Читать книгу A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal - Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 14
Оглавление“PLEASE, DADDY, can we stay with you?”
“Sorry, son.” Owen gave Cody’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He and his kids stood in the parlor, waiting for Nora. “I’ve got to work.”
Not work exactly. It was, however, the simplest explanation and one his kids were used to hearing.
His attendance at the open house wasn’t mandatory. The brochures on display in the foyer mentioned an on-staff minister as one of the many services offered at Sweetheart Ranch. No need for the temporary wedding officiator to make a personal appearance.
But after spending half the morning helping Molly, her sister and Nora finish readying the downstairs public rooms, he felt invested in the open house and wanted to see the outcome for himself.
With both of them wanting to attend, he and Nora had struck a deal. She’d watch the kids for the first half of the open house, and then Owen would relieve her so that she could enjoy the second half. She’d insisted she didn’t mind, and Owen had begun to suspect the elderly woman had a real soft spot where kids were concerned.
“I’ll be good,” Cody whined, hanging on Owen’s arm.
He’d heard that promise before. Most recently this morning on the drive to Sweetheart Ranch from their mother’s house. Cody had started a fight with Marisa two miles into the trip. Owen couldn’t risk another incident ensuing during the open house. Molly and her sister were stressed enough as it was.
At least the girls were behaving, Owen thought. They’d taken a shine to Nora rather quickly. Possibly because they were young, and she reminded them a little of their mom’s neighbor who occasionally watched the kids.
No fooling Cody, though. He still suspected Nora might be a witch and shied away from her.
“We talked earlier,” Owen reminded Cody, determined to remain patient. His children had been through a lot for one day. They’d been separated from their mom and beloved dog, were living in a new place, sleeping on an unfamiliar bed, and had been left in the care of a father they’d seen only four times in the last three months.
Everything would be different soon, and Owen had his ex-wife, Jeanne, to thank for that. She’d been resistant at first, and he’d hesitated involving his lawyer to enforce their shared custody agreement. Taking a different approach, he’d convinced her the arrangement benefited them both. Owen got the chance to right past wrongs while Jeanne and her new boyfriend were able to have some alone time and go off on a short trip. Take-home lessons from Cody’s kindergarten teacher for the missed week of school had sealed the deal.
Now Owen needed to make the most of the opportunity and not screw up.
“When I’m working,” he said, “Miss Nora will watch you.”
“I wanna go to the party.” Cody screwed his face into a scowl.
Owen regretted describing the open house as a party. Cody was no doubt thinking games and prizes and cake and ice cream.
“The open house is for grown-ups.”
“She’s not a grown-up.” Cody pointed to Nora’s granddaughter Tracee, who’d been hired to serve refreshments and clean up afterward.
“She’s fifteen,” Owen said. “Plus, she’s working. That’s different.”
“Not fair.” Cody’s voice had gained considerable volume.
Nora came to the rescue. “How about you, me and your sisters go to the kitchen? I happen to know where there’s a secret stash of fresh-baked cookies. If your dad says it’s okay, you can have one.”
Owen felt compelled to warn Nora about his kids on a sugar high. “You might want to take them to the cabin afterward. Let them burn off their excess energy.”
“I was thinking along the lines of the clubhouse first and then an afternoon nap.” She rested a hand on Willa’s downy curls. “This one for sure is going to need some downtime.”
“I’m too old for naps,” Cody insisted.
Owen checked the arched entranceway leading to the foyer. No guests had arrived yet, which was a relief. His son was on the brink of throwing a fit.
“You don’t have to lie down,” he told Cody. “But you do need to behave for Miss Nora and can’t make noise while your sisters sleep.” He turned to Nora. “Their mom packed some games and movies and his truck collection.”
“Come on.” She captured the girls’ hands. “First cookies and perhaps a glass of milk to wash them down. After that, if you’re good, we’ll play a game of Ping-Pong or how about croquet?”
“What’s that?” Cody asked.
“You hit a ball with a mallet through little hoops.”
The idea of hitting balls clearly intrigued Cody, though he stubbornly held his ground.
“I’ll let you watch a movie while your sisters nap.”
“Which movie?” Won over at last, Cody reluctantly followed Nora and his sisters toward the kitchen.
“What one’s your favorite?”
“My Little Pony,” Marisa squealed with glee and skipped ahead.
“No.” Cody slapped his forehead in very adult frustration. “Not that one again.”
The remainder of their conversation was cut off when they disappeared around the corner. Owen was thinking he could learn a lot from Nora when Molly suddenly entered the room. Good thing he was alone. That way, no one witnessed his jaw going slack at the sight of her.
