Читать книгу A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 12
ОглавлениеMOLLY WALKED TO the cabins, ruthlessly zipping her jacket against the late-November chill. She shouldn’t care what Owen thought of her. She hardly knew the man. They’d met mere minutes ago. So what if he was good-looking. He had three children and was probably married.
Then again, would a husband leave his wife for a month and take the kids? She doubted it, and he wasn’t the type. Owen Caufield had responsible written all over him.
Rather than continue fuming, she directed her anger where it belonged. At Nora for blabbing what was Molly’s personal business to a complete stranger, and at her grandmother for leaving her and Bridget in this predicament. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, no less.
True, Molly would have tried to talk Grandma Em out of eloping, but that was no reason to hide her plans. As her trusted employees who were expected to cover for her, and as her granddaughters, Molly and Bridget should have been told. Had deserved to be told.
Despite what Owen said, his great-uncle must have convinced Grandma Em to elope. There was no other reasonable explanation. According to him, Grandma Em and Homer were trying to be fair. Really? There was nothing fair about excluding everyone from the wedding.
Twice Molly had come very close to walking down the aisle. Both times she couldn’t have imagined the day without her parents, sister, extended family and friends there to share in the celebration. Not having loved ones present seemed almost...a sacrilege. It was certainly selfish, inconsiderate and hurtful to those not invited.
Love makes people do crazy things.
Bridget’s words echoed in Molly’s ears as she cut through the courtyard, bypassed the gated swimming pool and clubhouse, and skirted the storage room that contained bikes, hiking equipment, lawn games and a washer and dryer for the guests’ use. She emerged on the other side at the same moment a silver pickup truck, Owen’s she presumed, proceeded slowly along the dirt lane circling the back of the ranch house.
Ahead of Molly were six cabins, spaced approximately twenty yards apart. Constructed of pine to resemble the main house built in the 1880s, the cabins were new and blissfully without quirks. Rule number one in the hospitality industry: guests didn’t like being disturbed by clanging pipes, the periodic flickering light and a furnace that grumbled like an old man.
The stables and carriage house were a short distance away. Also part of the original homestead, the twin structures had been refurbished by the same contractor who’d built the cabins. Two draft horses resided in the stables, their job to pull the wedding carriage on romantic rides through town—Sweetheart Ranch’s signature amenity for the happy couple. In addition to the carriage, the ranch also had an old farm wagon used for hayrides.
Big Jim, a semiretired wrangler from one of the many cattle ranches in the area, worked part-time for the O’Malleys. He saw to the horses’ care and drove the team. He was in the stables now, cleaning stalls in preparation for the open house, which would include tours of the cabins and the horse facilities.
Grandma Em had insisted on everything being spic-and-span. Except she wasn’t here to see it.
Molly fought against the rush of tears threatening to fall. She wasn’t about to let Owen Caufield see her cry. She was on the verge of enjoying her first successful job of a thus-far lackluster hotel administration career. Without her grandmother’s guidance and support, history might well repeat itself.
Could this be a test? Was Grandma Em attempting to determine if Molly had the necessary skills to assist managing Sweetheart Ranch and potentially take over one day? For all Molly knew, her grandmother could return tomorrow morning after the open house had bombed and tell Molly her previous employers had been right to let her go.
Failures. Her life was full of them. Failed relationships. Failed engagements. Failed jobs.
“Not this time,” Molly promised herself and headed toward cabin number six.
Owen had already parked in front of the cabin when she arrived. His son immediately jumped out of the back passenger seat and landed on his feet with a thud. He then bolted for the cabin’s shaded front stoop.
“Cody, get back here,” Owen hollered.
Molly suspected Cody misbehaving and Owen reprimanding him was a regular occurrence.
“I gotta go, Daddy. Bad.”
Ah. A bathroom emergency. Molly hurried, the key jangling in her hand. Sweetheart Ranch didn’t use plastic cards. Grandma Em had been firm on that issue. Keys enhanced the old-fashioned ambience.
“Hold on,” Molly said, glad to set her emotions aside. Climbing the stoop, she nudged Cody’s hand away. He’d been repeatedly twisting the uncooperative knob.
