The Bad Luck Wedding Cake (27 page)

“A wife?” Tye’s throat constricted.
A wife. Marriage and all that entailed. Intimacy and commitment. Trust.
“No, I can’t.”

The attorney shrugged. “If you’d rather run with them, that’s your choice. You did ask for my opinion, though, so I have to tell you that under the circumstances, I don’t think you’ll win a fight with the grandparents.”

A wife. Marriage
. It would never happen. “Why would marrying help my case?”

“For one thing, the grandparents will claim they can accord the children both a father figure and a mother figure.”

Possibilities bombarded Tye. “Mrs. Wilson has returned to Fort Worth. I can ask her to give up her house and live at Willow Hill permanently. She loves the Blessings. She’s a good mother figure. She’s already raised a passel of kids.”

“But she isn’t blood kin.”

“Neither would be any woman I married.”

“True, but she’ll be family. Family is what counts in a case like this. What you want to do is show the court that the grandparents won’t be giving the girls anything more than what you’re already providing. Circumstances being similar, age would work in your favor, too.”

“And if I prove that, it will be enough?”

“Not necessarily.” The lawyer leaned back in his chair. “It depends on how far they’re willing to take the fight. Considering most of what you’ve told me here this morning concerns their late daughter, they might not want to bring it up in public. But if they do…” he shrugged. “The facts don’t paint you in a very flattering light, McBride. But what about the grandparents? Do you know anything we could use against them?”

Tye lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. “The Wests are wealthy and successful. As far as I know they are well respected in New Orleans. But Constance was raised in their household. I’m not one for blaming all a child’s troubles on her parents, but neither can you discount it altogether. I wouldn’t doubt we could sling a little mud right along with them if need be. I’d need some time to check into it.”

“I don’t think time is a luxury you’re gonna have. A case like this will be heard quickly. Folks don’t like to see children with their lives left hanging unsettled. You’re better off hedging your bets with a wife.”

“A wife,” Tye groaned, burying his head in his hands.

The word conjured up images of Constance McBride at her most devious—and her most desirable. “That cursed woman is still wreaking havoc from the grave.”

Claire’s arm appeared within his vision. She held something in her hand; a small bottle.

Tye looked up. “What’s this?”

“It’s my habit to carry a small bottle of Magic with me. I thought you might appreciate a little flavor as you eat your words.”

“Eat my words?”

“You gave me grief about marrying for family’s sake. Looks like you are facing the very same situation.”

Tye considered the bottle. His life looked like it could use a little magic at the moment. He tossed the brew back like a shot of raw whiskey, then said, “No, I won’t marry. I’ll find another way.”

“That’s what
I
thought,” she observed. “In fact, that is why I came here today.” She glanced at Rawlins. “My father used the Donovan Baking Company as collateral for a number of loans. When the bank unexpectedly called the notes, my father was unable to meet the demand. Another party stepped in and covered the debts, gaining control of the company. The question I put to you, Mr. Rawlins, is this: The man who bought the Donovan Baking Company purchased the buildings, inventory, and the other supplies, correct? He didn’t purchase the people. He doesn’t own their baking talents or the knowledge they have acquired after years in the business. Am I right?”

“Correct.”

“So then, am I also correct in concluding that while the purchaser has a right to the products we had on our shelves, he does not have a right to the recipes for the items the company produced?”

Rawlins laced his fingers behind his head, elbows extended, and lifted his gaze toward the ceiling in thought “I’m not certain about that. Miss Donovan. I’d have to research the question. If the recipes were maintained in a journal or collection of sorts, then it’s likely those recipes would be counted as assets.”

“Yes, but what if a particular recipe has never been recorded? What if it exists only in a person’s head? How could it be an asset of the company if the person who memorized the recipe is not?”

The attorney thought a moment and said, “Well,
hmm
. Miss Donovan, your question deals with an area of the law in which I am no expert. However, I think it is safe to say a case could be made either way, so again, I’ll need to do some research.”

“But it’s possible the purchaser has no rights to the recipe?”

“Very possible, I’d say.”

Claire sat back in her chair wearing an extremely satisfied smile. Had he not been so mired in his own dark imaginings, Tye would have wondered just why Rawlins’s answers had pleased her so. As it was, he could hardly think at all.

Wife
. The word circled round in his head like a buzzard over dead meat.
Wife. Wife. Wife
.

How long he sat that way he didn’t know, but when he looked up, Claire stood beside him, tugging on his sleeve. “Come with me, Tye. I want to talk with you about something.”

He didn’t have the heart to continue the discussion with the lawyer at the moment, so he saw no reason to protest He requested that billing be sent to Willow Hill and made an appointment for the following day to further consider the problem facing him. Then he trailed Claire from the office, out of the building and into the sunshine.

Halfway down the courthouse steps, the fog began to lift from his head. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Claire, what’s this all about?”

Something flashed across her eyes. Hesitation? Uncertainty? It disappeared before he identified the emotion. While she made of show of retying her bonnet strings, her tongue ringed her lips, betraying her nervousness.

“Claire?”

Her shoulders went back and her chin came up. She looked him directly in the eyes and said, “I want to speak of it in private. Tye, I know a way to solve both our problems.”

