Cooking Up Love (12 page)

Chapter 20

A
dam froze as Tabby crossed the street. Now that he’d made up his mind to propose, he found his tongue as tied as the bow on the box he carried.

The hem of her royal blue skirt blew in the autumn wind. The breeze teased at strands of hair fallen free of her hat. She made the prettiest picture he’d ever seen.

He almost dropped the box of chocolates he’d purchased. He wanted to give her something when he told her of his feelings, and there were no flowers left from summer. The ring he someday intended to give to his bride was safe in his mother’s hands. If he bought a woman other than his wife an article of clothing, his mother would arrive on the next train to kick his behind. Candy should be safe enough, and he knew Tabby enjoyed chocolate.

A large gust almost blew her hat from her head, and she reached up to hold it in place. With the other hand clutching her reticule, she increased her pace until she disappeared into the restaurant.

The urge to dash after her left him breathless. Soon, he’d tell her of his love and about Marilyn. Surely, she already knew about his feelings and would accept his offer of marriage.

His steps faltered. His heart skipped a beat. She could very possibly say no. Maybe all the signs he’d given her were only in his imagination. His palms sweated, leaving smudges on the candy box.

Images of Marilyn on her deathbed, face pale and drawn, filled his mind. He shook away the thoughts. He could keep Tabby safe in California. She was small but had already proven hardier than Marilyn, whose frail beauty had been no match for farm life.

Again, he reminded himself that Tabby’s life belonged to God. He could only do his best with the gifts given to him. He entered the restaurant and searched the main dining room. When he didn’t see her there, he headed to the kitchen.

Tabby stood in the corner, folding tablecloths. He grinned. The woman couldn’t be still for a moment. With her having arrived only moments before, he thought for sure she might relax a little. Possibly somewhere quiet where they could converse in private.

“Welcome back.” The box dented where he clutched it. He relaxed his grip. “May I speak with you outside for a moment?”

“Certainly.” She set the starched coverings on the counter and brushed past him, leaving the fresh scent of rose toilet water in her wake. Her manner was a bit cool, not that he blamed her after all. He hadn’t had the nerve to see her off at the station. Instead, he’d hidden like a small boy from a scolding.

Nerves already on edge, they twanged now with the brush of her skirts against his leg. Once outside, he took a deep breath and thrust the candy at her. “I bought these for you.”

She accepted the gift. “Thank you.” Her eyes widened. “Did you sit on it? The box is crushed.”

His neck heated. “No, just a too-tight grip.” He rubbed the back of his head where it met his neck, trying in vain to release the tension. “I’m sorry, Tabby, for not being at the station the other day, but...”

“It’s no problem.” She averted her gaze. “Please don’t concern yourself.”

“But it is.” He laid a hand on top of hers.

She clamped her lips and stepped back. “We’ve gone over this, Adam, until I can’t breathe with it.”

“I was hoping you’d...”

“Chef.” One of the kitchen helpers called through the open window. “I think something’s burning. Well, maybe not burning, but rather boiling over.”

“Well, take it off the stove.” Must he do everything? He turned back to Tabby. “I need...”

“It’s the soup for lunch, and it’s running onto the floor.”

“Go,” Tabby said. “You’re needed. Thank you very much for the chocolates. I will enjoy every piece.” Her eyes softened. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

“Uh.” Hopefully, the note nestled inside the box would work on her heart until they could talk uninterrupted.

He barged into the kitchen where golden chicken broth spilled over a pan and onto the floor. “Did no one notice before it reached this point?” He refused to become one of those temperamental chefs clichés were made of, but when a man had intentions to propose to a beautiful woman, he did not want to be disturbed with kitchen disasters.

With a snap of his fingers, two busboys grabbed rags and knelt to wipe up the mess. Adam turned down the heat on the stove, donned his apron and prepared his mind to focus on the task at hand. “We need more broth to replace what boiled over. Someone check the bread so it doesn’t burn. We don’t need to add another fiasco to the morning.”

Some days he wondered why he bothered with help at all.

* * *

Tabby set the candy behind the lunch counter. If not for the timely interruption, she feared what Adam wanted to say to her, and how she would have to break his heart again. She hadn’t made her decision yet about whether to renew her contract. Did she want to be one of those girls who threw away the promise of independence and placed her trust in a man? Could she?

She covered her face with her hands. Why was the decision so hard? Either she wanted Adam or she didn’t. Her flip-flopping wasn’t fair to either of them. Oh, why couldn’t a woman have both a family and a career? Something other than just a husband to give her value?

