A Perfect Partnership

When Abby Bowen’s dream of love is dashed, she pursues a new dream: opening a dinner theater in Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado. There’s just one hitch; she needs a male business partner. The handsome father of twins who answers Abby’s ad is perfect…perhaps too perfect. Working with someone like Harrison Kingsley—without losing her heart—will be harder than Abby anticipated.

It’s a good thing Harrison’s arrangement with Abby is strictly business. Because with her kind soul, smiling blue eyes and gentle way with his boys, he could easily fall for her. But the longer he works with Abby, the more Harrison realizes that the Lord might have an entirely different partnership planned for them.

Abby smiled, and without looking where she was going, stepped into the hall. She collided with a granite wall of flesh and stumbled backward.

Something warm, strong, yet gentle secured her arm.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was—” Words deserted her the instant her eyes landed on the sculptured face of the handsome man gazing down at her, still holding her arm.

He looked every bit as startled as she was. “Are you all right, miss?”

“I’m— I’m fine. Thank you.” She straightened. Only mere inches from him, her eyes never drifted from his. “I’m sorry for staring, but you have very unusual eyes. They’re quite beautiful.”

Those same eyes twinkled. “Thank you.” The stranger said it as if he meant it, but his closed-lips smile didn’t stretch very far. “Could you please tell me where I might find Miss Abigail Bowen?”

“I’m Abby.”

Surprise flounced across his face, and his attention drifted over her again, starting with her feet and ending at her hair.

“You’re...Miss Bowen?”

DEBRA ULLRICK

is an award-winning author who is happily married to her husband of thirty-eight years. For more than twenty-five years, she and her husband and their only daughter lived and worked on cattle ranches in the Colorado mountains. The last ranch Debra lived on was also where a famous movie star and her screenwriter husband chose to purchase property. She now lives in the flatlands, where she’s dealing with cultural whiplash. Debra loves animals, classic cars, mud-bog racing and monster trucks. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drawing Western art, feeding wild birds, or watching Jane Austen movies, COPS, or Castle.

Debra loves hearing from her readers. You can contact her through her website, www.debraullrick.com.

The Unintended Groom

Debra Ullrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28

To God be the glory. Without His help, and the help of my dear friend and author extraordinaire Staci Stallings—God blessed me abundantly by sending her into my life—my stories would never get written.

And to my husband and best friend, who throughout our thirty-eight years of marriage consistently told me whenever a problem arose that God would take care of it. Sweet hubby, you were right. God always did and still does. So thank you, darlin’, for being my example of faith and trust in a loving Savior.

I love you so very much and always will.

You’re the other half of my heart and soul.

(MEGA HUGS AND KISSES)

Your forever devoted wife,

Deb

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Hot Mineral Springs,

Colorado 1888

“What do you mean, I can’t?” Abby Bowen fought to keep from slamming her hands on her hips and glaring down at the rotund man seated in front of her.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the mayor and head chairman of Hot Mineral Springs, Mr. Prinker, said as his cheeks flushed.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before I bought the place?” She clenched her teeth as hot anger boiled inside her. There was no excuse for this. None whatsoever.

“We didn’t know what your intentions were for the building. We assumed you wanted to open a dress shop or a restaurant or even a luxurious mineral spa for women. We already have one for men, you know.” He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and puffed out his chest like a zealous rooster who was full of himself. “Any one of those would have been allowed. However, we—” he glanced around the large rectangle table at each of the seven town committee members “—cannot allow a single woman to open a theater. Why, something of that nature would be quite scandalous and ruin our town’s fine upstanding reputation. Not to say your own, young lady.” He shook his forefinger at her.

Abby wanted to latch onto his meaty finger and shove it up his bulbous red nose. But that attitude would get her nowhere, much less please the Lord. She quelled her anger as she searched for another option. Why some townspeople thought women who ran a theater were of questionable repute, she didn’t understand. In other towns, people did it all the time, and it was not considered a scandal.

“It’s too bad that your name is not Mr. Bowen,” Mr. Prinker said as if in deep thought. “For if it was, we might consider your proposal. However, as it stands, we will have to refuse the license required by our town to open such an establishment.”

Such an establishment? What did that mean? Whatever it meant, she didn’t care. She just wanted to make sure she understood him correctly. “Let me see if I get this straight. Are you saying if I was a man, I would be able to obtain this license?”

“In a manner of speaking, that’s precisely what I’m saying. However—” he rubbed his double chin for the longest moment of her life “—there is one other alternative.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Abby didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She’d about had enough of these men and their preposterous accusations.

“If you were to take on a male business partner, a gentleman with an outstanding reputation, then we would consider allowing you to open your theater. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

They all nodded their heads.

What?! Surely these buffoons weren’t serious. Were they? Abby gazed at each man to see if they indeed were. Their stoic faces confirmed her assessment. She shook her head at the utterly and completely outlandish idea. “So you’re saying, if I obtain a male—” she emphasized the word male with abhorrence “—business partner, then you will allow me to open my theater? Correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. We feel it’s the only proper way. I am certain, ma’am, that you will find there are many upstanding men in our community who would be more than willing to help you with your business adventure. Including any one of us here in this room.” The mayor’s horse teeth overtook his supercilious grin.

Oh, how she wanted to reach over and whip that arrogant smirk right off his thin lips. Humpft. As if she needed their help running a business. There wasn’t one person in this room with whom she’d ever consider doing business with. They all looked shiftier and greedier than a gang of bank robbers.

“Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.” She all but choked on that last word. These men were no gentlemen.

“Of course.” Mr. Prinker’s smile couldn’t get any phonier than it was right now.

Abby stepped outside the room and slipped around the corner so she could be alone a few minutes. She paced up and down the sparkling-clean hallway, wringing her gloved hands. With each step she took on the polished hardwood floor, her button-up shoes echoed, her pink silk bustle gown swished and the pink plume on her hat danced.

She couldn’t believe this whole ludicrous thing was even happening. After spending the last year and a half going to plays and even participating in a few, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. That desire had only escalated when her ex-fiancé, David Blakely, had broken their engagement—the very day she had told him she could never bear children. After that, every time she’d seen him with his wife, the woman he had married two weeks after he had ended their engagement almost one year ago, and their newborn son, the dagger of rejection plunged deeper into her heart. That’s when she had plotted her escape from the Idaho Territory. Eventually, as she worked on her new life, the pain had gone away, and her focus turned completely to fulfilling her dream, a dream that was about to die before it even got started. All because of a room full of portentous, dishonest, stodgy old men.

And if she were honest with herself, her own stupidity, as well.

Why hadn’t she listened to her brothers? Haydon, Michael and Jess had warned her about buying a building without seeing it first. But no, she had assured them the ad stated the mansion at the edge of town was previously owned by a prominent family, so therefore, it had to have been well taken care of. They weren’t convinced. But she refused to let that stop her. Her stubborn exuberant way took charge as did her dream of life outside the confines of her family. Thus, she let them know she had prayed about the whole thing and was confident in her decision to go ahead with her plans.

The theater was third in her line of dreams, but it was all she had left to dream about. So using the money her father had left her, money he had intended for her and her siblings to use to fulfill their dreams, she’d gone ahead and purchased the place sight unseen. What a mistake that turned out to be.

The very day she arrived in Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado, she quickly discovered her brothers had been right. No maintenance had been done on the home since the owner had moved back east years ago. Because of the mansion’s abandoned condition, there was no way for her to sell the place and get her money back so that she could move somewhere else. Someplace where she would be allowed to open up her business.

Abby stopped pacing. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and sighed. No, like it or not, she was stuck with the place.

She flicked her thumbnail with her teeth as she tried to come up with a plan, but nothing came to mind.

Oh, if only she could have opened her dinner theater back home in Paradise Haven, but she couldn’t. They already had one, and the town wasn’t big enough for two. Not only that, she had to move away.

She just had to.

Being at home constantly reminded her of the two things she wanted most out of life but could never have—children of her own and the love of her life, David. What she needed to do now was to expunge the past and its painful memories. She’d start now by forcing her mind to take a turn in another direction, to figure out a way to make her business adventure work. Operating a theater would not only keep her busy, but it would give her life meaning. Something she desperately needed.

With a new resolve, Abby determined it would be a hot day in a shed full of ice before she would allow anyone to throw away her opportunity for happiness and fulfillment. No one, not even these men, would steal those things from her. There had to be a way to fulfill her dream.

There just had to.

It was in the next moment Abby remembered that it was God who had led her here. And it would be God who would solve the obstacles before her. She sent up a quick prayer for wisdom, and within seconds a plan formulated in her mind. It was a drastic one, but it just might work. Knowing it would be strictly for business purposes, she would place an advertisement for a business partner. A male one. She rolled her eyes at that one. But she’d do it. That would fix these pompous men’s wagons fine enough.

Satisfied and feeling somewhat pleased with her scheme, she headed back into the boardroom. Abby put on her best acting face and eyed each man with a sweet smile. “Gentlemen, I’ve decided to do what you have asked. I will take on a gentleman business partner.”

Their faces lit up and greed ravished their eager eyes.

“But—” she held up her hand “—it won’t be with anyone here. Good day, sirs.” With those words, she whirled on her heels and breezed out of the conference room, leaving each man with his mouth hanging wide open.

Now all she needed to do was make haste and find a gentleman who would be willing to become her partner. Was there such a man? One who would agree to the terms she’d already started formulating in her mind?

Outside, the light breeze brought with it the smell of sulfur from the hot mineral springs. She’d been here two months now and she still hadn’t gotten used to the rotten-egg odor. To think that people actually bathed in that smelly water made her shudder. How revolting.

She’d been amazed to learn that Indians believed the waters to be sacred. That they relaxed in the natural hot mineral pools here, believing it healed their minds, bodies and souls.

To think that the mayor actually thought she would want to open a women’s spa utilizing that water. Did women actually bathe in that stinky stuff, too? She wrinkled her nose, then hiked a shoulder. If they indeed did, she might have to consider opening a spa. Something she would have to discuss with her business partner. Or would she? Could she do one on her own and the other with him? Whoever he was.

The very idea of having a partner, someone who would have a say in how things were run, was about as pleasant as the thought of a million spiders crawling all over her. Over the past two years, she planned exactly how she wanted to run her dinner theater. What it would be like. What meals would be served. What plays would be staged. What furniture and place settings she would use. All of it. Down to the very last detail. Would her new business partner, if she found one, try to change those plans? What was she thinking? She shook her head at her own silliness. Of course he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.

Maybe the man would agree to split the business 60/40. That way she would have controlling interest of how things were run. Mr. Barker, her new stepfather back in Paradise Haven, whose business-savvy mind she’d questioned almost daily over the past year and a half all the way up until the day of her departure, had taught her that. But... She sighed. Where would she find such a man who would be willing to do that? She didn’t know, but God did. Her lips curled upward with the knowledge that God was in control and that He would work it all out.