“If you wait a minute, I’ll be right there.” Owen had managed to lift the toddler from her car seat. His other daughter refused to stop fidgeting despite his requests, making freeing her difficult.
“It’s okay. No rush.” Molly opened the door. “I’ll watch him.”
Watch him like a hawk. She’d bet money Cody would find trouble if left unsupervised.
“You stay here,” Cody demanded and charged inside. “Going to the bathroom is private.”
“Of course.” Molly nonetheless kept an eye on him as he stomped through the front room and down the hall.
A moment later, she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Owen and the girls come inside, a cold gust following them.
“Nice.” Owen paused and surveyed the room with its overstuffed sofa, oak coffee and end tables, lamps that resembled lanterns, antique oxen yoke hanging on the wall, and lacy curtains. “Very cozy.”
“There’s a kitchenette with an under-the-counter fridge, a three-burner stove, microwave and sink.” Molly pointed out the various features with pride and satisfaction. The cabins were indeed nice, and she’d contributed significantly to their design. “The sofa is a sleeper with a queen-size mattress.”
“That’s good.” Owen let go of the girls’ hands, allowing them to explore. “I brought a portable crib for Willa. I’m thinking Cody and Marisa can sleep out here while I take the bedroom.”
“I don’t wanna sleep with Cody.” Marisa made a face and glared at the offending sofa.
“But this bed’s special,” Owen said. “It pops out of the sofa like magic.”
Marisa wasn’t mollified. “I want Oreo.”
“Oreo,” Willa agreed and dropped onto her bottom in the middle of the floor.
“Their dog,” Owen told Molly. “She sleeps in the girls’ room on Marisa’s bed.”
“I’m sorry. Only service dogs are allowed at the ranch.” Molly admired his patience with these three. They were a handful.
“Wow!” Cody exploded from the bathroom. “Daddy, come look. The tub is huge.”
“Each cabin comes with a built-in two-person spa tub,” Molly explained to Owen. “And an enclosed courtyard in back for privacy.”
“I’m intrigued.” His gaze caught hers and lingered.
Molly glanced away first but not before her heart gave an unexpected leap. Really?
She checked Owen’s left hand for a wedding ring before she could stop herself. There was none, not that she cared.
“Daddy!” Cody insisted. “Come look at the bathtub.”
“I’m hungry,” Marisa complained from the kitchenette where she was opening every lower cabinet and drawer within her reach.
“I’ll leave you to get unpacked.” Molly seized the chance to escape and inched toward the door. “Let me know if there’s anything you require. Extra towels or pillows. Assistance connecting to the complimentary Wi-Fi.”
“Can we ride the horses?” Cody asked.
Owen reached out and tousled his son’s hair. “We noticed the stables.”
Molly gave an apologetic head shake, neatly slipping back into guest relations mode. “I’m afraid Moses and Amos are for carriage and hayrides only. But Powell Ranch is a half mile up the road, and they rent horses by the hour for trail rides and lessons. There are also plenty other family-friendly activities in the nearby area. They’re listed in the binder.” She pointed to the coffee table. “Hiking trails and the OdySea Aquarium. There’s even recreational bull riding at the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill.”
“I’ve heard about that,” Owen said. “Maybe I’ll take a spin.”
“You’ve rodeoed before?”
“In my previous life. Before I became a marketing rep for Waverly Equine Products.”
That was interesting. Despite his Western dress, Molly hadn’t pictured him riding bulls. Must be the pressed jeans. She’d pegged him as more of a weekend cowboy.
“Daddy was a champion,” Cody announced. “He has gold buckles and trophies.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I made a living at it.” Owen shrugged. “For a while.”
“What happened?”
“Complications,” he said. “Mostly these three. Their mom didn’t like me being on the road every week.”
“Understandable.”
“The funny thing is I wound up traveling just as much with Waverly. Which is why I quit. More time to spend with this motley crew. It’s also why I agreed to help out Uncle Homer for a month. I plan on getting sick of their company.”
“You’re not working?” Molly immediately wished she could take back the question. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to ask. And none of my business.”