Three cowboys sauntered into the restaurant, pulling her thoughts away from Adam. They plunked down at a table assigned to her and carried on a loud conversation, colored by cursing, with each other.

The manager, Mr. Richardson, rushed to their table. “Please, gentlemen, lower your voices. There are children present.”

One of the men, a tall bulky man with a dark beard, leaned his chair back on two legs. “Looks like they might be addin’ to their vocabulary before we’re gone. How long does it take to get any grub around here? We wanted to eat over at the saloon but their cook is out sick.”

Tabby wished they’d stayed away. She grabbed some menus, took a deep breath, and marched in their direction. “Welcome to Harvey’s. How may I serve you?”

“Hey, pretty thang!” Dark Beard grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her onto his lap.

“This is not that type of establishment.” She elbowed him in the nose, wincing at the sound of a crunch, and yanked free. Why didn’t Mr. Richardson refuse them service? Surely, he didn’t expect her to take these ruffians’ orders.

The man laughed and grabbed for a napkin to stop his nose from bleeding down his shirtfront. “A real fiery filly. We might have to come here more often, boys. The scenery is a bit more classy than our usual haunt.”

“I think not.” Tabby tossed the menus on the table and whirled to leave.

Dark Beard grabbed her apron ties and tugged. “Eat with us. The saloon gals do.”

“Leave her be or answer to me.” Adam stood with fists clenched and a muscle ticking in his jaw. His narrowed eyes and dark tone showed he meant business.

Grateful for the diversion he caused, Tabby tore from the man’s grasp and dashed around the counter.

One family stood from their table and hurried from the restaurant without waiting for their food. Another man placed himself in front of the woman with him.

“You talking to me, fancy boy?” Dark Beard shoved Adam into a nearby table, sending plates of salad crashing to the floor.

Someone screamed.

One of Dark Beard’s buddies pulled a gun from his waistband.

Adam came up swinging, and connected a right hook to Dark Beard’s jaw. The man cursed and wrapped his arms around Adam’s middle, taking him to the floor in a huddle of cursing, flying fists and flailing legs.

The gunman stepped around the table and headed toward the brawling men. Tabby clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. Adam was in trouble, with no one to come to his aid.

She grabbed the pistol under the lunch counter and circled the room. She needed to be where the customers would not be in the line of fire should she need to pull the trigger. Oh, she hoped things wouldn’t come to that. She wasn’t a very good shot.

“Stop right there.” She planted her feet shoulder width apart and aimed the gun at the gunman. “I’m warning you.”

The men continued to fight. The man with the weapon inched closer, his hand raised to land a blow to Adam’s head. “Stop, cook boy, or I’ll knock you across the room. I said stop.” He fired into the ceiling, raining plaster.

A child cried, and people crowded the front doors.

“Please!” Mr. Richardson raised his hands. “This is not the place for this. Mr. Foster, I insist you get up.”

The gunman whacked the restaurant manager behind the ear. He collapsed to his knees then scrambled for cover under a table.

Tabby’s hand shook. She needed to stop the craziness before someone was seriously injured. She could shoot, but not very well. She needed to aim to the left of... She pulled the trigger and staggered back, blasting a hole in the lunch counter.

Time froze.

Adam shoved his assailant off of him. Dark Beard lost the battle to keep his shirt blood-free, and the stunned gunman turned to face Tabby. She lifted her chin and aimed the gun in a more direct line to a spot on his stained vest.

“Hey, little lady, I wasn’t really going to shoot anyone.”

“That’s a sure thing now.” She fought to keep her hands from shaking. “Drop the gun and kick it toward me.”

Adam moved to her side. “Let me have that.” He pried her fingers off the weapon, the corner of his mouth twitching. With the back of his other hand, he wiped blood from his lip.

Later, she’d find out what he considered so funny. In the meantime, she was too busy trying not to vomit. She moved behind the counter and slid to the floor. Light shone through the bullet hole in the wood counter. Miraculously, none of the lunch girls was injured by flying splinters. Tabby couldn’t say the same for Adam’s gift.

It lay in blasted bits of chocolate and white cardboard. The pretty blue ribbon dangled from a shelf like a forgotten ornament. Tabby’s emotions lay as shattered as the candy.

Adam could have died that day, and she still didn’t have the courage to tell him she loved him. She loved him!

She was a fool.

Tabby folded her arms on her knees, laid her forehead on her arms and sobbed.