Abby gazed up at the clear, blue sky and sent up her prayer request. When she finished, she thanked God for the answer. After all, that’s what living by faith was all about. Trusting Him for the answer before it ever came. Two scriptures popped into her mind. Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. And Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

Confident she had done that very thing, her attention slid downward toward the tall mountains surrounding the eighty-five-hundred-feet-above-sea-level town. The high altitude had taken some time getting used to. At first, breathing the thin air had been difficult, and she had gotten a lot of headaches. Drinking more water seemed to help. Eventually, she had gotten used to the thinner air, and the headaches were gone. Because of that, she now loved living in these majestic mountains. Mountains unlike any she’d ever seen back home in Paradise Haven in the Idaho Territory.

Back there, the land was much different from here with its rolling hills, bunch grass, tall wheat and rich volcanic ash soil. Here there were large hay meadows, oodles and oodles of sagebrush and high mountains covered with aspen, blue spruce and ponderosa pine trees. Hidden in those breathtaking mountains were running brooks of crystal clear water, concealed waterfalls, wildflowers, caves, bears, mountain lions, bobcats, foxes, coyotes and lots of lots of deer and elk. Her favorite things in this remote mountain town were the hummingbirds, the tiny striped ground squirrels and the itty-bitty chipmunks. Each brightened her day with their cute antics.

The desire to stay in this beautiful town snuggled cozily into her. Only one way to make that happen, though. She’d better get to it. And now. Anxious to get home so she could word her advertisement carefully, and post it as soon as possible, she picked up her pace, sending up yet another prayer. “God, send me the right man. And make it quick.”

* * *

Harrison Kingsley sat at his deceased father’s massive mahogany desk and re-read Abigail Bowen’s advertisement for the fifteenth time.

Wanted: Business Partner.

Prosperous business opportunity for the right gentleman. Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest. If interested, please contact newspaper for more information.

At first he’d thought the ad had been some kind of prank, but his gut told him it wasn’t. Years ago, he’d learned to follow his gut instincts and to trust in them, so three weeks ago he had contacted the paper. They informed him all correspondences would be made through them.

Within a week of responding to the advertisement, he’d received his first reply and was shocked to discover the advertisement had been written by a woman, a woman who had asked many questions about his life. Such as, how old he was, what he did for a living, where he was from, why he was interested in becoming a business partner and many more. Harrison answered each one honestly, and even asked some of his own. The hardest one to answer was, “Why are you willing to invest?”

Need. That’s why. He glanced at the legal paper lying on his desk mere inches from his fingers. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his father’s will and re-read the final stipulation, the very one he had memorized by now.

Notwithstanding anything contained herein, in order for my son, Harrison James Kingsley, to receive his full inheritance as set forth above, he must first prove that he is capable of operating my businesses. As proof of such capability, Harrison must start his own business, which business may be in any manner of industry or trade but which (a) must be located in a community other than Boston and specifically in a community in which he is unknown to the other residents, and (b) must show a profit of at least 1,000 dollars before his twenty-fifth birthday. If he fails to satisfy the foregoing requirements on or before his twenty-fifth birthday, all my assets will be divided equally between the following charities...

Anger bubbled up inside Harrison as it did every time he read that section of his father’s will. He tossed the paper onto the desk, pinched his eyes shut and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and thumb. How could his father do this to him? Give him so little time to accomplish this? Did his father really hate him that much? Or was he still punishing him for the death of his mother? Harrison didn’t know. But what he did know was that his father still controlled him, even from the grave.

Harrison Kingsley, Sr. had controlled and manipulated him since his birth. Every minute of Harrison’s day had been planned by his father, who ordered the staff to see to it that his strict regimen was followed to the letter. Not only had he been told what to wear, where to go, when to go, who to see, but also whom he was to marry.

It was there Harrison had drawn the line. On the day of his twenty-first birthday, he eloped and married the love of his life, Allison. When his father found out, he was livid and stripped Harrison of any and all income. To this day, Harrison had no idea how his father had managed it, but no one would even consider hiring him for fear of his father’s vengeance.

Harrison had even thought about moving out west in hopes of gaining employment there, but he’d had no money to support them along the way. The final determining factor came when his wife developed complications and was confined to her bed during the remainder of her pregnancy. No other choice remained but to once again succumb to his father’s strict rule of thumb.

Soon after his sons were weaned from their mother’s milk, Allison disappeared, leaving a note saying she no longer loved him. Harrison’s heart had been ripped from him that day and his only consolation was his sons.

Days after his father’s death, Harrison received a parcel that contained two letters. One from Allison, and one from a Mrs. Lan informing him that Allison had been killed in a buggy accident, and that the woman had been asked if anything ever happened to Allison, to send the letter to Harrison.

Allison’s letter stated how she’d never stopped loving him, and that his father had forced her to leave by threatening to withdraw all financial support from them. When that hadn’t worked, he’d threatened to send the boys to boarding school. Allison knew how Harrison despised the idea of sending his sons to boarding school and how powerless he was against his father. She loved him and the twins too much to let that happen, so she’d left. Harrison felt the pain of that decision even now. What kind of father did something like that to his son, anyway?

He’d always known his father resented him and blamed him for his wife’s death. But to go to those extremes? To strip him of the wife he loved and his innocent children of a mother’s love? That was low, even for his father.

Determination rose up inside of Harrison like a geyser. His boys had suffered enough at the hands of their grandfather. He’d be hanged if he’d let them lose their inheritance, too. Therefore, he decided he would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. His father thought he’d defeated him even in his death. Well, he’d show him.

His gaze slid to the will sitting in front of him.

His only hope in fulfilling the detestable stipulation his father had thrust on him in such short notice was the one line from Miss Bowen’s advertisement, “Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest.”

He gaped at the envelope staring back at him, wondering if its contents would seal his fate or secure his future. Perhaps it was a good sign that this one had been mailed directly to him instead of going through the newspaper. He read the return address.

Miss Abigail Bowen

777 Grant Street

Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.

Just where Hot Mineral Springs was in Colorado, he didn’t know. Didn’t matter. Going out west to see the rugged Rocky Mountains he’d heard so much about from his friends and their travels was something he’d always wanted to do. Now he just might get that chance.

He pressed his hand to his aching, nervous gut, and drew in a deep breath, blowing it out long and slow as he broke the seal off the envelope, and slipped the letter from its pouch.

Dear Mr. Kingsley,

From what you have said in your posts regarding the stipulation in your father’s will, it sounds like this business arrangement would be as advantageous for you as it would be for me. Therefore, after much consideration, I have decided to offer you the first chance at this opportunity.

Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible so I can let the other gentlemen who responded to my advertisement know your decision.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Abigail Bowen

Harrison paused and gazed at nothing in particular in the large office decorated only with the finest of furnishings. This whole arrangement was almost too good to be true. Either that or it was just crazy enough to work.

The way he saw it, this was his only chance to get the inheritance he needed to secure his twins’ future. And since no other prospect had presented itself, he had no other choice but to give Miss Bowen’s dinner theater prospect, something she had mentioned in one of her previous letters, a try. What money he had saved from working for his father wouldn’t go far if he didn’t find a way to secure at least his position in his father’s businesses, if not the outright inheritance.

It would also enable him to fulfill his lifelong goal to right the wrongs his father had done to the fine people in Boston, and to restore the Kingsley name to what it had once been.

The discovery of his father’s true legacy still pained him greatly. It was after the death of his mother that his father had changed so drastically. He’d become a bitter, angry, vindictive man with no scruples when it came to business. Every time Harrison thought of the things his father had done, how he had cheated those poor people out of their businesses and their homes, his stomach churned with sorrow and disgust. Like now. The only way to take care of those matters would be to take Miss Bowen up on her offer, and then come back to take over the helm and set things right.

Rather than take the risk of his post to Miss Bowen getting lost in the mail and her taking on another partner, he decided to go a faster route. He would send a telegram and head out west immediately.

He quickly penned a short telegraph message and reached over and pulled the string, ringing for his butler.

Forsyth stepped into his office and stopped in front of the expansive desk, his posture stiff as a wooden plank, his black suit and white shirt pressed to perfection, his white gloves immaculate. “What may I do for you, sir?”

“Have Staimes pack my clothes. Tell him we’ll be going out of town for a couple of months or so. Let Miss Elderberry know, too, so she can pack for her and the boys. I’ll need you to take care of things here while I’m gone.” Harrison handed his trusted butler, who never revealed or spoke of Harrison’s affairs with anyone, a folded slip of paper. “Send this telegram out immediately and purchase tickets on the next train heading to Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.”

“Yes, Mr. Kingsley. Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I will take care of this immediately.”

“I know you will. Thank you, Forsyth.”

“You’re quite welcome.” With that, the aging man who’d served his father well, and now him, turned and left the room.

The leather chair creaked as Harrison settled his back into its softness. His gaze dropped to the letter, her letter, still lying on his desk. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled inside him. He had a gut feeling this arrangement would indeed fulfill the nonsensical stipulations in his father’s will along with everything else, too.

He could be back in Boston in three months with a new future for himself and his family, a future filled with hope that he himself had never known.

* * *

“Abby, this telegram is for you.” Colette Denis walked into the room of Abby’s three-story mansion, holding a slip of yellow paper. Abby was so grateful Colette and her two sisters had decided to come with her to Hot Mineral Springs. Since her mother’s remarriage, the Denis sisters’ maid services were no longer needed back in Paradise Haven. Mother refused to let them go, though, until Abby had come up with a plan to take them with her. She needed their services and the sisters had no family in Paradise Haven so they were more than happy to move with her and to work for her.

Abby dropped the washcloth she was using to wipe down the windowsills and bookshelves in her office into the bucket of soapy water. She dried her hands on the only dry spot left on her apron and took the telegram from Colette. “Thank you, Colette.” She slid the paper into the pocket of her skirt. “Did you remember to stop by the mercantile and post my ad for a carpenter on their bulletin board?” Colette had a tendency to get distracted and forget what she was doing. Abby did, too, so she could relate to the girl who had a good heart but a somewhat scattered brain.

“Oui. Well, at least I tried to, anyway.”

“What do you mean, you tried?” Abby’s lips pursed into a frown, and she pushed back the wet strands of hair plastered on her cheeks.

“When I went to tack it onto the corkboard, I could not reach the only empty place. This nice man offered to help, so I gave it to him. But when he looked at the ad, he asked if he could keep it.” Colette wrung her hands and her green eyes shaped like an almond shell drifted over to Abby, then cut to the floor.

“Is something wrong, Colette?”

Colette glanced at Abby, then back at the ground again. “I—I am so sorry, mademoiselle, but he is here.”

“Who’s here? The man who kept my post?”

“No, mademoiselle. Mr. Kingsley.”

“Mr. Kingsley?” Abby frowned, then her eyes bounced open at the recognition of the name. “Mr. Kingsley is here? Now?”

“Oui. I am sorry.” Remorse crackled through Colette’s voice. “That telegram came several days back, but I forget to give it to you. When I went to wash my dress just now, I found it.” Colette rattled on, intermingling French with English.

