WOMEN OF SURPRISE 03: Making Over Maggie

by Tracey J. Lyons

  Making Over Maggie

  Number III of Women of Surprise

  Tracey J. Lyons

  (2012)

  * * *

  Tags: Romance

  Romancettt

  Maggie Monroe has always been independent, headstrong, and capable of handling just about anything. So when her aunt, Margaret, hires Samuel Clay to `assist' Maggie in the opening of a dance hall, Maggie is not amused.

  The dance hall was her project, and the reason she stayed in the small upstate New York town. For the few months that Maggie had been in town visiting her ailing aunt and two cousins she's seen what could happen when Aunt Margaret starts to `help.' Both of her cousins ended up falling in love with the man chosen to assist. But this won't happen to Maggie---she doesn't need a man, or romance, or any of that silliness; she is an independent businesswoman and entirely too busy for such trifles.

  Samuel Clay takes one look at Maggie and he knows he's in for a bit of trouble. She disagrees with every decision he makes regarding the dance hall but he plows ahead trying to do the job for which he has been hired. At every turn Maggie defies him, but somehow they manage to get the dance hall started and make it a success.

  Much to her dismay, Maggie realizes that she actually needed Samuel's help, but she's not keen to admit it. Neither is she willing to admit the feelings she is developing for him. Samuel decided to pour on the charm to get his way, but little does he realize that by charming Maggie, she has actually cast a spell on him!

  **

  About the Author

  Tracey J. Lyons always liked to play make-believe, so writing fiction seemed like a natural progression in her life. Starting out as a little girl imagining that all those hidden nooks and crannies in her backyard were castles and mansions, she evolved into a teenager wanting to become an actress, and ended up turning into a young woman writing romance novels.

  Tracey holds an associates degree in theatre arts. Married for over twenty years to her high school sweetheart, she and her husband are the proud parents of two sons. Tracey lives in upstate New York.

  A Women of Surprise Romance

  Lydia's Passion A Surprise for Abigail

  Tracey J. Lyons

  This title was previously published by Avalon Books; this version

  has been reproduced from the Avalon book archive files.

  Catskill Mountains

  New York State

  1883

  Thunder rumbled off in the distance. Samuel Clay looked over his shoulder. Heavy, dark storm clouds loomed behind him, breaking through the craggy peaks and narrow valleys of the Catskill Mountains.

  Taking the crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket, he tried to make sense of the directions. If the map was right, he was almost to the town of Surprise, New York. Fat drops of water splattered intermittently onto the hard packed earth. Samuel's horse shook his head from side to side. Even the beast sensed the impending storm.

  He stuffed the map back into his pocket. Hunching over the saddle, Samuel pushed the animal onward, hoping to reach shelter before the clouds broke and the rain let loose. Following the path of the train tracks, he continued to search for any sign of life and was about to give up hope when two outbuildings appeared before him.

  Like an apparition, he thought. One minute he was feeling lost and alone in this forsaken rocky wilderness and the next he was entering the main road of a small town. Surprise! he thought ruefully. Whoever had named the town must have had quite a wry sense of humor.

  Sam wasn't looking for any surprises. This town was his last chance to prove himself. He'd seen the advertisement for a dance hall manager in the Albany newspaper. After making the proper contacts, he'd been offered the job on the condition that the owner of the hall approved of him.

  Right now, though, he was sorely in need of a dry place to stay and a good hot meal. Because of the coming storm there wasn't much activity on the streets. He saw two women hurry into a building with a sign proclaiming it to be Jules' Mercantile.

  Scanning the narrow street, Sam took notice of a lumberyard, a small cafe, one sheriff's office, a boarding house, and finally a large two-story square building.

  While the latter held his attention, he thought the first order of business should be securing a room at the boarding house. Nudging the horse with his knee, Samuel Clay sat tall in his saddle as he rode through the town of Surprise taking in every nuance.

  Looking off to the left he saw a schoolhouse, but what caught and held his attention was the grand house that seemed to fill the space at the end of the road.

  Whistling softly, Samuel slowed the horse and took a closer gander at the elegant three-story house. Stonework blended with wood siding. A well-tended yard surrounded the structure with forsythias and rose bushes dotting the foundation.

  "Hold up right there, mister."

  Startling him out of his musings the feminine command brought him to a stop in the middle of the roadway. Looking down the horse's long neck and past the perked ears, Samuel found himself gazing at the nicely rounded backside of a woman.

  Dressed all in black he thought she just might be the town spinster. He pulled the thin leather reins to the right and the horse began to move past the woman.

  A stiff raised hand shot up. "I said, hold up"

  She didn't even turn to look at him and this compelled him to follow her gaze. Her attention was clearly on what had to be one of the ugliest signs he'd ever laid eyes upon. Black paint that had been applied with a heavy hand spelled out the words Dance Hall on a dark green background.

  "A little to the left, Cole," the sharp voice commanded.

  "More to the left," Samuel offered with a grin. When it looked as if the hideous sign was about to fall off the building he added, "Yeah, that looks real good to me"

  This caught her attention. Hands on hips she spun around to face him, fury burning in her light blue eyes. Surprise forced him to cough out the breath he'd been holding.

