by Renee Ryan
As time and distance had brought healing, Molly had moved on with her life. Or so she’d always thought. Today had shown her that a part of her would always belong to Garrett. He’d been her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. There was no erasing that sort of shared history.
However, that didn’t mean she was willing to open her heart and let him trample on it again.
“Nonsense, my dear, his joining us this evening makes perfect sense.”
Did it? Molly had her doubts.
Calm as you please, Mrs. Singletary picked up her enormous cat and set the animal on her lap. Weighing in at nearly twenty pounds, Lady Macbeth’s fluffy black-and-white fur spilled over the edges of the chair.
While stroking the cat’s back, the widow slid a look at Molly out of the corner of her eye. “Aside from getting to know the young attorney better, this is an opportune time for you and Mr. Mitchell to become more comfortable in one another’s company.”
Decidedly uncomfortable, Molly’s stomach dipped at the prospect of spending the evening with Garrett. She was already on edge after her conversation with Fanny. Her friend had explained herself in excruciating detail, sharing reasons Molly understood all too well. And that brought her back to Mrs. Singletary’s frustrating, albeit well-meaning, interference in her life.
“You want me to become more comfortable with Mr. Mitchell, nothing more?”
“It’s as simple as that.”
Possible. But not probable.
Unable to stand still any longer, Molly moved restlessly through the elegantly decorated room. She wove a path around the brocade furniture and randomly placed tables adorned with priceless trinkets. Her footsteps caught the rhythmic ticking of the large grandfather clock Mrs. Singletary had purchased on her last trip to London.
Unfortunately, the slow, soothing cadence did nothing to ease Molly’s agitation. “Why is this so important to you?”
For all intents and purposes, she’d called her employer’s bluff. Would Mrs. Singletary admit to her plan now, or continue to play coy?
“I saw the stiff way you two interacted with one another this afternoon. If Mr. Mitchell and I are to work closely together, it’s essential you and he smooth out your differences before we begin.”
Molly should have guessed the observant woman would have noticed the charged atmosphere in the man’s office. “Garrett and I aren’t at odds with one another, if that’s what you’re implying.”
It was shameful, really, how familiar Molly had become with lying in the past few months, a flaw that didn’t speak well of her character. She should draw up a formula for cleansing her jaded soul. She would spend more time in the Word, of course. And—
“So it’s Garrett now, not Mr. Mitchell?” The other woman smiled craftily, her dark eyes warm and full of steely purpose.
Oh, Mrs. Singletary was a slick one. Unmistakable resolve was in her eyes now, just behind that matchmaker gleam. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I—”
“What is it you think I’m trying to do, dear?”
“You are attempting to help me find my one true love.”
“Am I?” The question sounded as smooth as cream wrapped inside the woman’s innocent tone.
“Mrs. Singletary, please, no more pretense.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have made no secret of the fact that you believe every person has only one soul mate.”
“I do indeed believe that, yes,” she agreed without an ounce of remorse. “But in my observation, only a blessed few find one another on their own. Most couples need a nudge in the proper direction.”
Not Molly and Garrett, for one very simple reason. “We are not one another’s soul mate.”
“Do you deny having feelings for the man?”
“I’ve known him all my life,” she hedged, swiveling away and taking another turn around the room. “Of course I care about him. He’s the brother of my dearest friends.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Absorbing the fact that the older woman cared enough to want to see her happily settled, Molly stopped walking and closed her eyes. She adored Mrs. Singletary, truly she did, and was ever grateful to be in her employ. But this madness had to end.
“You are focusing your efforts in the wrong direction. Garrett and I will never be more than friends.”
Mrs. Singletary arched a brow. “You seem convinced. Is there more to the story you aren’t telling me?”
Oh, there was definitely more. But Garrett would be arriving any moment. Molly couldn’t risk him walking in during a retelling of their tumultuous past.