Abby heard nothing more as she looked down at her soaked apron and the simple blue dress she wore to do chores in. She caught Colette’s gaze glossed over with unshed tears. Her heart went out to the poor girl who tried so hard, but always seemed to fall short. She looped arms with Colette and headed toward the door. “Don’t you go crying now, you hear? I know you didn’t mean to forget. Nothing in this life is worth fretting over. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. God has a plan. Even in this.” Abby encouraged her, sincerely hoping she could take some of her own advice. What was she going to do? He was here!

Well, she couldn’t let that bother her. He was here, so she might as well go ahead and make the best of it. She just hoped and prayed he wasn’t one of those snobbish businessmen like the city council members were, one who would surely look down his nose at her attire and might even judge her for it. Nothing in his letters indicated he was. But even if he was, she decided as they headed to the door, that was his problem, not hers.

Realizing she still had a hold of Colette’s arm, Abby let it go, but her attention stayed riveted on the sixteen-year-old girl, looking for any sign that she felt better. The frown on the young girl’s heart-shaped face disappeared, and Abby was glad to see it. “Are you all right now?”

A moment and Colette nodded.

“Good.” Abby smiled, and without looking where she was going, she stepped into the hallway and turned right. Her body collided into a granite wall of flesh and stumbled backward.

Something warm, strong, yet gentle secured her arm.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was—” Words escaped her the instant her eyes landed on the sculptured face of the handsome man gazing down at her, still holding her arm.

He looked every bit as startled as she was. “Are you all right, miss?”

“I’m—I’m fine. Thank you.” She straightened. Only mere inches from him, her eyes never drifted from his. Something was different about his eyes. Abby looked at one, then the other. One was minutely wider, and the other looked like it hadn’t quite awakened yet because the outer half of his eyelid rested against his eyelashes a little heavier than the other one did.

That wasn’t what was different about them, though.

Abby placed her fingertip on her lip. It was something else. Then she spotted it. Her mouth formed into an O. Both eyes were grayish-blue except the right one. A third of the lower iris was hazel. The amber color started small at his pupil, but spread out, ending with the same grayish-blue as the rest of his eye. She had never seen anything like that before. “I’m sorry for staring, but you have very unusual eyes. They’re quite beautiful.”

Those same eyes, surrounded by long but straight medium brown eyelashes, twinkled. “Thank you.” He said it like he meant it, but his closed-lipped smile didn’t stretch very far. Far enough, though, to reveal a crescent-moon line on one side of his half-full lips and a quarter-crescent moon on the other. “Could you please tell me where I might find Miss Abigail Bowen?”

“Abigail? Oh. Oh. Yes. I’m Abby.” She waved her hand at her momentary lapse into forgetfulness because no one ever called her Abigail. Except her mother, and that was only when Abby was in trouble.

Surprise flounced across his face, and his attention drifted over her again, starting with her feet and ending at her hair. “You’re Miss Bowen?” One of his eyebrows peaked.

Hey. She knew she looked a mess, but the man didn’t need to be so blatantly rude with his disapproving perusal of her. Abby pushed her shoulders back and stood as tall as her five-foot-six-inch frame would allow. “Yes, sir, I am.”

Once again, his gaze roamed over her.

This time, she wouldn’t let it steal her joy or her peace.

If he didn’t approve of what he saw, again, that was his problem, not hers. But in all fairness, the man did have a good reason to be shocked. He probably wasn’t expecting to see her looking like a scullery maid, especially since from his perspective, she should have been waiting to meet him for the first time. “Please forgive my appearance. Because of an oversight, I didn’t get word of your arrival until a moment ago, so you caught me in the middle of cleaning.”

“So I see.” A chuckle vibrated through his low, brassy voice. “Well, Miss Bowen. I’m Harrison Kingsley.” He reached for her hand.

Abby quickly tucked both her hands behind her back. “Trust me, Mr. Kingsley. You do not want to touch these hands. They’ve been in soapy water all morning and probably feel pricklier than pig bristles.” And the rest of her, she was certain looked even worse. Oh, well, couldn’t be helped. She had a lot to do. If his time was as valuable to him as hers was to her, rather than keep him waiting while she cleaned up, she decided to go ahead and get right down to business. “Colette, would you make some tea and bring it to the parlor?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.” Colette curtsied.

“Thank you.” Abby spoke to Colette’s retreating back before she turned and faced Mr. Kingsley. What a fine specimen of a man he was. Like one of the heroes in the dime novels she often read. Only she hoped he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the heroes in those books seemed to be.

She couldn’t help but wonder, if instead of the dark blue three-piece suit Mr. Kingsley had on, what would he look like in a blue plaid shirt, denim blue jeans, Hyer boots and a black Stetson? No. Nix the cowboy hat. It would cover up that lovely head of medium brown hair. Abby liked the way he parted it—not on the side, not in the center, but in between the two, and straight in line with the inside of his right eyebrow.

She pried her attention from his broad-shouldered frame. “Shall we?” Abby swayed her upward palm toward the direction of the parlor. At his nod, she headed that way, tucking the loose strands of hair back into place as she went.

Having someone as handsome and fine-looking as Mr. Kingsley for a business partner was going to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She’d always been a sucker for a handsome face. Probably due to all those romance novels she’d read. A handsome face didn’t guarantee happiness, though, as she had discovered with David. The most important elements in any human being were their hearts and their souls.

While that was definitely true, a quick glance at the gorgeous man standing in front of her, and she knew because of the romantic nature in her, she would have to work very hard at keeping her focus on business, or she might very well risk opening up her heart. Having done that once before, she refused to do it again. Therefore, her hopeless romantic notions would have to stay locked deep inside her heart, tucked away safely, even from herself. No. Make that especially from herself.

Chapter Two

Harrison’s footsteps thumped on the old hardwood floor that was in need of a good polishing, ricocheting off the walls of the large mansion as he followed Miss Bowen to the parlor. The place was almost barren. There wasn’t much furniture and the walls were empty.

As they made their way toward the parlor, he marveled that the woman hadn’t even offered to go and clean up first. The little beauty was an unpretentious woman, and he liked that. Back in Boston he was surrounded by ostentatious women. The type of women he would rather avoid.

His possible new business partner wasn’t anything like them, or what he had expected. He’d expected a woman of sophistication. Pious and haughty like his ex-fiancée, Prudence Whitsburg. Not a veritable maid who smelled of cleaning soap and dust.

Yellow strands of hair had come loose from her bun. Some of them clung to her damp, yet slender neck. Black smudges brushed across her lightly freckled nose and above her delicately arched eyebrows. Yet none of that deterred her beauty from shining through. Her sapphire eyes smiled even when her lips didn’t, and long medium brown eyelashes surrounded them. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the upper one, and when she smiled, straight white teeth sparkled back at him.

They reached the parlor door and stepped inside. Harrison held back his shock. The only pieces of furniture in the expansive room were a worn-out, faded, blue settee, a matching wing-back chair in the same shape as the settee, a scratched and marred coffee table and a small, round table with a blue globe oil lamp sitting on a white-and-blue doily.

His attention went to the massive fireplace. Several framed photographs lined the mantel, along with two oil lamps, one on each end. Other than that, the room was almost empty. Nothing hung on these walls, either. He didn’t know if this was where she planned on opening her business or not. They hadn’t gotten that far. But if it was, it was going to take a lot of money to fix this place up. More than he had right now. And that made him more nervous than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

“Mr. Kingsley, won’t you be seated?” Miss Bowen’s voice reverberated throughout the empty room and thankfully yanked his attention away from where his taxing thoughts were heading.

She motioned for him to sit. When he reached the chair, he noticed how clean it was. How clean the whole room was. Even the bare windows sparkled. He sat down and was amazed at how comfortable the aged chair actually was.

Miss Bowen sat across from him on the settee, facing him.

The young girl who she’d told to get tea entered the room. She set a tray with a teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of cookies with some sort of filling in the centers on the coffee table in front of them. She went right to work pouring the tea into the cups and serving it along with two cookies on the side.

“Thank you, Colette.”

The girl turned.

“Don’t leave just yet, Colette.”

Colette faced them, nodded and waited.

Abby looked over at him and asked, “Mr. Kingsley, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?”

He saw no reason not to. “I would like that. Thank you.”

She smiled and turned her attention back to her maid. “Would you tell Veronique we’ll be having a guest join us for dinner this evening?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.” With a quick curtsy, Colette left the room.

Miss Bowen faced him and sighed. “I still can’t get used to her calling me mademoiselle. I finally gave up trying to get her not to. It sounds so formal. But it’s much better than what she used to call me.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“Miss Abigail. That just sounds so stuffy to me.” She wrinkled her cute nose and shook her head. “And so gratingly formal and impersonal. Especially when she and her sisters are more like family to me than hired help.”

Harrison understood exactly what she meant. They had that in common. He oftentimes asked Forsyth the same thing. After all, the man was more like a father to him than a butler. But Forsyth refused, and so Harrison had finally given up, as well. “You said that she and her sisters were like family to you. Do you have any family, Miss Bowen?”

After taking a sip of her tea, she placed the cup onto the saucer and rested it on her lap. “Yes. My father died a long time ago, but my mother recently remarried. I have three older brothers and an older sister, who are all married. Several nieces and nephews, too.” She looked away. The moment was brief, but long enough for him to understand that something she’d said had bothered her. He’d seen it in her eyes. What it was, he didn’t know. Nonetheless, whatever had caused that momentary look of sadness was none of his concern. He was here on business. Not to get involved in her personal life.

“What about you?” Abby asked him.

“There’s just me and my two sons.”

“Sons? Oh.” She took a sip of tea, seeming to take in the news with excitement, worry or concern. He wasn’t sure which. “How old are they?”

“Josiah and Graham will be four August twenty-ninth.”

“Twins?”

“Yes.”

“My brother Michael has twins, too. A boy and a girl.” Affection softened the blue in her eyes before they glazed over with a faraway look mingled with pain, and the room grew quiet.

He wondered if she was thinking about her family and missing them. And if that would be a problem. Would she walk away from the business to go back to her home? Wherever home was for her. “Where are you from, Miss Bowen?” So much for not getting involved in her personal life.

She blinked, then looked at him as if she remembered he was in the room. “What? Oh. Sorry. Yes, you asked me where I’m from. Paradise Haven. In the Idaho Territory. And you?” She shook her head and waved her hand. “Never mind. I already know that. You’re from Boston, Massachusetts. I don’t know where my mind is.” She steadied her teacup and wiggled in her seat, then sat up straighter.

Was she always this scatterbrained, or was it home she was missing? He doubted it was the latter because she hadn’t looked exactly prepared for his arrival, either. Worry etched inside him, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Well, they hadn’t agreed on anything or signed any papers yet. So he could still get out of this deal if he so chose, but his gut twisted, wondering what he’d do next if this plan failed.

“Mr. Kingsley.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “Would you mind if I called you by your first name? All this formality isn’t for me.”

