Too Rich for a Bride (26 page)

“Exactly.” Kat glanced back down at the listing.

“Me and the mister aim to please, especially where the appetites of growing babies are concerned. He’ll make you most anything that sounds good to you.”

“Cabbage salad?” Kat asked.

The feather bobbed. “He can do it.”

“A sausage patty?”

Maggie pulled a small notepad and stub of a pencil from her apron pocket. “I can tell I best be writing this down. Memory’s not what it used to be. So far we have cabbage salad and a sausage patty.”

“And pickled beets.”

Morgan clapped his hand over his mouth.

“Two buttermilk pancakes.” Ignoring Morgan’s poor attempt to stifle a chuckle, Kat took one last look at the menu. “And a dish of banana pudding with raisins on top.”

Morgan gathered their menus and handed them to Maggie. “I’m sure Fred has a couple of things left in the kitchen.” He flashed that dimpled grin she loved. “Perhaps a sponge or a butter dish?”

Feigning annoyance, Kat slapped her husband’s shoulder and looked up at Maggie, whose laugh reminded her of a train whistle. “That should be enough to get me started,” Kat said, smiling.

Still laughing, their waitress took the menus from Morgan and darted to the kitchen.

Kat smoothed her napkin over her lap. Curiosity ate at her, and her sisters had encouraged her to talk to Morgan about his past, so she drew in a deep breath, trying to bring some order to her questions before opening her mouth. “I was wondering … was Opal like this? Sick, then eating you out of house and home?”

“Eggs and peanut butter with apple slices seemed to be all Opal wanted. She wasn’t sick to her stomach but for the first couple of weeks.” Morgan reached for his coffee mug and took a drink, never taking his gaze away from Kat. “Our experience—yours and mine—is different. Brand new.”

Her eyes brimmed with unbidden tears. “That’s good.” Barely able to push the words out past the lump in her throat, Kat looked across the table at her beloved husband. “I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want you to get bored with me.”

Morgan set his cup down and cleared the path between them. “It’ll never happen.” He reached across the table and, starting at her elbows, slid his hands down her arms until their fingers intertwined. “You’re anything but predictable, Mrs. Kat Cutshaw. And you could never be boring.”

When Kat heard a familiar throat-clearing, she looked up. Ida approached their table with Colin Wagner at her side. Smiling, the dapper attorney held his hat in his left hand, while her older sister worried her jaw. Nervous, or just uncomfortable? Kat wasn’t sure.

Ida smoothed a curl at her ear. “Seems my timing still needs work.”

Kat felt her face flush as Morgan let go of her fingers and stood to shake Mr. Wagner’s hand.

“Good to see you, Colin.” Morgan gave Ida a quick nod. “You too, Sis.” Pointing toward their booth, Morgan returned his attention to Ida’s escort. “There’s plenty of room here at our table, and I wouldn’t mind sitting beside my wife. Won’t you two join us?”

“A generous offer, but no. Thank you.” Colin shifted his gaze to a corner table. “We have a more private table awaiting us.”

Ida gawked at him, then she looked at Kat, her blue eyes wide, and her shoulders lifted in a shrug.

Colin glanced down at the bowler in his hand. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Of course.” Morgan dipped his chin in Kat’s direction. “Enjoy your evening.”

Ida nodded as Colin hooked her elbow and guided her away from their table.

“That was a bit surprising,” Kat whispered. “She mentioned nothing about it during our outing today.”

Morgan sat back down across from her. “You don’t approve?”

“I don’t know what I think.” Kat reached for her glass of milk. “He’s a nice-enough man.”

“A man who brings her to dinner at the Third Street Café. I recall dinner here was our first private dining experience as well.”

“He does have good taste in women and in dining establishments.” Kat winked at her husband. “I will give him that much credit.”

“And he knows of your sister’s ambition and doesn’t seem intimidated by it.”

Kat unfurled her napkin on her slowly shrinking lap. “I still don’t know if I like the idea of them. Is there such a thing as a man being too nice?”

Morgan shook his head. “We men can’t win with you sisters, can we?”

“I suppose not. We look out for one another. Is that so bad?”

“No. But I’m not so sure Ida appreciates being
looked out
for.”

“You’re right about that.” Kat peeked at the table in the corner.

“Is that Ida’s happy laugh, or is she frowning?” Morgan moved his head to block Kat’s view.

“Very funny.” Kat leaned back against the cushioned seat. “I just thought it’d be Tucker Raines and Ida.”

“I like Tucker too, but ultimately—”

“It’s up to Ida. Yes, I know.”

Hopefully she’ll choose the right man
.

