“If they’re here during the Christmas festival, they’ll easily see what a wonderful town Harmony is,” Audrey said.
“I doubt they want to look at tinsel and evergreen boughs,” Uncle Willard said. “He didn’t say exactly what kind of investments they were looking to make.”
“More like he wouldn’t stand still long enough to explain it,” Aunt Viola said. “That man is always in a hurry, always rushing from place to place.”
When their meal was concluded, Marlee helped clean up. She’d pitched in to get supper on the table as well. Back in Philadelphia in Mrs. Montgomery’s mansion, there’d been cooks and assistants, serving girls and servants who’d handled everything. She’d not been needed—or wanted—in the kitchen.
“I think Carson Tate is the most handsome man in town,” Becky declared in a little singsong voice as she washed the dishes.
The cup Marlee was drying slipped, but she caught it before it hit the floor.
“Everybody’s mama is hoping he’ll take a shine to her daughter, that’s for certain,” Audrey said.
“He’s not courting anyone?” Marlee asked.
“No,” Audrey said.
Marlee let out the breath she realized she’d been holding.
“I’m telling you the man is too busy for courting,” Aunt Viola said, as she carried plates to the cupboard. “He’s always running toward the next money-making deal as if the devil himself were nipping at his heels.”
“Having money is good,” Becky pointed out.
“But it’s not everything,” Audrey said.
“Audrey Meade, you’re sweet on Chord Barrett,” Becky said. “Admit it.”
Audrey blushed, then smiled broadly. “Yes, of course I am,” she said.
“I knew it!” Becky declared.
Becky and Audrey broke into laughter. Aunt Viola slipped her arm around Audrey’s waist and gave her a hug. Marlee watched this intimate moment between sisters, between mother and daughter, and her heart ached a little for her own mother, whom she hadn’t seen in months, and for the siblings she’d never had. How wonderful it must feel to be a part of a vibrant, loving family.
They finished washing the dishes and put everything away while Uncle Willard helped himself to the last of the fried apples. He and Viola went upstairs.
“Do you need anything?” Audrey asked, as she stood on the stairs.
Marlee shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Good night, then,” Audrey said, and followed her sister up the stairs.
In her room, Marlee lit the lantern on her bureau. The soft glow of the flame spread its warmth. The gold Christmas star nestled in the evergreen boughs Audrey and Becky had placed on her bureau sparkled in the light. Memories of past Christmases floated in Marlee’s head.
They were of Christmas mornings spent with near strangers, mostly. Marlee’s father—whoever he was—had left before Marlee was old enough to register a memory of him. Her mother had been forced to take a job as a servant and leave her daughter with relatives. All of them had been kind to Marlee, but none had been loving and accepting. She’d always been the outsider on those Christmas mornings, when gifts were handed out to squeals of delight from the rightful daughters and sons of those relatives who’d taken her in.
Rarely had Marlee seen her own mother on Christmas. As part of a large household staff, her mother had been expected to fulfill her duties as seamstress to the mistress of the house, not cater to the wishes of her daughter. Marlee had understood, just as she’d accepted that this year her mother was in Europe attending to the wardrobe of her employer, but it had made for lonely, quiet, often tear-filled Christmases, just the same.
The memories crowded Marlee’s mind and seemed to sap her strength. Fresh air would do her good, she decided. She fastened her cloak around her shoulders, put on her bonnet and grabbed her handbag as she left her room. All was quiet in the kitchen. No sound floated down from upstairs.
Certainly her aunt and uncle wouldn’t approve of her walking the streets alone at this late hour, but she wouldn’t be long. Just a quick stroll and she’d come back. They wouldn’t even know she was gone and, besides, what could possibly happen to her in this little town with the quaint name of Harmony?
Chapter Three
Cold air enveloped Marlee as she slipped out the kitchen into the alley behind the general store. Stars spread across the black sky. Lantern light glowed in some of the windows that faced the alley, allowing Marlee to get her bearings. Across the narrow dirt lane stood animal pens and outbuildings.
She stood by the door listening, but heard nothing. In the dim light she spotted no one in the alley. Relieved to have the place to herself, she set off.
At the corner of the general store she turned left, intending to make her way to Main Street. Ahead of her, something moved in the shadows. Alarm rose in her as all the things that could happen to her blossomed in her head.
A drunk cowboy. A criminal escaped from jail. The whole town, surely, in bed asleep. No one who’d hear her scream. Why hadn’t she thought of those things before she left the safety of her aunt and uncle’s store?
Marlee stood very still, hoping the shadows from the building behind her would make her invisible. Her eyes and ears strained for any sight or sound. Nothing. A thread of relief ruffled through her. Perhaps whoever it was had gone. Or maybe no one at all had been there. Had it all been her imagination—
“What are you doing here?” a deep voice demanded.
Marlee jumped and her heart thumped in her chest. Good gracious, it was a man. Close by. And not sounding all that pleasant.
Should she run, try to reach Aunt Viola’s kitchen before he caught her? With her long skirt and petticoats, she knew she’d never make it in time. Marlee drew herself up. There was nothing she could do but talk herself out of this.
“I might ask you the same,” she replied, trying for the same haughty tone she’d heard Mrs. Montgomery use on servants and underlings.
She knew she’d failed when she heard footsteps drawing nearer.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said. “I’ve—I’ve got a—a gun.”
The man continued walking, as if her threat had only enticed him.
Marlee pulled her handbag from her wrist and struggled with the drawstring. “I’ll use it,” she called. “I mean it. Don’t come closer.”
He covered the distance between them in two long strides. The heat of his body washed over her.
“You shouldn’t make threats you can’t back up,” he said, leaning down.
Marlee stepped back and bumped into the wall as light from the neighbor’s window shone onto the face of her would-be attacker towering in front of her.
Her knees weakened. She thought she might swoon—but not because her life was in danger.
Carson Tate.
He glared hard at her, then recognition registered in his features—but not pleasure at seeing her.
“You’re Willard’s niece,” he said. “I saw you this morning at the train station, then in the store.”
Oh, fabulous, Marlee thought. The two times she’d looked her worst—and he remembered them both.
He introduced himself, then frowned again.
“I know you’re new here,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be out on the street alone at this time of night. And don’t pretend you have