“Oh, by all means, please, call me Harrison. And may I call you Abigail?”

“No.” She shook her head and frowned.

Taken back by her blunt answer, he moved backward.

“Please call me Abby. Like I said, Abigail sounds so stuffy.” She wrinkled that petite nose of hers again, and he was certain those close-knit freckles had kissed each other when she did. “One thing you will discover about me, Harrison, is I am not a woman who believes in pomposity and strict formality when there is a real person on the inside just waiting to be met. When one is so reserved and refined, you never get to know the heart of that person, and what makes them who they really are. That’s a real travesty as far as I’m concerned.”

Harrison wanted to remind her that she had come across like that when she signed Abigail in her letters to him, but he didn’t.

“After I sent my letter to you and had signed it Abigail, I wanted to snatch it back. I still have no idea why I did it. Anyway—” she waved her hand and shook her head again “—shall we get down to business? After all, that’s why you’re here.” She smiled.

Harrison returned her smile with one of his own. He had a hard time keeping up with her bouncing from one subject to the next, but he found this down-to-earth woman to be quite an enigma. He was going to enjoy being her business partner. And that made him more nervous than a hunted fox. Better to plunge forward with business than to let his thoughts go down a road he didn’t want to travel. “Do you have plans on how you want to run this business?”

“Of course I do.” She drained her tea.

By the look on her face, he could tell that he’d offended her. “I was certain you did, but I thought I would ask.” He sent her a smile, and that of-course-I-do look disappeared. “What building were you planning on using?”

“This one.”

Just as he feared. His gaze slipped around the room and ended at her.

“I haven’t purchased furnishings yet. After I hire a crew of carpenters to restore the place, then I will. Just so you know, because this will also be my home, I will be funding the total cost of remodeling the building. The kitchen is quite large so I won’t need to do anything to it, but the rest of the place, well...” She sighed and raised a dainty shoulder. “As you can see, it needs a good cleaning, which we’ve already started, along with numerous repairs. I am certain that once all of that is completed, this place will make a fine dinner theater.” The conviction of that shone in her blue eyes.

“I’m sure it will. Do you have a layout planned for the theater already?”

“Yes. I do. It’s in my office. I’ll run and get it. Be right back.” She pushed herself off the settee and fled the room.

Harrison blew out a long breath, grateful one of his fears had been put to rest and that he didn’t have to come up with a large sum of money to fix up the place or for the theater. He only hoped the money he did have to fork over would be a small amount.

Abby’s footsteps echoed outside the doorway, announcing her arrival. Harrison tugged on his sleeve cuffs and straightened the lapels on his jacket. He rose when she stepped inside the parlor, hands loaded with several rolled-up papers. Before he could even take one step toward relieving Abby of her burden, the woman had scurried over to him, sat down on the settee and unrolled them, pulling out and flattening the first one.

Harrison shook his head, marveling at the little bundle of energy. He lowered himself next to her, careful not to sit too close, but close enough to see the drawings.

“This is where the theater will be. The stage will go here....” She leaned over and pointed to the areas she referred to. “The chairs here. Sixty to start with, at least. Then as the business grows, more can be added. There will be chairs up in here in the balcony, as well. Maybe even a few dining tables and chairs, too. I haven’t decided on that particular yet. Anyway—” she waved her hand as if remembering what she was doing “—here in the room next to the theater is where the dining tables and chairs will be. Guests will dine there before they head into the theater to watch the plays.” She continued to explain the intricate floor plans to him.

Harrison was impressed. A lot of thought had gone into designing this place.

When she finished, she sat up straight and turned those smiling eyes up at him. Those eyes sparkled with the dream. This thing obviously meant a lot to her. One thing Harrison had discovered—if someone was willing to put the hard work it took to make a business come to fruition and put their whole heart and soul into it like she was, its chances of being a success were quite good. Somehow, after seeing her plans and witnessing how she lit up with the dream, that dream now mattered to him, too. And not just because of his inheritance and plans, either.

* * *

Abby rerolled the papers. Before things went any further, she needed to tell him something that had been pricking at her conscience from the very beginning of this whole thing. She sat up straight and turned her attention onto him. “Before we go any further, Harrison, I feel I must be honest with you about something. The only reason I’m taking on a partner is because the town committee will not grant me the license I need to open my dinner theater. The only way they will even consider it is if I take on a gentleman partner.” She huffed.

“Can you believe it? I mean really. What difference does that make? I still can’t believe they even suggested such a thing. As if I’m not capable of running my own business. I’m just as smart as any man. My stepfather, who is a brilliant business man, taught me...” She prattled on and on until she remembered she was talking to a potential business partner. “Sorry. As you can tell, I’m quite frustrated over this whole situation.”

“I can see that,” Harrison said with an amused chuckle. “Now, it is my turn to tell you something, Miss Bowen.”

Her stomach tensed, wondering what he was about to say. Was he going to back out of this deal before it ever got started? “What’s that?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.

“Once we get this business up and running and I get my investment back, plus interest as you stated in your ad—” his eyes twinkled along with his half grin “—then I plan on heading back to Boston to claim my inheritance and to run my father’s businesses.”

Abby’s stomach relaxed. “Just as I had hoped.”

He frowned.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “No offense to you personally. It’s just that I was hoping things would turn out this way, and they have. Like I said, the only reason I took on a partner was because of the license. I really didn’t want nor need one. So as soon as we, if you’re interested, get this theater up and running, I will no longer need a partner. After all, the town didn’t say how long I had to have one, now, did they?” She smiled.

“That plan may backfire on you, Abby.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“They could revoke your license.”

“They can?” She hadn’t thought of that. “Surely they wouldn’t. Would they?”

“Yes, then can, and from what you’ve told me about them, I suspect they would, too. So here’s what I propose.”

Propose? She gulped.

“Even though I will be leaving, I am willing to remain your partner. A silent one, in name only, if you will. And I will only take a dollar a month from you.”

“That’s hardly a partnership.”

“This would not be an equal-share partnership. The way I see it, you are helping me a vast amount more than I am you. I want to reciprocate by helping you, too, by remaining your partner in order for you to keep your license. You will be able to run the business the way you want without any interference from me. That way we both come out of this arrangement with exactly what we want—nothing more, nothing less.”

“Do you think the town will object to you not being here?”

“I don’t see how they can. You will still have a partner. I would even be willing to come back for let’s say—” he rubbed his chin “—once a month for six months.”

“You would do that?”

“Yes. I would. I am convinced that when they see the revenue your business will bring this town, and see what an amazing cultural place it will be, they will no longer care about such matters in time, anyway.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Or I wouldn’t have said so.”

Abby’s insides danced with the fact that everything was going to work out the way she’d always hoped it would.

* * *

Harrison couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was working out better than he had imagined. Only one question he needed to ask before he made this deal. “Do you have a dollar figure in mind of what you will need from me?”

“Yes. Five hundred dollars.”

That was it? He thought he would have to put up thousands and live on an even stricter budget than he was right now over the next three months. Relief poured over him, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. She didn’t need to know about his dire financial situation, and five hundred was definitely doable.

Right then, he determined that even though he would get his money back and then some, he would help her as much as he could to make her business a success. Not that she needed his help or anything, but he wanted to make sure her endeavor came to fruition.

“So what do you think?” Abby asked. “Are you in?”

Harrison turned his attention onto her and smiled at the expectant look in her eyes. “Only one question first. I hate to ask, but I need to know how you can guarantee a profit so quickly.”

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if she were brushing away his comment. “The reason I can is because even if the business doesn’t make a profit right away, the investor will. I am going to give them fifteen hundred dollars once we get the place up and running.”

Harrison swallowed his shock. Not only would he get the amount his father’s will stipulated, but his initial investment, as well. This was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was. Suspicion crawled over him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because. The investor or business partner, whichever you prefer, will be helping me to make my dream come true, so I want to make it worth their time. Your time. That is, if you’re interested.”

This woman wanted her dream. And she wanted it badly. He had a feeling she would do whatever it took to fulfill that dream, too, including giving the large sum she had guaranteed just for the trouble of helping her out. Before he’d left Boston, he’d had a background check done on her and knew she was good for the money. The woman came from wealth and her own bank account was hefty. The way he saw it, he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Not only would he get what he wanted, he would be helping her to get what she wanted. A mutual benefit arrangement. Those were the best kind of business deals. “I’m interested. Count me in.”

She clutched her hands together with a smack and tucked them to her chest. Her smile lit up her whole face. “Excellent. Thank you!” She tossed her arms around him, gave him a firm hug and released him just as quickly. Her exuberance was contagious. He found himself wanting to hug her in return, but he didn’t dare. “You won’t regret this, Harrison, I promise.”

He had a feeling that promise would hold true. Normally he would have had a contract drawn up, but that would only delay things. Knowing how much this meant to her, his gut told him she would hold to her end of the bargain, so he wouldn’t bother with a contract this time.

They continued to talk about what needed to be done, the expenses, her plans, his thoughts and the whole general situation. An hour later, he looked at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. “Well, I should go now.” Harrison stood. “What time would you like me to come this evening?”

“Five-thirty. Dinner will be served at six.”

“Very well.” They walked side by side to the front door. There, he grabbed his fedora off the hat rack and held it in his hands, then shifted his focus onto her smiling face. “I will see you at five-thirty, then.”

“Looking forward to it.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other.

“Until this evening.” With those words, he opened the door and stepped outside. Outside where the detestable smell of sulfur lingered in the air. But that vile stench didn’t detract from his fine mood. For the first time in years, hope glimmered inside him. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and looked up at the bright June sun. Forsyth would say God had arranged this whole thing because He loved Harrison so much. But Harrison didn’t believe in a loving God. How could he? His life had clearly proven otherwise.

Chapter Three

Standing in front of the free-standing mirror, Abby perused her appearance. The sides of her hair were pulled back and held with pearl combs and a dark blue ribbon. Tiny curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Her white, tufted-cotton bustle gown with the dark blue lace and ribbons and midlength sleeves would be cool, but not too cool for a warm evening in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. But just in case it wasn’t, she snatched up her knit shawl, then skipped downstairs to see if Veronique had everything ready.

The words to “Amazing Grace” sung by either Colette or Zoé, whose singing voices were very similar, floated through the massive room as she made her way into the formal dining room. “Hi, Zoé.”

Zoé, the middle sister to Veronique and Colette, turned from placing a silver chafing dish on the mahogany serving table and smiled. “Good evening, Abby,” she said in the same strong accent all of the sisters spoke with. Her soft gray eyes were the first thing a person noticed about Zoé. While the color was soft, because of the way her eyes were shaped, they appeared hard as if she were angry all the time, which she wasn’t.

Abby looked at the long table set for two. Her mother’s silver candelabra stood tall in the middle. Silver pedestal dishes set on each side piled high with fresh fruit and French pastries. Wedgewood bone china and crystal glasses sparkled like bright sunshine raining down on a clear mountain brook here in Colorado. Silverware...polished to perfection. “This looks great, Zoé.”

