Molly lowered her arms and faced her sister. “Aren’t those pretty.”
She didn’t appear at all stressed by Owen’s presence or unable to tear her gaze away from him. So much for mutual attraction.
“I think the bride will like them. They’re close in color to her dress.” Bridget set the vases on the lace-covered buffet.
Only then did Owen notice the water containing the flowers was a pale pink. That was different.
Bridget caught him looking and said, “It’s food dye.”
A clever trick. “I like it.”
With more than an hour before the service, they were right on schedule. The bride and groom and their attendants would be arriving soon. Owen wouldn’t see much of Molly after that.
“Do we have enough ice?” she asked Bridget.
“The chest is full and ready for the champagne bottles.”
“And the music?”
“That’s your department.”
“Right.” She rubbed her forehead in concentration. “The bride and groom requested ‘It’s Your Love’ by Tim McGraw. I’d better make sure I have the right song downloaded.” She spun and headed for the chapel.
“Bridget, you in here?” Nora poked her head around the corner.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
She didn’t come into the room. Owen knew why. Cody, Marisa and Willa were in the kitchen, waiting for Nora to take them on a playdate with her grandkids. It was the latest move in their plan to prevent trouble. Nora was probably making a human shield of herself lest someone attempt to push by and enter the forbidden zone.
“Just wanted to tell you,” Nora said, “the bride and groom phoned. They requested eggs Benedict for breakfast tomorrow and to deliver it by eight as their carriage ride is scheduled for ten.”
“Gotcha.” Bridget started across the room toward Nora. “I wonder if I have enough unsalted butter.” When she met up with Nora at the doorway, she stopped. “Hey, you three, what are you doing here?”
Uh-oh. Owen’s kids must be right behind Nora, not in the kitchen. This could be trouble.
“Can I see the flowers?” he heard Marisa ask.
“Maybe later,” Nora said. “After we get home.”
And the bride and groom were long gone.
“Please?”
“One quick look won’t hurt.” Bridget took hold of Marisa’s hand and drew her into the parlor.
Owen tried to stop them. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“She’ll behave.” Bridget smiled winningly down at Marisa. “Won’t you, sweetie?”
Marisa nodded, her small face aglow.
“I promised Molly not to let the kids near any weddings or receptions.”
“Don’t worry, Owen. I’ll handle my sister.”
“Marisa can wait,” he insisted, intent on avoiding a tug-of-war with Bridget over his daughter but equally determined to stand his ground.
At that instant, Molly swept into the room, only to come to a halt. “Oh. The children are here.” She looked at Owen, brows raised in question.
“We’re leaving right now.”
“Marisa wanted to see the flowers,” Bridget said and put an arm on the little girl’s shoulder, drawing her closer to the buffet.
Whether from hearing her name, or sensing she was somewhere she shouldn’t be, or startled by Bridget’s touch, Marisa jumped back—right into the buffet. The impact was forceful enough to topple the flower vases. Bridget gasped and lunged, catching the closest one. The second one slipped through her fingers.
For a moment, time stood still. Then, the vase landed on its side and dumped half its contents before rolling off the buffet. Hitting the floor, it shattered into a dozen pieces. In the time it took to blink, pale red water saturated the entire lace runner.
“No!” Molly hurled herself at the buffet.
Marisa let out a cry and ran from Bridget. Owen went after her, but Nora grabbed the girl as she tried to squeeze past. By then, Marisa was nearly hysterical.
Owen reached the doorway. “Cody, go to the kitchen. Now.” He tried to pick up Marisa, but she dodged his grasp. “I’m not mad at you, peanut.”
No, he was furious with himself. He should have removed Marisa from the room when he had the chance.
“I’ll take her,” Nora said, her voice contrite. She probably blamed herself, too.
“I will. You help clean up.”
Bridget had already made a run to the hall closet for towels. Nora went after her. Owen grabbed Willa. Tucking her under his arm, he went after Marisa. He knew he should participate in the cleanup, but better he got the kids as far away as possible before something else went wrong.
He didn’t admit a few minutes apart might do both him and Molly good before they faced each other. Not that Owen would concoct an excuse. It was simply that he subscribed to cooler heads prevailing, a lesson he’d learned young from his father.
Finding Marisa on the floor behind the kitchen table, crouching low to make herself small, he set Willa down.
“Come on out, peanut. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m s-s-sorry.” Tears clogged Marisa’s voice and filled her eyes.
“It was an accident. No one’s mad at you.”
“I wanna go home.”
“You will. Just not today. But you can call your mom if you want.”
That did the trick, and Marisa emerged. He sat at the table with her in his lap. Cody had been put in charge of watching Willa and for once he complied. In the background, they could hear Molly, Bridget and Nora scrambling to restore order to the parlor. Bridget whizzed past them on her way to the laundry, the lace runner wadded into a ball.
When Nora entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Marisa’s tears had dried and she was considerably calmer. Owen was calmer, too. Marginally.
