Twice a Bride (35 page)

Whatever was she to do now?

The mere thought of appearing in a vaudeville act liked to have brought on the vapors. Was she to give up on Trenton after traveling all this way? Perhaps she should return to Denver and find a man there? The image of Mr. Johnstone seated beside her on a rickety wagon for days on end made her yawn and want for a washstand. No thank you. Being a city lawyer might make him a good provider, but it didn’t make him a good partner. But she couldn’t return to Kansas, not like this.

She squared her shoulders. Susanna Woods was not a quitter, and she wouldn’t leave town without her man. All she needed was a plan to get her back on track. If Trenton Van Der Veer did have romantic notions toward Willow Peterson, he’d forget them. And Myron Wilcox would rue the day he refused her an audition. Even Hattie Adams would take notice. Yes, all she needed was a fresh approach. She gathered her reticule, lifted her chin, and stood.

A Help Wanted sign in a shop window on the next block had caught her attention. The job would certainly qualify as another dreary detour, but considering where she and Trenton first met, perhaps this particular deviation could work to her advantage.

“Miss Woods, do you have any questions?”

Susanna looked up from the price listing she’d been studying. Her new employer slid a tray of caramels into the display case under the counter. A crowd from the midday show at the opera house had just left the shop with boxes of sweet treats.

“Except for the absence of buttermints, the list looks pretty much the same as my father’s offerings,” Susanna said.

Miss Carmen tugged her smudged white apron down at her waist.
“Westerners seem to prefer horehounds, licorice, caramels, taffy, and fudge.” The apron would stop at the knees on anyone of average height, but the candy maker’s draped her calves, becoming a fringe on her simple cotton frock. “Opera goers seem to favor caramels and chocolates, about cleaned me out. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

When Miss Carmen disappeared through the swinging doors, Susanna pulled a damp cloth from a bucket of warm water and wiped down the inside of the display case. She should be entertaining those opera goers instead of serving them. If she hadn’t just started her job when they’d come in, she would’ve broken into an aria. Let them tell Mr. Wilcox he was a fool not to hire her. Instead she was cleaning sticky residue off glass shelves. Not much had changed for her. Rejected in Kansas. Rejected in Colorado.

When the bell above the door jingled, she returned the rag to the basket and greeted her customer, midturn. “Welcome to—”

Her former fiancé came to an abrupt halt halfway to the counter. His eyes bugged, Trenton looked as if he might turn right back around, but he didn’t. Clearing his throat, he took deliberate strides toward her.

Breathe, Susanna. Breathe
.

Trenton was a more complicated man than she’d given him credit for. Willow Peterson was probably more genteel and composed.

She could do genteel and composed.

“Susanna?” Trenton glanced toward the swinging doors, no doubt looking for Carmen. “I didn’t expect to s-see you here. B-behind the counter.”

“You were right to take some time to think, Trenton. It gave me time to do a little more thinking myself.”

“It did?”

“Yes. A lot of time and miles have passed between us. I know I’ve changed considerably, and I’m sure you have too.”

His brow creased, he stared at the display case, no doubt contemplating the changes.

“I didn’t mean to rush you, Trenton.” She relaxed her tone for emphasis. “It was wrong.”

“Yes, well, thank you.” He met her gaze. “I knew Miss Carmen was looking for help, but …” He glanced at the window where she’d seen the Help Wanted slate. “You work here?”

“Yes, as of this afternoon.” She pressed her ring-deprived left hand to her collarbone. “When I didn’t hear from you …”

“I … didn’t expect to be busy this morning, but—”

“I understand.” She swallowed the truth—she knew he’d been busy entertaining Willow—and offered what she hoped was a demure smile. “Time can slip away when you’re working.”

He nodded. “I went by the Downtowner Inn, but you’d already left.”

“Cripple Creek is a booming city. I can see why you like it.”

Trenton shifted his weight. “It’s c-certainly not New York, b-but I’m adjusting to it.”

“I thought about it and decided the best way for me to meet people is to work in town, and since I know this business …”

“But—”

“I wondered if you still have your sweet tooth. Did you come for chocolate-dipped strawberries? We still have some, even though strawberries will soon be completely out of season.”

The back doors swung open and Miss Carmen spilled out, carrying a tray of chocolates. “Mr. Van Der Veer. Nice to see you again, and so soon.”

A sudden blush tinged his ears pink. “And you, Miss Carmen.”

“Miss Woods, would you bring the tray of pecan fudge from the kitchen?”

Was her employer trying to get rid of her? Was Carmen another of Willow Peterson’s mother hens?

Breathe, Susanna. Breathe
.

“Of course.” Susanna did a slow spin toward the swinging doors.

“He’ll need a pretty pink box too, won’t you, Mr. Van Der Veer?” Miss Carmen said.

“Yes ma’am.”

Her hands curled into fists, Susanna stomped into the back room. Willow Peterson apparently favored pecan fudge, and Trenton favored her.

For now.

He was wound tighter than a cheap pocket watch, not ready to go home or even to the studio.

Trenton walked up Bennett Avenue without a destination in mind. His insides churned with each step. Susanna should never have come looking for him in the first place. He had picked up the train schedule for her with the intention of offering to pay her fare back to Kansas, but he hadn’t had the chance to make the offer. Instead of leaving town as she should, Susanna secured a job at the candy store, the very spot his and Willow’s relationship began.

He needed a man to talk to. Jesse was in Victor today. Trenton had met a lot of the businessmen in town, but it was Tucker Raines who came to mind. Trenton smiled and turned up the hill toward the First Congregational Church. If anyone had told him he would one day think of a reverend as his friend, well, he would have thought it absurd.