“It’s all right. I’m not embarrassed. The fact is, I need to make some changes in my life, and now I have the chance. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of any places in the area hiring a former senior marketing rep who doesn’t want to travel much?”
“Afraid not.”
“I guess the good news is I brought my laptop and you have complimentary Wi-Fi.”
Molly reached for the doorknob, more eager than ever to be on her way. “If you’ll excuse me, I have about a hundred tasks waiting for me at the house.”
“We’ll be along shortly.”
She barely heard his reply as she shut the door behind her and trotted down the steps. At the bottom, she wiped her brow.
“That was close.”
Owen was a charming man and potentially hard to resist. But going all soft inside at a man’s admiring glance had landed Molly in trouble before, causing her to fall blindly in love and miss the obvious indicators of trouble brewing.
Besides, Sweetheart Ranch and its success were her priorities. She owed her grandmother that and more for giving her a second chance. Now wasn’t the time to act on any romantic sparks. Especially with a man who had his own important priorities that included taking care of three young children and finding a new job.
* * *
MOLLY STOPPED AT the clubhouse on her return from Owen’s cabin, making sure all was in order for the open house. When her cell phone suddenly started playing Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” on her way out the door, she jumped. Grandma Em returning her calls. Finally! With fumbling fingers, she whipped out her phone and answered.
“Grandma. Where are you?”
To her dismay, a sob caught in her throat—from relief and from sorrow at her grandmother’s abandonment. Not that her grandmother had abandoned her exactly. In the same way her father hadn’t exactly abandoned Molly when he’d died soon after her twelfth birthday. Still, she felt a keen loss whenever someone took off without warning and tended to react emotionally.
“In Flagstaff,” Grandma said. “We stopped for gas.”
“Okay.” Molly’s voice sounded small.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Please don’t think I bailed on you.”
If she were a completely unselfish person, Molly would assure her grandmother that everything was fine, express her joy over the elopement, and wish her grandmother and Homer a safe and enjoyable trip.
But Molly was too overcome with hurt to be completely unselfish. “You left without saying goodbye.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision. Believe me.”
“Then why?”
“I knew if I told you, you’d have probably hog-tied me to the nearest chair.”
“You make me sound like a bad person.”
“No, no, sweetie. You’re a sensible person and any argument you made would have been too sensible for me to resist.” Grandma Em sighed wistfully. “I never dreamed I’d meet a man and fall in love. Not after all these years. Homer’s wonderful. Kind and generous and funny and thoughtful.”
“Why couldn’t he have waited a couple months until the ranch was up and running before insisting you run away together?” Molly closed and latched the pool gate behind her before turning in the direction of the house.
“He was more than willing to wait. I’m the one chomping at the bit.”
“Grandma!”
“I know it sounds stupid, and there’s a hundred reasons why we should have delayed. But I just didn’t want to go one more week without being Mrs. Foxworthy. I’m in love, Molly. Head over heels. Fallen off the deep end. Whatever other silly clichéd saying comes to mind.”
“This isn’t like you.”
“Actually, it is. At least, it’s like the person I used to be. Many years ago.”
“Irresponsible?”
“Impetuous and spontaneous and living for the moment.”
Molly could hear her grandmother smiling, which made staying mad impossible. “Don’t you want us with you when you get married?”
“Of course I do. Homer and I are planning on renewing our vows after we get home and throwing a huge party for family and friends. We were thinking of New Year’s Day.”
“I suppose that’ll be nice. I’ll clear the calendar.” As of yet, no weddings were scheduled.
“You’re young, Molly. I don’t expect you to understand. But when you reach my age, well, waiting for the right moment wastes valuable time. Homer and I don’t want to lose a single second of married life together.”
Had Molly ever sounded this excited and happy when she’d been engaged? Her former fiancés had both been excellent matches with good jobs, bright futures and plans to start a family one day. Molly hadn’t believed she could make a better choice for a husband. Choices, she amended.
Yet both men had dumped her before making it down the aisle, the second one a mere three days before their wedding. The excuses they’d cited weren’t dissimilar, Molly was too uptight, detested anything spur-of-the-moment and refused to admit it when she was wrong.
