too?” she asked, thinking it was within his power to make this easier.
“No. If you don’t know my feelings by now, then my telling you isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference.”
She could tell he was enjoying himself. He’d leaned back against his leather chair, playing the role of bank president to the hilt.
“If that’s the case, I just might change my mind.”
“Before you do, tell me what’s on your mind,” he cajoled.
Rachel figured he was entitled to that much. “Being your wife.”
A smile exploded across his face, and he released a long, deep sigh. “At last.”
Rachel agreed; it had been a long time coming, but now she was sure this was what she wanted, what was right for Heath, and for her and Mark.
“What took you so long?” he asked, coming around to her side of the desk.
He didn’t know? Hadn’t figured it out himself? “I made the last payment,” she said, standing to meet him. “I couldn’t agree to become your wife while I owed you money.”
“Sure, you could have,” he argued and then, right there in front of anyone who cared to look, he kissed her.
Rachel quickly became absorbed in the kiss, twining her arms around his neck, but not so absorbed that she didn’t notice how quiet the bank had become. When Heath broke off the kiss, he gently disengaged her and hurried to his door. Flinging it wide-open, he called out, “We’re engaged!”
His announcement was instantly followed by a chorus of congratulations and applause from staff and customers alike. Just as quickly the questions came.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Does Lily know?”
“You aren’t closing down The Pizza Parlor, are you?”
“You’re going to live in Buffalo Valley, right?”
Rachel and Heath glanced at each other, but they didn’t seem to have any ready answers. At least Rachel didn’t.
“The wedding’s soon. Very soon,” Heath insisted, his arm around Rachel’s slim waist. “Right?”
Rachel blushed and nodded.
“We’ll tell Lily this evening,” Heath continued, and once more looked to her for confirmation.
“I won’t be closing the restaurant,” she added. This had been the subject of repeated arguments between her and Heath. He didn’t want her to work, but the restaurant was hers and she wasn’t willing to give it up simply because she was marrying a wealthy man, although she did plan on hiring extra help.
“You won’t?” Heath sounded surprised.
“No,” she returned and elbowed him in the ribs.
“They aren’t even married yet,” Steve Baylor cried, “and they’re already arguing.”
“Every couple has issues they need to settle,” Joanie Wyatt said calmly. Joanie should know; she’d recently reconciled with her husband after a yearlong separation. She and her husband, Brandon, were a good example of a couple who’d worked through the problems in their marriage.
“Rachel wants to stay right here in Buffalo Valley,” Heath told everyone.
“I do,” she concurred. She hadn’t said anything to Heath yet, but she could see several needs arising in the community, prime business opportunities. With the success of her restaurant and Sarah’s quilting company, Buffalo Valley was badly in need of a day-care center. Now that she had five full-time employees sewing for her, Sarah was expecting more women to come into town—some to buy quilts and some, eventually, to work for her. All of this meant the bank’s, and therefore Heath’s, increasing involvement with the town.
“You gonna kiss her again?” Steve asked.
Heath laughed. “I plan to do a lot more than kiss her. Come on,” he said to Rachel, reaching for her hand. “If there was ever a time for a celebration lunch, this is it.”
Rachel couldn’t agree more.
Matt Eilers had kissed her. Even a week later, Margaret could hardly believe it had actually happened. In bed at night, she closed her eyes and relived the kiss. Nothing in the world could be more wonderful than Matt’s wanting her.
Sure, she’d been kissed before. Well … once. By a ranch hand employed by her father. Briefly employed. She’d been sixteen, physically underdeveloped, and as naive as they come. She was an adult now and eager to have Matt introduce her to adult experience. To show her what being a woman really meant.
For seven days she’d kept the kissing incident to herself, afraid that if she shared it with anyone else, something would be lost. But when she didn’t hear from Matt again, Margaret knew she needed help in sorting out the significance of what had happened. Since Matt had kissed her once, surely that meant he’d be interested in doing it again—didn’t it? But she hadn’t seen her neighbor since. The only person she could ask about such things was Maddy Washburn McKenna.
Taking the truck, Margaret drove over to Maddy and Jeb’s, hoping to catch Maddy when she wasn’t busy with the baby. Margaret had been present when Julianne Marjorie McKenna was born, and she still considered it one of the most exciting days of her life. Over the years she’d helped a lot of calves into this world, but she’d never witnessed a human birth. Julianne’s was exhilarating, a truly spectacular event in Margaret’s existence.
She knew labor and delivery weren’t easy on a woman; she’d been there to see Maddy’s struggles. But after holding that precious baby in her arms, Margaret had understood why a woman would willingly undergo such pain.
As she rolled into the McKennas’ yard and parked, Maddy waved to her from the kitchen window.
Margaret waved back. She hurried out of the cold and wind and onto the back porch, automatically slipping off her coat, hat and gloves.
“Margaret!” Maddy said, opening the back door for her. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Maddy had a way of making everyone feel welcome and … special, and Margaret wasn’t immune to her enthusiasm.
“This is a wonderful surprise,” Maddy went on.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Margaret was careful to avoid making a pest of herself. Jeb and Maddy hadn’t been married long and there was the baby, too. Maddy was her closest friend, and she didn’t want anything to disrupt their bond.
“This is perfect timing. Jeb’s out with the herd and the baby’s napping. How about a pot of tea? The water’s already on.”
“Sure.” She didn’t really want tea, but it was one of the rituals of their friendship.
A few minutes later, Maddy carried a steeping pot of tea into the living room and Margaret dutifully followed.
“How have you been?” Maddy asked. They’d spoken on the phone at least once a week, and Maddy always asked that question.
Margaret knew it wasn’t her health Maddy was referring to, but her life now that her father was gone. She shrugged, saying what she usually did. “All right, I guess.” After a moment’s reflection, she continued, “A dozen times a day I find myself thinking I need to talk to Dad about this or that. When I realize I can’t ever ask him anything again, this … this feeling of emptiness comes over me.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Some days don’t seem as bad as others, but there are days I don’t think I can go on.”
“It takes time.”
Margaret knew that. “I’m doing what you suggested the day of the funeral and that’s to remember how fortunate I was to have him as long as I did. His life was a blessing to a lot of