She looked amazing. Not that she hadn’t been pretty in her jeans and T-shirt. But the pale knit dress she wore and the way her soft, wavy hair framed her face elevated her appeal to a whole new level. She was, quite simply, lovely, and Owen felt his heartstrings stir.
Granted, Molly had a few funny idiosyncrasies. Like the way she flitted around the room, obsessing over the placement of coasters or holding her splayed fingers above her head to test the airflow from the AC ducts. Funny, but also amusing and sort of endearing. He could only assume those former husbands of hers were idiots for letting her go.
“Easy does it,” he muttered under his breath. He was here to restore his faltering relationship with his children. Not find his next romantic interest.
Must be Sweetheart Ranch. There was something about a place where love abounded. Hard to steel oneself against the effects.
“Thanks for your help earlier.”
Owen gave a start. Where had Molly come from? Last he’d seen, she’d been straightening pictures that didn’t need straightening and refanning the precisely fanned napkins.
“My pleasure,” he said, trying not to stare.
“And thanks for coming this afternoon. People will enjoy meeting you.”
“Do I look minister-y enough? I wasn’t sure what to wear. Marisa picked this.” He tugged on the hem of his leather vest, a recent gift from his mother. The brand for his brothers’ ranch was burned on the front. “Not sure I should rely on the opinion of a three-year-old.”
“Three-and-a-half,” Molly corrected him. “She was quite adamant about that when we were wiping down the folding chairs.”
“Six months is important when you’re her age.”
“She’s cute. All your kids are.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. Any good genes they got came from their mother.”
Molly studied him at length, long enough for him to feel the effects. “I think they take after you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
She didn’t answer, fussing with an imaginary wrinkle on her dress.
Owen suppressed a chuckle. She liked him. Liked his looks, anyway.
“Having planned two of your own weddings must come in handy for being in a wedding coordinator.” He admitted to himself that he was fishing for information.
Molly took the bait. “I’ve never been married.”
“No?”
“I was engaged twice and, as Nora mentioned, I did the planning.”
But had broken off the engagements, evidently. “What happened, can I ask?”
She drew in a breath. “No offense, Owen, but I have no desire to share details with you about our pasts.”
“No offense taken.” He agreed the timing was bad and shifted gears. “This house is incredible.”
Molly visibly relaxed. “It was built in the late 1800s by my great-great-grandparents. They came to Arizona from back east and were one of the original families to settle in the Mustang Valley.”
“You have deep roots here.”
“Very deep. Growing up, Bridget and I spent every summer with our grandparents. They owned the local inn and put us to work as soon as we were big enough to push a laundry cart and kept us working part-time all through high school and college.”
“Nothing like learning the business from a young age.” Owen could boast a similar experience. He’d come from a rodeo family going back three generations. “Where’d you work before coming here?”
“For a couple different big hotel chains.”
“Which ones? I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels.”
“I like working for a family business much better. It’s hard but the rewards are worth it.”
She’d purposefully avoided answering his question. Owen was curious why but didn’t press her.
“There’s a lot to be said for being your own boss. Can’t say the idea hasn’t occurred to me.” He’d spent a few interesting hours researching.
“What kind of business appeals to you?” Molly asked.
“Retail. Sales. Something along those lines.”
“Because that’s where your talent lies.”
He winked. “One of them.”
She glanced away, sending a very clear message. She didn’t welcome his flirting.
Owen curbed his impulses. Being friendly was part of what had made him a top-earning salesman, but he’d gone one step too far with Molly.
“I tend to talk a lot,” he confessed. “But I’m also a good listener. Two traits that might come in handy while covering for Uncle Homer.”
“People do love to talk about their weddings.”
The sound of the front door opening alerted them to the arrival of guests. Molly went instantly into hostess mode, rushing to the foyer to greet them and take their coats. Escorting them to the parlor, she pointed out the refreshments and introduced them to Owen, using his uncle as an ice breaker.
Here, he was in his element and easily launched into polite conversation. An hour into the open house, he was recruited to talk to the TV reporter. Having done interviews during his rodeo days, he was comfortable in front of a camera as well. During all the mingling and schmoozing, he kept an eye on Molly, watching her as she gracefully moved from person to person. No one went without beverages or hors d’oeuvres if she could help it. Judging by the many compliments he overheard, the open house was a huge success.
He was just thinking it was time to go to the cabin and swap babysitting duties with Nora when Molly appeared beside him.
“Have you practiced for tonight’s wedding?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Do you think you should?”
