Mrs. Swenson stood, as well. “I’m certain Peter will be grateful for your attention. I’ll just fetch my other two boys and we’ll be on our way.”
Mitch wasn’t at all sure Ivy would welcome Mrs. Swenson into her kitchen again. “Why don’t I fetch them for you?”
She ignored his offer and moved toward the doorway. “No need. I know the way. Besides, I’m sure Peter is eager for the treat your housekeeper promised him.”
He found her insistence on referring to Ivy by role rather than name irritating. When they reached the kitchen, Mrs. Swenson paused on the threshold so abruptly Mitch almost bumped into her.
“What is going on in here?” The widow’s voice vibrated with outrage.
Mitch stepped past her and had to hide a grin.
Both boys stood on upside down crates around the table. They wore aprons made of large dish towels and were stirring the contents of a large bowl. Flour was everywhere, including the boys’ faces and clothing. Ivy stood beside them, a damp cloth in her hand, and it appeared she’d been laughing just prior to their arrival. As for the boys, they were watching their mother with identical guilty expressions.
Ivy, still looking amused, spoke up first. “Don’t worry. It’s only flour.” She gave the boys approving smiles. “Andy and Davey volunteered to help me make up a fresh batch of cookies. Unfortunately, the flour canister tipped over and a breeze from the window did the rest. My fault entirely.” She began wiping the younger boy’s face. “I’ll have them cleaned up in no time.”
Mrs. Swenson marched over, took the cloth from Ivy and began vigorously wiping her son’s face. “And just what were my sons doing wearing aprons and mixing cookie dough?”
Ivy frowned uncertainly, as if unsure why the widow was angry. “I apologize if you disapprove. I assure you I wouldn’t have let them do anything that—”
Mrs. Swenson cut her off. “Baking is not a skill my boys should be taught, nor do they need to be clothed in an apron. Baking is women’s work.”
“Quite the contrary,” Mitch said, his voice deliberately cold. “Where I come from, some of the finest and most respected pastry chefs are men.”
Mrs. Swenson’s expression of righteous indignation faltered for a moment, but she recovered and rounded on Ivy again. “Be that as it may, I will thank you to refrain from assigning my sons work of any sort.”
It took everything Mitch had not to cross the room and stand between Ivy and Mrs. Swenson’s misguided tirade. His desire to protect her—and everything about her that was joyous and charming and thoughtful—was nearly overwhelming.
* * *
Ivy held her tongue with difficulty.
Yes, the woman was only being protective of her children, but her response seemed out of proportion to the offense.
She’d appreciated Mitch’s ready defense and while a part of her felt the woman deserved a bit of a set down, she did understand that the woman was only being protective of her children. And it wasn’t right to argue with her in front of her sons.
Ivy took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was an employee in this house, and needed to act accordingly. “Please accept my apologies, Mrs. Swenson. Of course I should have asked your permission before allowing your sons to help me. But you can be proud of what polite, helpful boys you’re raising here.”
The widow seemed to collect herself and gave a short nod. “Thank you. And I’m certain you meant well. I’m sorry if I was abrupt.”
With the truce now having been called, quick work was made of getting the children cleaned up. Ivy handed Peter his promised treat and the Swensons finally made their exit.
Ivy went to work scrubbing down the table. To her surprise, however, Mitch returned to the kitchen after he saw his guests out.
She paused long enough to meet his gaze. “Was she still angry?”
“I think she’ll get over it.”
Was that a glint of amusement in his eyes?
She tried to remain contrite. “I should have thought it through before I invited the boys to help.”
“Perhaps. But based on the condition of the kitchen, I’d guess they were enjoying themselves.”
Her grin broke through. “That they were.”
“And I daresay, Mrs. Swenson may think twice before she brings them here to suffer under your influence again.” He gave her a mock frown. “Which is such a shame.”
This time she laughed out loud. “You, sir, are not fooling anyone.”
He grabbed the broom and helped her finish cleaning up the mess, whistling as he went.
Ivy thought she’d never heard a finer bit of music.
* * *
As they exited the church together on the following Sunday, Everett called Mitch over to discuss something about a story he was working on. Ivy waved him on, secretly pleased that he’d glanced her way before leaving her side.
She was looking forward to again having Sunday lunch with Mitch’s friends, people she was beginning to think of as her friends, too. She’d once again made arrangements to purchase flowers from her landlady’s garden, and was trying to decide whether she should go on and take care of that or wait for Mitch when Mrs. Ortolon approached her.
“How are you this fine Sunday morning?” she asked Ivy.
“I’m doing quite well, thank you. And you?”
“My rheumatism is acting up, but I can’t complain,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. Then she gave Ivy a sympathetic smile. “But what about you? I understand that you’d fallen and injured yourself when Mr. Parker found you. I hope you’ve fully recovered.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ivy glanced toward Mitch, thinking what a fine hero he made.
“Well, it’s unfortunate that you were hurt all the same. But I must say, that aside, it sounds like a very romantic way to meet.”