The eighteen-year-old girl’s face lit up. “You think so?”

“Yes. I sure do.”

“Zoé,” Veronique hollered from the other side of the swinging door.

Wisps of chestnut-blond hair swayed when Zoé yanked her attention in that direction. “I will be right there.” She curtsied and scurried into the kitchen.

Abby followed. Fresh bread, beef and pine aromas from the wood stove met her nostrils.

Veronique stood in front of the massive cook stove, wearing the same blue-and-white uniform as Zoé, stirring something in one of the copper pans sitting on the stove with a wire whisk. Without looking, Veronique told Zoé to grab the pastry-wrapped cinnamon apples out of the oven.

Colette sat at the table, slicing and peeling carrots. She, too, wore a matching uniform.

Abby wasn’t too keen putting on fancy dinners, but she had better get used to them for when she opened her dinner theater. “Something sure smells good, Veronique.” Abby raised the lid on one of the pans, leaned over and breathed deeply. “Umm. What is that?” She pointed to the dish.

“It is filet de boeuf charlemagne,” Veronique explained without taking her eyes off the pan she was stirring.

“Trans-la-tion...?” Abby drew out the word and let her sentence hang, waiting for Veronique to interpret what she’d said into English.

“Beef tenderloin Charlemagne.”

“Huh?” Abby frowned.

“Simply put, it is beef fillet steaks with mushrooms. What I am making now is a béarnaise sauce. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I haven’t eaten anything of yours yet that wasn’t absolutely delicious.”

Veronique flashed a quick smile Abby’s way before putting her attention back onto the saucepan.

Abby glanced up at the kitchen clock. Five-twenty. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Mr. Kingsley will be arriving in a few minutes.”

Veronique nodded as she placed the copper lid on the pan she’d been stirring. She removed it from the heat, tossed a pot holder onto the breadboard counter then set the pan down.

Abby had just turned to leave when she noticed a tray of strawberry and apple tarts. With a quick glance back at Veronique, like a little kid sneaking an early dessert, she snatched a strawberry tart off the plate and tossed it into her mouth.

Through the dining room and into the main room of the mansion she went, munching happily on the delicious treat.

A knock came at the door. Abby chewed fast and swallowed. Colette, Zoé and Veronique were busy, so she hollered, “I’ll get it.” Her heels tapped along the floor as she made her way to the front door. She swung it open and blinked. There stood Harrison holding a small boy in each arm.

“I’m sorry, Abby, that this notice is so late, but a few minutes ago, the boys’ nanny and my valet came down sick. Must’ve been something they ate this afternoon because my sons aren’t sick. The food they ate wasn’t the same as what Miss Elderberry and Staimes ate. I don’t know anyone in town, and I won’t leave my boys with a perfect stranger. So, I’m here to let you know that I won’t be able to make it to dinner this evening. I’m sorry.” Remorse wrinkled his handsome face.

Abby glanced at the two boys. A fresh ache filled her heart, but she refused to let it get her down or to dwell on what could never be. Instead, she sent the boys and their father her most inviting smile and quickly swung the French doors open. “Don’t be silly. There’s no need for you not to stay. Besides, there’s more than enough food. I’ll just have Zoé set two more places and find something for the boys to sit on. It’ll be just fine.” Now she just had to convince herself of that by reminding herself that God had a plan, as vexing as that could be sometimes. She leaned toward the boys, eyeing each one with a smile. “And who might you boys be?”

Neither of them said a word; they just tucked their tiny shoulders closer into their father’s chest and eyed her warily.

“This one here—” Harrison nodded toward the child on his right “—is Graham. And this one—” he nodded at the child on his left “—is Josiah.”

“Hello, Josiah and Graham. Welcome to my home. Won’t you come in?” she said to the twins who resembled their father in much, much younger versions. They even had Harrison’s light brown hair and grayish-blue eyes. Except neither of their eyes had a portion of hazel coloring like their father’s did.

“Can you say hello to the nice lady?” Instead of saying hello, they buried their faces into their father’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she mouthed, and waved him in with her hand. She moved out of the way, and Harrison stepped inside. “Are you sure about this, Miss Bowen? We really hate to impose.”

She wasn’t sure of anything, but she’d make herself be. “It’s Abby, and of course I’m sure or I wouldn’t have said so. Listen, why don’t you take the boys into the parlor, and I’ll inform Veronique there will be extra guests this evening? I’ll be right back.” Abby whirled around and headed toward the kitchen. Those adorable boys in their skirts and knee socks resurrected the pain shoved deep down in Abby’s heart and soul. The one she rarely allowed to surface into her actual consciousness lest it rob her of her happiness completely. “Lord, help me get through this evening.”

* * *

Harrison lowered himself onto the settee in the parlor, and settled a son on each leg. When Staimes and Miss Elderberry came up sick at the last minute, Harrison’s own stomach had taken ill. Not from food sickness, but with worry. He feared upsetting Miss Bowen by ruining her dinner plans, but he didn’t. Women of his society back home in Boston wouldn’t have been so gracious. They would have shunned him for days, and some indefinitely over something like this.

He would have hated it if Abby would have shut the door in his face. And even though it couldn’t be helped, he wouldn’t have blamed her. After all, a lot of hard work and hours of preparation went into making a meal, not to mention the food that would have gone to waste if he hadn’t been able to come.

Relief skimmed over him the instant Abby had smiled and opened her doors to him and the twins, and his stomach stopped hurting. He no longer had to worry about how she would be with the children.

Harrison’s lips curled, knowing he wouldn’t have to miss dinner with the twins. He and his sons almost always ate breakfast and dinner together, unlike most of his friends who sent their children away to boarding school or left them with a nanny twenty-four hours a day. That wasn’t for him or his boys. No, he never wanted his children to feel like he had growing up—unwanted and unloved.

Just then, Abby breezed into the room, holding a medium-size box with toys sticking out of the top. “I found these in the attic. I was going to send them to my nephews, but I’m sure Josiah and Graham would enjoy playing with them.” She set the box on the coffee table in front of his sons.

Their eyes widened, but at first they did not move. Finally, he slid them both to the floor and nudged them in that direction. They slipped from his protection, and with their heads together, they gazed into the box.

“Go ahead. You can play with them.” They looked up at her, then at him as if seeking his approval. He nodded.

Each one quickly snatched a toy, and together, they headed over and sat down on the floor near the fireplace. They had each selected a section of train, and when Harrison brought the box over to them, they began removing the rest of the toys from the container.

Knowing they were occupied and having fun, Harrison came back and placed his attention on Abby. “Thank you for that. And thank you for understanding about the ruined dinner plans. I really hated to do that to you.”

Abby waved him away. “It’s nothing. Really. And you didn’t ruin a thing.”

“By the way, I meant to tell you, you look very nice this evening.”

“You mean compared to earlier?” An amused smirk curled her lips.

“Oh. I see how that sounded. My apologies. I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you look very nice.” She did, too. Dressed in a striking white dress that showed off her trim figure, and with her shining hair hanging freely down her back, she looked stunning. Even her hands looked nice. Her long graceful fingers weren’t red like they had been earlier.

“I had it first, Siah!”

Harrison’s attention darted toward his boys.

“No. I did!” Josiah yanked it from his brother’s hands.

“Boys. That’s enough.” He stood and headed toward them, but he was too late.

Josiah snatched the toy in question, raised it and whacked Graham, hitting him squarely in the head. The wail that ensued could surely be heard in Boston.

Harrison picked up his screeching son and held him close, patting his back and speaking soothing words to him.

Abby was at his side in an instant, worry etched on her face. She dropped to her knees and started talking to Josiah. Harrison couldn’t hear what she was saying because Graham’s cries still filled his ears.

Minutes passed before Graham’s tears finally let up. Harrison leaned him back to check the top of his head. A small amount of blood streamed through his hair. “Abby, do you have a washcloth I can use?” Oh, how he hated having to ask, hated having to bother her with this. She was going to think he was far more trouble than he was worth.

She stood, holding a tear-soaked Josiah in her arms. “I sure do. I’ll be right back. If it’s okay with your father, would you like to go with me, Josiah?”

He wiped his eyes and slowly nodded, then looked over at Harrison. Remorse and trepidation filled his son’s eyes. “You may go with her. But before you do, you need to say you’re sorry to your brother. It is never okay to hit someone else. Do you understand that?”

Josiah nodded. “Saw-ree, Gam.”

Graham wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he buried his face into Harrison’s collar.

“Graham, what do you say to your brother?” Harrison asked.

The boy did nothing.

“No. Come on. It’s time to make up. Give your brother a hug.” He put him on the floor.

Abby lowered Josiah, as well.

Graham shook his head.

“Very well, then, Graham. You will not be allowed to play with Miss Abby’s toys any longer.”

Graham turned wide eyes up at him, then rushed to his brother and hugged him long and hard. Pretty soon they were giggling. His sons sat down on the floor again next to the toys.

“That didn’t take long.” He turned to Abby, who was smiling up at him.

“You sure handled that nicely.”

Her words made him feel proud. His biggest fear was failing as a father. “Thank you.”

They smiled at each other.

“I’ll run and get that washcloth now.”

“Thank you.”

Harrison watched his sons as Abby exited. He sighed. Great first impression they were making.

Abby entered the room a few minutes later holding a bowl and a clean cloth. While Harrison and Abby cleaned his small wound, Graham squirmed and fretted, acting as though they were torturing him or something. When it was all over, he settled back onto the floor and started playing as if nothing had happened.

“Mademoiselle, dinner is ready.”

The woman standing only a few yards from him was tall with chestnut-blond hair and grayish-green eyes, who spoke with a French accent very much like Colette had earlier.

“Harrison, this is Zoé, Colette’s sister. Oh. I forgot to introduce you to Colette earlier. I was, um, a bit disheveled.” Abby’s soothing laughter reminded him of the musical sound of a sparrow songbird back home in Boston. “Anyway, Zoé, this is Mr. Harrison Kingsley.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She curtsied.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said. Even though he wasn’t used to people in his society introducing him to their help, he liked it. He liked the informality a lot. Back home it sure wouldn’t be acceptable. But, then again, he wasn’t back home. He was here. A quick glance at Abby, and he was glad he was, too.

“Shall we head into the dining room?” Abby asked.

His heart plummeted to his perfectly shined shoes. Abby had no idea what she was getting herself into when she’d invited his boys to dinner. He should have warned her before accepting her generous offer.

Abby’s arm rested on top of Harrison’s. “It’ll be okay. I have several nephews and nieces. I know how they can be.”

Harrison let out a long breath of relief. It was nice not having to worry about someone wanting to whisk his rambunctious sons off to another room. Or even worse, a boardinghouse, like Prudence had wanted to send them to once they were married. Over his dead body would he have ever allowed her or anyone else to send his boys away.