  She was a young woman! From her starchy appearance, he'd been certain that she was an older woman, one nearing her thirtieth year. Instead he found himself staring at a woman who couldn't be more than twenty if she were a day.

  "I beg your pardon, sir, but I don't recall asking for your opinion."

  Huffy young thing she was. Quickly Sam amended his impression of her. From her starchy attitude she could be going on thirty. "Just thought I'd offer an impartial opinion. That is one ugly sign, ma'am."

  The man holding the sign laughed as if to say, "I told you so." Ignoring him, she pinned her stare on Samuel.

  "I'll have you know that I came up with the design."

  "She's not very creative, is she?" Sam looked up at the gentleman and grinned.

  "Don't insult me."

  Sam didn't see his comment as an insult; he was just being honest. The thick block lettering was a simply thought out design. It would never draw attention to the dance hall, the new enterprise in this town.

  "If you expect people to come to this building they need something with some flare. Colors that will capture their attention and make them want to wander over and see what's inside."

  "And you know this how?" Advancing on him, she stood close to the horse right by Samuel's left leg. He didn't think that now would be a good time to tell her that he was going to be the manager of this here establishment.

  Shrugging, he answered, "I've traveled around a lot. I've seen establishments like this before"

  "This is not just any other establishment, mister. This is a dance hall" Pointing at the sign as if he were a complete idiot, she added, "See, those words spell out Dance Hall. And it's going to be the best one for miles around"


  "Yes, you are right, it does say Dance Hall." Of course he'd been teasing her. He never could resist getting a rise from any young lady.

  Rain dripping from the brim of his hat, Samuel leaned over and said to the woman, "If you don't mind, Miss . . ." the word, an invitation to an introduction, hung in the air.

  "Monroe. My name is Miss Maggie Monroe"

  "Well, Miss Monroe, I'm getting wet and I'd really like to be moving to someplace where I can get dry. So if it's all right with you, I'd like to pass." He couldn't resist adding a wink to his request.

  Staring up at him with blue eyes, she looked as if he'd asked for a brick of gold, not to get inside out of the rain.

  With a quick swish of her hand she dismissed him. "Yes. You can move along, Mister ... ?" With one fine brown eyebrow raised she waited for him to tell her his name.

  "Samuel Clay." He was more than happy to oblige her since-at least in his mind-they were going to be business partners.

  Picking up her voluminous black skirts, she stepped up onto the planked walkway under the shelter of a gray striped awning.

  Sitting tall in the saddle, Samuel tipped his hat to her. "See you around, Miss Monroe"

  "Good day, Mr. Clay"

  Within an hour's time, Samuel had boarded the horse at the local stable and secured himself a room at Bartholomew's boarding house. Standing at the frilly lace curtained window of his room, he watched the activity at the dance hall through the mist of rain.

  The first thing he noticed was that the sign had come down. So Miss Monroe did care about public perception. It just so happened that Sam cared about the same thing. One's appearance was the first thing anyone noticed about a person. A business or businessman wasn't any different.

  First impressions were what success or failure hinged upon. He'd learned that valuable life lesson at a very early age. His family may have led the simple life of farmers, but his mama always made sure they were dressed in clean clothing. And on the rare occasions when they went into town it was in their Sunday finest.

  Gathering his overcoat, he paused in front of a full-length mirror. From the tips of his recently polished boots and pressed black trousers to the crisply starched white shirt showing beneath a richly colored black and gold brocade vest, Samuel Clay was a fine man who knew he presented a memorable first impression. If his mama could see him now, she'd be proud.

  His first order of business upon deciding to come to Surprise had been to ship two trunks of belongings on ahead. Finding Mrs. Bartholomew sitting at a writing desk in the front parlor, he inquired as to the location of the post office.

  "I hope you found everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Clay"

  "I did, thank you, ma'am. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the post office"

  Rising from the straight-backed chair, she walked with him to the front door. "It's at the opposite end of town. Right past the sheriff's office, Mr. Clay"

  The screen door tapped shut behind him. Pausing for a moment on the front porch, Samuel's gaze was drawn to the mansion on the hill behind the boarding house. Droplets of rain glistened on the square-cut stonework. Tall windows flanked a large entryway.

  His bags could wait. Turning toward the big house, he walked up the sloping slate walkway. Samuel swallowed hard, beating down a bad case of nerves. This job was his last chance. If plans went the way he hoped they would, maybe one day soon he too would be living the high life.

  Going up the steps, he paused before the massive front door, picking up the brass lion-head knocker and letting it drop on the polished wood. Within minutes he was granted admittance.

  The inside of the home was even more stunning than the outside. Family portraits hung on the wall going up the grand staircase to the second and third floors. Thick carpeting covered the wide-planked floor boards.

  "Are you Mr. Clay?"

  "I am," he nodded.