“Mrs. Singletary, I can’t…I’m not…” Think, Molly. There has to be a way to forestall her matchmaking attempts. “That is, I’m not ready to find my one true love.”
To her utter humiliation, tears welled in her eyes.
“Oh, my dear girl.” Mrs. Singletary set the cat on the floor and hurried over to pull Molly into her arms. “I’ve upset you.”
Molly wanted to push free of the widow’s hold. She wanted to claim she was fine, just fine.
But she wasn’t fine at all.
Her discussion with Fanny had reminded her of her own failures, of all her lost dreams and vanquished hopes.
She felt so terribly alone, exposed and raw. Vulnerable, even, as if God Himself had abandoned her.
Sensing Molly’s fragile state, Lady Macbeth rubbed against her leg, a purring, furry ribbon winding around the hem of her dress.
Still holding on tight, Mrs. Singletary gave her a little squeeze. “I would never push you into another romance if I didn’t believe you were ready.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Oh, but you are. You only need a little courage and a bit of faith. God has a distinct plan for your life, and I’m determined to see it come to pass.”
The tears in her eyes trickled to the edges of her lashes. She refused to let them fall. Not in the company of this woman, or anyone else.
It was her own fault she had to bear this secret pain in silence. She’d let everyone believe she’d been the one to break her engagements. As a result, even her own family feared she couldn’t follow through on a promise.
This, she decided, this lack of faith in her character was what came from telling lies. Lies born of pride.
“Molly.” Mrs. Singletary set her away from her. “As the Apostle Paul advises, we must strain toward the future, rather than dwell on the past.”
“I never look back.”
She braced for a lightning bolt, a crash of thunder, something to show God’s displeasure in her. She heard nothing but the incessant ticking of the clock. Slow, melodic, sounding very much like a name. Gar-rett. Gar-rett. Gar-rett.
How would she bear seeing him tonight? In his company her mind wanted to relive old regrets.
There had been moments this afternoon, when he’d stood so close and she’d caught his familiar scent, that she’d felt a spark of hope. The encounter had brought back memories, memories she’d shoved to the dark corners of her mind.
“I will ask you this only once, my dear, and then we won’t speak of it again.” Mrs. Singletary reached out and grasped both of her hands. “Are you absolutely certain you won’t have a problem with Mr. Mitchell working with me, here, in this home?”
“Of course not.” Determined to make her words come true, she added with more conviction, “You’ve chosen well. Garrett is the most capable man I know. He won’t let you down.”
It was the simple truth. Garrett met all of Molly’s criteria for a man of integrity, her formula deceptively simple. He had to be a devoted follower of the Lord, good at heart, brilliant of mind, authentic to the core.
“I would never wish for you to be unhappy.” The widow squeezed Molly’s hands. “I’ve grown quite fond of you.”
Molly smiled, really smiled. “And I you.”
“You would tell me if you were uneasy with this arrangement?”
&
nbsp; “Absolutely.” She inwardly cringed, reminded yet again how quickly fibbing had become a part of her character. Thankfully, she was spared from further soul-searching when Mrs. Singletary’s manservant, Winston, entered the room.
Standing at attention, he made his announcement with a dignified flourish. “Mr. Garrett Mitchell has arrived.”
“Thank you, Winston.” Mrs. Singletary released Molly’s hands. “Please send him.”
He sketched a bow. “Very good, madam.”
The moment the butler turned, the clock began chiming the hour.
Of course Garrett would arrive on time. Trying not to sigh, Molly shut her eyes and battled a wave of emotion, only to open them again and find him striding across the ornate rug. He headed straight for her, his golden, tiger eyes unreadable in the dim light.
Trapped in the moment, she drank in the sight of him. He’d shaved recently, his face free of stubble now. He wore elegant evening attire, perfectly appropriate for a night at the opera. The pristine white of his starched shirt stood in stark contrast to the black of his tailored coat and vest.
Halfway across the room, his eyes captured hers. And held.
