug said.
“I can’t,” Duke said. “Especially not you two,” he said to Pansy and Helen. “You’re on Liberty’s side.”
“We’re not on any side except the town’s,” Helen said.
“But I need you on mine, and you’ve always been against me. For me, but against me, in
the most subtle way,” he said. “If I’m going to catch that girl, I need utmost support, guidance and…well, no more keeping Duke in the dark.”
Pansy shook her head. “Really, we’re not counselors, Duke. We don’t give advice.”
“Nor support,” Bug said, “not really.”
“We’re not exceptionally good with guidance,” Mr. Parsons said. “We lean more toward incompetence. In all the years we’ve lived here, we haven’t steered Tulips completely in the right direction. How could we steer you better?”
Duke looked at his office assistant and cellmate with some annoyance. “You’re going to have to,” he said with determination. “My stomach’s in a knot, my heart feels like a boulder that could crack any second and my head’s killing me. If this is fatherhood, I’ve got to get a grip. Soon.”
Helen sniffed. “We just swore off all manner of helping and mollycoddling before you walked in. Mr. Parsons—Hiram—says we’re the villains because we try to force our goodwill and guidance onto everyone.”
Pansy nodded. “We’ve stunted the town by trying to over love it. So you’re on your own, Duke, as much as we’d like to help you. We’re giving up being villainesses.”
He frowned at them. The little darlings were trying to weasel themselves out of their silver-haired duty and make him look like a clumsy, stumbling ox. “Oh, no, you don’t. You are not going to leave me in my darkest hour and throw a melodramatic snit. That woman over there is having my child, and you’re her mentors. You know more about her than anyone on this planet. All the fun and games are over.” Pulling up a chair, he sat down between Pansy and Helen. “You’re going to give me a crash course on winning a woman’s heart, and we’re going to do it in the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Helen repeated, startled. “It’s not possible.”
He leaned back, fully satisfied with his new position of power at the table. “Two weeks. I intend to wed my woman and have her completely thrilled about marrying me before my child is born.” He gave them a satiric eyeing. “Because if not, should you try to thwart me in this, or even be unhelpful,” he said sternly, “I’ll move Liberty to the city. With me. And my child.”
The two little darlings were fairly quivering with dismay, Duke saw with some amusement. He didn’t mean a word of it, of course—but one had to wear the boots around here, and those two had been wearing the granny boots for too long.
Pansy straightened. “We certainly don’t want that to happen, Duke,” she said. “And in the spirit of cooperation, we’ve decided to let you in on our latest plan.”
He raised an eyebrow, sensing a shift in the power struggle. “Oh?”
Pansy cleared her throat. “Valentine called a little while ago and said she had a wonderful idea.” She sat forward, her face alight with excitement. “We want a reason for people to keep coming back to Tulips. And that would be commerce.”
He smiled at Pansy, almost amused that she would use such a word. “So are we going to have a gingerbread sale? Maybe crochet some doilies and sell them at a sidewalk fair in the town square?”
Helen rapped his hand sharply. “Don’t be such a goober, Duke. Surely you’re hiding some brains under that hat of yours. We’re going to have a rodeo.”
He blinked. “A rodeo?”
“Yes,” Pansy said, her face wreathed with delight, “with cowboys, cowboys and more cowboys!”
“Oh, swell,” Duke said, “like the little fellow who was here today?” He recognized jealousy creeping into him again and told himself not to be a cretin.
“Precisely,” Mr. Parsons said, “and I may get in the saddle myself, since the ladies like it so much.”
Bug nodded. “Me, too.”
They all looked at him. “Bug,” Duke said, “Mrs. Carmine will be right put out with you if you go off cowboying, especially if some women start hanging on you.”
“Gosh!” Bug blushed. “Mrs. Carmine will want to ride with me,” he said defensively. “We’re going to be the opening for the parade, since we have matched bays.”
“Parade?” Duke shook his head. “We need an ordinance for a parade. There’s been no ordinance come through my office.”
They all looked at him, and Duke realized, slowly, of course, as if it almost had to seep through his hat into his skull, that his approval hadn’t been required. This was another plot being hatched without him, only this plot wouldn’t help him win Liberty at all. By including him, they were just trying to appease his pride. He’d never be able to trust these people—especially not where Liberty was concerned.
He stood. “I’ll be seeing you. Good night, everyone.”