Chapter 21

A
dam knelt among the shattered dishes and chocolate and pulled Tabby’s hands from her face. “Darling, are you hurt?”

“No.” She sniffed and looked up. “But you are.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his lip. “I thought those men were going to kill you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are they gone?”

“Carted off by the sheriff.” Adam sat back. “You sure were something to see, standing up to those ruffians. I’m not sure you needed me.”

“My legs are trembling so bad, I don’t think I can stand.”

He chuckled. “Then don’t. Sit here with me and relax a moment.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You look amused again. What was so funny when I fired the gun?”

“The look on the men’s faces. For them to be stood up to by a little bit of a woman most likely damaged their egos beyond repair.” And almost gave Adam a heart attack in the process. When he’d seen Tabby being manhandled, then standing up to the men, he thought he’d die.

Despite his worry, he wanted to ask whether she’d read the note inside the box where he expressed his undying love and asked her to be his wife. As skittish as she was about the subject, and after the way she skirted around the issue every time he hinted at marriage, he thought maybe a note would allow her time to think about what she wanted before she answered. He doubted either one of them could find the note in the wreckage from her misplaced shot.

Maybe he should ask her, anyway. Spill his guts and profess his love. Yet something held him back. A voice told him to wait.

Tears still streamed down Tabby’s face. Adam cupped her face and thumbed away the tears. “What’s wrong? The danger is over. I’m here, safe and sound.”

“I feel as if my dreams are as shattered as the dishes around me, as crushed as the candy I’m sitting in, and there’s no one I can discuss them with.”

“Me.” A fist gripped his heart. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

She shook her head. “You’re the cause, Adam, don’t you understand?” She pulled free and pushed to her feet. “You’re at the root of all the emotions coursing through me.”

He tugged her back to her knees. “Please.” He pulled her close, claiming her lips, taking what he feared he’d never get again: a moment of love, of sweetness, of passion. “Come with me to California. Marry me. I leave in the morning.”

“I can’t.” She sobbed. “I’m sorry.” With one last tear-filled gaze, she straightened and dashed for the door.

Adam’s heart lay in as many pieces as the crockery. What held her back? Surely she saw him as an honorable man by now. She certainly knew he loved her, didn’t she? He slid against the wall, his legs splayed in front of him.

There’d been no heartache or heavy pursuing with Marilyn. Growing up together, they knew for years they would wed. After her death, Adam didn’t think another woman could claim his heart. Now, he’d lost his heart to a woman who didn’t want his love. He wanted to sob as hard as Tabby had.

Instead, he got to his feet with the speed of a tortoise. He had packing to do, and his family would arrive in the morning to travel with him. How disappointed Ma would be when a future bride didn’t grace his arm when he greeted them.

He needed to let Tabby go.

* * *

Tabby patted some color into her cheeks and frowned at the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep the night before had left her cranky and dry-eyed. Knowing Adam was on his way out of Topeka, out of her life, left her feeling as if life had no meaning. She could very well be the loneliest woman on the planet. She shrugged at her dramatics and grabbed her reticule.

After the fiasco in the restaurant the day before, Miss O’Connor gave Tabby the day off to recover, and she planned to go shopping. One of the girls told her the mercantile got in a new shipment of women’s apparel, and Tabby hoped shopping for a new pair of boots and a ready-made dress would bolster her spirits. She’d made her choice to give up Adam; now she had to live with the decision despite the pain.

She ran her fingers over her lips, feeling his kiss. What would happen if she ran after him? Threw away everything she’d worked for and planned? Would that really be so awful? Did Adam really want a woman such as her by his side while he opened his own restaurant?

Absolutely not. He had no idea what he asked of her. She stilled. He’d asked her to marry him. She’d assumed it before from his kiss. She’d told him no and run like a frightened rabbit. The final look he’d cast on her left her heart bleeding and broken. His love had shown through and pierced her.

But Adam had a family, loving parents. He’d see through her insecurities living and working side by side and wish he’d never wed her. He spoke of his first wife with pride. Tabby didn’t know how to be a wife, a sister, a daughter-in-law.

She fell back onto the bed. All she knew how to be was a lonely child. Fresh tears welled. She thought she’d cried them all out the night before as she lay staring into the darkness of her room.

Approaching footsteps caused her to wipe her eyes and bolt from the bed. She marched from the room, down the stairs and into sunshine that belied the shadow in her heart.

