by E. E. Burke
“Your secret is safe with me.” He sat up, brushing the snow off the sleeves of his overcoat. With an easy hop, he got his legs under him, stood and held out his hand. “I won’t tell a soul you turned me into a sled and forced me to make snow angels with you.”
She tried to fight the smile, a useless effort. Sitting up, she put out her hand and let him haul her to her feet. “This isn’t funny.”
“Why are you laughing?” He brushed snow off her cloak. Took every opportunity to put his hands on her; and fool that she was, she actually enjoyed it, longed for him to kiss her again. This couldn’t go on, something had to be done before her reputation was compromised beyond repair.
Gordon Sumner behaved outrageously, but his flirty teasing could be a cover, a defense mechanism he used to hide deep loneliness. Her peculiar sensitivity to his feelings might be because she shared them and understood how difficult it was to find the right person. In fact, she did better at matching others than she did at making her own match.
Two years ago, she’d helped her brother find Victoria. Granted, her approach had been unconventional and rather deceitful, which was something she wouldn’t do again. But she’d had great success pairing him with the perfect wife. There was no reason she couldn’t help Mr. Sumner, too, and in doing so, it would free her from this unwanted attraction.
She brushed loose strands of hair away from her face. By now her hair must look hopeless. “Are you in the market for a wife?”
He stared at her as if she’d suddenly blurted something in a foreign tongue.
“I’ve rendered you speechless. That has to be a first.”
“You’re not joking?”
“No at all. I’m in earnest. If you want a wife, I believe I could help you.”
Beneath the snow-dampened mustache, his lips twisted in a wry smile.
“You’d better not laugh at me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of laughing at you.” Gathering her hands, he gazed down at her with amusement and heart-rending tenderness. “Do you have someone in mind, Margaret?”
She winced at his use of her formal name. “I dislike Margaret. It sounds old.”
“All right, then…Maggie.” The way he said her name, low and edged with sensual promises, sent shivers racing across her skin. He’d misunderstood her intentions. He thought…
“Mr. Sumner, that’s not what I—”
“Sum. It’s what my friends call me.”
“But we aren’t friends.”
He tightened his hold on her hands, reproaching her with a look. “Of course we are. We’re going to be very good friends.”
Whether he’d meant to or not, he had just provided the escape she needed without getting into a discussion that would be humiliating for both of them.
“All right then, we will be friends. Only friends. Nothing more.”
Disappointment, she’d swear it, flashed across his face before he was back to smiling. “Friends? I thought you were proposing to me. Or are we still talking pretend?”
A hot blush seared her face. “Heavens no, I’m not proposing. I meant only that I could help you search out someone who suits you. I helped my brother find Victoria.” She didn’t add that she’d been the one who posted the personal advertisement, wrote to the Boston miss and actually proposed, pretending to be her brother. That’s not at all how she would do it again, even if everything had worked out wonderfully.
Sum gave her a puzzled, if affable, smile. “How will you help me find a wife?”
“I’ll assist you with writing a personal advertisement for a bride, and you can post it in the matrimonial newspapers.”
The laughter that followed made it clear he didn’t take her proposition seriously.
“You want me to advertise for a bride?”
“Why do you find this so astonishing?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Hundreds of men do it, and with great success.”
“You’ve taken a poll, then?”
“No, but I know several men who’ve found brides this way, my brother being one of them.”
For a moment he just stood there, smiling. When she didn’t respond to his amusement, his smile diminished. “You are serious.”
“Very.”
He didn’t come back with a tart response. He might not want her help, or…
The possibility that he might actually care for her shouldn’t thrill her. There could be nothing between them, not so long as he remained her brother’s competitor, and he wouldn’t give up his store, nor would she ask him to do so. She would find him a more appropriate wife, even if the thought made her heart ache.