“Do you?” In truth, he’d planned on winging it. That had worked just fine when his buddy got hitched.
“I watched the video earlier of the wedding you officiated.”
“How? Where?”
“I Googled you. Your friends have a wedding website. The video’s posted there.”
“That’s right.” He’d forgotten.
“You were a bit...unrehearsed.”
“We improvised.” And they’d all enjoyed a good laugh afterward at those unrehearsed moments.
“I don’t recommend improvising again. Not to nitpick, but this is our very first wedding. We have a lot riding on it.”
“Uncle Homer left me copies of a few of his more popular ceremonies.”
“Notes are okay. Just try not to appear like you’re reading from them. Glance up at the couple and out at the guests. Make eye contact. Humor is great, too. A touch will help put the couple at ease. But don’t go overboard, or you’ll spoil the ceremony. Be earnest and sincere and, most of all, likable. This is a once in a lifetime experience for the bride, the groom and their families. Our job is to make it special and memorable and perfect.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Owen’s stomach started to tighten. He hadn’t been nervous until now.
“Don’t forget to smile, though not too much, at the appropriate intervals. And stand up straight. You’ll be filmed and photographed the entire time.”
Owen squared his shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Had he slouched before?
“Remember to speak clearly and project.”
“Got it.”
He tugged on his shirt collar. When he’d officiated at his buddy’s wedding, most of the guests had been his friends, too. People he’d known for years if not his whole life. The wedding, a casual affair, had taken place at a nearby park and the reception had been held in the couple’s backyard.
No one had complained about Owen’s posture or warned him not to crack too many jokes. Of course, they hadn’t paid a fee for his services. His job at Sweetheart Ranch included compensation in the form of room and board and childcare, and he’d do well to take it seriously. Molly was giving him sound advice.
“Maybe we should try a dry run,” he said. “Will we have time before the ceremony?”
“I won’t.” She debated a moment. “There’s a full-length mirror in the groom’s dressing room off the chapel. You might practice reciting your lines in front of that.”
“Good idea.”
“Be done by four thirty sharp. That’s when the wedding party’s arriving. Oh, and stick close after the ceremony to meet guests. Also plan on attending the reception if the couple invites you. You don’t have to stay past the toast.”
Any more requirements and he’d need a list to keep track. “Where will you be?”
“Hovering in the background in case there’s a problem and praying everything goes well.”
The load on her shoulders was growing heavier. He could say the same for himself.
Had he made a mistake by agreeing to substitute for Uncle Homer? In any case, it was too late now to back out.
* * *
“HELLO! PLEASE COME IN.” Molly welcomed the bride and her entourage, ushering them through the foyer. “We’re so happy to have you.”
“We need to hurry,” the bride exclaimed, her face flushed with excitement. “My fiancé’s ten minutes behind us. I don’t want him to see me before the ceremony.”
“Follow me.” Molly escorted them down the hall.
The bride, her hair arranged in an upsweep, juggled several bags and cases, including one for cosmetics and one for shoes. A middle-aged woman wearing a tasteful mother-of-the-bride dress carried a voluminous garment bag raised high so as not to drag on the floor. The maid of honor also carried a garment bag, hers considerably less voluminous but guarded with equal care.
As the group passed by the chapel on their way to the bride’s dressing room, Molly crossed her fingers, willing the bride not to notice the orange roses.
“Mom, look at the flowers!”
Uh-oh.
“They’re gorgeous,” her mother gushed and everyone came to a standstill. “Absolutely stunning.”
They were? More oohing and aahing followed, and Molly breathed a little easier.
“Just like you,” the mother said, her eyes misting as she reached out a hand to pinch her daughter’s chin. Molly doubted these were the first tears shed today, nor would they be the last.
At the dressing room door, she stopped and handed the bride a small black pager. “If you need me, just press the green button.” A matching device was clipped to her pocket.
“We hate to bother you right from the start...” The maid of honor tilted her head appealingly. “Do you have any food we can snack on? We’re not particular.”
“I haven’t eaten all day,” the bride admitted. “I’ve been too nervous.”
Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t have her passing out from hunger.”
“No problem.” Molly smiled graciously. “I’ll bring something right away.”
“Low-cal, please.” The bride patted her waist. “I can’t afford to gain a single ounce if I hope to fit into my dress.”
Molly ducked out of the room.
There were plenty of leftovers from the open house. She’d prepare a selection of fresh fruit and yogurt dip and finger sandwiches. That should satisfy the bride.