  "Miss Margaret has been expecting you, sir," a tall, thin, dark-haired woman told him. "Follow me"

  Walking down the first floor hallway, Sam had to bite his lower lip to keep from whistling out loud. This was by far the grandest home he'd ever been in and one that certainly stood out in this town like a diamond in the rough.

  He wondered about the woman who lived here. Margaret Monroe Sinclair sat in a wingbacked chair in front of a stone hearth. Beside her was a low stand with a full tea service on it.

  Samuel was served hot tea with lemon and blueberry scones all the while listening to the older woman instruct him on his new duties. After eliciting from him the fact that he'd never been jailed-obviously there was some history of this with previous employees-she welcomed him to the town and wished him well in his new job.

  "Oh and one more thing, Mr. Clay, you'll be working with my niece, Maggie."

  Choking on the gulp of tea he'd just about swallowed, Sam stared at the woman. She expected him to work side by side with that unimaginative young lady?

  "Is that so," he drawled, thinking how some things were never as simple as they seemed.

  With a nod of her head she answered him, and so it was that thirty minutes later he exited the house smiling. Inside those walls lived a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from life and how to go about getting it. It didn't matter where a man came from, it was where he was now that was important. And Samuel Clay was right where he wanted to be.

  He had six months remaining on his time. Six months in which to prove himself a man. Thinking about that long ago day gave Sam a feeling of melancholy. There had never been any question that the oldest son in the Clay family would, when he reached the age of twenty-five, take over the farm.

  For three generations that was how it was done, until Sam came along. Farming was a decent way to make a living, if a man were cut out for the job. But he'd known from an early age that farming wasn't in his blood, so he'd made a deal with his father two and a half years ago, man to man. If, after three years, Sam could make a go of it on his own, he wouldn't have to take over the family farm. If he failed, he would return home and run the farm with no complaints.

  Stepping off the neatly kept porch, he walked along the main street, carefully avoiding any mud puddles. The rain had stopped and the sunshine had returned. Steamy clouds rose from the dampened earth, giving the town an ethereal appearance. Surprise was indeed his last hope ... his last chance.

  Passing by the dance hall, he heard the sound of voices raised in anger coming from within. He'd gone four paces beyond the building when curiosity got the best of him. Turning around, he walked back. Since the door was already partly open, he didn't wait for an invitation to enter.

  "The colors for this sign are the ones that I want!"

  "Maggie, they are too drab," the man he'd seen earlier helping Miss Monroe was saying.

  "I don't care what you or that stranger thinks, if I'd wanted your opinions I would have asked for them." Stamping her foot, she promptly folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin defiantly.

  "No doubt about it," the man scoffed, "you are the most stubborn of the Monroe women."

  Clearing his throat, Samuel started to approach them. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

  Spinning around, she glared at him. "As a matter of fact you are. This is a private conversation."

  "You could've fooled me. I think the entire town could hear you two carrying on with your lovers' spat"

  "Lovers' what?" Miss Monroe shouted the question. "This isn't my husband! Cole is my cousin by marriage" Glowering at him, she added, "He's married to the sheriff. So you'd best be watching yourself around here, mister."

  Like he cared one bit that she was threatening him. Grinning cockily, he stepped up to the bar where the sign under discussion lay. "I'll try to remember my manners"

  From the other side of the bar, the man offered his hand. "Cole Stanton"

  Shaking his hand, Sam said, "Pleased to meet you. My name's Samuel Clay"

  "Sorry about my cousin, she seems to have forgotten he
r manners."

  "I heard that!" Careful to avoid them, she stood at the far end of the bar. "Thank you for your help, Cole. I believe that I can take it from here."

  With a quick shrug he walked from behind the bar. Leaning in close to Samuel, he warned, "I'd watch yourself around her if I were you"

  Nodding his thanks, Sam turned to find Miss Monroe's attention riveted on him. He figured now would be as bad a time as any to spring the surprise on her.

  Maggie couldn't help staring at the man who was leaning against her bar. One elbow was lazily propped on the pitted slab of wood, while he had one foot resting on the tarnished copper pole that ran along the floor.

  His dark pants were a sharp contrast to his richly colored vest. His short blond hair was parted in the middle and he wore muttonchops and a beard. She couldn't help but wonder how liberally he applied the ever-popular bay rum, used by more and more men these days, to promote hair growth.

  Sniffing the air for the telltale scent, she was about to ask him to leave when he spoke.

  "So this here's going to be a dance hall?" He looked around the room with a proprietary air, like he had ideas of his own for the building.

  His pompous attitude was making her develop an intense dislike for the man. She wished he would leave. There was a great deal of work to be accomplished here today and she was already an hour behind.

  Pointing to the sign resting not two inches away from his elbow, she said, "Good to know you can read, Mr. Clay. It should come in handy when you decide which direction to head when you leave Surprise."

  Wandering away from the bar area, he walked slowly around the large room. "You have a very peculiar way of making a person feel welcome, ma'am."

  There was no time for this nonsense. Maggie had so much to get done to prove to her aunt that this latest business venture would yield success. A great deal was resting on her shoulders and she was made acutely aware of this fact every day.