An unwelcome jolt of longing crawled up her spine and landed in the center of her heart.
Molly’s reaction was the same whenever he was near. Her mind raced. Her thoughts scrambled.
Her vision blurred.
This evening, she had no route of escape, no pressing matter awaiting her in another part of the house.
She was trapped, good and truly trapped.
Panic reared, morphed into a far more complicated emotion. Anticipation. Something different flickered in Garrett’s eyes tonight, something that spoke solely to her. Something she didn’t dare name.
The questions were there, too, questions about his sister’s situation. He wanted to know what Fanny had confessed to Molly in private.
He wasn’t going to like what she had to relay. But would he understand?
She briefly wondered if she could withhold the information from him, and decided the point was moot. If Garrett Mitchell wanted answers, he would get them. His resolve to help his sister was just that strong.
Because of that, Molly’s fondness for the man went up a notch, putting her heart at greater risk than ever before.
Chapter Six
Caught inside Molly’s stare, Garrett nearly tripped over his own two feet. Exquisite in a gown of dark blue silk and silver lace, the modern cut emphasized her trim figure, while the unique color combination made her eyes take on a full shade lighter than usual. The effect was striking.
She was stunning from every angle. The exotic curve of her lips, the shy tilt of her head, called to him.
He took a step closer.
When he nearly stumbled again, he broke eye contact and looked down. A monster ball of black-and-white fur had taken up residence at his feet, hindering further progress.
The creature looked like a cat. But Garrett had never seen one quite so large. Or so fat. A moment more of staring through that mean, narrowed gaze, and the animal crouched low. It swished the fluffy plume of a tail, crouched lower still, danced on its hind quarters and then…
Launched its massive body into the air, landing smack in the middle of Garrett’s chest.
He staggered under the blow, arms instinctively wrapping around the mound of fur. After his own awkward dance, Garrett caught his balance. Frozen in place, he and the beast eyed one another for a taut moment.
A slow blink on his part, another swish of the bushy tail on the cat’s and then the purring began—loud, guttural, uninhibited.
“Garrett Mitchell.” Smiling broadly, Mrs. Singletary peered around his shoulder. “Meet Lady Macbeth.”
The widow had named her pet after one of the most heartless female murderers in all of fiction? Wary now, he angled his head and studied the enormous cat with careful focus. Certainly big enough to be a killer.
Did she have the heart of one, too?
Mrs. Singletary answered his unspoken question on a laugh. “Any mouse in a two-mile radius is doomed.”
“Ah.” He chuckled along with her. “So the Lady earns her keep.”
“And then some.” This last statement came from Molly, spoken in an amused tone as she reached around him and scratched the cat behind the ears. “She likes you.”
Trying to decide if that was a good thing or not, Garrett shifted the animal in his arms.
The purring took on an unrestrained edge.
“She really likes you.”
Arms overflowing with giant kitty, he answered in his best philosophical tone. “I guess we can add cat wrangler to my list of various talents.”
“So it would seem.”
They shared a laugh. It felt surprisingly good to enjoy the moment with Molly, like old times. But as those big, expressive blue eyes held his a moment too long, his breath clogged in his throat. The impact of all that beauty was like a gut-punch.
“My sweet girl doesn’t usually like men.” Retrieving her cat, Mrs. Singletary looked from him to Molly and then back again. “You are a rarity, Mr. Mitchell.”
Sensing an undertone in her words, Garrett’s smile tightened. “Am I?”
“Of course. My cat is an excellent judge of character, don’t you agree, Molly?”
When she sniffed in response, Garrett’s shoulders stiffened.
Mrs. Singletary laughed outright.
“I wish to leave for the opera at once.” After a quick kiss to the cat’s head, she set the animal on the floor then retrieved her reticule off a nearby table. “I prefer to arrive early whenever possible.”
“Whatever you desire.” Garrett gave her a short bow of his head. “I am your humble servant for the entire evening.”