Molly hurried through the parlor, now empty except for Nora’s granddaughter Tracee who was pushing a vacuum. Every last trace of the open house had been removed and the buffet freshly set for the reception.
Right now, Sweetheart Ranch didn’t offer catering services beyond a cake, nonalcoholic punch and a continental breakfast. If couples chose, they could bring their own champagne and hors d’oeuvres. One day, if the ranch did well and turned a decent profit, they hoped to offer light catering. Bridget was already planning ahead.
One step at a time, Molly told herself. For now, guests would come to the main house between 7:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. for some of Bridget’s incredible homemade croissants, breads, pastries and jams. Yet another ranch specialty was a honeymoon breakfast prepared to order for the couple the morning after their wedding and delivered to their cabin as late as noon. Until then, they wouldn’t be disturbed.
“Hey, the bride’s here,” Molly announced upon entering the kitchen. “She and the others are in the dressing room. The groom’s on his way.”
“Our first wedding. Now we’re really and truly open for business.” Bridget fussed over the cake, adding a tiny flower here and smoothing a patch of icing there.
Molly removed a clean platter from the rack and began loading it with leftovers.
“Hungry?” Nora asked.
Temporarily relieved of her babysitting duties, the older woman had returned to the house for a short break and a quick bite. She’d be back on the clock, so to speak, during the wedding when she’d resume care of Owen’s children.
“This is for the bride and her entourage,” Molly explained. “They’re hungry and requested a snack.”
“You must be happy. The open house was a huge success.”
“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled. Not a single hitch.” Molly couldn’t believe their good fortune.
“You two worked your tails off.” Nora tore off a piece of her quesadilla. “Have you talked to your grandmother yet? I bet she’s bursting with pride.”
“For two minutes. I promised to call her later when we weren’t so busy.”
More people had attended the open house than expected. Along with potential clients researching wedding venues, several locals had shown up to lend their support. There had also been a large number of curious folks who’d heard or read about the ranch and wanted to see for themselves.
During a free moment, Molly had sought out their neighbor, the owner of Powell Ranch, and proposed an idea of cross-promoting. He’d seemed interested and had told her to call him later in the week. The owner of the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill had heard them chatting and asked Molly to include her as well.
The best part had been the many compliments and well wishes. By the time the crowd had started thinning at around three thirty, Molly was walking on air. With everyone gone, however, exhaustion had set in. She longed to rest her aching feet but at the pace she was going, that wasn’t likely.
She loaded strawberries, blackberries, apple slices and finger sandwiches on the platter while Nora prattled on about the open house. At the mention of Owen’s name, Molly paused.
“He quite enjoyed himself,” Nora said.
“He’s prejudiced.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The TV reporter made a big fuss over him. Did a whole seven-minute segment with him alone.” Molly would have quite enjoyed herself, too.
“Can you blame her?”
“He’s just the minister. A temporary, online minister at that. Bridget and I are the owners, and we only got three-minute interviews.”
“You timed the reporter?” Bridget asked in amazement.
“I happen to glance at the mantel clock.” Molly waved her sister away. “The point is we’re Sweetheart Ranch. You and I. Owen is hired help.”
“Maybe you got three minutes. My interview was longer than that.” Bridget disappeared inside the walk-in pantry.
Okay, now Molly was good and miffed. Apparently, she was the least interesting person on staff at the ranch.
“Owen’s the kind of man who draws attention,” Nora observed. “He has that quality about him.”
“He is scrumptious,” Bridget remarked, returning from the cooler. “With a great smile.”
“Don’t forget well built.” Nora fanned herself. “My, my.”
Molly huffed. “You two are being ridiculous.”
“Am I wrong?” Nora appealed to Bridget.
“Not at all. If I was a female reporter, I’d spend more time interviewing Owen than anyone else.”
“The purpose of the TV interviews is to promote Sweetheart Ranch,” Molly insisted. “Not some scrumptious cowboy.”
“Ha! Then you agree with us.”
“I didn’t say that.” Except, she had.
Finished with her meal, Nora wiped her hands on a napkin. “I bet you two get all kinds of inquiries after the segment airs tonight. I set my DVR to record the show.”
“We should do that, too!” Bridget turned to Molly and waited, hands on her hips.
“What? You expect me to set the DVR?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“I have to take this food to the bride.”
“And I have to clean the kitchen.”
“Fine,” Molly grumbled and picked up the platter. “I’ll do it.”
Mindful not to drop any food in her haste, she stopped in the den and programmed the DVR—but only because her grandmother would enjoy watching the news segment when she returned from her trip.
