by Karen Kirst
Chapter Sixteen
Muttering under her breath, Nicole glared at the uneven stitch—her tenth in as many minutes—and snipped the thread so that she could start again. It didn’t usually take long for a project to dominate her attention and push her worries aside, but she couldn’t help reviewing today’s events. Plus, she was on edge waiting for Quinn’s footsteps on the porch.
The mantel clock chimed eight o’clock. A quick glance out the living room window revealed a typical summer evening, waning light turning the distant mountain sides a deep, purplish blue. A pair of blue jays swooped past.
Where was he?
A sniffle snagged her attention. Curled in the cushioned chair opposite Nicole’s spot on the sofa, Jane lowered her book to her lap and swiped at her wet cheeks. Straight auburn hair collected at her nape with a navy blue ribbon, skin dewy and eyes large and shadowed, she looked young and innocent. Not that Nicole would voice such a thought. Jane and Jessica were both eagerly anticipating their seventeenth birthday in September.
“Sad story?” Nicole said.
“He doesn’t love her.” Her lower lip trembled. “He doesn’t care that she loves him. Has always loved him.”
Uh-oh. She wasn’t talking about a fictional hero and heroine, was she? This was about Tom Leighton.
Jessica, whose habit was to bake in the evenings, must’ve sensed her twin’s angst, for she materialized in the doorway. Flour dusted her nose.
“He’s been gone awhile, Jane,” she said softly. “He didn’t tell anyone where he was going or when he was coming back.”
Jane jutted her chin. “I know him. He won’t leave his homestead to fall to ruin.”
“He’s a barber, not a farmer,” Jessica pointed out. “For all we know, he could’ve written to Mr. Jenkins to put it up for sale.”
Another fat tear dripped to her chin.
Nicole wished she could think of something comforting to say. She secretly agreed with Jessica—it wasn’t likely Tom would return. Megan’s rejection had hit him hard. He’d sold his business. He hadn’t even returned for his mother’s funeral. There wasn’t anything left to draw him back.
“I thought he’d at least write and let me know he’s okay.” Jane looked miserable.
“He should have known you’d worry,” Nicole agreed.
Jessica frowned, twisted the towel in her hands. “Do you want to help me finish up the cake for Mrs. Taggart?”
Jane sighed. Snapping the book closed, she laid it on the coffee table. “Sure, why not?”
When the girls had left, Nicole stared at the dress she was making for Rachel Prescott and offered up a prayer for her sister’s broken heart. In time, Jane would realize a future with Tom was out of the question. The wound would heal, and she’d find a new love.
Just as Jane would forget about Tom’s charms, so would Nicole forget about Quinn’s. A new city, combined with all that was required in building a business from scratch, would do the trick.
Ten minutes later, his heavy tread on the steps alerted her to his presence. The twins were still working in the kitchen, and their mother had retired early.
Heart pounding, she set aside the material, careful not to unravel the thread from the needle, and went to admit him.
“Hi,” she said.
Holding on to the door, she adopted a nonchalant air and tried not to ogle his slightly disheveled appearance. His suit coat and vest were nowhere to be seen, and the top buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing smooth, tanned skin. His dark hair was mussed, and a hint of stubble darkened his jaw.
“Hi.” He smiled faintly. “Sorry I’m late. Shane had company when I arrived.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
He gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch. “It’s nice out tonight. Mind if we talk out here?”
She closed the door with a soft click. Quinn waited for her to choose her chair before taking the other one. Gazing at the mountains rising above the treetops, he said, “I hope I never take these views for granted.”
“Does your land have a similar one?”
“My land.” Turning his head to regard her, he smiled broadly. “I like the sound of that. The house in Boston, the offices and the factories all belong to my father.”
“Here the mercantile is solely yours, as is the property.”
“Exactly. And to answer your question, yes, it does have a favorable view. I can hardly wait to draw up plans for the house.”
“House or mansion?”
His lips twitched. “I will keep it tasteful, never you fear.”
Nicole likely wouldn’t see the finished project before she left. The thought saddened her. Lucian and Megan had insisted on assuming financial support for Patrick and Lillian, which meant she could pour every cent of her income into savings.
“How did the meeting with Shane go?”
“As I’d suspected. Shane’s a fair man. He’s promised to look into the matter.”
“As soon as my sister and Lucian heard about their plight, they offered to take them in. I didn’t even have to ask.”
“Were they upset with you for keeping this secret for so long?”
Recalling the heated lecture she could’ve done without, she put her foot down to stop the rocking motion and gazed at the shadows gathering in the forest beyond the barn.
He followed suit, his expression going somber. “Nicole, you do realize that in hiding Patrick and Lillian, you put your own safety at risk.”
Her mouth tightened. “I’ve already had one set down today, thank you very much. I don’t require another. Besides, I was careful.”
“You mistake my intention.” His voice came out as a caress. “I’m not chastising you. I simply wish that you’d felt free to enlist help. A family member or a friend to help shoulder the burden.”
The depth of his concern robbed her of speech. Reaching into her pocket, her fingers closed over the siblings’ brooch. Quinn’s brow wrinkled when she held it out to him.
