by Renee Ryan
“Of course.” She nodded agreeably. “As you know, I am in the process of raising funds for a new wing on the hospital. If we are to break ground before winter, I must move my annual charity ball up by several months. Added to the expansion of my business partnership with Mr. Hawkins, well, my plate is full.”
“I will put my search on hold.”
“There’s no need for such drastic measures.” With the faintest trace of amusement shadowing her mouth, the widow leaned forward. “I have no plans to abandon you completely. I propose we put my companion in charge of your search.”
“Callie?” Reese hauled in a sharp breath. “You are thinking of putting Callie in charge?”
“I understand your surprise, but if you would take a moment and view this from the proper perspective, you would see the value in my proposal.”
He scowled at the ridiculous play on words. “What you suggest is impractical, illogical and completely absurd.”
“Now, now, do not give in to skepticism so early in the game.” She made a tsking sound with her tongue. “My companion is acquainted with many young women in town. She will know their character personally, as well as their strengths and weakness, perhaps even their hidden shortcomings.”
A valid argument, to be sure, but Reese couldn’t imagine working with Callie on something as personal as the search for his future bride. Their friendship was still too new, too tentative.
There was another, more glaring concern that could not be ignored. “She is my former fiancée’s sister. Her involvement in this could prove awkward.”
“My dear Mr. Bennett, life is full of awkward moments.” The widow spoke as if he was a slow-witted child. “How we deal with them ultimately reveals our character.”
* * *
In the hushed silence of Mrs. Singletary’s private office, Callie stared at the list in her hand. Now that she was finally alone, she desperately wanted to read Fanny’s letter tucked inside her sleeve. But Callie sensed this piece of paper held equal importance, if not more.
There was no heading on the page, just seven items written in bold masculine strokes beside neatly spaced Roman numerals.
She scanned the list quickly, a hint of alarm crawling up her spine. When the sensation refused to desist, she read each item again, this time out loud.
“‘Number one,’” she said, starting at the top of the page. “‘Well-educated and articulate. Number two. Have a good moral compass. Number three. Loves children, wants several, at least five but no more than seven.’”
Callie stopped reading as the familiar line sunk in, twisting her insides into knots. What was Reese after?
Oh, but she knew. She knew.
Lord, please, no, let me be wrong.
Battling a wave of panic, she continued reading down the list. “‘Must come from a good family and value strong family ties. Be an excellent hostess. A witty conversationalist. Conventional. Steady, absolutely no risk takers.’”
As Callie read the final entry her voice trailed into a hushed whisper. Her heartbeat thickened to a slow, painful thudding. Reese was looking for a wife, and he’d secured Mrs. Singletary’s assistance in the matter.
The widow was the obvious person to turn to for help in such a matter. Reese was a logical cerebral man, it made sense that he would take the time to draw up a list of his preferred character traits to aid the widow in her search.
Callie couldn’t allow her employer to succeed. She had to think of a way to keep Mrs. Singletary from finding Reese a suitable match or, at the very least, stall the process until Fanny returned home.
Again, Callie read the list, attempting objectivity on this third pass.
She sighed miserably.
What was the man thinking?
The qualities Reese had listed were so common, daresay ordinary. Any number of women in town could fit these characteristics.
With that thought came a surge of hope.
Perhaps there was another reason for this list. Maybe Reese was looking for a housekeeper for himself and his father. Or an assistant in his law firm.
Even as the thought materialized, her gaze landed on the third entry from the top. Loves children, wants several, at least five but no more than seven.
No housekeeper or law clerk needed to desire children.
“What am I going to do?”
She needed a plan. But first, she must gather more information. She hurried back to the parlor.
At the same moment she entered, Reese strode across the room and returned to his seat on the divan facing Mrs. Singletary. The widow muttered something Callie couldn’t quite make out and then patted his hand as if she was attempting to soothe his concerns.
That didn’t bode well.
“Ah, Callie, there you are.” The widow motioned her forward. “We were just discussing you.”
That really didn’t bode well, and sparked a kind of awful terror in her, even as excitement sang in her blood. Would Reese consider her a likely candidate?
Inappropriate thought. Inappropriate.
Reese belonged to Fanny.
Determined to protect her sister’s interest, Callie led with the piece of paper outstretched in front of her. “Here you are, Mrs. Singletary. The list you requested.”
She handed over the paper and, against her better judgment, glanced over at Reese. When their gazes connected, the floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. Why did he have to look at her like...that? The same way he’d looked at her in his private box at the Grand Tabor, as though she were a puzzle he needed to solve.
On ridiculously shaky legs, Callie moved to stand by the hearth, steadying herself with a hand on the mantelpiece. The heat of the fire penetrated through the thin silk of her gown, yet did nothing to warm her. A cold sweep of foreboding ran through her veins.
She shifted, ever-so-slightly, and caught Reese still looking at her, his gaze tense and unwavering.
Oh, my.