Coincidentally, two jobs ago, her boss had cited her refusal to admit she was wrong when he’d fired her for consistently low scores on her customer satisfaction surveys. Molly had quit her last job, sensing termination was imminent and not wanting to further tarnish her employment record.
For someone in the service industry, she wasn’t very...what were the words her last boss had used? Ah, yes, flexible and accommodating.
She’d been striving ever since to become a better version of herself. Hadn’t she accepted Owen as his uncle Homer’s replacement and seen to the comfort of him and his kids? She could have thrown a fit instead.
Here, she supposed, was another chance to prove she’d changed. “I’m happy for you, Grandma. Truly. Homer’s a nice man.”
“I was hoping you’d help me plan the party.”
“Of course I will.”
“Did Owen arrive yet?” Grandma Em asked, changing the subject.
“I just finished showing him and the kids to their cabin.”
Molly headed for the kitchen door rather than track dirt into the recently vacuumed front rooms. She noticed Bridget through the kitchen window and hesitated, not yet ready to face her sister.
“He’s very handsome, don’t you agree?”
“Is he?” Molly was purposefully vague, refusing to reveal just how handsome she found him.
“He and Homer are quite close. I really want him and his children to feel welcomed and part of the family.”
Was that a subtle chastising from Grandma Em or was she simply attempting to smooth what could be a rocky transition for everyone?
Uncertain how to respond, Molly said, “Nora’s here, too. She says she’s taking over guest relations. Are you sure that’s a good idea? She can be grumpy.” Except, apparently, when Owen sweet-talked her.
“She’ll do fine. She was once an executive assistant for the president of A-1 Home Insurance Company. Part of her job was arranging corporate events—charity fund-raisers, holiday parties, annual stockholder meetings.”
Nora? An executive assistant?
“Let her do the grunt work,” Grandma said. “You handle the rest.”
“She needs to smile more.”
Grandma Em laughed. “She’ll learn. You did.”
Molly had learned, motivated greatly by having a vested interest in the business and a potentially long-term career for herself.
“Will you send us pictures of the wedding?” she asked.
“Prepare to be inundated.”
Molly’s mood lifted. Her grandmother had found the kind of contentment that thus far had eluded Molly. The least she could do was run the ranch with her sister to the best of her ability for the next month.
“I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you, too, sweetie.”
Molly entered the kitchen and held out her phone to Bridget. “It’s Grandma. She and Homer are in Flagstaff.”
With a squeal, Bridget scurried out from behind the counter, nearly knocking over a bowl of liquid in the process as she reached for the phone. “Grandma, hi!”
Molly helped herself to a cold drink, half listening to Bridget’s side of the conversation. She was considerably more enthused for their grandmother than Molly had initially been.
“Hugs and kisses,” Bridget said when she was done, then returned Molly’s phone. “She sounds ecstatic.”
“You don’t think she and Homer are rushing things?”
“Dad asked Mom to marry him on their fifth date and look how that turned out.”
Molly’s sister made a valid point. If not for the driver running a stop sign, their father might still be alive today and their parents celebrating thirty-three years of wedded bliss.
Sadly, the driver had run the stop sign. And after sixteen years of loneliness and misery, Molly and Bridget’s mother had recently married again and moved to Casa Grande.
Doug paled in comparison to their father. While not mean or abusive—Molly and Bridget would never tolerate their mother being mistreated—he was frequently needy and narcissistic and extremely stingy with money. The sisters suspected their mother was just as lonely and miserable now as after their father died. But she refused to divorce Doug, claiming men like her late husband were few and far between.
She was right, but that didn’t deter Molly and Bridget from trying to find such a man and refusing to settle for less. It wasn’t easy, their mother had been right about that. Molly need only examine her own track record.
Nora abruptly called from the foyer. “Florist is here!”
“Go.” Bridget waved Molly away. “I need to start decorating the wedding cake.”
The delivery man was setting the first arrangement on the table in the parlor when Molly got there. One look and she stopped in her tracks.
