An Inconvenient Match (18 page)

The reason she’d risk a visit to the Collier farm and Rafe’s wrath. Even if that visit angered him, Rafe wouldn’t harm a woman.

Would he?

Chapter Eleven

A
small boy, shirtless under his overalls, bare feet, dusty and on tiptoe, struggled to choose from the selection of penny candy lined up in glass jars along the counter.

As Abigail waited for the youngster to make his decision, she inhaled the scent of coffee, molasses and pickles wafting from barrels on the floor. To celebrate her first payday at the Cummingses, she’d buy her nephews a rare treat.

The proprietor, Seymour Manning, wearing an apron over his clothing and a patient expression on his face, gave her a smile. Once a gambler, Elizabeth’s father had turned his life around and like Pastor Ted had encouraged and counseled Joe.

His selection made, the boy plopped a penny down while Mr. Manning sacked his purchase. Bag clutched in a dirty dimpled hand, the boy whirled to the door. “Thanks!” he shouted.

Mr. Manning, an imposing man with a handsome head of hair and wide girth, chuckled. “Sorry for the wait. If all my customers were as indecisive, I’d be pulling out my hair.”

Smiling, Abigail laid out her purchases. “The delay gave me time to think about buying candy for my nephews. Please add four red lollipops to my order.”

“Well, in that case, I may hire the lad,” he said with a wink, then popped the staples in one bag and the lollipops in another. “Appreciate your business.”

Harrison Carder appeared at her elbow and tipped his hat. Blond and gray-eyed with a neatly trimmed beard, he looked dapper. “You look mighty fetching, Miss Abigail,” he said in that charming Boston accent.

Smooth talk. Smooth manners. Smooth brow. “Thank you.”

“Which penny candy is your favorite?”

Once Wade had given her the candy. “Peppermints.”

Harrison dropped a coin on the counter. “Peppermints for the lady.”

As Mr. Manning tunneled into the jar with a brass scoop, Harrison turned toward her. “Those peppermints are my way of softening you up. Hoping you’ll take pity on a lonely bachelor and invite him for a home-cooked meal.”

A snicker drew Abigail’s attention to Cecil and Oscar Moore playing checkers beside the unlit stove.

“At least we don’t have to beg for Elizabeth Logan’s biscuits,” Cecil said loud enough for Harrison to hear.

Oscar snorted. “Young whippersnappers today ain’t got no clue on how to sway a female.”

In an attempt to tamp down the chuckle shoving out of her mouth, Abigail coughed behind a gloved hand. “I’m sorry but our kitchen table is overflowing with nine of us in one tiny apartment.”

That dejected look on Harrison’s face tugged at her conscience. A Christian should be hospitable, especially to a newcomer. “Once my sister’s family is back in their house, I’d enjoy preparing you a home-cooked meal.”

All smiles, he clasped his hands together. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Elizabeth Logan marched up with Wade Cummings in tow. Her wide-brimmed straw hat was adorned with silk flowers pretty enough to draw bees.

Elizabeth looked pleased with herself.

Wade looked…trapped. What was this about?

“Until then, Abigail, I hope you’ll accept my invitation to dine at Agnes’s Café.” Harrison flashed even white teeth.

Wade glowered at Harrison. “What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe shopping? No? Well, I’m inviting Abigail to join me for dinner.” He beamed at her. “Would next Saturday evening be convenient?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll come by for you at six o’clock, early enough for a leisurely stroll in the park afterward.” Harrison tipped his hat to Elizabeth, gave Abigail a wink then tossed a smile at Wade before sauntering out the door.

“What a nice man,” Elizabeth said.

Looking about as happy as a man walking the gangplank over high seas with the tip of a pirate’s sword at his back, Wade emitted a low guttural sound, almost a growl.

Appearing not to notice Wade’s reaction, Elizabeth pulled him closer. “Abigail, I saw you come in here and convinced Wade to leave his desk to discuss a project I have for you two.”

Abigail opened her mouth to speak.