“Wonderful.”
He offered her his arm, turned to Molly and, after only a slight hesitation, offered her the other. “Shall we?”
They left the house in companionable silence.
Not more than a half hour later, Garrett escorted the women into the recently finished Tabor Grand Opera House. They entered from Curtis Street, straight into the rotunda with its impressive stained glass roof. The newly finished building was an architectural marvel.
After speaking to several people she knew, Mrs. Singletary indicated they could continue into the lobby. A large chandelier lighted their way across the well-laid parquet floor. Thanks to several more social opportunities for the widow, it took considerable time to maneuver their small party into the main auditorium.
Eventually, they passed through the main area and climbed the stairwells to the top tier of the theater where she’d secured a box.
As they settled in the crimson plush chairs, Garrett took the seat between the two women and looked around. Paintings and murals decorated the entire theater. Senses overloaded, he shut his eyes and concentrated solely on the sound of the orchestra tuning their instruments. Recognizing several notes, he winced in dread.
Hoping he was wrong, he looked at the playbill in his hand. A groan shot past his lips. Perfect. Just perfect.
The traveling opera troupe was set to perform The Barber of Seville, absolutely the worst tale of love and deception ever composed. The convoluted story was Molly’s all-time favorite and—ironically—the source of their infamous first argument as a couple.
Their mutually heated words slammed through his mind. And, then, because he was a man after all, his thoughts leaped to the end of their verbal tussle, straight to that remarkable kiss. The first for them both.
Lost in the memory, he glanced over at Molly. She was staring back at him. With a wry twist of his lips, he lifted the playbill and pointed to the title of the opera.
Her pupils instantly dilated, but it was her cheeky half grin that told him all he needed to know. She remembered their argument as well as he did. And the concluding kiss.
His heart tripped.
They were in tricky, dangerous territory.
The precise place they both liked bes
t.
Mind stuck somewhere between past and present, he leaned forward. Molly did the same. He might have said her name. She might have whispered his.
He moved his head a fraction closer to hers, and—
A masculine clearing of a throat stopped his pursuit.
Attention averted, Garrett swung around to look at the curtained entryway. Two men, both impeccably dressed, stood in the halo of light pouring in through the slit behind them.
Garrett knew one of them by name, reputation and, more importantly, by his recent connection to Molly.
The other had been among her suitors this afternoon, the one who’d continually taken her hand in his and spoke to her with far too much familiarity for Garrett’s liking.
The evening only needed this added dramatic twist.
It’s going to be a long night, Garrett thought glumly.
And the screeching Italian hadn’t even begun.
* * *
Molly rose to her feet at the same time as Garrett. Her stomach dipped to her toes, then whipped straight to her throat and stuck.
Swallowing several times, she concentrated on the man to her left. Marshall Ferguson. Her former fiance, looking exceedingly elegant in his evening attire. He’d even managed to tame his unruly, blond hair into neat, orderly waves.
Eyes on his handsome face, Molly braced for the change in her heartbeat, for the sickening roll in her stomach, for…something. She felt nothing, nothing at all, not even a quickening of her breath.
Odd. Wasn’t she supposed to feel a physical response to seeing him again?
As though he were equally unmoved, Marshall looked at her with a benign smile on his lips. He didn’t speak, nor did he try to move deeper into the box. He just stood at the entrance, waiting for someone else to break the silence.
Garrett didn’t do the honors.
Mrs. Singletary didn’t, either.
Molly couldn’t. Because, well, Marshall wasn’t alone.
There, beside him, stood Mr. Giles Thomas, dressed, for once, in black rather than his customary brown. Even more disconcerting, a look of disapproval pinched his ordinary face into a rather unattractive scowl.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mr. Thomas in a voice full of outrage. “Miss Scott. You told me you were attending the opera with Mrs. Singletary, and yet here you are with—” he stabbed a finger at Garrett “—him.”
