Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

by Keli Gwyn

  She hadn’t been looking at Henry, but apparently he’d been watching her. With effort, she schooled her features. At least she hoped she had, but remaining calm while discussing one of the most difficult days of her life wasn’t easy. Her chest had been so tight that morning in her father’s study that she had feared she’d swoon. The only thing that had kept her from doing so was the thought of her father disparaging her for being a feeble female. Any show of weakness opened her to his ridicule, and she couldn’t abide that.

  One day, she would earn her father’s favor and no longer fear him speaking ill of her as he had her bright, beautiful sister. Until that day came, Lavinia would choose her battles carefully.

  “I think Stuart would do a wonderful job running the business.” That was the problem. Of all the men her father had sent her way, Stuart was the only one she believed to be up to the task.

  Henry studied her, as though trying to figure out what she dreaded putting into words. “But...?”

  “There’s more to it than that.” A great deal more. She twirled an escaped curl around her finger and was reminded of Henry’s clumsy but kind attempt to put her hair to rights. Why she’d accepted his offer to replace her hairpin, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because they’d agreed to set aside their differences down in Jackson. She couldn’t remember ever having enjoyed spending time with a gentleman as much as she had with Henry. He was funny and kind and—

  He was staring at her, his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.

  She drew in a fortifying breath and forged ahead. “Before Father will accept a man as his successor, that man must first become his legal heir.”

  Henry’s eyebrows shot even higher and then dived into a V—whether from concern or disapproval, she couldn’t tell. “Are you saying Mr. Worthington is your intended?”

  “Not at the present, but...” She chose her words carefully. Henry harbored enough animosity toward her father as it was. “Father and I made an agreement years ago when he first began thinking about who would take over his company should he become unable to oversee things himself. He can suggest men he’d like me to consider as prospective suitors, but I have the final say on which one of them I will accept.”

  Henry raked a hand through his hair, leaving his wavy locks disheveled. Instinctively, she reached up and smoothed his tousled hair as she’d wanted to do earlier that day. She pulled her hand back quickly, but he caught it and twined his fingers with hers.

  He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with unmistakable concern. “Are you saying your father planned to choose your husband for you?”

  She withdrew her hand, hid it beneath the folds of her skirt and rushed to her father’s defense. “It’s not uncommon. Some of my friends’ marriages were arranged by their parents.”

  “I know it’s done, but I’m glad you aren’t willing to settle for that.”

  She wasn’t, but earning that right hadn’t been easy. Father had fumed before sending her away. Five agonizing days had passed before he’d relented—with stipulations.

  Henry lifted her chin with a fingertip, not removing it until she looked at him. “You aren’t reconsidering, are you?”

  “Not that’s it’s any business of yours, but when I marry, I fully intend it to be a love match.” She hadn’t meant for her reply to have an edge to it, but Henry’s questions were forcing her to revisit a topic that triggered painful memories.

  “What if the man who claims your heart doesn’t meet with your father’s approval?”

  Standing before her father’s desk, she’d asked him the same question when he’d called her into his office to give her his answer. He leaned back in his large leather chair, hands behind his head, and told her in no uncertain terms what would happen if she chose to marry a man who wasn’t one of those he sent her way. She knew all too well he’d meant what he’d said.

  “That won’t be a problem since I only spend time with men he considers suitable.”

  “You might have gained a small measure of freedom, but your evasiveness tells me there’s more to the story. What’s to keep you from enjoying the company of gentlemen of your own choosing?”

  His probing question tapped into the sense of unfairness she’d battled for years and loosened her tongue. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I went along with Father’s wishes because it’s important to me to remain in his good graces. I refuse to suffer the rejection my sister did. He said terrible things about Pauli—”

  She clamped her right hand over her mouth, turned away and gripped a baluster with her left. The wrought iron was cool to the touch, a contrast to her heated state. She’d dropped her guard and had told Henry far too much.

  The murmur of the children’s voices in the kitchen carried, punctuated by Dot’s laughter. At least someone was having a good time.

  “Lavinia? Please, talk to me.”

  As much as wanted to ignore Henry, she couldn’t. She released the railing and forced herself to look at him.

  The compassion in his eyes seemed genuine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to make sense of things.”

  She focused on the toes of her forest green boots peeking from beneath her skirts. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”

  “It’s understandable. I pushed you too hard, but I have a better understanding now.”

  “Father means well.” Surely, he did. He just had a strange way of showing it.

  Henry cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him and the tightness of his fine features. “I take it Mr. Worthington has met with your father’s approval, given that he consented to have him serve as your escort.”

  “He didn’t have to consent. Having Stuart accompany me was his idea, not mine.”

  No! She’d done it again, speaking too soon and saying too much.

  The tension in Henry’s face eased, giving her the impression he’d been battling jealousy, which made no sense. The children had given him the opportunity to kiss her, but he hadn’t taken it. Not that she’d wanted him to. Well, perhaps the impulsive part of her had, but the sensible part knew better than to encourage him.

  She gave herself a mental shake and changed the subject. “Gladys and I have chosen the desserts she’ll be preparing for the Christmas party. Would you like to see the list?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s in the parlor. I’ll get it and meet you in the kitchen.”