“What’s this?”
“It belonged to Patrick and Lillian’s grandmother. He gave it to me as a form of payment. I couldn’t tell him I had no intention of cashing it in. Will you keep it in the store safe for them until their stepfather is dealt with?”
Their palms skimmed together, and warmth pooled in her middle the same instant his gaze went dark and searching. The air sizzled as if humming with mini-lightning strikes. Then he broke the connection, sucking in a stuttering breath, head bent to study the piece of jewelry.
“I’ll keep it safe for them,” he said, without looking at her.
“Thank you.”
Minutes passed without either of them speaking. Lightning bugs flashed in the gathering darkness, weaving patterns above the rows of vegetables.
When he finally lifted his head, his features were unreadable but his eyes burned with searing intensity.
“You’re an amazing woman, Nicole O’Malley. You deserve to be happy. To realize your dream.”
Amazing? No one had ever uttered such words of praise to her before.
You haven’t allowed anyone close enough, a small voice reminded. Haven’t given anyone a chance to know you.
What did it mean that she’d dropped her defenses with Quinn?
“You’ve proven yourself to be a valuable asset,” he continued, “and I believe a pay raise is in order.”
She blinked, confused at the subject change. “A pay raise?”
Emmett hadn’t seen fit to increase her wages in the time she’d worked for him. Where was this coming from?
“You’re worth it. Besides, you need to replenish the funds for your boutique. This way, you can make the move to Knoxville sooner.”
Her insides twisted into painful knots. He sounded almost eager
to be rid of her. He certainly didn’t seem to care that they’d be residing in different cities and would probably see each other only once or twice a year.
That house or mansion or whatever of his wouldn’t stay empty for long. He’d find a nice, sweet girl to settle down with and start a family.
A bereft sensation lodged in her chest, the stark loss of it freezing the breath in her lungs.
She thought of Jane’s heartbreak and assured herself this wasn’t the same. At all. How could it be? She didn’t love him. Sometimes, she didn’t even like him!
It was just that Quinn was the only man who’d seen her for herself, the person she truly was inside when the O’Malley name, along with her reputation and the cloak of apathy she used as a shield, was stripped away.
He’d seen her and deemed her worthy.
How was she supposed to forget that?
* * *
Nicole’s sister could hardly contain her excitement as she led Patrick and Lillian on a tour of the ground floor. Lucian’s gaze trailed his wife, his smile affectionate. The couple’s genuine warmth would go a long way in making the siblings feel comfortable in their temporary home.
Quinn glanced at Nicole, who’d linked arms with Lillian the moment they’d ascended the grand house’s sweeping front porch and refused to leave the frail girl’s side. While Lillian gaped in unconcealed wonder at the soaring library shelves stuffed with books, Nicole frowned at Patrick’s pained, pale countenance.
The boy would have to be seen by the doctor. His leg wound clearly hadn’t healed properly.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Lucian motioned to the plush sofa and chairs situated before the fireplace. “Why don’t we have a seat for a moment? Mrs. Calhoun, our cook, has prepared a special treat in preparation for your arrival.” He moved to the wide, arched doorway. “Megan, care to lend me a hand?”
Megan took his outstretched hand and accompanied him down the hall.
Patrick sank into the nearest cushioned chair, white lines bracketing his mouth. Quinn prayed the brave young man would be able to find relief. He’d be sure to discuss the matter with Lucian.
Sensing Nicole’s worried gaze, Quinn intercepted it and offered what he hoped was a smile of encouragement. That was the extent of what he could offer her. Touching her, even briefly, carried immense risk. Those tense moments on her porch last night proved it.
Thankfully he’d reined in his foolish longings.
Going to stand at the window, he propped a shoulder against the frame and watched as she and Lillian whispered together on the sofa.
“Mr. Darling?”
“Yes, Lillian?”
Toying with the ends of her long, wavy blond ponytail, cheeks bright pink, she said, “Thank you again for the clothing and supplies.”
“It was very generous of you,” Nicole said. Hands folded primly in her lap, she made a striking picture. Clad completely in black—anti-summer and in opposition of the happy events of this day—the look should’ve been severe. It wasn’t. The hue, which matched her carefully styled curls, added luster to her pearl-like skin.
“Glad I could help.”
Patrick stuck out his chin. “We’ll pay you back someday.”
Quinn’s first instinct was to insist it was a gift. But he recognized the boy’s need to contribute, to repay perceived debts, when he’d been the recipient of charity for so long.
“Perhaps you could help me in the store after Nicole leaves.”
Brow furrowing, he snapped his attention to Nicole. “You’re leaving?”
Lillian looked stricken. “Where are you going? You’re coming back, right?”
Uh-oh. Mouthing I’m sorry to a flustered Nicole, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He’d assumed she’d told them.
Sadness stealing over her face, she took the other girl’s hands in hers. “I’ve tried to think of an easy way to tell you both.”
When she’d revealed her plans, the siblings sat there looking stunned. And guilty, which was exactly why she hadn’t told them, Quinn realized.
