An Inconvenient Match (19 page)

The bite of sugar cream, smooth and sweet, melted in Abigail’s mouth. “You’re incorrigible. Let me enjoy my pie.”

“Use all the big words you want, but only love could drive a practical woman like you to eat dessert before supper.”

“Not love. More like second thoughts.” She cocked her head at Rachel. “I accepted Harrison Carder’s dinner invitation before I had time to think. Are you sure you don’t have an interest in him?”

“He’s not my type, as I said after the box lunch social.”

“Well, yes, but I had to be sure.”

“I’m surprised he’s yours.”

“You sound like the Moore brothers. They behaved as if accepting a dinner invitation was comparable to accepting a marriage proposal.”

Rachel giggled. “Probably is to those two.” She sobered. “Why go to dinner with Harrison when Wade’s far more appealing?”

Abigail’s fork clattered to the table. “Do you have a crush on Wade?”

“No, but you do.” She wagged a finger. “Look how you reacted when you thought I might have an interest in him.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Abigail sighed. “Please accept I’m not that starry-eyed girl who fell for Wade in high school. You’re stuck in the past.” Since then Abigail had learned to stand on her own feet, depending on no one, making her own way.

A reminder that Rachel should plan for the future. “Have you thought about preparing for a career?”

Rachel’s gaze dropped to her plate. “I always thought I’d get married.”

“I’m sure you will, but New Harmony isn’t crawling with eligible bachelors. Have you considered attending Iowa State Normal School in Cedar Falls?”

“Train to teach?”

“Why not? You enjoy teaching Sunday school.” Abigail planted an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, smiling. “You might meet someone in Cedar Falls.”

“The idea of something new, finding my place in this world is exciting.” A smile bloomed then faded. “If I left, my dad would be sad.”

“He’d miss you. But he might be relieved to know you could manage if something happened to him.”

Her brow furrowed. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

Rachel had already lost her mother. “I’m sure you’ll have your father for a long, long time.”

The door to the café jangled open and banged closed as diners entered and took seats.

Rachel sighed. “I’ll pray about it. Talk to my dad.” She gasped. “Oh, Abby, he can’t cook.”

“Maybe he’ll find someone who can.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped.

“Why not? Your dad’s young enough to want another woman in his life. If you weren’t there to fix his meals and keep his house, he might go to the trouble of finding one.”

“I never thought of such a thing. My dad’s…well, just dad. Not a man who’d want a woman in his life.”

“Would a stepmother be okay with you?”

“Well, I suppose… If she’s nice, that is.” Lost in thought, Rachel spun the handle of her fork time and again. Then her gaze landed on Abigail. “You talk about me and my dad finding someone to love. God might have a plan for your life, a plan that includes a man. Give Wade a chance.”

Abigail shook her head. “I can’t.”

Rachel leaned toward her. “I remember what you and Wade meant to each other. I remember the way you stared into each other’s eyes, how you’d light up when he entered the room, how you’d talk and talk, forgetting I was even there.”

“You think I don’t?” Tears stung the back of Abigail’s eyes. She blinked them away, red-faced she’d come close to weeping in the café. “You want to forget what happened, but I can’t. One minute, he stuck to my side like a burr on knickers. The next minute he was gone.”

“Maybe he had a reason.”

The reasons Abigail had considered made her feel worse.

“If you could forgive him—”

“Forgiving him doesn’t mean I could ever trust him.” She shoved her plate away. “Since you’re not interested in Harrison, I’m going to keep our dinner plans,” she said, forcing a smile. “I consider that giving a man a chance, don’t you?”

“I consider that a waste of time.” Rachel frowned. “Why can’t you see the good in Wade?”

“I admire things about Wade.” She wasn’t merely attracted though that pull was powerful. “He’s talented, hardworking, loyal to his father and serves others,” she said, ticking off attributes she admired on the fingers of one hand.

“With the Cummingses’ money, he could’ve lived a life of ease.”

“True.” Abigail raised her other hand. “He’s also aloof, stubborn, holds things inside and can’t give his heart.” She’d fight that unwanted admiration with everything in her. “He proved that five years ago and I’ve seen nothing since to make me believe otherwise.”

“All right, I’ll stop pestering you about him.”

“Finally.” Abigail laid her hand on Rachel’s arm. “When you have a career, you’re not forced to marry unless you want to. That’s what I want for you. Talk to your father.”

“Don’t let your profession convince you that you can handle everything—anything—alone. We can make plans, but we can’t control the future.” Rachel gave her hand a squeeze. “Only God can do that. Trust Him with everything, including your heart.”

Wade had urged her to trust God, now Rachel did the same. Abigail lowered her gaze to her hands. Losing the farm, her father, Wade…

Where was God in any of that?

A lump rose in her throat. The past lay behind her. The time had come to concentrate on the future. She’d go to dinner with Harrison, see where that led.

The glass on the door embossed Harrison Carder, Attorney at Law rattled shut behind Wade. The shelves of the small office were lined with law books. Surely a statute could be found in one of those tomes demanding a lawyer treated a woman right. Certainly God’s Word did.

Across the way Harry sat at his desk, scissors in hand, cutting out a…chain of paper dolls. “You’re obviously not busy.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Actually I’m creating clients—important work, but I can always make time for a friend.” He laid down the scissors and leaned back. “What can I do for you?”

“What are your feelings for Abigail Wilson?”

“I barely know the woman.” Harry arched a brow and danced the strip of paper dolls. “I’m hoping to remedy that.”

“At dinner Saturday night?”

“Exactly.”

“You’ll like her.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “What I don’t know is your intentions once you do.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re adept at talking gibberish. Have you considered law?”