Her boot heels pounded the sidewalk as she hurried toward the mercantile. A box of chocolates, with a blue ribbon, might improve her mood. She’d gaze upon it and remember the moment Adam put one like it in her hands, and she’d dream of telling him yes instead of no.

What flavor of creams had he chosen? She wouldn’t be able to duplicate it exactly without knowing. Had he purchased chocolates and vanilla or an assortment? She sagged against a wrought iron bench. A new box wouldn’t be the same no matter how hard she tried to make it look identical.

Plastering a smile on her face, she shook off her melancholy mood and pushed through the mercantile doors. A young lady with light-colored hair and an older woman who looked every bit like the girl’s mother glanced over their shoulders and smiled a greeting. The two waited while the shopkeeper wrapped their packages in brown paper.

Tabby nodded and headed for the shoes. She’d purchase some sort of candy when the counter cleared. Maybe a peppermint stick or lemon drop. Those were as far from chocolates as possible.

A pair of white lace-up boots with a one-inch heel screamed her name. She grabbed them to her chest and almost squealed in delight until she recognized their impracticalness. The boots were clearly meant for a bride or a nonworking lady. Something she might never be. She set them back on the shelf and moved to the black pairs.

“Those white ones are beautiful, aren’t they?” Tabby turned to see the woman from the counter standing beside her.

“Yes they are, but not practical for a Harvey Girl.”

“How do you enjoy that profession?” The woman cocked her head to the side as if she were truly interested in Tabby’s answer.

“I enjoy my job very much.” She braced herself for ridicule.

“I’m Mary, dear. What’s your name?”

Something about the woman invited friendship, confidence. So did the welcoming grin of the younger woman. Together, they put Tabby at ease. “I’m Tabitha McClelland.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you. I can’t help but notice the sad look in your eyes. Is there something I can do to help? We’re leaving soon, but there’s always time to pray.”

“Most likely no one can help me.” Why would a complete stranger want to help her? Why did Tabby find herself answering the personal questions? Maybe that was the draw. She could speak freely to a woman she would never see again.

“I had a choice to make—between love and a career.” Tabby reached toward the spools of lace and twisted a strand of ivory around her fingers. “I’m not sure I made the right decision. Not that there is anything I could do, anyway. I’m under contract for another month, and my work ethic won’t allow me to quit before then. I’m afraid it’s too late to even contemplate another decision.”

“It’s never too late.” Mary patted her hand. “Do you care for this young man?”

“Very much.”

“What does God tell you? Have you asked His will for your life?”

Tabby froze. “No.”

Not once had she stopped and asked what God wanted her to do. She had needed a job, so she found one. Her life was horrible, so she started a new one. Not once did she stop and ask whether God had sent Adam to her. “I should probably do that right away.”

“Most definitely.” Mary shoved the boots into her hands. “And buy the boots, even if they are white. If a girl’s got extra money, she can’t ever go wrong with a pair of nice boots. And that light blue dress in the window would look absolutely beautiful on you. Life is too short. Treat yourself and enjoy.” She turned to the younger woman. “Come along, Daphne. Your pa is waiting.” Mary and her daughter sailed out the front door.

Daphne? The same Daphne who sent Adam a telegram saying his mother was ill? It couldn’t be. Tabby’s knees weakened. Had she spoken with Adam’s mother just moments before? That meant he was still in town. Her heart leaped.

Dropping the boots, Tabby lifted her skirts and dashed into the street. The women were nowhere to be found. Neither was Adam. Oh, Lord, which way could they have gone? Tears stung her eyes. She’d missed her chance again to tell Adam of her true feelings.

The white steeple of the church rose in the distance. Seek God’s will? She’d do it now. She’d storm heaven’s gate for an answer. Yet somewhere in her heart, she felt she already knew what God would tell her.

The church sanctuary welcomed her with a quiet peace. Tabby made her way to the front row, sat on the polished pew, and then fixed her gaze on the simple wood cross on the wall.

“What would You have me do, God?” She folded her hands in her lap. “I love Adam. I will admit that now, and it may be too late. Am I so broken that I’m unable to accept love from a man?” She uttered the last words with a sob, forcing them through a clogged throat.

The light through the window cast a lilac shadow on the wall by the time Tabby stood. Filled with peace, she knew the path she would take. She blew a kiss at the cross and almost skipped out the door.

It might be a month before she could act on her decision, but if she worked hard, time would fly. And first thing in the morning, she’d head to the mercantile to buy the white boots and blue dress.