As they stared at one another, silence fell over the room, very awkward and pulsing with all sorts of hidden meaning.
Mrs. Singletary’s voice cut through the tension. “Now that you have returned, you will want to know what Mr. Bennett and I have discussed in your absence.”
Callie nodded stiffly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Mr. Bennett is in need of your assistance.”
“He wants my assistance?” She turned her gaze to meet his. “For what?”
His eyebrows pulled together in that thoughtful expression she found so attractive. For a long, stressful moment he looked undecided, obviously mulling over the best course of action.
Several heartbeats later, he let out a slow breath and reached out his open palm to Mrs. Singletary.
Nodding in satisfaction, the widow handed him the paper Callie had only just retrieved from her office.
He glanced down at the list. “Mrs. Singletary has recently pointed out that my image needs improving.”
Callie gasped, a rusty sound that hurt her throat coming out. “That’s ridiculous.” She spoke without thinking, and straight from her heart. “Forgive me, Mrs. Singletary, but you are wrong.”
“Am I, dear?”
“Absolutely.” She felt a rush of frustration at her employer’s nonchalant response, angered on Reese’s behalf. “Reese is a man of unquestionable integrity.”
He chuckled softly. “Though I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t need to defend me, Callie.”
“I’m not defending you.” She felt her shoulders bunch, forced herself to relax. “I’m speaking the truth. You are greatly admired throughout all of Denver.”
He acknowledged this with a brief nod and a very small smile. “But as Mrs. Singletary pointed out, I am also considered stern and overly rigid.”
“Nonsense.”
&nbs
p; “Nevertheless, Mrs. Singletary has presented a compelling argument. Now that I am the managing senior partner of Bennett, Bennett and Brand, my reputation matters. What I do, how I am perceived by others, reflects on my employees and my clients. Thus, the quickest route to softening my image is to find a suitable woman to marry, who will—”
“No.” Callie’s voice caught on the word. Oh, but this was terrible. Terrible. “You can’t possibly be thinking of replacing Fanny with—” she glared at the list in his hand “—with, well, just anyone.”
The smile he gave her was soft and full of silent understanding.
“Fanny is special,” Callie declared when he returned his attention to the list. “There is no one like her in all of Denver.”
Head bent over the paper, he nodded distractedly. “I don’t disagree.”
“My sister will be coming home soon.” The words tumbled over one another in squeaking desperation. “You must wait for her return.”
“Callie, you heard what Mr. Hawkins said.” Reese placed the paper face up on the cushions beside him. “Fanny is happy in Chicago. She is not coming home, at least not anytime soon.”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
“Perhaps not, but you and I have had this discussion before. Even if Fanny returns to Denver tomorrow, I won’t be renewing my suit.”
Why did this proclamation send a surge of joy running through her? And where was her guilt for such a traitorous response? Callie loved her sister, and believed Fanny deserved only the best in life, including a second chance with this wonderful man.
“You won’t truly know how you feel until you see her again.” Who was she trying to convince? Reese? Or herself? “Please, Reese, just hold off on this until—”
“Fanny and I said everything we needed to say to one another the day she broke our engagement. It’s past time I moved on with my life.” He picked up the list again, scanned the page. “I want to find a bride, soon, no later than year’s end.”
His tone held such a lack of passion he could be speaking of any number of pursuits, all business-related. “Why?”
His head snapped up. “Pardon me?”
“Why do you want to get married?” She glanced at Mrs. Singletary. The widow gave her an encouraging nod, as if urging her to continue.
Callie drew in a tight breath and forged ahead. “Other than to enhance your image, why do you wish to marry by the end of the year?”
To his credit, Reese didn’t answer right away. He considered her question silently, thoughtfully, then said, “I want to get married for the same reason I asked for your sister’s hand.”
She blinked at him, swallowed back a wave of trepidation and forced herself to say, “Because you want to fall in love again?”
He laughed, the sound abrupt, hard, almost bitter. “I am not seeking a love match.”
Puzzled, she cocked her head. “Then what are you seeking?”
“Companionship, friendship and most of all children. I’d like a houseful of them.”
He’d answered without hesitation, without even stopping to think about it, as far as she could tell. Admittedly, Callie couldn’t fault his answer. Wanting children was a good reason to marry, almost as commendable as love. Almost.
“Now that we have the ‘why’ settled, let’s move on.” He passed her the list. “These are the specific qualities I’m looking for in a wife.”
Callie pretended to read each entry as if for the first time. “They are terribly vague.”
“Not in the least.”
Throughout this interchange, Mrs. Singletary had remained silent. Callie looked at her now. Surely she had something to say, some advice to give. The widow ignored her completely as she paid avid attention to a loose thread in her skirt.
Sighing, Callie glanced back down at the list. “Any number of women could fit these requirements.”
At last, Mrs. Singletary joined the conversation. “Well, then, your task will be all that much easier.”