“Those aren’t the right color roses.”
He checked his delivery schedule, squinting his eyes at the electronic device in his hand. “Ten dozen arrangements in glass vases.”
Molly approached the table and fingered one of the blooms. “We requested pale peach. These are orange.”
“Let me call the office.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m at Sweetheart Ranch. The customer says the roses are the wrong color.” After a pause, he passed the phone to Molly, who put it to her ear. “It’s the manager,” he said.
“Hi. Molly O’Malley here. The roses are supposed to be peach.”
“Hold on a second while I pull up the record.”
Molly silently fumed. She knew precisely what the bride had requested. She’d reviewed the order herself.
“According to my records, I spoke to Emily O’Malley on Thursday morning at ten twenty.” The sound of flipping papers could be heard in the background. “I told her we didn’t have the exact shade of peach you ordered, and she said the darker color would be fine.”
“I see.” Molly searched her memory. She’d been at the print shop on Thursday morning picking up their new brochures.
“Is Emily there?”
“No. She’s out of town.”
Grandma Em had probably forgotten to mention the call or note the change in the bride’s file. Too many distractions, like her impending elopement and road trip. Molly couldn’t hold the florist responsible.
“What would you like us to do?” the woman asked, a tinge of impatience in her voice. “We can substitute white or yellow roses.”
Molly debated her choices while two pairs of eyes watched her, Nora’s and the delivery man’s. The bride had been specific about her wedding colors; white and yellow weren’t included. Then again, neither was orange. Come to think of it, had the bride even been informed about the unavailability of peach roses? Hopefully, yes, but Molly didn’t want to assume. And if Grandma hadn’t informed the bride, news of the orange roses could upset the poor woman who was surely already frazzled.
Molly’s first problem as fill-in wedding coordinator, and she was stumped.
“We could call your grandmother,” Nora suggested.
Not happening, Molly decided. She’d deal with this on her own. “It’s fine,” she told the shop owner. “We’ll take the roses.”
Once all ten arrangements were brought in, Molly and Nora went about placing them in the chapel. After the service was concluded and photos taken, the roses would then be moved to the parlor for the reception.
“What do you think of Owen?” Nora asked.
Why was everyone eager to know Molly’s opinion of him? “He seems nice enough. The better question is how good is he at marrying people?”
“Gotta admire a man who’d quit his job to spend more time with his kids.”
Molly had been thinking he wouldn’t be able to support his kids without a job or make the monthly payments on that slick new truck of his.
“I guess, but won’t he need a job soon? Unless he’s independently wealthy.”
“Well, according to Homer, Owen took stock options at Waverly. They bought him out when he quit, and he’s got enough to carry him for a while. Which is good because finding a job at his level and in the Phoenix area will be a challenge.”
Nora filled a bowl with small packets of birdseed to toss at the bride and groom while Molly arranged candles on the altar.
Unable to resist, she said, “He seems kind of young to be the father of three kids.”
“He and his wife married in their early twenties and had Cody within the first year. His wife was the one who insisted he quit rodeoing and stay home. Which was a shame, Owen loved it. He took the job at Waverly on the promise he wouldn’t travel so much. That quickly changed, however, and, as you can guess, his wife wasn’t happy. ’Course, she did like the nice things his salary bought them.”
“Can you really blame her? Not about the money but him traveling extensively. They had three children.”
Finishing in the chapel, Molly and Nora returned to the parlor where everything sat in readiness for the open house. Molly knew she should get changed soon. Instead, she listened to Nora go on about Owen.
“It was an excuse.” The older woman made a sound of disgust. “The marriage had run its course. But rather than just admit they were better off apart than together like two sensible adults, she blamed him and his job and made him suffer.”
“Did Grandma tell you all this?”
“She figured you’d be interested in him and wanted me to tell you.”
“Interested in him?” Molly feigned shock as if nothing could be further from the truth. “Whatever gave her that idea?”
The next second, Owen and his three kids strolled into the parlor. Molly went still, wishing she could disappear. How much of her and Nora’s conversation had he heard?
The last part of it, certainly, judging by the amused expression he wore.