Good thing this whole arrangement with Abby was strictly business because with her kind heart and gentle way with his boys, he could easily fall for her. And he was never going to let that happen again. He’d been duped once before by a pretty face and a sweet disposition toward his children. Prudence had always acted like she loved children. Loved his sons. Even though he hadn’t loved Prudence, something she was very much aware of, it was because of her love for his sons that he had asked her to marry him. He hoped love would eventually follow. However, he soon discovered that her fondness toward them had been nothing but a ruse to marry a man who could keep her in the style she was accustomed to.

He’d never forget the day when Prudence had roughly handled his boys and said intolerable and cruel things to them. Of course, she didn’t know Harrison had been nearby. Thankfully, he had been. He had immediately put an end to her abuse as well as their relationship, and sent her away for good that very day.

Thus, Harrison needed to remind himself often that Abby was a business partner and nothing else. One look at her smiling blue eyes and sweet face, though, and he knew keeping it strictly business was going to be a challenge.

* * *

The early morning sunrise peeked through the curtain in Abby’s sparsely furnished bedroom. Snuggled under the red-and-white quilt Mother had sent along with her, Abby rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Her thoughts drifted to the calamitous dinner from the night before.

Poor Harrison had been so mortified.

Not her; she laughed the whole time—inwardly of course.

The near-four-year-olds’ antics had more than tickled her, even when they’d tossed glazed carrots at one another and a piece had landed in her hair. And even when they’d dumped mashed potatoes and gravy onto the floor, or when they’d spilled their milk all over the white linen tablecloth.

The whole thing had been hilarious to her, but not to Harrison, who had profusely apologized, repeatedly. She had assured him none of it had bothered her, that nothing in this world was worth getting fidgety over, and that they were just things that could be washed.

Other than those few incidences, everything had gone quite well. Dinner conversation flowed freely until the boys had fallen asleep with the sides of their faces resting in their dessert.

She and Harrison cleaned them up before he left with the promise of arriving early the next morning.

Speaking of arriving early, Abby tossed her quilt off and went to the window and pulled the curtain back. Dark clouds drifted toward the direction of town bringing with them a Rocky Mountain rainstorm. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let anything stop her from today’s mission.

While she donned her peach satin bustle gown and plumed hat, she couldn’t help but think about Harrison’s boys again. The longing to have her own children chopped away at her heart. Why did she think moving away from her beloved nieces and nephews would solve her problem? At the time, it sure made sense. Of course, back then she didn’t know that the town committee wouldn’t let her start her business without a male partner.

And back then, she didn’t know that the man God had placed in her life would have two adorable little boys who would capture her heart with a single look, either.

Abby closed her eyes and sighed.

What was she going to do?

Ever since Doctor Berg, who she’d only gone to see because she had missed several of her monthly cycles in a row, had told her she had womb death, her life had never been the same. The drying up of her womb, something most women started in their forties, meant she would never bear children. Hearing that diagnosis had crushed any hopes she had of being a mother. That dreadful day she had fled from his office and cried until her heart felt numb with grief. Grief for the children she would never carry. That same day, when she told her fiancé, David, about it, he immediately broke off their engagement, telling her how important it was to not just him, but any man to have offspring of his own. Watching him strolling around town with another woman on his arm and later, holding his baby, had been much too painful for her to endure.

Same thing with her siblings. While she was extremely delighted for her brothers and sisters, seeing them happily married with children reminded her daily of what she herself would never experience—a loving husband and a house filled with children.

It was because of all that she decided to open a dinner theater far away from Paradise Haven. She loved how when she was on stage acting, or sitting in the audience watching, she was transported into another world.

A world of happily ever afters.

A world she could participate in, instead of standing on the sidelines and being an observer only.

Of course, none of it was reality, but still, it helped take her mind off the pain of her reality.

Thinking about reality, she needed to hustle her body downstairs. Harrison would be there any minute to pick her up.

At the bottom of the winding staircase, Abby saw Veronique heading toward the front door.

Harrison must already be here.

“Good morning, Monsieur Kingsley. Won’t you come in?” Veronique stepped aside to let him in. “May I take your chapeau, sir?” He handed his fedora to Veronique, who hung it on the hat rack.

“Thank you. Veronique, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

His gaze shifted from Veronique and onto Abby as she strolled toward him.

Veronique slipped away.

The closer Abby got to him, the more she realized no one should be allowed to be that handsome. It wasn’t fair to women who were trying to not notice that fact. Women, like herself, who had to disengage her emotions in order to guard her heart where the male species was concerned. Still, she couldn’t help admire how nice he looked.

Dressed in a finely tailored, dark gray suit with a light gray waistcoat, white satin shirt and a dark gray neckerchief, he made an intimidating presence. Just what was needed when going up against the committee board.

“Good morning,” she said with a bright and chipper pitch to her voice.

“Good morning to you. You look very nice.”

“So do you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Well, are you ready for this?”

“Am I ever.” She couldn’t wait to see the mayor’s face or the committee members’ faces, whichever of them would be there this morning, when she walked in with Harrison.

Abby started to wrap her shawl around her shoulders, but Harrison finished the task for her. She grabbed an umbrella, and Harrison offered her his arm. She looped her arm through his, and as they headed out the door, he snatched his hat off the hook and set it on that lovely head of hair of his.

Cool morning air greeted them as they stepped outside.

Abby’s attention went to the sky. Judging by the black ominous clouds, she knew it would be only a matter of minutes before a downpour of rain came gushing down on them. “We’d better hurry.”

Harrison followed her gaze. “You’re right.”

Down the steps they scampered. Abby paused at the buggy sitting in front of her house. “You didn’t need to do that. It’s only a short walk to the town hall.”

“I know. And yes, I did. Can’t have a fine lady such as yourself walking now, can I?”

“I do it all the time.” She shrugged.

“Well, not today.” His half smile showed up. He extended his hand, palm up.

Abby laid her hand in his and immediately noticed how liquid warmth spread up her arm and throughout her chest. She’d never experienced anything like that before, and she had no clue what it meant, either. But it was a very nice feeling just the same.

“Abby?”

Abby blinked, then looked at him. “Yes?” He gave a light tug on her hand. “Oh. Forgive me.” She raised her skirt above her shoes and stepped up into the buggy, then tucked her skirt inside.

Harrison went around to the other side and sat next to her. His wide shoulders came close to touching hers. He picked up the lines and clicked them. The buggy lurched forward, yanking her backward a tad.

“How are your valet and nanny feeling this morning?” she asked.

“Much better.” His gaze trailed to her hat. “You’re not hiding the carrot my son tossed at you under that hat, are you?”

Abby laughed. “No.”

“I don’t know how my nanny does it. The boys can sure be rambunctious.”

“Don’t I know it. If you think your boys are rowdy, you should see my nephews. Your sweet sons are mild compared to them.”

His brow spiked.

“Well, maybe not.”

They both laughed.

Harrison stopped the buggy in front of the town hall just as a bolt of lightning pierced the sky and the thunder boomed immediately afterward. Abby screeched.

“We’d better get inside.”

Yes, they’d better do just that. Hurry and get inside so she could get her license. A thought flicked through her brain that if for some reason she didn’t get it, there would be even more thunderous rumbling going on and it wouldn’t be from the storm, either. Especially after doing what they’d asked, obtaining a gentleman business partner, how could they possibly say no now?

She looked into Harrison’s eyes as he helped her down. Make that a very handsome business partner. Careful, Abby. Don’t get too close to him. You’ll only end up hurt if you do.

* * *

Harrison forced himself to look away from Abby’s piercing blue eyes. She was a beautiful lady who didn’t flaunt her beauty.

A rare thing in this world. Or at least the world he came from, anyway.

Another snap of lightning zigzagged through the sky. It was only a matter of seconds before the rain came. Cupping Abby’s elbow, Harrison led her up the steps and inside the extravagant building.

They walked up to a steely-looking lady seated behind an oak desk. “May I help you, sir?” No warmth or friendliness came through her voice.

“I’m here to see the mayor.”

“And you are...?”

“Mr. Harrison Kingsley and this is—” he looked at Abby “—Miss Abigail Bowen.”

“Yes. I know. We’ve met. How are you today, Abby?”

“Very well, and you, Miss Elsa?”

“Well, my shoulders are giving me fits again and my leg is acting up because of the weather, but that’s to be expected. I ain’t as young as I once was.”

Harrison couldn’t believe this was the same lady who came across so stern. Perhaps it was because of the pain she was in. He waited patiently while the ladies chattered on.

“We’re here to get my business license,” Abby finally finished.

“Business license?” The woman tilted her head, looking confused. “You don’t need a license to run a business.”

Harrison looked over at Abby, and Abby looked at him, wide-eyed. His frown started at his forehead and dropped all the way down to his heart. “What’s going on here?”

She genuinely looked surprised. “I have no clue. All I know is I was told I had to have a license, and that they wouldn’t give me one unless I took on a business partner. A male business partner.” She looked as confused as he now felt.

“Well, we’ll get to the bottom of this.” He turned his focus onto Miss Elsa.

Miss Elsa’s face turned the color of sheep’s wool. “Abby, please don’t tell the mayor I said anything. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Miss Elsa. We won’t say anything, will we, Harrison?” Abby’s eyes pleaded with him for Miss Elsa’s sake.

He didn’t want to cost the elderly woman her job, but something fishy was going on here, and he was going to find out exactly what it was. He’d just have to figure out a way of doing it without saying anything. “We won’t say anything. Will you please tell the mayor we’re here?”

The color returned to the lady’s face. “Yes, sir.” She rose, paused and looked at him. “Thank you.”

He gave her a quick nod.

The woman limped slowly toward the end of the hall.

Seeing her handicap, Harrison embedded it into his brain not to say anything about what the woman had said to them. He didn’t want to cost anyone their job. Especially someone who could barely walk.

Miss Elsa returned. “The mayor will see you now.”

“Thank you, Miss Elsa,” Abby said with a smile.

Harrison and Abby followed Miss Elsa down the long hall. Portraits hung on either sides of the wall. “Who are these men?”

“That one’s the mayor.” She pointed to the largest portrait. “The others are the town committee members.”

“I see.” That painting of the mayor told Harrison a lot about the person he was about to encounter. He was full of himself. Harrison knew exactly how to handle someone like him. After all, he’d had a lot of practice at that endeavor.

Miss Elsa knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The woman opened the door and moved out of the way. “Get us something to drink,” the short rotund man sitting behind the massive desk demanded of Miss Elsa without so much as a please anywhere in sight. No wonder the woman had looked so miserable when they’d first walked in. Anyone who had to work with someone like him, someone with no manners, would be miserable. He knew that firsthand working for his father. From what Miss Elsa said, she had no choice. She needed the job. Well, when they got their business up and running, he’d talk to Abby about hiring the older woman to help ease her misery.

The portly mayor didn’t even stand when they entered the room. Harrison mentally shook his head. This was going to be an interesting meeting. But he loved a good challenge.

“Miss Bowen, good to see you again.” The way he said it spoke volumes. He hadn’t meant a single word of his greeting. This arrogant snob was phonier than fool’s gold. His eyes ran up and down Harrison, a look meant to size him up and to intimidate him. Harrison wasn’t the least bit fazed. He’d come across his type before.