“I told her she could call her mom,” he said when the older woman corralled the kids to take them to their playdate with her grandchildren. “Can she use your phone?”
“Of course.” Nora had Jeanne’s number programed in her phone for emergencies. “We’ll be back by eight.”
“Bye, guys.” Owen kissed the girls and pulled Cody against him before ruffling his hair. “Be good.”
They hadn’t quite made it out the back door when Molly entered the kitchen, her features unreadable. “Wait a minute,” she called.
Owen assumed she wanted to speak to Nora. Perhaps chastise her for bringing the kids into the house so soon before a wedding started. He was wrong. Molly approached Marisa instead. When she got there, she went down on her knees.
“Don’t be upset, okay? Promise me. I’m not angry at you. It was an accident.”
Marisa nodded solemnly.
“Okay.” Molly reached up and patted Marisa’s hair. Awkwardly at first, then with more confidence.
Marisa continued to stare at the floor. Owen, however, couldn’t take his eyes off Molly. She had every right to be furious. Only here she was being kind.
Unless she was saving her anger for him. There was that distinct possibility.
“I want you to have fun with Miss Nora’s grandchildren.” Molly stood. “You can come by tomorrow if you want to see the flowers.”
Nora shuffled the kids through the door. Owen got up from the table and waited for Molly to go first.
“The runner was a wedding gift to Grandma Em from her cousin. Her first wedding. To my grandfather.”
“I’ll replace it.”
“Things like that can’t be replaced.”
“All right, then. I can have our stuff packed and be out of the cabin by tonight.”
“Owen.” She sighed. “I didn’t tell you about the runner because I want you to leave. Bridget’s the one who brought Marisa over to see the flowers. And believe you me, she and I are going to have a talk.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of friction between you two.”
“You’re not. I love her to pieces, but we fight. The O’Malley temper, I suppose.” She squared her shoulders. “I told you about the runner because, like everything at Sweetheart Ranch, it’s important to me. And to my family.”
“I understand.”
“I get that I can be demanding at times, and I suppose a little stern.”
“Not always.” He was thinking of how she’d been with Marisa a few minutes ago.
“Grandma is counting on me to cover for her while she’s gone. That’s a lot of responsibility. I can’t slack off for even a minute.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I’m not. I’m just clarifying things in my head. Reestablishing my priorities. And speaking of priorities...” She left without finishing her thought.
She didn’t need to. Owen filled in the blanks. She’d been reminding him in a roundabout way the many reasons they needed to maintain a strictly platonic relationship.
Bridget returned from the laundry room on the heels of Molly’s exit. “Is the coast clear?”
“For the moment,” Owen said.
“Don’t worry. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“She went easy on me. More than I deserved.”
Bridget gave him a knowing smile. “That’s because she likes you, and she’s worried about liking you too much. She has this notion that romance doesn’t mix well with work.”
“It doesn’t always. My job was terrible for my marriage.”
“Yeah, well, being dumped twice and then her last three jobs not working out did a real number on Molly. She’s determined to prove herself no matter what.”
Three jobs? That could excuse a large amount of overzealousness.
“The ranch’s success is her main focus,” Bridget went on. “Which it should be. Certainly while Grandma’s gone. And, let’s be honest, you’ve got a lot on your plate, too. I’m all for the two of you dating but now maybe isn’t the best time.”
“Who says I’m interested in dating?”
“You don’t have to say it. I see the way you look at her and hear how your voice gets all soft and sugary when you talk to her. What I’d give to have a man talk to me like that.”
Sugary? Was he that obvious? Apparently so.
“She looks at you, too,” Bridget continued.
Owen recalled her words from a few minutes earlier about Molly liking him too much. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about after today.”
“Whether there is or isn’t, my main concern is Molly. I don’t want to see her hurt again. Not this soon.” Bridget wiped her hands together. “If you’ll excuse me, I have wine buckets to fill with ice.”
Owen made his way to the chapel on the other side of the house, wishing Molly’s sister wasn’t so right about everything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MOLLY STOOD AT the registration counter, reviewing her schedule for the next several months and making follow-up phone calls. February was traditionally a busy month for weddings, and it would be no different at Sweetheart Ranch. Also, apparently, would Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. They had twenty-three ceremonies booked between now and Valentine’s Day and potentially several more based on upcoming appointments.
Most of those weddings had been booked by Grandma Em before she eloped with Homer, but a few tentative couples had called Molly to confirm after seeing the TV news segment or visiting the open house.
She had had appointments this week with four brand-new couples. Hopefully, she’d close those sales on her own and without her grandmother’s help. If she didn’t hear back from them by tomorrow, she’d follow up with phone calls.
For someone determined to prove herself, Molly wasn’t making much progress. Then again, excelling at sales wasn’t her superpower. Unlike her grandmother. Or Owen. Everyone seemed to love him, even if he stumbled over the occasional word or his daughter caused a scene.
