A Great Catch (13 page)

He chuckled.

She threw the rag at him. “I said it wasn’t funny.”

His laughter echoed in the empty building. Apparently, he found her circumstances quite entertaining, even though they irritated her to no end. The humiliation was bad enough, but knowing any minute Carter would wake up and realize she was—and would always be—the same clumsy person, was far worse. She marched to the window, her wet skirt clinging to her legs.

Before her, the lake churned like the anger burning inside her. It wasn’t fair. If she hadn’t run . . . if God hadn’t let it rain at the wrong moment . . . if Carter hadn’t insisted she learn to play baseball . . .

She whirled toward him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me play this game.” Tears, traitorous and frustrating, fought their way down her cheeks. “Why can’t your Owls simply play the Bloomer Girls without me on the team? Even if we worked day and night, I won’t be an asset. This”—she pointed to the mud clinging to her—“should prove that.”

Carter shrugged. “It doesn’t prove anything. Emily, you tripped. It happens to everyone at one time or another.”

“No one trips like I do.”

Another chuckle rippled through the room. “You may have a point.” He crossed the space between them and leaned casually on the window casing beside her. He stared out at the lake and then slowly turned toward her. “No one does anything quite like you do. That’s what I love.”

A new warmth spread inside her under the intensity of his gaze, replacing the heat of anger she’d felt only moments before. Had he used the word
love
? She couldn’t move, could scarcely breathe.

He stepped closer and cupped her grimy face with his hands.

“Carter, I look awful.”

“You look beautiful to me.” The pad of his thumb traced her cheek, then moved over her lower lip.

Her heart whirled like the weather vane on top of the Kursaal in the midst of the storm. Did he mean it? She studied his eyes, the truth laid bare in their caramel depths. How she wanted to believe him! Despite her tear-streaked cheeks and mud-caked clothing, for once in her life she let her heart take flight.

The thunder outside paled in comparison to the resonance beating in her chest.

Carter bent his head and brushed her lips with a kiss. He drew back, looked into her eyes, and kissed her again, long, slow, sweet—chasing away her last remnants of doubt.

Kate studied the playing cards fanned in her hand and arranged by suit. Not a bad dummy whist hand, but a truly tiresome afternoon.

Outside, the rain rat-a-tatted against the roof, forcing Kate and her two sisters to squeeze into the cottage’s tiny parlor.

“How much did I bid?” Millie asked for the hundredth time.

“Three,” Ethel snapped.

“I did not. Tell her, Kate.”

“I have it right here.” Ethel tapped her pencil so hard on the paper that the tip broke. “Now look what you made me do.”

“Ladies.” Kate let out an exasperated sigh. If the apostle Paul had been confined in prison with her sisters instead of Silas, he certainly would not have been singing. “Perhaps we could call this one hand a do-over since we have a discrepancy.”

A rain-scented breeze ruffled the curtains. Ethel frowned but shuffled the cards again. She dealt to each of them and placed the dummy hand where Emily usually sat. “I do wish you would have told Emily to stay home this afternoon.”

Picking up the hand she’d been given, Kate arranged her cards. “Only because we need a fourth. I bid one.”

Ethel upped their bid to two, but Millie announced she believed she could turn three. Ethel dutifully recorded each number.

Finally, Millie turned the cards of the dummy hand over and smiled. “Delightful cards!” She led by playing the ace of hearts.

“If Emily were here, the four of us could practice our bridge whist instead of playing this dummy whist.” Ethel followed suit and laid a ten.

“I’m still surprised bridge has become the rage of the season.” Kate set her two on the table. “Although it is more scientific than old-fashioned whist.”

“And far more exciting.” Millie scooped up the first trick. “Emily is simply a natural at it.”

“So I should have kept her here to entertain you?” Kate shook her head.

“Yes. No. I mean—”

“Play your card, Millie.” Ethel laid down an eight of hearts after Millie played a king. “Kate, the reason I said you should have insisted Emily remain here this afternoon has nothing to do with card playing or the storm.”

Kate took the trick with a trump card. “Then what is it?”

“I find it hard to believe you’re encouraging a relationship with that Stockton boy.”