Maggie drew her cape closer and shivered. The damp cold had seeped through her clothes. “If you wish to discuss it further, m-maybe we can talk about it over a cup of tea?”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll make a pot. Sounds like we’ll need one if we’re going to convince some lovely young miss that I’m the man of her dreams.”
Chapter 5
Sum tried to hold on, but Maggie shied away from his arm.
“On second thought, I really should get back to help Victoria with the children. You could come over for tea later, after the store closes, and we can discuss your advertisement then.”
“Very well.” Growing frustrated, but not wishing to show it, he brushed the snow off his coat and walked over to pick up his hat from where it had landed after it rolled away.
He’d been having a fine time up until the point when she’d offered to find him another wife.
Being coy didn’t seem to be her nature, so it would appear she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. Or perhaps desperation had driven her to make the offer because she was beginning to like him. Being an optimistic fellow, he chose to believe the latter.
This diversion of hers would make courting more difficult, but he could adjust. He’d use the opportunity as an excuse to see her, and by the time they finished the ad, she would come to her senses and realize there was only one bride who met his requirements.
At five minutes past five in the evening, he crossed over to his competitor’s store. The bell jangled as he entered.
O’Brien appeared to be waiting for him. He turned the sign around to Closed and locked the door as soon as Sum got inside. “You can use the stairs in the back. Maggie will let you in.”
Sum hid his irritation behind a smile. Granted, he’d made no effort to befriend the man, and truth be told, he’d rather have a tooth pulled than spend time in O’Brien’s company. For Maggie’s sake, he’d attempt to make amends. He held out his hand. “Tis’ the season.”
The Irishman’s handshake turned out to be surprisingly firm, almost painful. Maybe his annoyance stemmed from more than having to host his competitor for tea. Doubtless, Maggie had reported the outcome of their meeting with the committee, and her brother might resent being committed to spending money.
Sum flexed his hand as he withdrew it. “Thank you for pitching in on the candy for the parade. This means a great deal to Maggie.”
If possible, O’Brien’s expression grew darker. “You don’t have to tell me what it means, and I know Maggie better than you do. Practically raised her.” He turned and walked to the rear of the store with that curious gait, as if one leg might be a hair shorter than the other, hung his apron on a peg and rolled down the sleeves of his white shirt.
Sum removed his hat. The host hadn’t offered to take it or his overcoat and made it clear there would be no polite conversation. Just as well. It wasn’t O’Brien he’d come to see, and he wouldn’t waste energy on feeling guilty about how things had worked out.
He followed the storeowner through a rear door. The storeroom looked as large as the one in the building he rented and was filled with boxes and crates, some stamped with the names of well-known manufacturers. O’Brien looked to be planning a big Christmas sale. Sum suppressed a groan. That meant another price war he couldn’t afford.
“Right up there,” O’Brien gestured to a stairway
leading to living quarters on the second floor.
“You aren’t joining us?” Sum inquired to be polite.
“Too much work to do.”
Sum didn’t lie and say he was disappointed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
He grasped the rail and started up the stairway. The place felt chilly. Should’ve left on his coat. O’Brien disappeared into a small office tucked beneath the stairs. Sum shuddered at the thought of being closeted in a windowless rat hole. Thankfully, he had plenty of room upstairs for an office. O’Brien needed the extra space for his growing family.
Sum slowed as he reached the landing. When he and Maggie married and had children, they would need more living space. That would be a while, enough time to resolve debts and start saving so he could expand, or better yet, purchase a proper house. With more than one to provide for, he’d have to be more frugal. That didn’t mean he had to scrimp on coal to heat the place.
Facing the door, Sum smoothed down his hair, checked the bow tie and then switched his overcoat and hat to his left hand and knocked with his right.
After a moment, the door opened and a young girl gazed up at him. She could’ve been an eight-year-old version of Maggie. He’d seen the child around, but he’d never been struck by the thought that he might enjoy having a daughter with luminous dark eyes and sable braids.