  Lavinia hopped up, retrieved her notebook from the desk and stepped into the entryway just as someone rapped on the front door. She opened it. “Oh, Mr. Staples. What a surprise. I thought you’d be over at your shop.”

  “My brother’s handling things for me.”

  “I see. Well, please, come in.”

  “Thank you.” The grocer stepped inside, clutching his hat by the brim and spinning it ’round and ’round.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I wondered if I might have a word with Gladys. If it’s not too much trouble, that is,” he added quickly.

  Mr. Staples had never struck her as nervous before. “Is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine, Miss Crowne. Better than fine. Leastwise, I think it is. I’ll know more when I talk with Gladys.”

  “I hope nothing’s come up to change your plans to take her riding Saturday. She’s looking forward to it.”

  The portly man’s smile was as broad as it was unexpected. “Oh, I’ll be taking her riding, all right, but if she’ll have me, I aim to marry her first.”

  Lavinia’s notebook slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a thud.

  How could she manage without Gladys?

  Chapter Ten

  Two days had passed since Mr. Staples had made his startling announcement, and yet Lavinia wa
s still grappling with the news. The kindly grocer had apologized profusely about the timing of the wedding and honeymoon trip, but he was taking advantage of the unexpected visit from his brother, who had agreed to watch the shop in his absence. Having been cheated by a clerk in years past, Mr. Staples wouldn’t leave his shop in the care of anyone but a trusted family member. Since his brother would be heading to the new state of Oregon the day after Christmas and wouldn’t be back in Sutter Creek for another year, Mr. Staples had seized the opportunity to marry the woman who had him smiling like a schoolboy.

  Although Lavinia understood the grocer’s situation, it complicated hers. She’d been counting on Gladys to prepare the desserts for the party. But her departure would give Lavinia an opportunity to show the community—and Henry—that she could cope with challenges. That would serve to strengthen her case when it went to court.

  She shook off her concerns. This was Gladys’s day, and she deserved to be happy.

  The first time Lavinia had seen a bride beaming at her groom was the day Pauline had stood at the back of the small church the Hawthorn family attended and gotten her first glimpse of Jack standing beside the minister, waiting for her to walk down the aisle to him. It appeared Gladys was just as smitten with Mr. Staples. The skies might be overcast that Saturday morning, but the grocer’s bride-to-be was radiant.

  Lavinia adjusted the simple veil she’d fashioned for Gladys the day before and turned her around so she could see herself in the mirror over Lavinia’s bureau. “If I’d had more time, I would have seen to it that you had a lovely wedding dress to go with this, but the emerald gown you’re wearing draws attention to your striking green eyes.”

  Gladys gazed at her reflection with wonder, fingering the soft tulle that flowed around her in a cloudlike mist. “I could be wearing a flour sack for all I care. I thank the good Lord for bringing Emery into my life. I’d given up hope of getting married years ago, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to find a feller. At my age, I would have been happy with companionship, but God’s given me a man who adores me. I can be a mite prickly at times, but Emery said I just needed someone willing to peel back the layers.” Her laugh, although rusty, was a welcome sound.

  “It’s easy to see how much he loves you. His eyes light up when you walk in the room, but we need something that will make his chin drop when he sees you at the top of the stairs. I have just the thing.” Lavinia opened her jewelry box and pulled out the strand of pearls Gladys had often admired. “I wasn’t able to get you a wedding present, so consider this my gift to you. Let’s see how the necklace looks on you.”

  Gladys shook her head, threatening to dislodge her veil. “I can’t accept that. It’s far too generous.”

  Lavinia kept her tone light and playful. “Now, don’t go robbing me of my joy. You’ve been making me look good for years. It’s my turn to do something for you.” She slipped the string of pearls around Gladys’s neck before she could protest further and clasped it. “There. You look lovely.”

  The giddy bride whirled around and pulled Lavinia into a hug, a display of affection so unlike Gladys and so unexpected that Lavinia had to take a step back to keep from losing her balance. “You’re too kind, Miss Lavinia. I’m going to miss you.”

  She returned the embrace. “I’ll miss you, too.” Gladys had been more than a servant. She’d become a friend, although her work with the children had been a huge help. Without her, Lavinia would be hard-pressed to care for them. Her fledgling cooking skills would hardly suffice. She’d only helped with the laundry once and had yet to attempt ironing. Henry, with his vast array of knowledge, could probably tackle those tasks and more. She didn’t want to think about what that did to her chances of becoming the children’s guardian.

  Gladys released Lavinia, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and swiped at her glistening eyes. “Look at me, getting all weepy.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Mr. Staples is a good man.”

  “I know that, but I feel like I’ve let you down. I never intended to have my head turned. It all happened so fast.”

  “Everything will work out.” It would, provided Lavinia could locate a new housekeeper right away. “There’s one last thing I want to do before we take our places. You ought to smell as good as you look.” She reached for the perfume bottle on her dressing table and handed it to Gladys.