“Haven’t you noticed how happy Emily is?” Kate adjusted the cards in her hand. “Carter has been so good to her, and she clearly enjoys his company.”

“But look what he’s reduced her to. She parades around like a man, catching balls and swinging bats and wearing those bloomers.”

“She has a point, Kate,” Millie said. “How will Carter notice her womanly ways if she acts and looks like a man?”

Kate stared at them. “I don’t think he’s having any trouble remembering Emily is a woman.”

“But you’ve forgotten he’s a Stockton.” Ethel played a trump card, swiped the cards from the table, and neatly arranged her trick in a stack to her right.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to have to. We all care about Emily, and you’re handing her over to that boy.”

“That boy has a name.” Kate prayed her no-nonsense tone would end this discourse. “It’s Carter.”

“Stockton,” Ethel added. “Son of Angus Stockton, the man who almost reduced your husband’s business to bankruptcy only days after his death.”

Kate slapped the remainder of her hand onto the table. “When are you two going to let that go? I forgave Angus long ago.”

“So much so, you left your money in his bank.” Millie folded her hand and smiled at her older sister. “Katie, dear, are you sure that was wise?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I understand why Angus Stockton called in the implement company’s loans when my Ethan died. He didn’t trust me to run the business, and James had yet to prove himself.”

Ethel sat up straighter. “So you’ve said.”

“He was protecting his business. After we spoke at length about it, Angus agreed to let James continue with the loan payments as scheduled.”

Ethel pointed her pencil at Kate. “And in a show of good faith, you left all of your accounts with that scoundrel.”

“Angus wasn’t a scoundrel.” Kate rubbed her neck as the beginnings of a headache took hold. “He was a young bank president who wanted to impress his investors. When I was able to show him how it was in his best interest to extend the loan, he agreed.”

Millie touched her arm. “After you showed him your larger investments, including your share in the Colorado silver mine.”

“And after you agreed to a higher loan rate than any other bank would have required,” Ethel said.

“But it all worked out. Angus has been nothing but fair to me ever since. And he’s extended the same courtesy to James and now Martin.”

A percussion of thunder shook the cottage. Kate glanced out the window where branches swung in the wind. Concern lumped in her throat. At least Emily wasn’t out in this alone. Carter would take care of her.

Kate cleared her throat. “I think it’s time the two of you forgave Angus and stopped worrying about Carter.”

Millie wobbled to the window and shuttered it against the rain blowing in. “You’re not the least bit concerned?”

“About her out in this? Perhaps a little. But not about Carter. Besides, if I remember right, weren’t you the ones determined to see Emily married?”

“Yes, but we have a number of eligible suitors.” Ethel pulled a list from her pocket and peered at it through the spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. “I’ve been collecting names. Ralph Lingenfelter, Cecil Arbuckle, Horace Throop, Oly Smelby, and Walford Lindeen.”

“And don’t forget Marion Wormsley.” Millie tapped the paper. “He may be willing to give her a second chance if the dizziness has worn off.”

Kate held up her hand. “I can already tell I don’t want to know the rest of that story.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, her headache now pounding incessantly. “I’ll make you two a deal. If Emily decides to stop seeing Carter of her own accord, you can resume your matchmaking attempts to your hearts’ content. Until then, leave her alone.”

Ethel’s lips pinched together as if she’d been given some bitter elixir.

Millie squeezed Kate’s hand. “We only want what’s best for her.”

“As do I.” Kate sighed. “And Emily deserves to find out if that best is Carter Stockton.”

Emily plucked a piece of dried mud from her skirt and flicked it into the sawdust. After the kiss, Carter had found comfortable spots on the second floor of the Kursaal where the two of them could sit and watch the rain dapple Lake Manawa. Not willing to risk another drenching, they’d agreed to remain inside the Kursaal until the rain stopped.

“I hope Grandma Kate isn’t worried.” Emily touched a finger to her lips. “But I don’t want this afternoon to end.”

“Me either.” Carter grinned and looked out the window. “And apparently God thinks we should get some more time to talk.”

“Then it’s my turn. Tell me about Ducky.”