Susanna
was
right about one thing—Trenton had changed. His lifestyle, his thinking, and what he’d believed for so many years. Not all preachers were the same. Tucker had come by the studio and befriended him, not judged him. Even when he’d found Trenton in his house with Willow this morning, he’d welcomed him to stay for lunch.

The white steeple came into view and another thought crossed Trenton’s mind. He wanted to talk with Tucker, but what if Willow was still visiting?

He’d take that chance. Seeing her always did him good. Besides, he needed
to tell Willow that Susanna was still in town, to reassure her that it wasn’t his preference.

He’d just walked past the church building and was on the path to the parsonage when he heard Tucker call his name. Trenton turned toward the voice coming from the foyer.

Tucker walked down the front steps of the church toward him. “If you changed your mind about lunch, you’re a little late.”

Trenton chuckled. “No. Do you have a f-few minutes?”

“Sure. How about a cup of coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

“Ida’s gone to work at the icebox showroom for a couple of hours. I was looking over my sermon notes for tomorrow when I saw you walk by.” Tucker led the way up the steps and through the familiar church foyer to the open door of a small office. He tapped the top of an armchair, then walked to a potbellied stove in the corner. “Have a seat.”

Trenton seated himself and studied his surroundings. The space was small but comfortable. A Bible, an oil lamp, and a pair of reading glasses sat atop a modest desk. Trenton was especially thankful for the two chairs and table off to the side. Sitting across the desk from Tucker would’ve felt too formal. Although nothing about this preacher seemed stuffy or starched.

Tucker handed him a cup of steaming coffee, then poured one for himself and sat in the second armchair.

Trenton drew in a deep breath. “I would imagine Willow st-stayed for lunch.”

“She did, and I know she wished you could’ve stayed too.”

“I would have preferred to stay.” Trenton gulped down some coffee. “Did she s-say anything about seeing a w-woman in my office yesterday?”

Tucker’s eyebrows formed an arch, and he shook his head.

“She came fr-from Kansas.”

“Someone from your past?”

“Yes. We were to be m-married, but she proved to be s-someone I could not be married to.”

Tucker set his coffee mug on the side table between them and leaned back in the chair.

“She showed up in the studio yesterday afternoon and was … uh, making advances—”

“When Willow came by?”

Trenton nodded, sighing.

Tucker blew out a low whistle.

He took another gulp of coffee. Why was he talking to Tucker about his woman trouble? Especially when the trouble was that he cared about Tucker’s sister and what she thought of him. Given the recent changes he’d been thinking about, the answer shouldn’t have been that puzzling. He’d spent a lot of years running from who he was and who others believed him to be, and now he wanted to be known by those he cared about. And he counted Tucker among them.

“I sent Susanna away. And until this m-morning, I didn’t know Willow had witnessed our discussion.”

Tucker peered at him from over the top of his cup. “You care for my sister.”

“I do.” Trenton’s choice of words caused a warm blush to rush up his neck. “Very much, I’m afraid.” It shouldn’t matter that Susanna had remained in town, except he considered her a loose cannon, unsure of her next move. She’d been too gracious in the confectionary.

“Susanna is the reason you didn’t stay for lunch?”

Trenton nodded. “I took the afternoon t-train schedule to the inn, but she w-wasn’t there. I thought I’d get some candy for Willow, so I went to the confectionary.”

Tucker smiled. “She’ll like that.”

“Susanna was behind the counter.”

“She plans to stay?”

Trenton shrugged. “She won’t find what she’s looking for. There’s not much chance she’ll be here long.”

“She didn’t come here to find you?”

“Yes and no. She fancies herself a singer.”

Tucker lifted his cup from the table and met his gaze. “And you have connections in New York.”

“It took me awhile to figure out, but yes, that is what she’s hanging her hopes on.”

“You were smart to walk away from that one.”

Trenton drew in a deep breath. “All th-that said, I would like very m-much to court your sister. If you have no objections.”

Tucker raised a thick eyebrow. “If you haven’t noticed, Willow has a mind of her own.”

Trenton had noticed, the very first time they’d met. He chuckled and nodded. “In our discussion about the j-job as portrait p-painter, I offered her a seventy percent commission. Wi-Without batting an eyelash, she said, ‘Seventy-five percent seems more equitable.’ ”

Tucker chuckled. “That sounds like my sister, all right.”

“There’s more.”

“Oh?”

“I told Willow why I’d determined to never s-set foot in a church again, w-why I’d decided I didn’t need God in my life.”

“And now?”

“I was listening in the foyer that Sunday. What you said started me thinking, and set me to reading the Bible my grandmother gave me. This morning, Willow talked about the sacrificial love of Jesus the Christ. She said that for those who believe in Jesus and accept His love, there is no condemnation.” Trenton leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I need that. I need Him.”

“That’s great news.” Tucker’s smile was genuine. “And for what it’s worth, I approve.”

“Of me needing God?”

“Of you courting my sister.”

Trenton liked the sound of that.

Tucker walked to his desk and brought a worn leather Bible back to the chair. “Let’s talk about your decision.”

S
unday morning Willow lifted her two apple pies off the backseat of the surrey. Thankfully, Mr. Sinclair and Cherise had also arrived at the church early. Without hesitation, Mr. Sinclair reached for Miss Hattie’s generous pan of fried chicken, while Cherise grabbed two loaves of honey-wheat bread. Miss Hattie carried a stack of tablecloths.