The pastor’s wife lifted a dainty palm. “Now before you say you’re too busy, let me assure you that the only folks with time on their hands are laid out in the church cemetery.”

Across the way, Cecil and Oscar Moore guffawed.

“Ain’t she something?” Cecil said.

Oscar nodded. “Yep, Elizabeth gets to the heart of things.”

Indeed she did. Who in this town had the nerve to go up against Elizabeth Logan, including her husband? Whatever Elizabeth wanted, she usually got. In the two years she’d lived here, she’d done more good, worked harder than anyone in town.

“What do you have in mind?” Abigail heard herself ask. As if she had time to add one more task to her load.

“The bills for lumber, roofing, insulation—all the construction materials have been paid with auction funds. Yesterday George Cummings gave Ted a sizable donation, enough money to supply the essentials for our burned-out families. Once we ascertain their needs, we can purchase in quantity.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Abigail couldn’t earn enough money to purchase all Lois would need to run a home. The weight of that burden had been lifted from her shoulders by George Cummings, a man not known for philanthropy. She touched Wade’s arm. “Thank your father for us.”

Wade looked confused. “I had no idea he’d done that.”

George Cummings had his faults, but bragging wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t even told his son. Perhaps merely proof he didn’t share anything of consequence with Wade.

“The problem I’m seeing is a lack of coordination in the town’s efforts,” Elizabeth went on. “The Ladies’ Club is working. The churches are working. Without someone overseeing how money is spent, some needs may be duplicated, others overlooked. That’s where you two come in.”

Wade ran a hand over his nape, as if Elizabeth’s suggestion put a knot there.

“Why us?” Abigail hoped the question wouldn’t elicit a homily on overlooking the feud and learning to work together.

“Who better to handle purchases than the banker son of the biggest donor and the sister of one of the impacted families, a competent woman who’s seen needs firsthand?”

The pastor’s wife knew how to use flattery to get her way. Her way always benefited the community so no one minded. George Cummings could take lessons from Elizabeth.

“I have more good news.” Elizabeth beamed. “Wade just told me he’s making bed frames for the families.”

Abigail had seen Wade as self-centered, his furniture making as a threat to Seth’s education, yet here was a practical example of the good his work could do. “That’s generous.”

“Wish I had time to turn the bedposts on the lathe.”

“Nothing fancy is needed,” Elizabeth assured him. “Our families will be grateful for serviceable beds.”

She handed Abigail and Wade a sheet of paper with the sum of all available funds then glanced around the store. “Obviously we’ll purchase what we can from town merchants. The church and Ladies’ Club are handling linens, clothing and smaller kitchen items. Major purchases like cookstoves and iceboxes will probably head our list. My father will order whatever he doesn’t carry in the store and sell it to us at cost.”

Wade nodded, never taking his eyes off Abigail. “I knew Seymour would do his part.”

“All business owners are quoting the lowest possible price,” Elizabeth said.

All too aware of the rise and fall of Wade’s broad chest in rhythm with her own, the power in those wide shoulders and large capable hands, Abigail scrambled for footing. “Should we…ah…divide the funds by six?”

“The distribution doesn’t have to be identical as long as crucial needs are met. Speak to the Andersons. I’ve heard their relatives are purchasing their cookstove.”

Abigail stared into Wade’s eyes, losing herself in those indigo orbs. “That’s nice.” Nice hardly described Wade’s mesmerizing eyes, his—

“Are you willing to take this on? Abigail?” Elizabeth asked.

“What?” She forced her mind on the conversation and off Wade.

“Will you work on this committee with Wade?”

How could she refuse? A committee to coordinate efforts made sense. “Yes, as long as you understand my responsibility to Mr. Cummings comes first.”

“Naturally. Wade, with your hectic schedule, would it be easier for you to meet during the noon hour over a late lunch?”

Wade appeared bewildered by the question. “What?”

“What’s wrong with you two? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d lost your hearing.”

Heat climbed Abigail’s neck and flooded into her cheeks.