“My task?” Callie gasped. The list slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.
“Yes, dear, I am putting you in charge of finding Mr. Bennett a wife.”
Torn between frustration and sheer horror at the prospect, she rounded on Reese. “You have agreed to this?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Mrs. Singletary quite wisely spelled out the value in leaning on you for this particular task. I have weighed the pros and cons, and have decided I agree. You are the perfect choice.”
Stunned by both his offhand attitude and his dry tone, Callie stared at him for an entire three seconds. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” he said. “You are acquainted with many eligible young women in town. And have cause to know them in ways neither I nor Mrs. Singletary could hope to achieve, especially considering my deadline.”
The backs of Callie’s eyes stung. Her breath clogged in her throat. Oh, this was awful, truly awful—a complete disaster in the making. She had to stop this madness.
Then again...
What if she agreed to Mrs. Singletary’s scheme? Callie would then have the ability to control this terrible turn of events from a place of strength.
She could stall the process, delay the outcome or even mishandle her duties. If she scrutinized each candidate before introducing her to Reese, Callie could present only the ones he’d find unappealing.
In the meantime, she would contact Fanny and insist the stubborn girl return home. Before it was too late. Before Reese found another woman to marry.
“I’ll do it,” she declared, smiling sweetly. “I’ll help you find a wife.”
Chapter Eight
Reese watched in utter fascination as a complicated array of emotions spread across Callie’s face. In less than two minutes, she’d gone from a state of shock to gaping outrage to panicked consideration, and ending, finally, with her features settling into a look of female resolve.
It was the resolve that put him immediately on guard.
He’d never seen a woman look quite that determined.
He hadn’t misspoken when he’d claimed he’d carefully considered handing over his bride search to Callie. She came from a well-respected ranching family and had an unblemished character. Despite their personal connection through Fanny, Reese trusted Callie without reservation.
And, as the widow had graciously pointed out, Callie was personally acquainted with young women of equally high standing in the community. Relying on her to introduce him to suitable women made sense logically.
Yet Reese couldn’t help but wonder. Had he been too hasty in agreeing to Mrs. Singletary’s plan?
The widow, Reese could handle. He’d been doing so for years, tackling her business affairs with unprecedented success, regardless of her unconventional requests and thinly veiled personal agendas. That was business.
But Callie?
Callie, a woman he thought he knew, kept surprising him, making him reassess his preconceived notions of her character. Docile one moment, bold the next. Plain one day, jaw-droppingly beautiful the next.
Boring. Then exciting.
Demure and shy. Then confident and determined.
Which woman was the real Callie Mitchell?
The fact that he wanted to know the answer posed too many problems to sort through at the moment.
He’d made a mistake.
“I’ve changed my mind.” He hauled himself to his feet, moving quickly, rolling his shoulders in order to maintain his balance. “I will select my own bride, in my own way.”
He’d done so before. Of course, his previous efforts hadn’t turned out well. But he knew what to avoid this time around.
“Now, now, Mr. Bennett, I believe you are getting ahead of yourself.” With her lips set at an ironic angle, Mrs. Si
ngletary placed her monstrous cat on the floor and pushed to her feet. “There is no need to make a snap decision merely because a few details have changed in our plan.”
Technically, only one detail had changed. The sister of his ex-fiancée was now in charge of helping him find the woman to take her place. He’d almost find the situation humorous, if it wasn’t so unspeakably bizarre.
“There has been nothing but haste in this entire process.”
Reese only had himself to blame. He’d pursued the easiest route, pawning off the task of finding his future bride because he hadn’t wanted to take the time to court another woman.
Yet, he didn’t want to take another misstep, either, hence his original agreement to pass off the duty to the widow in the first place. Now, he was in a quandary. What to do?
Troubled by his indecision, he contemplated praying for guidance. Then he remembered he and the Lord weren’t exactly on speaking terms.
“Reese.” Callie gently touched his arm, a silent show of solidarity in the barely there gesture. “I would very much like to help you find a wife.”
He studied her unwavering gaze and saw that the flicker of resolve was still there. Apparently, Callie had her own agenda in agreeing to the widow’s scheme.
What could she possibly hope to gain by agreeing to help him? “You are aware this will put us in each other’s company frequently.”
“You object to my companion’s company?”
“Of course not, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.” And didn’t that say it all? He, a trained attorney, a man used to applying words to great advantage, couldn’t put together a decent argument.
“Reese.” Callie gently squeezed his arm to regain his attention. “We are friends, are we not?”
He nodded. “We are.”
“Wouldn’t you also agree that friends help friends?”
He ran a hand along his jaw. “I would.”
“I don’t mind if this puts us in close proximity.” Her bow-shaped lips curved upward. “I enjoy your company.”
“I enjoy yours, too.” A little too much. And that was the problem. Reese actually liked Callie. He especially liked this new Callie, the one who dressed in rich, bold colors that made her skin glow and her eyes sparkle.