If she could only swallow the huge chunk of pride lodged in her throat, she’d ask for his help. Molly wasn’t quite ready for that.
Three more weeks to go and then life would return to normal—normal being Grandma Em back home, and Molly no longer filling in as wedding coordinator. It would also mean Owen and his children being gone.
She should be glad. After their kiss—their amazing kiss that had left her far too eager for more and contemplating what-ifs rather than better-nots—they’d both benefit from some distance.
But a part of her liked him being around. He’d picked up a fair amount of slack and was handy.
Yeah, right, the other part of her argued. You enjoy seeing him every day.
A small notification box suddenly appeared in the lower right corner of her computer screen. Molly read the message and bit her lip. Then, she read it again.
Tasha had left a review on the ranch’s social media page. It wasn’t bad. Neither was it good. She’d written, Despite several problems, our stay wound up to be everything we’d hoped for. Whatever else was there flew past Molly. She saw only “several problems.”
“Hi, Molly. You have a minute?”
Startled by the crusty male voice, she glanced up to see Big Jim approaching the registration desk and immediately wondered why he was here. It was nine thirty, and he was due to take their latest wedding couple on a carriage ride at ten. He should be harnessing the horses. Plus, he rarely used the front entrance.
“What’s up?” Composing herself, she rolled back her chair and stood.
“I hate to spring this on you at the last minute, but I’m turning in my notice. Today is going to have to be my last day.”
“Big Jim, no!” The mediocre review from Tasha was instantly forgotten.
“It’s my wife. I wound up taking her to the emergency room last night.”
“My God. Is she all right?”
“For now, yes.” He momentarily struggled. “She had a cardiac episode. The doctor at the hospital recommended she see a specialist and have some tests done. Seems the virus we thought she had wasn’t a virus at all but fluid around her heart. I won’t lie, she’s scared.”
Concern filled Molly. “I understand, Jim. But I hate to see you go.”
“Me, too. The thing is, I need a month or more. Too long for me to leave you and your sister hanging. Better I just resign. That way, you can replace me, and I’ll be free to look after my wife. I’m past retiring age as it is.”
“I won’t accept your resignation. We’ll consider it a leave of absence. I’m sure we can find a replacement for you.” She’d call Powell Ranch next door. They might have someone qualified looking for part-time work.
“Thank you.” Big Jim shifted from one foot to the other. “I think Owen can handle the carriage rides. He already takes care of Amos and Moses on my days off.”
“Something the matter with Amos and Moses?” Bridget asked, rounding the corner into the foyer.
“Big Jim needs some time off,” Molly said and explained about his wife.
Bridget placed her hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Please give her our best. And don’t you worry about a thing.”
“I appreciate your understanding more than you know.” He lifted his hat in a farewell gesture. “I’d best get going. The bride and groom will be wanting their ride.”
Molly and Bridget stared after him, exchanging concerned glances. Big Jim and his wife were two of their favorite people.
“I know you’re reluctant to give Owen any additional responsibility.” Bridget faced Molly. “But what choice do we have other than letting him take over the carriage rides?”
“We should call Grandma.”
“We don’t need to bother her with this.”
“She’s the owner of the ranch and in charge of personnel,” Molly sai
d firmly. “She should be informed.”
“Says the person who just gave Big Jim a leave of absence without consulting Grandma.”
“Not the same thing.” Molly tapped some papers into a neat stack.
“Owen’s already here. He’s experienced and available and we both know Grandma will say yes.”
“We shouldn’t assume. Owen’s children will need watching while he gives the rides, and Grandma needs to approve the added babysitting expense. And who knows if Nora’s free. She only agreed to work part-time.”
“Point made.”
Molly lifted the desk phone receiver, pausing before dialing. “We got a mediocre review this morning on our social media page. From Tasha, the bride Owen’s daughter pushed.”
“How mediocre?”
“A five, on a scale of one to ten.”
“You’re not planning on telling that to Grandma.”
“It could affect her decision about Owen,” Molly countered.
“Don’t you utter one peep. We are not ruining Grandma’s honeymoon. And anyway, the situation with his kids is taken care of.”
Molly punched in their grandmother’s number.
“Put her on speaker.”
She huffed but did as her sister requested. A moment later, Grandma Em’s trilling voice filled the foyer.
“Hello!”
“Hi, Grandma. It’s Molly and Bridget.”
“The two of you. How nice. We’re just getting ready for a big brunch with Olive and her husband.”
Olive. She must be referring to Homer’s daughter.
“We can talk to you later, Grandma,” Bridget said.
“No, no. I have a few minutes until we leave for the restaurant. What’s going on?”
Molly gave her grandmother the lowdown, starting with Big Jim needing time off because of his wife’s health issues and ending with Owen potentially taking over. “Though, we haven’t asked him yet.”
“What are you waiting for? Get to asking.”
“We still have to confirm with Nora. She may not be available to babysit.”
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