“Mr. Prinker, may I introduce Mr. Harrison Kingsley? My new business partner.” Abby’s gaze stayed on Harrison, though he caught the smug look she gave the mayor just the same.

Mr. Prinker’s thin lips separated, and his bushy brows rose toward the ceiling.

Harrison grinned inside and extended his hand. “Mr. Prinker.”

The mayor just stared at the hand as if it were something that would devour him. He was right; Harrison just might cause the man some bodily harm if things were as he surmised they might be. Moreover, he knew he had the upper hand the moment the mayor showed the slightest sign of weakness. One always had to assess their opponent before going into battle. His father had taught him the art of combat well.

Mr. Prinker quickly masked his surprise, and his face turned stern. “There’s been a change in plans, Miss Bowen. I was going to send a message to you this afternoon. We’ve decided not to grant you a license, after all.” He sent Harrison a sly grin. The challenge was on.

Chapter Four

Abby’s ire rose. Something that happened a lot since coming to this town. How dare this man try to stop her dream from coming true? Especially after dragging Harrison and his boys halfway across the country. “What do you mean you’ve changed your mind?” Her anger came through her voice loud and clear and she didn’t care one whit that it did.

“Before you answer that...” Harrison glanced down at her, and she immediately caught his silent message to calm down. She’d try, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

Harrison stared down at Mr. Prinker. His tall stature, broad shoulders and glare made for quite an intimidating figure. “You need to explain yourself, why you have changed your mind and why Miss Bowen even had to obtain a license in the first place.”

Mayor Prinker’s eyelids lowered toward his meaty hands, then his gaze came back up to Harrison. Gone was the haughtiness, replaced with uncertainty.

Abby hid her grin of satisfaction, knowing the man had met his match.

“The committee and I decided with Hot Mineral Springs growing as rapidly as it is, in order to make sure no unsavory businesses soil our upstanding town or bring trouble to our quiet community, we voted to implement the business license law. We feel a dinner theater will bring too much riffraff here.”

“What?” Abby slammed her hands on her hips. “Just what kind of an establishment do you think I will be running?”

The mayor turned his eyes on her, then at Harrison, whose one eyebrow spiked and whose other eye narrowed menacingly at him. Swaying and tugging on his tie, the rotund man loosened it. Sweat drops formed on his balding forehead. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his forehead with it.

“Explain yourself, sir.” The authority in Harrison’s voice snagged Abby’s attention. He crossed his arms, and the glare he sent the mayor was even more pronounced. “Before you do, you need to apologize to Miss Bowen for insulting her with your misguided insinuation. Anyone with class can tell just by looking at her that she is a fine, upstanding person. I am not sure I can say the same for you, however.”

“Now just you wait a minute.” Mayor Prinker shot upward, his chair scraped across the wood floor. He slammed his palms flat on his desk and leaned toward Harrison. “I’ll not sit here and listen to you insult my reputation.”

Harrison’s brow hiked again. “And yet isn’t that exactly what you’re doing to Miss Bowen?”

The mayor blinked and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then plopped his bulky form back onto the black leather chair. “I see what you’re saying.” He looked up at Abby. “Please accept my sincere apology, Miss Bowen.” He folded his hands together and lowered them onto the desktop in front of him. “However sorry I am, I still cannot issue you a license.” The apology was sincere, not only in his voice, but his eyes, and Abby actually felt sorry for him.

“Mr. Prinker.” She stepped forward. “I thank you for your apology, and I understand your concern. However, I assure you that my—” her attention swung to Harrison “—our establishment will only bring culture and even more refinement to your...to our lovely community.”

His eyes slatted as if he didn’t believe her.

Abby restrained herself from allowing her frustration to show. None of that would get him to trust her or get the license she needed. “I can assure you our theater will host only the finest of plays. Are you familiar with Jane Austen’s work, Mr. Prinker?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, then you know what wonderful works of art her novels are.”

“I sure do.” His chest puffed out.

“That there is nothing questionable in them to perform. Correct?”

The mayor nodded, and Abby noticed the slight curl of Harrison’s lips.

“No alcoholic beverages will be allowed in our establishment, only the finest teas and beverages will be served. Our guests will dine in high fashion. They will savor six-course French cuisine meals prepared by my cook, Veronique, who hails from France.” At that, the man all but drooled. Abby wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t because she herself was on a roll. “They will then be escorted to the theater where they will sit in exquisite, plush-velvet chairs and watch plays put on by reputable people only.” She gave that a minute to sink in before she proceeded.

“A theater such as the one we intend to create, like the one back home in Paradise Haven, did not bring in riffraff, nor did it cause the town or anyone else any trouble. On the contrary, actually. When word got around, society’s very elite traveled from miles away to watch the productions. Those very people stayed in the town’s hotels and increased the revenue of every establishment there.”

Greed shrouded his eyes.

She refused to tell him that people who didn’t have much came, as well. From the little bit she’d been around the mayor, he might deem them as riffraff or undesirables, which they weren’t, of course. “I assure you, Mayor Prinker, just as the theater in Paradise Haven did not tolerate anyone who caused trouble, we will do the same.”

The mayor sat back in his chair and raked his fingers across his double chin.

Abby looked over at Harrison. His smile of approval meant a lot to her.

Mayor Prinker rose and walked around his rich mahogany desk and stood within feet of her. “I need to discuss this new information with the other board members. I shall call a quick meeting in the boardroom. You and Mr. Kingsley can either wait here in my office, or you may come back later this afternoon.”

“We’ll wait here.” Harrison spoke before she had a chance to.

“Very well. I shall be back in a few minutes. Have a seat and I will send Miss Elsa in with some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you.” No matter how thirsty she was at the moment, Abby didn’t want the poor older woman to have to walk any more than she had to with her bad leg.

“Very well.” With those words he stepped out of his office and disappeared from their sight.

Abby and Harrison sat down in chairs not nearly as nice as the mayor’s.

“You handled that very well, Abigail.”

She felt so good about things, she didn’t even mind that Harrison had called her Abigail instead of Abby. “Thank you. So did you.” She nibbled at her lip a moment. “Do you think they’ll agree to give us the license now?”

“Judging by the greed in Mayor Prinker’s eyes, I’d say that’s a pretty good indicator that we’ll get the license.”

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than Mayor Prinker came rushing through door, huffing and puffing. That had to be the shortest meeting in history.

“Miss Bowen, Mr. Kingsley.” He breathlessly said their names as he scurried around to the other side of his desk and plopped down in his chair. He pressed his hand against his chest and drew in several streams of air. “I—I t-talked to the other members...” He panted out the words, then reached for his cup. Between breaths, he took several sips of his beverage. When his breathing neared normal, he spoke again, “We have decided to issue you a license, after all.”

Abby wanted to jump up and down and hoop and holler, but in order to maintain a professional persona, she restrained herself.

“But—”

Uh-oh, here it comes. She should have known there would be a but in there somewhere. There always was with him.

He held up his hand, looking only at Abby. “Anytime either I or the committee members feel your establishment is harming our community, or it doesn’t conform to the high standards we have set for our town, we will shut you down. And, the stipulation of maintaining a male business partner remains the same, or we will shut you down. Is that understood?” This time the mayor looked at Harrison.

“I foresee no problem with that,” Harrison answered with a confidence she didn’t feel.

Abby yanked her gaze in his direction, wishing she had the same assurance as he did as she had no intentions of maintaining a business partner, and he had no intentions of staying here. Unless...hmm. Unless he eventually became the silent business partner they had discussed the day before. She didn’t know why that wouldn’t work. After all, nothing was said about him having to remain here in town.

The whole thing was a huge risk. One she was willing to take. Convinced once the mayor and his cronies saw how much money the business brought to their town and just how classy the place was, she had a feeling they wouldn’t care if her business partner lived here or elsewhere. Doubt niggled at her, but she paid it no mind. Nothing would douse her joy. Nothing.

* * *

Pride was the only way to describe how Harrison felt. The way his new business partner handled things just now amazed him. There was more to Abigail Bowen than a pretty face. It was a good thing he was indeed heading straight home. He’d been fooled once too often by a pretty face. He needed to be extremely careful just who he let into his heart. Not only for his sake, but his sons’, as well.

He cupped Abby’s elbow and led her outside the town hall building. Unlike when they’d first arrived for their meeting, nary a rain cloud could be seen, only miles of pale blue sky. Humidity and fresh air with a hint of sulphur filled his nostrils. Wagon ruts raked through the street reminding him of his sons’ drawings.

At the edge of the boardwalk, Abby stopped. She closed her eyes and turned her face upward. The sun covered her youthful skin with its bright glow. She drew in several long breaths. What a lovely vision she was. Harrison watched her with fascination. She was a woman of means, yet there was something outdoorsy about her and completely refreshing from the women he had been raised around.

Her eyes, the same blueness as the sky, slowly opened. Beauty bathed her in all its glory. Only one other woman was as comely as she, his dear departed wife. He pinched his eyes shut to blot out the painful memories that routinely followed thoughts of his sweet Allison.

“Are you all right, Harrison?” Abby’s hand settled on top of his arm.

His gaze drifted toward it. The gesture, meant to comfort him, sizzled his arm with her feminine awareness. A feeling he knew all too well. When he’d first met his wife, the same thing had happened to him back then, and he’d married her. Stunned at the correlation and its impact on him, he abruptly stepped to the side, allowing Abby’s arm to separate from his. “I’m fine.”

One look at her face and he knew he hadn’t fooled her, her disbelieving frown told him as much. “Why don’t we go and celebrate?” he asked to keep her from questioning him a second time. “Pie and coffee. My treat.” He pulled his attention from her and settled it on the town before them. “Who here makes the best pies?”

Her sigh was audible as she pointed to a sign hanging several doors down from the hall. “Lucy’s Diner. Her pies are exquisite. Almost as good as my mother’s. Her pie crust is so flaky and light, it barely holds together.”

“Sounds like my kind of pie. Shall we?” He offered her the crook of his arm. Big mistake that turned out to be. That same heat sizzled up his arm again, only this time he refused to let his mind dwell on it or its implications. Instead, he reminded himself that he was here for the sole purpose of securing his inheritance for not only his sons’ sake, but for the sake of the unfortunate people back in Boston who his father had greatly wronged. A quick glance at Abby and he needed to add one more reason to the mix. After meeting Abby and seeing just how much she wanted this business to succeed, he wanted to do everything in his power to make her dream come to fruition, as well.

They strolled down the boardwalk, their footsteps echoing underneath them. When they reached the steps that separated one building from the other, Harrison glanced down at the muddy ground, then at her delicate gown, and contemplated what to do. If she was his wife, he would swing her into his arms and carry her across, but she wasn’t. And yet, how could he do nothing and allow a lady to soil her garment. “If you will permit me, I would like to carry you across the mud.”

