“It really does.”
“I’d hate to see you start your marriage to another girl with this hanging over your head.”
Suddenly realizing he no longer had a buffer to protect him from his father’s attempts at an arranged marriage, Chris tensed. “Is this about Bridget Saltzberg?”
Exasperation painted Olan’s features. “The girl’s name is Britta Solberg. And, no. This is about you and the fact that being in love with someone else is a horrible way to start a marriage.”
“Listen, I never said I was still in love with Adelaide. I’m not. If that’s the only reason you think I should fight for her, then it’s not good enough.”
“I think it is. Marriage is challenging enough without that type of strain. Now, I have an idea and I think you’re going to like it.” At Chris’s doubtful look, Olan shrugged. “Well, you’ll like at least half of it. I’ll agree to see a heart specialist in Houston if you’ll agree to figure out your true feelings for Adelaide while we’re there.”
Chris stared at his father. “That, sir, is blackmail.”
“Let’s just call it...motivation.”
“Unbelievable.” Chris sank into the chair across from his father and shook his head in amazement. “You know there is no way I can turn that down. I can’t even try to stall you because the sooner you see a doctor, the better. I almost can’t even be upset at you for doing it because it’s such a brilliant move.”
Olan patted him on the knee, then stood. “I’ve got to take care of a few things before we leave, but there should be a train coming through about noon tomorrow. Be ready to get on it. And come inside. Your ma has a plate for you.”
He’d been outmaneuvered, outthought, outplanned and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he felt particularly interested in digging through his feelings for Adelaide. What did his feelings matter when she’d made her own stance perfectly clear? Still, for honor’s sake, he ought to at least be in the woman’s general vicinity once or twice if possible. He’d just have to keep his guard up, because there was no way he was going to get his heart tangled up with that woman again.
* * *
If a young lady truly loved my son, no one would be able to persuade her not to marry him.
Mr. Johansen’s words reverberated in her head all the way back to Houston. They hurt, not because they had been cruelly meant, but because they were true. They meant her mother must have been right all along. Adelaide hadn’t loved Chris. What they’d felt had been nothing more than a childish fleeting fancy.
It had been odd, though, to stand in the Johansen’s parlor and catch a glimpse of what her life might have been. If she’d loved Chris, perhaps she would have flouted her mother’s wishes. She might have run back to Peppin when she was eighteen to marry him in a ceremony very much like the ones his parents had planned yesterday. She might have lost her mother’s approval but she would have gained his family’s love and support. She’d be much closer to her old friends in Peppin—people who were warm, friendly, and accepting, unlike the society mavens Rose was trying so hard to impress.
It sounded rather idyllic until she remembered that Chris hadn’t loved her, either. He never would have sought out the company of another woman if he had. Adelaide needed to remember that she hadn’t ended their engagement only because she’d doubted the depth of her feelings, but also because she’d feared the life she could see folding out before her the moment she’d read Amy’s letter. It was a life very much like Rose’s had been up to that point—married young to a handsome salesman with a wandering heart. Adelaide could never abide that.
She’d locked away her thoughts of a future in Peppin with Chris and focused on finding some means of supporting herself so that she’d never have to rely on a husband. Thankfully, with Everett’s help, she’d honed her talent for writing. His family’s connections in the publishing world had helped secure her first book deal. She’d managed the rest by herself and was well on her way to fulfilling her new dream. That’s what she needed to focus on, not her trip to the past.
She tightened her grasp on her carrying case as she stepped from the train onto the covered platform. Everett paused beside her and she followed his gaze to the looming three-story brick building that was Houston’s Grand Central Station. He smiled. “As much as I enjoy chasing down a good story, there’s nothing quite like coming home again. Why don’t you go find your mother in the waiting room while I gather our luggage? We’ll meet at the station entrance. That will save us some time, and we’ll be home before we know it.”
She worried her bottom lip. “And I’ll have a few moments alone with Mother to tell her what happened on our trip.”
“Exactly.” He patted her arm and set off in the direction of the baggage claim.
Adelaide sighed, then gathered her courage and slipped through the bustling crowd. In the waiting room, Rose gave her a perfunctory hug, then asked, “Where’s your stepfather?”
“He’s going to meet us at the entrance with the luggage.”
Rose scanned the crowd as they walked. “Well, I’ll have a thing or two to say to him about taking you to Peppin.”
“He didn’t know. I mean, we never told him much about our history there. I...didn’t visit father’s grave.”
“Why would you?” Rose pressed her lips together, then turned to look at Adelaide. “Did you see any of your old friends?”
“I saw Chris,” Adelaide said, because that was really what her mother was asking. “He still works in his father’s store.”
“I don’t suppose he’s married.”
“No.”
“His kind hardly ever does marry, which is a mercy, really.”
Adelaide pulled in a trembling breath. For a moment it was all she could do not to turn on her heel and board a train bound for anywhere out of here. She shook the notion from her head. What was wrong with her? Her mother hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. Yet, for the hundredth time, Adelaide wished she’d never breathed a word about why she’d broken off her engagement with Chris. She swallowed any further details of her time with Chris in Peppin and smiled. “I had dinner with Ellie and Lawson Williams while I was there.”
Rose seemed to relax a little. “Did you? That sounds lovely. Now, tell me, did you get as much writing done as you’d hoped?”
“Yes. Well, almost.” Adelaide had been too distracted to get much written while she was in Peppin. However, the rest of the trip made up for that. “The change of scenery helped me figure out what was wrong with my heroine.”
“Good! Then you’ll have plenty of time for all of our social engagements.”
“Oh.” Disappointment filled her voice, but Rose didn’t seem to notice. Adelaide shook her head slightly. Why was it so hard to remember that her mother had no interest in Adelaide’s books? Although Rose had never expressly said so, it was obvious the woman thought that writing dime novels was a waste of time and a borderline vulgar means of making money. Adelaide tried not to let that disdain affect her. After all, her mother had never read a single one of her stories, so Rose was hardly an authority on the subject.
“You do remember that we’re having a garden party at our house this afternoon, don’t you?”
She smiled as pleasantly as possible while wondering if her mother had truly mentioned this before. Sometimes Rose liked to spring things on her at the last minute so that she wouldn’t have a chance to back out. Well, Adelaide could hardly back out of this since it was taking place at their house—no matter how much she might wish she could. As her mother went down the list of eligible gentlemen who were expected to attend, Adelaide stared out the window at the busy street outside the station.