Ivy nodded, smiling at the memory of those two days at the cabin. “He was quite heroic. Bandaged my head, then just lifted me up and plopped me onto that great big horse of his like I didn’t weigh more than a pup.” She smiled at the memory. “He made me ride while he walked all the way to the cabin. He even cooked me a broth and tended to my mule.”
The woman’s sharp intake of breath brought Ivy’s gaze quickly back around.
“The cabin?” The woman’s eyes had narrowed. “I thought Mr. Parker found you on the trail back to town.”
The warmth rose in Ivy’s cheeks as she realized her slip. Mrs. Ortolon watched her like a child eyeing a new toy.
What had she done?
This was exactly what Mitch had warned her about.
* * *
Ivy scrambled for a way to divert the woman’s suspicions. “Actually, I was on my way here, but when Mr. Parker found me I wasn’t far from the cabin so he took me there first to tend to my cut and let me rest for a bit. Then we came on to town.”
Strictly speaking, that sequence of events was correct. So why did she feel as if she’d just told a fib?
“Of course.”
From the look on her face, Ivy could tell the woman wasn’t going to let the matter drop.
Mrs. Ortolon watched her closely. “I believe that wagon you two rode into town on came from the Morrisons’ place just outside of town.”
“Yes, ma’am. They generously loaned it to us when Mr. Parker told them of our situation.”
“Isn’t Reggie’s cabin quite some distance from the Morrisons’ place?”
Ivy didn’t like the speculative gleam in the woman’s eye. She wished Mitch were here to extricate her from this mess.
As if he’d heard her unvoiced plea, Mitch appeared at her side. “Mrs. Ortolon, how nice to see you.”
“Thank you. Miss Feagan and I were just having an interesting conversation on the circumstances of your meeting.”
Mitch’s ex
pression didn’t change and his demeanor remained unruffled, but Ivy could sense tension in him.
“Yes, it was quite fortuitous. But if you’ll excuse us, Miss Feagan and I are meeting friends for lunch.”
As they moved away, Ivy cast a guilty glance his way. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I may have let more slip than I intended to.”
“What exactly did you tell her?”
Ivy quickly related the conversation. When she was done, Mitch grimaced.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You aren’t the first to let a secret slip to that woman. She can sniff out gossip like a buzzard scents carrion.” He let out a heavy breath. “What’s done is done. The question now is, what do we do about it?”
Ivy worried at her lip. “Do you really think it’s that bad? I mean, she doesn’t know anything for certain.”
“That won’t matter. She’ll relay what she knows and follow it up with ‘surely you don’t think they...’ or ‘far be it from me to surmise, but...’ And before long the damage will have been done.”
Ivy didn’t like the set, tight-jawed look on Mitch’s face. She liked even less that she’d put it there. If he was right, then this development didn’t just affect her—there would be repercussions for him, as well. And it was all her fault. She’d done to him what Lester had done to her, though in her case it hadn’t been deliberate.
How could she have been so careless?
Chapter Nineteen
Mitch remained silent as he escorted Ivy to Mrs. Pierce’s home. But his mind was churning furiously, trying to process what Ivy’s slip of the tongue meant for the two of them. There was a small chance, of course, that nothing would come of it. But he needed to be prepared for the worst. He needed to prepare Ivy for the worst.
And come what may, he would make sure she didn’t suffer for this. Even if it meant he had to go back on his vow to never remarry. Surprisingly that prospect didn’t bother him as much as it would have a mere week ago.
He placed his hand on the gate to Mrs. Pierce’s front walk, but didn’t open it. He waited for Ivy to meet his gaze, but she didn’t seem inclined to do that anytime soon.
“Ivy,” he said gently, “we need to talk about this.”
She finally looked up, and the regret in her eyes was almost his undoing. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You warned me, but I didn’t take it seriously enough.”
He touched her arm. It was supposed to be a gesture of comfort, but he felt something more pass between them. “It’s not the end of the world. If the worst happens, I promise to step up and give you the protection of my name.”
She withdrew her arm from his hold. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to make such a sacrifice.”
By the tone of her voice and the injured pride in her expression he realized he’d flubbed his offer. “I truly wouldn’t mind.”
She opened the gate, her posture stiff. “I know you mean well, but there’s no need. Now, let me take care of the flowers so we can be on our way.” And with that, she marched toward the porch.
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. What now? How could he make this right?
“Ivy, I’m sorry if—”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for. It was an honorable gesture. But we both know how you feel about getting married again, so you’ll be relieved to know I release you from all responsibility.”
Was she wielding the garden shears with just a little more vigor than necessary? “Will you please just put that down and talk to me face-to-face for a moment?”
She ignored his request. “There’s nothing further to say. And we don’t want to keep your friends waiting.”
And no matter how much he tried, she refused to budge from her position.
It was a quiet walk to The Blue Bottle.
As soon as they stepped inside, it was obvious from the sympathetic looks that everyone had already heard the rumors.