Wade sat on the opposite side of the desk in one of the two empty chairs reserved for clients. “I have a vocation.” Or soon would. “Are you looking for a wife?”

Harry’s eyes popped wide, gray circles of surprise. “Tarnation, man. I’ve got to establish my law practice. Make some money. I’m in no hurry to marry.”

A weight Wade didn’t know he carried slipped from his shoulders. “That’s sensible.”

“If things don’t improve, I may return to Boston. A small town may not be the place for me.”

Wade nodded. “The social scene must seem quiet here.”

Harry folded the paper dolls until only two remained, hands joined. “Since Abigail accepted my invitation, things are looking up.”

Wade rose to his feet, planted his palms on the desk and leaned toward Harry. “Abby’s not one of those paper dolls. She’s flesh and blood and can be hurt.”

Harry dropped the paper dolls and held up his hands, as if facing the barrel end of a revolver. “Don’t get excited. We’ll see where this leads.”

Wade glowered at his friend. “Abby isn’t a trail to follow. She’s a wonderful woman who deserves a man who’ll love and protect her.”

“You’re crazy. You know that?” He plopped his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Crazy in love with that woman, that’s what you are.”

“What I am doesn’t matter. Abby will never get beyond the trouble between us.” He leaned closer. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and let you—”

“Sweep her off her feet?” Harry winked, as if he thought Wade’s warning a joke.

“Hurt her. If you do, you’ll answer to me.”

“You’re smitten, all right.”

Harry’s laughter followed Wade to the door. Why had he bothered trying to talk to the swain?

Tarnation, the man cut out clients. And Harrison called
him
crazy.

Tomorrow, when he and Abby met over lunch, he’d warn her that Harrison Carder had about as much substance as one of those flimsy paper dolls he’d made, and even less heart.

Chapter Twelve

T
he feather on Abby’s jaunty purple hat fluttered like a bird in flight as she unpacked the picnic basket on the table. Wade gaped at the gloves she wore, made of mesh of all things, surely useless for keeping hands either clean or warm. Nothing he’d expect to see this practical woman wear.

How well did he know Abby really?

One thing he did know—she looked more scrumptious and smelled better than the food she’d prepared for their lunch.

And that was saying plenty.

His gaze traveled the long line of her willowy neck, the defined yet delicate jaw then moved to full rosy lips, soft and kissable and—

Whoa, Cummings. Get a grip.

He forced his mind back to the reason they’d come to the conference room. A cheery spot to meet that didn’t require Wade to clear his cluttered desk. “I’ve, ah, been thinking about the task ahead of us and…”

She leaned toward him, waiting for him to finish. A tendril of hair had escaped its moorings and hugged her neck. If she took down her hair, would those blond tresses feel soft and silky under his palms?

He cleared his throat. Twice. “Should we make a list of necessities? The families could prioritize their needs.”

“I had the exact same idea.” Her slender eyebrows rose. “Imagine a Cummings and a Wilson agreeing on anything?” she said with a grin.

Her smile left a hollow in one cheek. He found that tiny dent so intriguing he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

What was getting into him?

Abby motioned to the table. Plates, glasses, napkins, silverware—everything laid out with the food. “Shall we eat?”

They sat across from each other.

“You remembered I don’t like crusts.”

“Yes.”

Such a small thing but her remembering pleased him. Wade bit into the ham salad sandwich. “Delicious.”

“Thank you.”

As she ate, she captured a crumb with her tongue sending a thrill skittering along his spine. He gulped. Even with the trouble between them now, he couldn’t stop reacting to her beauty. He couldn’t stop admiring her spunk, her work ethic, that kind heart of hers, under the tough exterior she’d built around it.

Abby looked at him strangely, as if he’d made some faux pas. He supposed he’d been staring.

“Shall we get started brainstorming a list of necessities?” she asked.

“Ah, yes. Once the list is complete, I’ll ask Miss Detmer to type and make copies.” He handed her paper and a pen. “Would you mind? Miss Detmer struggles with my handwriting.”

“Happy to.”

Abby jotted down items needed for different areas of the home, obviously more aware of the essentials for setting up housekeeping than he. Or perhaps she merely had more ability to focus on the task at hand when all he could do was focus on her.

The list grew until she’d filled a handwritten page. The soft curlicues of her penmanship, unlike his scrawl—more scratches with a pen compared to her feminine flourishes. What would his name look like written by her hand?

The scent of her soap, her shampoo—the mysterious fragrance that was Abigail—invaded his senses. Without thinking, he reached out a hand, longing to cradle the curve of her cheek.

“We might want to divide the list into expensive and less costly purchases.” She frowned. “Are you okay?”

His hand fell away. “I’m fine.” What had gotten into him? Was that appendage sitting on his shoulders empty of every rational thought? “Why would you think I’m not?”

“You’re not eating.”

He looked at the half sandwich in his hand. He hadn’t realized he held it. As he quickly ate a bite, he glanced at her plate, empty except for a few crumbs.

“I’ll have time in the evening to take the list around to the families involved,” Abby said, studying it for omissions.

Harrison Carder might be lurking about. “You shouldn’t go unescorted at night. I’ll go with you.”

A pang in his gut chided him for such absurdity. No one in town, not even Harry, posed a threat to Abby. Truth was—

He was jealous. Jealous of Harrison Carder.

“If we make the home visits right after the dinner hour,” he said, “I should be back in the shop by eight or so.”

“That’s late to start making furniture.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll ask Harrison to accompany me.”

All but foaming at the mouth like a mad dog in his final throes of death, Wade said, “No need to bother Harry. Visiting the families is my obligation as a member of this committee.”