His breathing became constricted. He cleared his throat and made a bow. “Good evening, Miss Fannie. I’m Mr. Sumner.”
“Aunt Maggie told me you’d be here. She’s in the kitchen with Mama. She said to let you in and tell you to sit down and wait.”
“Were those her precise words?”
Fannie’s raven brows gathered in thought. “She might’ve said something else, but I forget.”
Fighting laughter, Sum followed the girl inside. The apartment setup appeared similar to his, with a large parlor flanked by bedrooms in the back and a kitchen and dining area in the front.
He smelled something sweet baking, mingled with a woodsy scent. Pine. Coming from a Christmas tree tucked into a corner. On its dark green boughs hung a hodgepodge of decorations, a combination of store-bought ornaments and handmade treasures. The cozy family room, with its worn upholstery and intriguing scents, had an inviting atmosphere that his well-appointed rooms lacked. Must be the Christmas tree. That was another thing he’d need to add to the list after Maggie moved in.
“You’ve put up a tree,” he noted to his short hostess. “That reminds me, I’ll need to get busy and put mine up, too.”
Fannie crossed to a stuffed chair pushed aside to make room for the tree and picked up a doll, which looked to be a miniature of a child her age, only blond and blue-eyed. She flounced onto the chair and swung her feet. Her shoes had gone missing and her woolen stockings, visible by several inches beneath her plaid frock, sagged around her ankles.
“Alice helped me make the angels,” she explained in a mature tone. “Patrick tried, but he kept eating the crepe paper and Mama had to put him to bed.”
Sum smoothed his mustache to hide his amusement. Fannie wasn’t trying to be funny. “After eating crepe paper, I should think I would want to crawl into bed, too.”
“Is Fannie keeping you entertained?” Maggie entered the parlor, carrying a tray with a tea set and two cups. She’d changed into a crisp striped shirtwaist and dark wool skirt. Her pretty velvet suit must’ve gotten damp from rolling around in the snow. Maybe she’d mentioned something about their mishap to her brother and that’s why he was so out of sorts.
“Miss Fannie is an excellent hostess,” Sum assured Maggie.
“That’s good to hear. We’ll have warm sugar cookies out in just a minute.”
Catching Fannie’s eye, he put his hand to his middle and smacked his lips. “My stomach’s growling already.”
“Mine, too!” Fannie hopped down with the doll hugged to her chest. “Alice wants a cookie, so I’ll have to get two,” she informed her aunt.
Maggie nodded agreeably. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to deprive Alice.”
Fannie skipped off to the kitchen, he assumed to make sure she and Alice received their due.
Maggie set the tray on a table in front of the sofa, which appeared to have been shortened to make it suitable for serving coffee or tea to guests. Most of the furniture in the room reflected a popular mid-century style, overly fussy in his opinion. It might not be Maggie’s choice, being her brother’s home. Her clothing reflected simpler tastes, less flamboyant. Sum hoped she liked Eastlake’s designs. Redecorating wasn’t in his budget.
She took his coat and hat, hanging both on the hall tree, and after pouring tea, fled to a wing-backed chair closest to the sofa. This would be so much easier if she would cooperate.
“You might sit over here…” He put his hand on the sofa cushion as he sat down. “Easier to compare notes on the advertisement.”
Maggie placed her cup and saucer on the marble tabletop next to her chair. “I can discuss it from here. Once I know what you’re looking for, I’ll put something on paper and you can come back tomorrow to take a look.”
Little minx thought to avoid being alone with him.
“Not during the day, too busy. After the stores close, you can stop by and we’ll have time to work on it together.” Sum picked up the teacup, having to pinch the delicate little handle to hold it. Rather than risk dumping hot tea in his lap, he cradled the china base.
She peered suspiciously over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. “You could come over here.”
And face her glowering Irish guardian again? No, thank you.
