The Texan's Engagement Agreement. Noelle Marchand
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me again how you’re engaged to that man.”
Just like that, the truth came tumbling out. Everett listened without asking a single question until she finished. He stroked his graying beard. “That’s quite a story.”
“I shouldn’t have misled Mr. Johansen.”
“Maybe not. I understand why you did, though. Really, this is a matter that needs to be discussed between Olan and Chris—privately. There was no need to air their family business in front of all those customers. It would have caused unnecessary embarrassment.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
He patted her hand. “You got caught in the middle of a messy situation and did the best you could.”
“I did.” She bit her lip. “What if Chris is right? What if I make everything worse?”
“Well, we can’t back out on the dinner. That would be rude.”
Her sigh turned into a groan. “I never should have walked past that store in the first place. I knew better. I just...”
“You wanted to see him, huh?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me why.” Twisting her lips to the side, she stared at her ink-stained fingers. Chris had looked good—too good...the kind of good that could only mean trouble for the woman who loved him. Those classic features of his were so handsome they ought to be carved in marble and placed in a museum. Not that she’d been swayed by them. Or by the way the sun set his wheat-gold hair glimmering. She’d just observed, that’s all. That was different. She lifted her gaze back to Everett. “Why can’t all men be like you? Honorable and kind and—”
“Plain?” He chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked. I consider myself blessed to be not-quite handsome. It took me a year to convince your ma to marry me with this face. I can’t imagine how long it would have taken if I looked as good as your young man. I know how you and your mother think. Y’all are outright snobs when it comes to the handsome men in this world. That’s unfair of you, but I know there’s a reason for it so I won’t push you. I will say this. Chris Johansen might be worth a second chance if he’s half the man his father seems to think he is. Of course, if Olan doesn’t know the truth about the engagement, it makes me wonder what else he might not know about his son.”
“Plenty, I’m sure.”
As for giving Chris a second chance at breaking her heart...she wasn’t that crazy.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Chris stared at the front door of his parents’ house, unwilling to pull the doorbell and begin this evening’s charade. It was one thing to pretend the woman he’d asked to marry him had never ended their engagement. It was another thing entirely to parade a lie before his parents’ faces. He wanted to turn around, go back to his apartment above the mercantile and forget any of this had ever happened.
“Steady.” The low whisper from Adelaide’s stepfather meant the man understood Chris’s struggle. Adelaide must have told him the truth. Now the only people in the dark were Chris’s parents and younger brothers. He rolled his shoulders as though that might free him from the ever-growing burden of guilt resting there. It didn’t.
He pulled in a deep breath, then rang the doorbell. A few moments later, Chris’s mother opened the door and immediately enveloped Adelaide into a hug. “You’ve finally come, and you’re staying for supper. What a wonderful surprise! You’re so grown-up and even more lovely than before. Wouldn’t you agree, Chris?”
His gaze skimmed from the fancy chignon of her auburn hair to her lacy cream blouse and dark blue skirt before he managed to catch himself. “She’s always been beautiful.”
Adelaide’s lashes lowered demurely as a hint of a blush appeared on her cheek. “Thank you, both. It’s lovely to see you, too. Marta Johansen, I’d like you to meet my stepfather, Everett Holden.”
After their parents exchanged pleasantries, Chris glanced down the main hall in search of his siblings. Usually the boys came rushing to greet him as soon as he stepped inside the door. “Where is everyone, Ma?”
“They’re waiting in the parlor.”
He headed toward the double doors across the hall. “Why are the doors closed?”
“Just a moment.” His mother rushed around him to stand in front of the doors. “Adelaide, would you come and stand beside Chris? Thank you. Now, Mr. Holden, I’ll need help with the other door. Slide it to the left on the count of three.”
Chris frowned. “Ma—”
“One.”
“What is—”
“Two.”
“—going on?”
“Three!”
The doors slid away. The rich, unmistakable strains of “The Wedding March” crashed over them. His mouth fell open at the sight before him. The parlor had been decked out with all manner of decorations. The largest and most prominent was the banner above the fireplace that read “Congratulations!” in Hans’s big, slightly uneven letters. The little boy’s grin was so big that he kept missing the notes on his flute. Next to him, Viktor played his cello while offering them a much shyer smile. August winked at Chris as he dramatically swayed in time with the mellow tones of his viola. Sophia caught his eye as she ran her fingers across the string of her harp while mouthing two words. “I’m sorry.”
As usual, his father served as conductor for the quartet and soon brought the music to an end. Everyone looked at Chris with such pride and expectation. He had no idea how to respond. Adelaide saved him from having to figure it out by clapping for the ensemble. “That was absolutely beautiful! What a wonderful welcome. I can’t believe how much all of y’all have grown.”
His brothers rushed forward to greet her. Viktor and August remembered her well. Hans was eager to meet her again. Sophia’s greeting was a bit less enthusiastic. She alone knew just how much Chris had been hurt by Adelaide’s rejection. As their brothers continued to monopolize Adelaide’s attention, Sophia sidled over to Chris. She gave him a congratulatory hug that was really just an excuse for her to whisper, “I’ve been praying for you since I heard. I would have come over to see you, but Ma kept me busy preparing all of this.”
“It’s all right. I—” The doorbell interrupted him. Marta rushed to answer it. Chris turned to his father for explanation. “Is someone else joining us for dinner?”
“Yes, indeed.”
The satisfaction in Olan’s tone put Chris on alert. “Pa, you know I don’t like surprises.”
His father simply clasped him on the shoulder without saying a word. Chris stiffened as their guest walked in. Pastor Brightly took one look at the parlor and grinned. Tucking the book he carried beneath his arm, the man rubbed his palms together. “All right, then. Who’s ready for a wedding?”
His brothers cheered. Chris shook his head to clear it. Surely—surely this was a nightmare he would awaken from at any second. Adelaide’s gaze connected with his from across the room and the panic in her eyes was undeniably real. They’d been ambushed. There was no way out but the truth.
Adelaide didn’t quite seem to understand that. She sounded genuinely troubled as she said, “Oh, but I couldn’t possibly get married without my mother present.”
“I agree,” Mr. Holden said, looking decidedly unamused by the turn of events.
Sophia took Hans’s hand and shooed the other boys toward the kitchen. “Let’s all go check on the cake, boys. Perhaps it’s cool enough to frost.”
Once Chris’s siblings left, Pastor Brightly