  She removed the stopper and inhaled deeply. “Otto of Roses. My favorite. Thank you again, Miss Lavinia.” She dabbed some of the fragrant perfume behind each ear and on both wrists, replaced the cork and returned the bottle to the dressing table.

  The scent of roses filled the air, a reminder of the grounds around Lavinia’s home back east. What fun she would have watching the children explore them. They thought their house and yard were large, which they were by Sutter Creek standards, but wait until they saw the gardens around her father’s house. She could imagine them playing hide-and-seek in the neatly trimmed hedgerows as she and Pauline had done when they were young.

  Sadly, it being December, there were no flowers blooming in the beds around Jack and Pauline’s house, so Gladys wouldn’t have a bouquet. She’d said it didn’t matter, but Lavinia had searched for silk flowers in the shops on Main Street nonetheless. Unfortunately, they weren’t in high demand in a town where men made up eighty percent of the population.

  A familiar male voice from the entryway below, where the small ceremony would take place, signaled the arrival of the minister. With the help of Norma’s husband, Henry had wheeled in the piano from the parlor and was ready to play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.”

  Lavinia checked the watch pinned to her bodice. “It’s almost time. I’ll see to your veil.” She lifted the shorter section of tulle over Gladys’s head and covered her face. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve dreamed of this day for decades.”

  “I’ll go first, and—”

  “Aunt Livy!” Marcie’s urgent voice on the other side of the door gave Lavinia pause.

  Please, Lord. Let everything go as planned for Gladys’s sake. She yanked open the door. All three children were there, looking quite pleased with themselves. Marcie’s hands were behind her back.

  “What is it?”

  Alex opened his mouth to answer, but Marcie beat him to it. “Dot told us you couldn’t find any flowers for Miss Gladys in the shops, so we made something else. It’s green like her dress.” Marcie revealed what she’d been hiding—an artfully arranged bouquet comprised of greenery, including cedar boughs, rosemary stems and mistletoe sprigs. A trio of pinecones were interspersed, making the resulting creation delightful.

  Lavinia took the bouquet from her niece. “This is beautiful. How did you manage it?”

  This time Alex offered the explanation before Marcie could. “We found everything in the yard, and we asked Miss Norma to help us put it together.”

  If only they hadn’t felt the need to include mistletoe. They did seem to have a fondness for it, though. “You climbed the oak tree again, didn’t you? Please tell me you were careful.”

  “I was, Aunt Livy,” Alex assured her. “I did everything just the way Uncle Henry showed me and didn’t go too high, but that’s the only way to get to the mistletoe.”

  The thought of Alex up a tree made Lavinia queasy, but Henry had assured her everything would be all right, since Alex had agreed not to go all the way to the top. It appeared she had a great deal to learn about raising a boy. “Well, you children did a fine job. This bouquet is lovely. Don’t you agree, Gladys?” She handed it to her housekeeper—her former housekeeper, she mentally corrected herself.

  “Yes, Miss Lavinia. This bouquet is lovely. Thank you all.” She smiled at the children. “I’ll be right proud to carry it.”

  “Alex, Marcie, Dot, come here, please!” Henry called from below. “It’s time.”

 
They scurried down the stairs with a thundering of boot heels, as though it were an ordinary day and they wore regular clothes instead of their Sunday best.

  Gladys sighed. “Those young’uns can be a handful, but they add spice to life. It wouldn’t be the same around here if you whisked them away. Folks would miss them something fierce, especially Mr. Henry. Have you thought about that?”

  She had. Many times. “I’ll write and let him know how they’re doing.”

  “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

  Apparently, Gladys felt free to speak her mind now that she was no longer an employee. “You know my reasons better than anyone. I can offer the children much more than they have here.”

  “So you’ve said, but just make sure you’re doing the right thing.” Gladys patted Lavinia’s arm and smiled. “I know I am. It’s time for me to marry that wonderful man who’s waiting for me. Go on now. I’ll be right behind you. Don’t dawdle, Miss Lavinia, or I’ll be likely to clip your heels in my hurry. I’ve waited so long for this day and am as giddy as a schoolgirl.” Despite being a more mature bride than most, Gladys was every bit as jubilant as any of Lavinia’s young friends whose weddings she’d attended.

  What would it be like to have a man love her, faults and all, as Mr. Staples did Gladys, and to love him in return? She might be the daughter of a successful hotelier who sent eligible men her way, but in her experience, they were just out to become Paul Crowne’s successor and heir. One day, the Lord willing, she’d meet a man who valued her for who she was and not what he could gain by marrying her.

  She roused herself from her musings. This was Gladys’s day, and although her marriage complicated things, Lavinia couldn’t be happier for her friend because, at the heart of it, that’s what Gladys was.

  “Since you no longer work for me, feel free to call me Lavinia.”

  Gratitude shone from Gladys’s green eyes. “If you’re sure, I’d be honored to... Lavinia.”

  “Quite sure. I’ll be on my way now.”

  Lavinia stood on the upper landing and gazed at the small gathering below. Mr. Staples stood at the front with his brother beside him. The grocer, who’d closed his shop for the occasion, had invited a few friends, and Norma’s family was there, as were Henry and the children.