TWENTY-SEVEN

here had the month of November run to? Ida had been so busy settling into her job and watching her bank account grow that Thanksgiving Day had snuck up on her. Settling into her chair at Hattie’s table, she watched Tucker set a roasted turkey in front of Colin Wagner, who sat at the end, opposite their hostess.

“Shall we pray?” Morgan held his hands out to Kat and Hattie, and Ida accepted Colin’s hand on one side and Faith’s on the other. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head.

I know I have much to be thankful for, Lord, but not this
.

She knew Miss Hattie had invited Colin to Thanksgiving Dinner. He’d mentioned it during their supper with Mollie and Charles last Friday night. Sunday her landlady told her she had asked Tucker Raines to join them too since he didn’t have any family in town either. She’d seen Tucker often at church and around town, but they hadn’t really spoken beyond polite greetings—not since she’d accepted his apology. Now sitting across the table from her, he seemed bent on being more than just a friend, whether or not that was his intention.

“Amen.”

Faith let go of Ida’s hand long before Colin did and slipped a creased piece of paper onto Ida’s lap.

The teacher had passed her a note? As discreetly as possible, Ida opened it with one hand and glanced at the writing. Larger, neater penmanship would’ve been nice. As it was, Ida couldn’t make out the words. Did she have sleep in her eye? A rip in her dress? What could be so important that Faith felt she had to share her message right now?

She couldn’t read the note here without causing a scene. Not with Colin watching her every move. It would have to wait. She spread her napkin over the note to be sure she didn’t spill gravy on the handwriting.

“Land sakes!” Hattie scanned the table. “We can’t very well have a turkey supper without my cranberry sauce.”

Clutching the napkin, hiding the note, Ida jumped up from her chair. “I’ll get it.”

Colin stood with her, and his gaze fastened on her napkin. Had he been watching her? “Your napkin was personalized?”

He’d obviously seen the note. When Colin reached for her napkin, Ida pulled it down to her side. “It’s nothing.” Or something about Faith’s fascination with Tucker Raines. Either way, it was none of Colin Wagner’s concern.

“If it’s nothing, you won’t mind if I see it.” Colin’s voice was soft as a rose petal, in sharp contrast to the severity that hardened his hazel eyes.

Ida nodded. “I do mind.” She willed her wobbly legs to move and turned to leave the room. Before she could do so, Colin grabbed a corner of the napkin.

When she didn’t let go, Colin peeled the napkin back from the slip of paper and read just above a whisper,
“You’re making a mistake.”
He yanked the note free and looked down the table at Judson. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re responsible for this, aren’t you?”

Judson planted his hands on the table’s edge. “I don’t know anything about a note.”

Apparently, her brother-in-law had made enemies of both Mollie O’Bryan
and
her attorney. But what could have possessed the otherwise poised Colin Wagner to be so rude? And why did he suspect the warning had been meant for him?

Faith snatched the napkin from Ida and spread it out on her lap in another display of uncharacteristic courage. “The note wasn’t meant for you, Mr. Wagner.” She scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

Ida stared down at the schoolteacher, trying to hide her surprise. This Faith wasn’t the same timid girl who’d come to Ida’s bedroom to ask her about tutoring Delos Updike.

Colin drew in a deep breath, his features softening as he turned his attention to the hostess. “I don’t know what came over me, Miss Hattie. Perhaps I’ve heard too many disparaging comments about lawyers lately.” He shifted his gaze to Ida. “Please accept my apologies. All of you.”

Hattie nodded and took the dish of spiced green beans from Morgan. “Apology accepted.”

While the others returned to the meal, Ida dashed out of the room and into the kitchen, stopping just short of the icebox. She bit her lip, trying to quell the tears that threatened to topple her.

If the note had come from Judson or Kat or Miss Hattie, Ida could assume the warning pertained to her work. But she knew Faith referred to her choice of men.

“I agree with her.”

Ida jumped at the sound of Tucker’s voice. “You would.” She didn’t bother to turn around. Instead, she opened the icebox, letting its coolness envelope her.

“The question is, do you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Ida retrieved the bowl of cranberry sauce and shut the door. She moved toward the dining room, careful not to meet Tucker’s eyes or touch him as she passed, knowing full well that she’d made her decision.

What she didn’t know was how she was going to live with it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

he fragrant scent of mulled apple cider hung in the air as Ida studied the dining-room table in Hattie’s boardinghouse. She and her sisters had organized an array of baskets, oranges, nuts, and sacks of hard candy in groups. The table was long and the room wide—the perfect place for their Christmas project.

“I can’t believe it’s the middle of December already.” Kat sat sideways at one end of the table. Some women didn’t show until late in pregnancy, but Kat wasn’t one of them. Everyone had a task, and Kat’s job was to string the name tags Hattie had made onto eight-inch pieces of Christmas-plaid ribbon.