He shook his head. “It’s bad enough we’re disturbing your family tonight. You don’t wish to do that every night. The parade is only two weeks away. We need time to discuss revisions to the parade posters, and a newspaper article, maybe a column from Mrs. Claus about the orphans and what they need. We can work on my personal advertisement in between.”
Maggie sat straight in the chair with her best schoolmarm expression. “David and Victoria don’t mind. If it bothers you to meet here, we’ll use the store. There’s a counter down there where we can spread out.”
“My store has a larger counter, and less noise.” He glanced meaningfully in the direction of the laughter coming from the kitchen. “That’s only from one, the louder one hasn’t roused from his nap yet.”
She didn’t have an immediate comeback.
Sum restrained the urge to throw his hands up in the air, declaring the winner. Round one had gone to him. He’d win the next round, too. Not on brute strength—he’d learned quickly in a short-lived stint in the ring that he wouldn’t get far with his fists. He won more often by using his wits, and when it came to Maggie, he’d need to exercise a fair amount of self-control. At least, as long as he could hold out until he got the chance to kiss her again.
* * *
Maggie tensed, facing off with Sum. Noise aside, his point about bothering her brother and sister-in-law had merit. Sometimes she felt like an interloper. David had his own family and didn’t really need her anymore. Before remarrying, her brother had depended on her to help him with Fannie, and she had put aside a teaching career for two years to assist him. He’d done so much for her, she wanted to do what she could for him, which was why she’d sent off for a mail-order bride on his behalf.
Sum didn’t need to order a bride if he could find one locally. She might be able to come up with a suggestion, once she knew what he considered suitable. Either way, she wasn’t letting the sly fox coerce her into being alone with him again.
“Cookies anyone?” Victoria announced, entering the room with a platter of warm treats in the shape of Santa Claus. They’d used one of the new cookie-cutters David had ordered and then sold out of within a fortnight.
Maggie set her cup aside. “Umm, they smell delicious.”
“Of course they do. You made them.” Victoria set the platter on the table in front of Sum. “Maggie would never brag, but she’s the one who taught me how to
cook. My cookies aren’t nearly as good as hers. She’s also a master at pies and cakes…and biscuits.” Victoria tossed an amused glance over her shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
Maggie loved how her sister-in-law could laugh at herself. “Your biscuits have gotten much better since that first time.”
“I should hope so.” Victoria handed a cookie on a napkin to their guest. “My first attempt at cooking biscuits resulted in nearly burning the building down.”
“Oh, now that’s not so.” Maggie found the memory of the incident amusing, though at the time it had been anything but. “You didn’t come close to burning anything down. It was just smoky.”
“Coal chips,” Victoria declared. “That’s what my first biscuits looked like.”
“How did they taste?” Sum’s polite inquiry elicited laughter.
“They were awful.” Fannie sidled up to Victoria, who wrapped an arm around her and gave her a hug. The sweet affection between the two, forged through Victoria’s patience and persistence, put a lump in Maggie’s throat. She missed her niece something fierce but was glad Victoria had become Fannie’s mother and given David another child. Maggie wasn’t sure what Sum would be looking for, but this, this kind of love, that’s what she wanted.
His questioning gaze met hers, like he’d picked up on her thoughts, but then he returned his attention to Fannie, scrunching his nose in an exaggerated expression of distaste. “You ate the coal chips?”
Fannie went into a fit of giggles. “They were biscuits…and no, we didn’t eat them…not even Alice would eat them.”
Sum leaned forward, as if intrigued. “What does Alice like to eat?”
Fannie eyed the platter longingly. “Oh, she loves Christmas cookies.”
“If it’s permissible, she may have half of mine.” Sum broke the cookie in two and held it out. The charmer. He would win Fannie’s heart, as well.
Victoria nodded her approval. “Put it in the kitchen, then, to save for after dinner.”
She brushed her hands off on her apron. Her hips were slender, even augmented with a bustle. Still, she had an enviable figure. Did Sum prefer willowy women or full-figured ones?