Not waiting for an answer, Elizabeth drew Abigail and Wade together, one on each side of her. “I’m relieved to have you overseeing this. I’ll leave you to work out the particulars.”

And that quickly, Abigail and Wade had agreed to spend more time together. Had Elizabeth Logan just engineered her biggest coup yet—bringing a Cummings and a Wilson together?

Elizabeth walked over to the Moore brothers, the only men welcome in the Ladies’ Club. “See you gentlemen at the meeting Saturday afternoon.”

“Be there with sleigh bells on.”

At the puzzled expression on Elizabeth’s face, Cecil said, “We ain’t got no other kind.”

With a nod for the Moore brothers and a jaunty wave to her father, Elizabeth swept out the door.

Wade turned his gaze on Abigail, rooting her to the spot. As she peered into those sapphire eyes, caught his masculine scent, felt the warmth radiating from his skin, a surge of longing slid through her, snatching her breath.

“Look, Oscar. Miss Abigail’s got a dinner invite from that lawyer feller. Now she’s making eyes at Wade here,” Cecil said.

Awakened from her trancelike state, she took a step back—almost as fast as Wade.

“Next thing ya know, we’ll be playing harmonica and banjo at another wedding celebration,” Oscar replied.

Nodding, Cecil pursed his lips. “Reckon so, but whose?”

Oscar cackled. “Ain’t that the big question?”

Wade cleared his throat. “Will it…? Can you…meet at the bank tomorrow at twelve-thirty to formulate our plans?”

“Yes, I’ll bring lunch,” she said, sounding as breathless as Wade’s father. What had gotten into her? She was reacting as if she’d never seen Wade before.

Where would all this togetherness with Wade lead?

Wade stumbled from the Mercantile. Everything around him, the shops, passersby, horses tied at the hitching posts, looked as usual. But back in the store, he and Abigail had stared into each other’s eyes until he could barely breathe, leaving him as disoriented as a tourist on the streets of Boston. He took a deep breath and let his gaze travel the street.

Down the way, Seth handed Betty Jo Weaver a nosegay. Bestowing him with a sweet smile, she sniffed the flowers, gazing up at him. Seth smiled back, beamed really.

Wade hoped he hadn’t looked that starry-eyed in Abigail’s presence.

Paul Roger, his ruddy face twisted in a scowl, stomped over and took Betty Jo’s arm. After a moment of hesitation, Betty Jo chose Paul over Seth and the two walked on.

The raw, wounded look on Seth’s face served as a bucket of cold water, a splash of reality bringing Wade to his senses.

Abigail agreed to work on the committee and to take care of his father, but she had no interest in him.

Acceptance of that dinner invitation said her interest lay with Harry, a man who could offer her what Wade couldn’t—freedom from a troubled past.

Weary of conflict, Wade needed the peace he found making furniture. But before he went back to the bank, to that desk strewn with work, he’d stop by Harry’s office. Make sure he treated Abby right.

A slice of Agnes’s sugar cream pie should calm Abigail’s jangled nerves. Or so she hoped. To help Lois, she’d work with Wade Cummings on this committee, but she wouldn’t be duped by that crazy reaction she’d just had to the man.

He’d broken her heart five years ago. No matter how much she tried to pretend the relationship had been juvenile, her heart hadn’t healed. Worse, by falling for Wade, she’d been disloyal to her family. Her father had been right. A Cummings couldn’t be trusted.

She’d rely on common sense, intelligence, even intuition. All of those warned her away from Wade.

Tantalizing aromas drifted from the kitchen as Agnes prepared for the dinner rush. But for now only one other table in the far corner was occupied.

Across from Abigail, dark hair swept up under her hat, Rachel cut off a bite of cherry pie, oozing filling through the lattice crust. “This is delicious.”

Abigail’s reason for inviting her friend had nothing to do with Wade or a desire for pie, and everything to do with making sure Rachel had no feelings for Harrison Carder.

“I’m pleased you’ll be working with Wade.” Rachel wagged her brows. “Never know where that might lead.”