Abby blinked as if he’d gone daft or something. “Thank you. But no. I can walk. I was raised on a farm. I’m used to mud. A lot of it.” With those words, she hiked her skirt and tiptoed through the thick mire to the other side.

Harrison stared at her back. No Bostonian lady would have ever done that. In fact, they would have insisted Harrison call for a servant to carry them across or that he lay his coat down for them to walk on. Abby was nothing like those ladies. She was more like Allison in that way, too. Realizing what he was doing, he reprimanded himself for comparing Abby to his deceased wife.

They arrived at Lucy’s Diner. Harrison opened the door for Abby. Apples and cinnamon filled the air.

Abby headed to a table by the window, and he followed, holding her chair out and waiting for her to be seated before he took the chair across from her. His gaze slid around the room at the informal, homey establishment. The sparkling-clean place was small but not cluttered. It was also void of patrons, which had him wondering why since according to Abby, it served the best pie in town.

“How fortunate we are that we missed the morning breakfast rush.” Abby answered his unspoken question.

A petite, slender woman in a bright yellow dress with a stained apron over it bustled toward them. “Abby! It’s so nice to see you again. Couldn’t stay away, huh? You come back for some more of my strawberry-rhubarb pie? I made a fresh batch this morning. There’s three pieces left. So if you want one, you’d better grab a slice before the next rush of customers comes barreling in. You want coffee with that pie, or tea? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask. Maybe you don’t want strawberry-rhubarb today. I have two pecan pies coming out of the oven in a few minutes. You want a slice of that instead?” As if she finally realized Abby wasn’t alone, the woman stopped her rapid-fire talking and her brown-eyed gaze fell to him.

“Oh, dear me. Forgive me, sir. Don’t know where my manners are. Hello. I’m Lucy Cornwall. Owner of this here place.” She grabbed his hand with her sticky one and pumped it vigorously with a grip as strong as any man’s. A grasp that certainly didn’t match her petite size.

“Lucy, this is Mr. Kingsley. My new business partner. We’re here to celebrate.”

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up. “What you celebrating? Oh, wait.” She shook her head. “You said he’s your new business partner. This must mean that ornery old mayor and his little cronies gave you your license, then. Good. Cuz, if he didn’t, I was fixin’ to march down there and give that man a good tongue lashing, and let him know he’d get no more pie from me. That’d serve him right. Won’t have to now. Okay, what’ll you have?” She pulled a piece of paper and a nub of a pencil out of her apron pocket, chewed on the wood like a beaver gnawing on a log until more lead exposed itself, then she placed the dull point on the paper. Her friendly smile landed on him first, then Abby. “Now I’m ready.”

The woman reminded him of a hurricane, long-winded and unpredictable. He glanced at Abby. She winked at him and smiled before turning her attention to Lucy. “I’ll take the strawberry-rhubarb pie and tea.”

Lucy scribbled it down and turned to him.

Harrison couldn’t believe she needed to write their orders down. After all, the place was empty and it wasn’t like she had a ton of orders. Didn’t matter what she did or didn’t do, it wasn’t his place to decide how she did things. “I’ll have the same. Only make mine coffee instead of tea.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back with your orders.” She whirled around and within seconds her tiny form disappeared behind a swinging door.

He shook his head.

“You get used to her.”

“You do?”

Abby laughed. “Yes. You do. I promise. She’s really a very sweet woman. One who would give you her last bread crumb. Lucy gives more food away than she has paying customers. I have no idea how she even stays in business. But she does. And people love her.”

He settled his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his hands. “You come here often, then?”

Heat filled Abby’s cheeks. “Yes. Once you taste Lucy’s pie, you’ll understand why. But don’t tell Veronique.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” His lips curled upward.

The swinging door leading to and from the kitchen squeaked, and out came Lucy advancing toward their table like a locomotive trying to make its destination on time. How the woman moved so fast holding a tray loaded with two filled cups, a cream pitcher, a sugar bowl and two large slices of pie, Harrison didn’t know. Not one drop had spilled, either.

“Here you go.” She set their orders in front of them, chattering like a wound-up parrot as she did.

Harrison had a hard time keeping up with her and finally gave up—thankful Abby occupied the woman. Well, thankful wasn’t quite the word. He wanted to visit with Abby without distractions, to talk about business so they could get the theater up and running as soon as possible. The sooner the better so he could get back home. In the next breath, the mayor’s stipulations ran through his mind.

As soon as Lucy left to tend to the three customers that had just walked in, Harrison turned his focus onto Abby, who had just forked a bite of pie and settled it into her mouth. He waited until she swallowed, then asked, “What did you think about the mayor’s stipulations?”

Abby took a drink of her tea and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “What stipulations?”

“About maintaining a male business partner.”

“Oh. That.” She placed her napkin on her lap. “You and I already discussed that, remember?”

“I do. But what if he doesn’t approve of my being a long-distance partner? Then what will you do?”

“I’m not sure. But what I am sure of is, God will take care of it. He’s taken care of everything else up to this point, and He will finish what He started.” Her smile swelled with confidence. She continued to eat her pie, sighing contentedly with each bite.

Harrison wondered how she could be so certain God would take care of it. God had never done anything for him. Course, it had been years since he had asked Him to, and God hadn’t answered his prayer back then. Since then, he wanted nothing to do with God or church. In his experience, most people who prayed or went to church did it solely for show and for social reasons.

Every Sunday he and his father sat in the front row of the largest church in the city, listening to the minister go on and on about money and how much he needed for this project and that project. Father gave the greedy man what he needed. In front of the whole congregation filled with only society’s elite—poor folks weren’t allowed there—his father made a huge display of his donation.

Then all the way home and all day long, Harrison had to endure his father’s complaints about the money he’d just donated and about how God never did anything for him, and how everything he owned he worked hard for. It ended with the same warning that God couldn’t be depended on for anything. If He could be, then he wouldn’t have to give his money and his wife wouldn’t have died. That was the one thing Harrison and his father agreed on. Just why Abby thought she could depend on Him, Harrison had no idea, but in his curiosity, he wanted to find out. “What makes you so sure God will take care of this?”

“Because He always has.” She took another bite of her pie, and a patch of red juice clung to her lower lip.

Without thinking, Harrison picked up his napkin, reached across the table and brushed her lip with it.

She stopped chewing, and stared at him.

Harrison yanked his hand back. “Forgive me. I’m so used to wiping my sons’ mouths that I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing. It’s an automatic response, I suppose.”

She relaxed her fixed stare, finished chewing and swallowed. “Trust me. I understand.” Her eyes dimmed, and her gaze suddenly fell to his untouched pie. “Aren’t you going to eat your pie?”

Confused about the sadness in her eyes and the abrupt change of subject, it took him a second before he realized what she had asked. His attention drizzled to his full plate, then over to her empty one. “Why? You want it?”

She licked her lips, a gesture that lit a spark inside him. He yanked his focus onto his plate and suddenly became very interested in his pie, devouring it within minutes.

“I guess that means yes.” Her smiling eyes danced with amusement.

He couldn’t help but smile, too. He sat back in his chair and patted his flat stomach. Something so uncharacteristic of him to do, but Abby brought out the playful side of him, just like his Allison had. Stop comparing her with Allison. He cleared his throat. “Sure was.”

They finished their drinks, talking about the weather, the mountains and nothing else of consequence, and then they headed back to her place.

He pulled his buggy in front of her mansion and stopped. He jumped out and went around the side of the buggy to help her down. Their hands connected, and the spark flew into him again. This was going to be a long three months.

* * *

Abby ignored the heat that ran up her arm when Harrison’s hand clutched hers. Soon as her feet touched the ground, the man yanked his hand from hers and stepped back. His abrupt action shocked her, but she shrugged it off. No time to worry about what had just happened; she had a business to build. And nothing, not even the charming, handsome Harrison Kingsley would stop her. She hoped. “Would you like to come inside?”

His brows pulled together.

“To discuss business. The sooner we get started, the sooner I—we—can open.”

He removed his pocket fob watch and flipped the gold H K engraved cover open. After a quick glance at it, with a click he snapped the lid shut and nestled it back into his pocket. “I told my boys I’d take them to lunch today. It’s still early. So yes, we can do that.”

“Wonderful.”

Up the mansion stairs they went.

Zoé met them at the door and took Abby’s wrap and Harrison’s chapeau. They made their way to the parlor.

Before sitting down next to him on the settee, she retrieved her writing tablet containing all her notes, along with a fountain pen. “Would you care for something to drink?”

“No, thank you. But if you do, please go ahead.”

“I don’t care for anything, either.” She smiled at him and shifted her knees his direction, careful to not touch his. “First of all, we need to hire a carpenter. I had Colette put up an advertisement on the bulletin board, but someone took it from her. If we don’t hear from whoever that was today, I thought we could put up another ad and ask around town to see if anyone knew of someone who could get the job done in the next couple of months.” How strange it felt to keep saying we. It had always been I up until today. In an even stranger way, it sounded nice.

She never thought she would admit something like this to herself, but truth be told, she liked having a partner. Oh, not just any ol’ partner, of course, but one particular strong-figure-of-a-man sitting next to her. Close enough in fact that she could detect the scent of lemon spice and something entirely masculine.

Something about the man awakened her senses to a new height and made her want to... No. No romantic thoughts allowed, Abigail. That’s what she called herself when she needed a good talking to. She shook all thoughts of romance from her head and reminded herself that no man wanted a woman who couldn’t bear children. Besides, Harrison would be leaving soon. And she’d do well to remember that, too.

“You all right, Abby?”

Her gaze darted to his. She waved her hand. “Oh. Yes. Yes. I’m fine. Now, where were we?”

“We were discussing—” Harrison stopped talking; his attention was toward the door of the parlor.

Abby shifted in the settee to see what he was looking at.

“Forgive me for intruding, mademoiselle. But there is a gentleman here to see you,” Zoé said.

“Thank you, Zoé. Send him in, please.”

“Very well.” Zoé left.

Abby twisted back in her chair. “I wonder who that could be. Hopefully the mayor didn’t change his mind again.” Abby tugged on her lip with her fingertips.

“In here, if you would, please, sir.”

Abby turned in time to see Zoé make a motioning gesture with her hand.

In stepped a man she’d never seen before.

She and Harrison stood at the same time.

“Miss Abby. This is Mr. Fletcher Martin.” Zoé presented him to her.

The man strode over to Abby. He towered over her by at least a foot. “Ma’am.” He extended his hand.

Abby accepted the gesture. Rough calluses met her hand when she did. With a sweep of her hand toward Harrison, Abby introduced him. “This is Mr. Kingsley. Harrison Kingsley.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kingsley,” Mr. Martin said.

Two large, very masculine hands met in between them.

From the corner of her eye, Abby noticed Zoé standing by the door with her hands clasped in front of her, looking around uncomfortably. “Thank you, Zoé. You can go now.” She sent her a smile, one filled with appreciation.

Zoé relaxed and smiled. She turned and left the room with a scurry in her step.

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