Molly was in the middle of delivering the platter when loud male voices emanating from the foyer alerted her to the arrival of the groom and his party.
“Hurry, hurry!” The bride shooed her away.
Molly greeted the men and escorted them to the second dressing room, this one off the chapel. The groom’s parents had arrived with him. The mother quickly busied herself setting out the guest book and feather pen on the table next to the bowl of birdseed packets and placing folded programs on the pews. The groom’s sisters had brought champagne, and Molly directed them to the parlor where silver buckets filled with ice waited.
After cake and a toast, the wedding party and guests were traveling via chartered bus to a posh restaurant in north Scottsdale for a celebration dinner. They’d no doubt return late. Molly didn’t expect to see the bride and groom again until tomorrow morning. Or even later for their carriage ride around town.
Molly was debating calling Owen when he finally strolled into the chapel. He’d swapped his vest for the Western cut sports jacket he’d worn earlier, shaved off his stubble and freshly combed his dark hair. Molly had to admit, he looked the part. The groom’s sisters’ giddy reaction when they saw him confirmed it.
“You ready?” she asked.
“I think so.” He held up a sheet of paper. “I called Uncle Homer, and he gave me a few more tips.”
“Good.” She surveyed the chapel. Most of the guests had arrived and were seated. “We start in seven minutes.”
“That soon?” He swallowed.
“Relax. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget to introduce yourself to the groom before heading to the altar.” The next second, Molly’s pager vibrated. “I have to go. Good luck.” For one ridiculous second, she considered giving Owen a reassuring hug.
Coming to her senses, she sped off. The bride and whatever need had arisen topped Molly’s list.
She didn’t see Owen again until it was time for the wedding to start. Having exited the bride’s dressing room only moments before the recorded wedding march began to play, she retreated to the back of the chapel near the corner.
She wasn’t reassured to see Owen shifting anxiously from one foot to the other and tugging at his shirt collar. She tried to discreetly signal him without success.
Suddenly, music began playing, and the bride materialized at the entrance to a chorus of soft gasps. From then on, everyone’s attention was focused on her and the besotted groom. When the music stopped and they stood side by side in front of Owen, he cleared his throat. Then, he cleared it again. When he finally spoke, his voice was dry and frog-like.
“Wa...welcome, family, friends and, um, loved ones.”
Oh, no, Molly thought and clenched her fingers. Not the most impressive start.
“We’re here this evening to celebrate a wonderful occasion. No, not the opening of Sweetheart Ranch. Though, that was some humdinger of an open house earlier. Sorry you missed it.”
Molly cringed when no one laughed.
“Benjamin Carr and Jolyn Montgomery have invited you to witness their public commitment and declaration of love to each other.” Owen stared hard at the paper he held. “Gatherings such as these are important as they mark the special milestones in our lives.”
Terrific. The ceremony was sounding more like a legal proceeding than a wedding.
“Make eye contact,” she murmured under her breath. “Smile.”
He did neither, and listening to him was a painful experience.
“Ben and Jolyn, please join hands and look into each other’s eyes.” He paused. “These are the hands of your best friend. They are holding yours on your wedding day as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever.”
Okay, this wasn’t so bad. He was reciting the “Blessing of the Hands” per the bride and groom’s request. Thank goodness he was getting this part right.
Owen managed to complete the entire blessing, even smiling when he finished with, “May these hands continue to build a loving relationship that lasts a lifetime.”
Molly expelled a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. Owen messed up twice during the exchange of vows and once when the unity candles were lit.
At last, he announced, “You may kiss the bride,” and proclaimed the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Carr.
Molly waited until all the guests had expressed their best wishes to the glowing couple before approaching them. She was prepared to apologize for Owen’s lack of polish and to explain the reason for it. Except they didn’t give her a chance.
The bride pulled Molly into a fierce embrace, nearly drowning her in satin and tulle and lace. “Thank you so much. This is the best day of my life. The ceremony was wonderful. Everything I hoped for.”
It was? “I’m glad,” she replied automatically.
The bride was whisked away by her maid of honor before Molly could say more.
She blinked in amazement. Had that really just happened?
Knowing she should make her way to the parlor and check on progress for the reception, she cast a quick glance in Owen’s direction. He flashed her a grin and lifted a shoulder as if to say, “We’re home free.”
Not exactly. He might be a diamond, but he was definitely still in the rough. First thing tomorrow, the two of them were practicing. Sweetheart Ranch’s next guests were arriving at noon, and their wedding was scheduled for one o’clock. That left Molly and Owen very little time.