“Do I have competition? You asked about him the other day too. ” Carter chuckled and Emily shot him a mock glare. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“You told me before that the two of you were college roommates. Where’s he from?”

“He’s a farm boy from somewhere around Red Oak. His parents had a place there, but they’ve moved west.”

“And he stayed?”

“Yes, to go to college. Since he lives here, his tuition was free.”

“Did he play baseball before college?”

Carter chuckled. “Sort of. Every Sunday afternoon, a group of boys came out to the ball field so I could teach them how to play ball. It started with four or five and grew until there were more than enough for two teams. Ducky showed up one week and pitched in.” Carter drew his hand through his moisture-kinked curls. “He was a natural.”

“Maybe you were a natural teacher and coach.”

“Don’t tell Ducky. He thinks making the team was all his doing.”

Conversation continued for another hour as the rain beat down on the new building. All too soon, the sun peeked from behind the clouds, birdsong filled the air, and they had yet to leave.

“I could talk to you all day.” Carter kissed her fingertips.

“I think you already have.” Emily glanced out the window. “How late do you think it is?”

He shrugged. “Five o’clock, maybe.”

Oh no!
With a cry, Emily jumped to her feet. “My article! I completely forgot.”

“Relax, Emily. You’ll get it done.” He climbed to his feet and brushed the sawdust from the back of his pants. “How hard can it be to throw some words on a page?”

She frowned. “I need to get home. Now.”

“Whoa.” He caught her waist and pulled her close. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I know what you’re doing is important. How can I help?”

She placed her hands on his chest. “Take me home.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye first?”

She giggled. “Well, you’d better do it here or my aunts will probably skin you alive. On second thought, they might anyway when they see me. Perhaps we should say goodbye at the halfway point.”

“No way. I’ll take my chances.” He raised his eyebrows. “And by the way, you look good in mud.”

“But I’d look better in an emerald-green ball gown?”

“Different. Not better.” Beneath her hands, she felt laughter rumble in his chest. “But speaking of ball gowns, you know they’re having a big grand opening here in two weeks. Would you like to go?”

“With you?” she teased.

“Or I guess you could go with Marion Wormsley.”

“Oooo, do you have to remind me?” She looked up into his eyes. “Yes, Carter Stockton, I’d be honored to go with you.”

“Good. Now, about that goodbye kiss.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

As he dipped his head, her heart skipped a beat, banishing thoughts of anything but him.

After lighting the wick of the kerosene lamp, Carter sat down at a small table inside the Owl Club and opened the ledger containing Kate Graham’s financial information. The clock on the wall struck an ominous three o’clock. What was it about this ledger that had startled him out of his sleep and driven him to reexamine it?

His lips curled as he thought of Emily, splattered with mud and looking beautiful. Never in his life had he met anyone who captured him so, nor anyone he’d wanted to kiss as much. She fell and got back up. She failed and kept trying. She saw a wrong and refused to quit until it had been righted.

Unsinkable.

And he was drawn to her spirit like a five-year-old to a peppermint stick.

He shook his head. But why had his dreams of her turned to nightmares involving her grandmother’s ledger? He’d awakened with a sense of urgency he’d learned not to ignore. God had a way of getting his attention, and he feared this was one of those times.

After locating a piece of scratch paper, he added the columns again and listed the total. But the quarterly statement from the bank differed by nearly three thousand dollars. How could that be? If it had been exactly three thousand, he would have guessed someone had erred in figuring it, but not this odd sum. When he’d spoken to the bank clerk, the man had insisted their recording ledgers had been signed by Nathan himself.

And Nathan didn’t make mistakes.

He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. Could Kate Graham somehow have forgotten to record a significant withdrawal? Worse, maybe she was forgetting things and didn’t record several. His chest tightened. Poor Emily. This afternoon she’d told him about her grandmother—her courage, her determination, and her intelligence. If he had to tell Emily her grandmother’s mind might be slipping, Emily would be devastated.

But until he knew the answer, he was not telling anyone anything. He flipped the pages back to the beginning and began to recalculate every column. Even if it took all night, he’d find out if there was a mistake. Maybe Nathan had messed up for once. If by morning he hadn’t found it, he’d begin to look elsewhere.

Something was definitely not adding up.