Mail Order Bride: Summer (Bride For All Seasons 2)

Laughing, Camellia handed round the platter of beetroot salad. “I love it. And I love being there with him, to see what’s going on, to talk to customers. And I’ve already managed to effect one change in the store.”

Their eldest sister had always been a responsible, take-charge sort of person. The wonder was that she had waited so long to make what she would consider an improvement.

“The room where employees can go for their meals, or for a cup of tea, or just to sit for a few minutes—well, let me tell you, it was horrible!” Deliberately softening the confession, as if Ben might walk in at any minute and overhear, she let both expressive hands describe her reaction. “So, after chipping away for some time at Ben’s resistance to modifications of any kind, I managed to break him down.”

“Did he realize what you were up to?” Hannah, chuckling, wanted to know.

Camellia considered. “Well, Ben can be awfully obtuse when he wants to be. In this case, I think it just became easier for him to let me have my way. Besides, I reminded him that employees happy in their surroundings make better employees, all around.”

With a reminiscent smile, she recalled their heated discussion on that topic. As usual, he had questioned her purported expertise—and practical experience—in the matter. To which she had responded that, while expertise—and experience—was all well and good, she had cut her teeth on popular publications and graduated to business manuals. And he was please to trust her acumen. She had presented logical point after logical point, until, finally, he had caved. Or compromised. Perhaps that was a more suitable, appreciative word.

“Elvira—Miss Gotham—and I worked one full day, cleaning and clearing and making a comfortable place. Wait until you see it! Little does poor Ben know,” she added mischievously, “what else I have planned for that place.”

Letitia grinn

ed. “You’re taking positive relish in this venture, aren’t you?”

“I am. I must admit, I’m enjoying myself—just rolling up my sleeves and getting to work.”

“So what’s next on your agenda?”

“You probably heard that Ben bought another building in Manifest, to open a second emporium? He hopes to travel there soon, to start getting things set up. This time, I’m going with him.”

Pouring more of the cool lemonade, with its bits of pulp and lots of sugar, into her glass, Hannah nodded. “I foresee lots of very—married—talks, and a possibly very bumpy road, ahead.”

“It’s called a partnership, Hen. Once the Manifest store is up and rolling, I intend to refurbish the whole ladies’ department here. What do you think?”

“Hear, hear!” “More hats and doodads!” “A nice line of women’s jewelry, please!” and “How about a prettier area, just to try things on? With a tall cheval mirror?”

It wasn’t until the end of the meal, when they were dipping their spoons into the dessert and passing on compliments to the chef, that Molly dropped her bombshell.

Shortly after the family had arrived in Turnabout, about six weeks ago, she had begun perusing the newspaper ads for men seeking wives. Restless gadfly Molly Burton would never be satisfied with the status quo, ever searching for something more elusive, more interesting, more unusual. And who could blame her, with the rough beginning to her life?

So she had written to a likely candidate listed in the personal section, he had responded, she had responded again, and he was now on his way here.

Her sisters / cousins had been consumed by astonishment. And automatic protests.

“Well, you were a mail order bride, Cam,” Molly pointed out. “The situation seems to have worked out all right for you.”

Flustered, Camellia concentrated on scraping her plate free of crumbs. “We started off with a rough patch,” she confided. “A very rough patch. I didn’t expect marriage to a stranger to be all tea and roses, of course, but I did expect more—well, understanding, I suppose, at the beginning. More—well, more ability to bend, and come to terms.”

Only Hannah was privy to a bit of knowledge as to what had caused that lack of understanding. And she wasn’t talking.

“But, luckily,” Camellia took a deep breath and went on, “both of us were able to see the error of our ways, we mended fences, and things are going well. For the present.”

“Yes, I imagine that can change at the drop of a hat,” the youngest member of their group, frankly licking her fingers free of cream, conceded. “If one is in a bad mood, or the other is set on having their own way in an argument—that sort of thing.”

“So you’ve already accepted this man’s offer of marriage?” Letitia demanded on a near-screech of disbelief, when she was able to get a word in edgewise. “Do you even know anything about him?”

“Enough. He’s living in western Kansas, at present, and he’s working in a hotel. Since I utterly refused to take up residence so far away, he agreed to leave everything behind to travel here. And he describes himself as tall and well-favored, with eyes the color of Ireland’s green sod.” She broke off with a characteristic little giggle. “Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

“Fine feathers do not a fine bird make,” grumbled Hannah. She fixed this fanciful girl with a stern eye, taking her in from top to bottom: the curly black hair tied back with a pink ribbon, the sparkling turquoise eyes and radiant pink cheeks, the shapely figure decked out in a white dress sprinkled all over with roses, just trim enough in front and just bustled enough in back. “Better you should have asked about his character.”

“But why did you do it, Molly, dear?” Camellia was plainly concerned. “This is such a rash step to take, one for which I can hardly believe you considered the ramifications, when—”

“Cam—this is going to sound ungrateful, when I don’t mean it to be. But I am so tired of being dependent on all of you!”

“Dependent? Oh, you’re hardly that. It’s true that Ben and I have been helping out all three of you, financially, until you’re somewhat squared away. But you’ve been giving piano lessons, almost since the day we arrived, and being paid for each and every one. I thought—”