Mail Order Bride: Summer (Bride For All Seasons 2)
Brushing aside the observation with one hand, Molly pushed her plate away
and plopped both elbows on the table top. “What small amount I earn doesn’t pay for my room and board at Mrs. McKnight’s, Cam. You must realize how much everything costs; you had to deal with the expenses on your own long enough, back at home.”
“Yes, I certainly did. But, still—”
“And you’ve already given your word to this arrangement?” Hannah pursued, annoyed. “It’s too late to back out, even if none of us approves?”
Molly shook her head, and the shining curls bounced. “Yes, and yes. And no approval is necessary. I am, if you recall, fully of age.”
Her backbone stiffening against the girl’s uncharacteristically willful attitude, Camellia frowned. “That’s true, you are. Except that your parents, before they died, handed over custody of you to my parents. With them gone, I’m the one who’s been made responsible. I’m afraid that your destiny lies in my hands, Molly.”
“Hmmmph.” She all but sneered a reply. “You’ve had it your own way ever since Uncle Nathaniel was killed, way back in December. You’ve dictated where we would go, and when we would leave. You even made us sell our jewelry!”
Camellia, stricken, felt her heart twist just a little. “Honey, I’m sorry. You know we had no choice in so many of these issues. What would you have done—what could you possibly have done—to support yourself, if we hadn’t moved away? I didn’t realize that I had treated you in so cavalier a manner, or that you resented it so much.”
“Oh, Cam, no, I’m the one who’s sorry!” Common sense and regret laced through the girl’s immediate demurral, and she leaned forward to clutch at Camellia’s right hand. “You’ve all taken such good care of me since I came here so many years ago. Uncle Nat and Aunt Sadie adopted me, to really make me a part of your own family. I am truly not just your cousin, but your sister. And here I am, complaining to the skies—I’ve become such an ungrateful excuse for a human being!”
Camellia uttered the kind of automatic protest used to soothe a fractious child. “No, no, of course not.”
“Yes, I’m nothing more than a whiny old shrew. Or maybe a spoiled little brat. I think I—well, I’m just feeling frustrated. My life is going nowhere! Here I am, stuck in this little town, with no exciting future ahead of me and only more piano lessons to look forward to!”
Hannah’s slim manicured forefinger was pushing a fork around. “I think we all feel that way,” she said quietly. “You’re not alone in that, Molly.”
Silence. Deep silence, other than a soft, slow drip of water in the sink, and someone’s dog barking in the distance, and the sudden brush of a breeze-lifted branch against the south window.
“You all feel that way?” Camellia repeated in concern, her huge brilliant blue eyes shifting from one to the other. Faces so similar to her own, it was like looking in a mirror. All so grave, so serious, when this was supposed to be just a light-hearted, fun time of enjoying each other’s company.
Slow nods met her questioning, bewildered gaze, all around.
“We see you, nicely settled in,” said Hannah quietly, “with a comfortable house and a decent husband, and I—well, I know, for myself, I’m a trifle envious of what you have. Because I’d like to have it, too. Not a desirable trait, envy, as you may surmise.”
“But, girls—” Camellia sought an explanation that would not only be logical, but acceptable to her three bright, quick younger sisters. She stared at the sticky remains of their meal, left on plates and saucers, with a feeling of having failed, somehow. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally confessed, in a low, defeated tone.
“Oh, it isn’t your fault at all,” Letitia broke in. “Please don’t think we’re blamin
g you. I think all of us are at loose ends. It isn’t good, this lounging around without a purpose in life. We need to find something worthwhile to do, just as you have. That’s probably why Molly has gone to such desperate straits as—” she gave a delicate shudder, “—putting herself up as a mail order bride.”
With an expression that meant she was trying to remove herself from the center of attention, Molly smoothed her lovely skirt with an offhand gesture and jumped on the comment. “His name is Quinn Hennessey.”
“Oh.” The other three exchanged glances. “A nice—um—Irish fellow?”
“So it would seem.”
“And have you worked out where you’ll live? What you’ll live on?”
“We’ll decide those details once he gets here,” said Molly airily. “We’ll have lots to discuss, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure you will,” Camellia agreed dryly, with another glance at Hannah. “But you’ll talk things over with us, I hope, and with Ben, before you make any final decision?”
Molly sighed. “If I must.”
“Oh, please, Molly, spare us the wounded martyr act,” Hannah, drawn past patience, retorted. “If you think you’re old enough to be married, then you’ll need to grow up fast.”
“And pooh to you, too,” the girl shot back with surprising impertinence. “You’re just jealous of me, because I went out and got something that I wanted. And you’re afraid you’ll be the only one left an old maid when Letty finds herself a man.”
Hannah drew herself up to her full, straight-backed height. “Well, of all the ungrateful things—”
“Girls,” Camellia, as peacemaker, interceded worriedly, “this shouldn’t be happening. If nothing else, the four of us are family, and we need to behave that way. Not like—like charwomen! Now, calm down. You’ve all brought up some issues worthy of discussion. Let’s see if we can put our heads together and make some plans for the future, shall we?”