“I promise to come and visit you as often as I can. And once I’m settled, you can come and visit me.”
Patrick kneaded his forehead. “I wish you’d told us in the beginning. We could’ve moved on—”
“No. The truth is, I needed you as much as you needed me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Before you came along, I had never experienced true friendship. Trusting others isn’t something that comes naturally to me. But with you and Lillian, I felt free to be myself.”
Again, Nicole looked at him, and he got the feeling he was included in the handful of people who’d seen the real woman beneath the icy facade.
Lillian clung to her. “I’m going to miss you so much!”
From this angle, he could see Nicole’s battle to keep her emotions at bay. Leaving Gatlinburg wasn’t going to be without cost.
Quinn wouldn’t allow himself to imagine what daily life would be like without her, how strange the mercantile would feel. Why imagine when he’d experience the reality soon enough?
“We don’t know what’s going to happen to us or where we’ll end up,” Patrick said gruffly. “We can’t take advantage of your family’s kindness indefinitely.”
“What if Sheriff Timmons believes Carl’s account of what happened?” Lillian pulled back, worry pulling at her mouth. “What if he makes us go with him?”
“Shane’s not going to do that.” Pushing away from the wall, Quinn went to sit on her other side. “He and his deputy are going to your stepfather’s homestead today. They won’t reveal your whereabouts just yet.”
Lucian and Megan walked in bearing trays of lemonade and an assortment of sweets. While Megan played hostess, Quinn caught Nicole’s attention and motioned to the door.
“Please excuse us for a few moments,” she announced to the room in general, rising and smoothing her full skirts.
In the hallway, he gestured to the rear of the house. “Care to take a quick stroll about the gardens? Lucian insisted I see them before I go. Seems to think I’ll be impressed.”
“This is hardly the time.” Her dark brows collided.
“I will not keep you long,” he promised.
“Fine.”
She preceded him out the door and onto the wide porch. The heat hit them like a wave, and Quinn immediately removed his coat jacket and looped it over the railing. Nicole removed a fan from her reticule and lazily fanned herself.
They strolled along stone pathways beside lush flower beds lined with meticulously pruned bushes. Bright yellow golden asters mixed with delicate purple Southern harebells and Turk’s Cap lilies. Azaleas in varying shades formed the outer row.
“I owe you an apology.” He stopped to face her. “It wasn’t my intention to put you in a tight spot.”
“I should’ve told them.” Perching on a stone bench, fan discarded on her lap, she observed a pair of butterflies. “I’m worried what will happen to them, Quinn. Their stepfather strikes me as a determined, ruthless man.”
Unable to resist comforting her, he sat and took her hand in his. “I care about their well-being, too, and you have my word I’ll do whatever necessary to protect them.”
“You’re a kind man.”
He laughed outright. “You don’t have to act so surprised.”
“Well, I couldn’t fathom making such an observation the first night we met.”
Their intertwined hands resting on the cool, gritty stone between them, his chuckles rumbled in his chest.
“Seriously, Quinn, you’ve been a huge help in this situation. It means a lot to them. And to me.”
Suddenly her soft-as-velvet lips were grazing his cheek, shocking him into silence.
He cou
ld so easily turn this into a real kiss. All he had to do was twist his head to the right a few inches. They were alone in this romantic, orderly maze of flowers and trees, shielded from the house. No one would see them.
Quinn squeezed his eyes tight, battling this yearning for her that, should he give in to it, would confuse their friendship.
He dropped her hand and shot to his feet.
“We should rejoin the others.”
“It appears I’m not the only one who finds it difficult to accept compliments.”
Nicole brushed past him. Flouncing down the pathway, her hem swiped at the fragile stems edging it. Quinn sighed. She was irritated with him again. Or had his reaction to her unexpected overture embarrassed her?
Either emotion was better than hurt feelings.
At least he could face her at work Monday morning with a clear conscience. She didn’t have to know his heart was a little bruised.
Chapter Seventeen
“It was kind of Quinn to give you the day off. Saturdays must be the busiest shopping day of all.”
Lounging on the quilt beside her mother and making a clover chain, Nicole observed the twins wading calf-deep in the river.
“He can be nice when he puts his mind to it.”
He’d delayed opening in order to help with Patrick and Lillian’s move. After their walk in the flower gardens, he’d told her to take the rest of the day off. She hadn’t argued. Not after her silly kiss and his abrupt reaction.
She needed space from him and all the turmoil he was stirring to life inside her.
“I wish you would’ve felt comfortable confiding in me. I would’ve helped you, you know. And those poor kids.”
At the underlying hurt in her mother’s voice, Nicole shifted her gaze. Butter-yellow sunshine highlighted the age spots on her cheeks and glinted off her spectacles.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that...if I’d told you, I would’ve been breaking my promise.”
Her mother cupped her cheek. “I love you, sweet daughter. I wish your father could see you now. He’d be incredibly proud.”
Nicole blinked against an onslaught of emotion. Her mother wasn’t normally a demonstrative person. And she rarely spoke of her deceased husband.