Ivy excused herself and scuttled off to the kitchen as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Mitch watched the kitchen door close behind her, his frustration curling his hands into fists at his sides. Surely there was something he could do to fix this.
He turned to find all three of his friends regarding him with sympathy. He grimaced. “How bad is it?”
Adam answered first. “Reggie was approached by two different people who heard second-and thirdhand that you and Ivy spent time together at our cabin.”
“Mrs. Ortolon was flitting around the churchyard like a bee in a flower garden,” Chance added.
“It was entirely innocent,” Mitch explained through his clenched jaw. “She was injured and her mule had come up lame. We had no choice.”
“We never thought otherwise,” Adam assured him.
The other two men nodded agreement, and Mitch felt some of his stiffness ease. He thanked them with a nod and rubbed his jaw. “I plan to do the right thing, of course,” he said. “I’m just having trouble convincing Ivy that marrying me is the right thing.”
Everett clapped him on the back, and Mitch remembered that the newspaperman had once been in a similar situation when Eunice Ortolon had discovered an unlocked door that connected his apartment to Daisy’s.
“She hasn’t had time to think it through,” his friend said in that clipped British accent of his. “Give her time. She’ll come around.”
Mitch certainly hoped Everett was right.
* * *
Ivy stepped into the kitchen, tightly clutching the basket of flowers. What sort of reception would these women give her? If they turned cold or distant, she wasn’t sure she could bear it. In fact, it might be best for everyone if she just found an excuse to leave now, before things got awkward or uncomfortable. If she said she felt ill, that wouldn’t be a lie—her stomach was tied in knots so tight she’d never be able to eat a bite anyway.
But the women were so unbelievably supportive she almost broke down and cried right there.
Immediately she was engulfed by her friends. Mrs. Peavy took the basket of flowers, Reggie led her to the table and Eve placed a warm cup of tea in her hands.
What should she say? Explanations tumbled around in her mind, chaotic thoughts out of sequence and incomplete. What came out was “It wasn’t Mitch’s fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t.” Eve patted her hand. “And I’m sure it wasn’t yours, either.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to us.” Reggie took the chair beside her. “We know Mitch is honorable, and we can see what high regard he has for you.”
Mitch held her in high regard?
She looked at Reggie. “I stayed two nights at your cabin and borrowed some of your things—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Reggie waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t give that another thought. I’m just glad it was there when you needed it.”
Why were these women being so nice? Would they feel the same if they knew her whole story?
Daisy placed a hand on her shoulder. “You look like you could use a bit of fresh air. Why don’t we step out back for a moment?”
Ivy frowned, not certain why Daisy had issued the unexpected invitation, but she saw something in the woman’s eyes that convinced her to accept the offer.
They walked in silence for a moment, and then Daisy spoke up. “I understand how you’re feeling, because something very similar happened to me.”
Ivy shot her a disbelieving look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Everett and I were the subject of some rather unpleasant gossip, and were more or less backed into a corner where we had to announce our engagement.”
“How awful. But, I mean, it seems obvious you two love each other.”
Daisy’s smile softened. “Very much.
Only it wasn’t so obvious then, and I didn’t much cotton to the idea of marrying someone who didn’t really want to be married.”
So Daisy did understand. But then again, Daisy wasn’t dragging a sullied past into the marriage with her. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“I told you because I don’t want you to lose heart. I’ve seen the way Mitch looks at you, and you at him. The two of you are good with and for each other.”
Ivy wished that were true. “Thank you, but this is more complicated than it appears. We’re friends and that’s as far as it can go. I’ll be returning to Nettles Gap in a couple of weeks and then Mitch can get on with his life.”
“I don’t believe that will be as easy for him as you think.”
Ivy’s heart fluttered at that. But much as she wanted to believe it, she was sure Daisy was mistaken. Besides, what was the use? There were too many obstacles in their way. And now this.
She mustered a smile. “We ought to be getting back. It’ll be time to set the table by now.”
Daisy touched her arm lightly. “Please think about what I said. And no matter what you decide, remember that you have friends here.”
There was no further mention of the gossip, and the meal proceeded as it had the previous Sunday. But this time Ivy studiously avoided looking Mitch’s way.
She couldn’t keep him from her thoughts, though. She remained acutely aware of his every movement, his every word. And try as she might, she couldn’t forget what Daisy had told her.
Later, as they left The Blue Bottle together, Ivy nervously waited for Mitch to say something. Would he press her to marry him again, or had he accepted her refusal as the out he needed?
When they reached the crossroad where they would normally turn to go to his home, Ivy halted. “Perhaps I should leave you here.”
He frowned down at her. “We need to talk. The sooner we settle this matter, the better.”
“I consider it already settled.”
His frown deepened. “Do you really want to have this discussion here on this street corner?”
She glared at him. She was not going to let him bully her into giving in. “I certainly don’t think it advisable for us to have it inside your house right now.”
Lone Star Heiress Page 20