Without another word, he left, letting the front door clap close behind him. Skirting Liberty’s house—he didn’t want to be tempted—he went the opposite way toward the sheriff’s office.
He needed time to think. With a baby on the way he didn’t have much time, and he wasn’t as good at plotting as his townspeople were, so he needed to muster all of his powers of concentration.
It was going to be hard, because all his mind wanted to think about was Liberty, and his brain was still a little soft with the shock of impending fatherhood.
One thing was certain: he and Liberty were meant to be together. If the town mothers and fathers had decided that they were no longer dispensing advice—intending to make everyone more independent by not relying on them—he would stick to his new plan.
But nothing in that new plan included Liberty sitting in his office with his traitor dog by her side.
“Hi,” he said, glad to see her but too surprised to admit it. “Change your mind?”
Chapter Seven
Liberty didn’t blame Duke for being a bit sarcastic, but that didn’t mean she was going to put up with it. “Do I have a reason to change my mind about anything?”
“No,” he said, “but we could blame pregnancy hormones, if you wanted to change your mind and marry me like you should have in the first place.”
Liberty could feel her temper rising. For the sake of their child—and because Duke had every reason to be upset with her—she collected herself. “I just want to offer an olive branch.”
He shrugged. “None needed.”
“Duke, I don’t want to hurt you. That wasn’t my intent. Maybe it was a mistake to come back, but I keep telling myself that it was the right thing to do for you and the baby.”
“Where did you go, anyway, Liberty?” he asked, sliding a hip against his desk. “I don’t quite have the time and location sequence straight in my mind.”
She looked at him. “Are you asking me if I’m certain the baby is yours?”
He scowled at her. “I believe the question I asked was where you’d been during the time you were gone.”
She blinked, realizing she’d been feeling defensive. “I was living in Dallas, working at a shop owned by a kind widow who felt the business was becoming too much for her. She loved my designs and we got along so well that once she found out I was pregnant—and single—she vowed to make my difficult situation a little easier. Next thing I knew she’d given the shop to me. Her generosity is something I will never forget.”
Liberty cast her misty eyes down and Duke felt a moment of shame. Seems as if everywhere she went, people were happy to help her out and for that, he was grateful. Then he felt a twinge of anger—why wouldn’t she let him make her life easier?
Liberty raised her head and continued. “I thought I would relocate the shop here, but then I realized my Dallas customer base would be better served in the current location. The shop has been there for many years.”
“So you came back to Tulips just because of me? You didn’t think I’d move to Dallas to be with my child?”
She looked at him. “It never crossed my mind to ask you to, Duke. You’re happy here.”
He crossed his arms and slid from the desk corner to pace for a moment. “You could have at least given me the option.”
She sighed. “Your ranch is here, Duke. Your brothe
r, and now your sister, and your job. All your friends. I could have asked you to move, but I didn’t want to, and besides, it would have felt really strange to call you up and tell you that you were going to be a father and would you please uproot your life.”
He looked at her. “Just for the record, it was a sacrifice you didn’t need to make.”
A frown touched her face. “I don’t feel that I made any sacrifice. I gave up nothing. In fact, I only gained by coming back.”
“What about your business?”
“I have two locations now, and the house I bought will be my office and central design area. I don’t want to order everything. Some gowns will be my own private label called Liberty’s Lace.”
“That’s pretty.” He scratched at his chin. “Sounds like something you’d design.”
She felt warmed by his praise. “And Holt is going to help me by creating fabulous bridal hair-styles so we can sell a whole wedding package. He does wonderful sketches of bride and gown—”
“I don’t want to hear about Holt,” Duke said.
“As crazy as this sounds, I’m a bit jealous of him.”
Liberty blinked. “Why?”
“Because he knows more about you than I do.”
Duke sighed. “There’s no way for me to ever participate in your business.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want to,” Liberty said.
“Hanging around a bunch of emotional brides would not be your thing, Duke. Really.”
He shrugged, and she could tell she wasn’t making him feel any better. In fact, the whole reason for her coming here was to make amends between them. She’d known she had wounded him and that had been her last desire. She wanted to repair the gulf between them.
“It feels strange to be expecting a child with you,” she said, “and yet be so far apart from you.”
“I know. This isn’t something I’d ever envisioned happening.”
She stood. “I’m sorry, Duke, I shouldn’t have come—”