Stir the soup pot counterclockwise to bring good luck
.

CHAPTER 16

“SO WHAT’S YOUR IDEA?” Tye impatiently demanded as Claire led him toward the Trinity River and the path that ran along its bank.

Claire tossed a glance back over her shoulder. “When we get to the riverbank, all right? What I have to say is best said in private.”
And with plenty of room to move around. Getting through this might well require some pacing.

Ordinarily the path along the riverbank was deserted this time of day, making it a good place for her to outline her idea without interruption. Plus, they could walk side by side and she wouldn’t be forced to look at him. She wouldn’t need to see his reaction when she put it into words.

Nervousness clawed at her belly. She couldn’t believe she was fixing to do this. She’d gotten downright bold over the past few months. At the edge of the river, she stopped and stared at the water.

Maybe I should just jump in
.

Muddy from recent rains, the Trinity flowed slowly from west to east. Claire’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile as she spied a driftwood log spinning in a circle in the middle of the river. “In some ways I feel like a hunk of flotsam myself. My family is the Trinity, and I’m an uprooted log being swept wherever the river wants to take me.”

“Tell me that’s not what you dragged me out here to tell me.” Following the path of her gaze, Tye added, “Besides, you’re not a log, Claire. Not big enough. A branch, maybe.”

“What kind of branch?”

“What kind of branch?” he repeated. “What kind of question is that? Come on, Claire, spill your story. I’m feeling pretty-danged-desperately in need of a good idea.”

But because she was intrigued by the notion, and because she was putting off the moment of truth for as long as possible, Claire asked again, “What kind of branch?”

“I swear, woman, you’re as stubborn as Maribeth. You want to
know
what type of tree you are? All right, then. You’re a peca—”

His eyes narrowed and cut to hers, and she could tell he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say. “Cedar. You’re a cedar,” he declared in a low, husky rumble. “Your bark is soft, but underneath, the wood is strong and so very beautiful. And cedar burns hot and fragrant. The aroma reminds me a little of your Magic, in fact.”

A tremor skittered up her spine. Her gaze dropped to his lips as her mouth went dry.

“Then there’s the other thing about cedar,” Tye continued, stepping closer even as she attempted to move away. Her skirts brushed his legs. “When I think of cedar, I think of pests.”

“What!” Claire jerked away.

“Pests,” he repeated. “Like you. Enough of this nonsense, Claire. What’s your solution?”

Miffed, she shifted her gaze toward the far bank. “That’s a contradiction McBride. Cedar is a pest repellant.”

“Well you’re a pest and I’m feeling repellant at the moment, so it fits. Talk to me, Claire. Lay it out, here. Tell me how to solve my problem.”

“All right, I will. Marry me.”

He froze. “Excuse me?”

“I said, marry me. That’s how we’ll solve both of our problems.”

For a long moment he stood frozen in shock. Then he belted out an unamused laugh. “Marry you. Hell, Claire, you never struck me as stupid before.”

“You’re lucky I never struck you, period,” Claire muttered. “This is a perfect solution. I’d provide you the wife you need for the girls’ sake, and you can help me out of this situation with Reid.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked down the path. He snapped over his shoulder, “No.”

Heavens, this was hard on a woman’s pride. But whether it sat well or not, too much was at stake to let feelings stand in the way. Picking up her skirts, she ran after him. “Get the stubborn out of your ears and listen to me, McBride. You heard what Rawlins said. In order to protect those children you must marry someone.”

His strides grew longer, faster, as his feet carried him away from her. “I don’t know anything of the sort. You are a forward woman, Claire Donovan. Asking a man to marry you. You must truly be desperate.”

She put on a burst of speed and ran around him, stopping in front of him. She jabbed him in the chest with the palm of her hand, saying, “Stop. You’re right I am desperate. But so are you, Tye McBride. That’s why you’ll listen to me about this.”

Halting, he stood glaring down at her, his eyes flashing with fury. Not at her, Claire knew in her bones, but fury at the situation. He yanked off his hat and stabbed his fingers through his hair.

Claire said, “You heard Mr. Rawlins.”

“That doesn’t mean I agree with him.”

“They say he’s the best lawyer in town, maybe even the state. With your nieces at stake, how can you dare to disregard his advice?”

Tye lifted his face toward the sky and spouted a string of ear-singeing curses. Then, shooting her a furious look, he marched on down the path, fleeing both her and the truth she was forcing upon him.

Claire followed him for half a dozen steps, then changed her mind. She’d give him some time to get used to the idea. She’d give him some space. When he was ready to listen, he’d come back to her. Tye would give his life for those Menaces, and though he might fight it, he’d give his hand in marriage, too.

Noting a flat rock a few yards away, Claire made her way to it and took a seat. Idly she picked strands of buffalo grass and milkweed and tossed them into the water, her gaze following the path of a yellow butterfly as it rose and dipped its way across the Trinity.

Almost ten minutes later Tye plopped down beside her. He yanked off his hat and swiped his brow with his sleeve. “I know what I’d get from the arrangement. Tell me how it would work for you.”

Claire eyed the perspiration clinging to strands of his dark hair, then glanced toward the puffy white clouds currently shading the sun. The morning breeze blowing in from the northeast carried an unseasonable degree of chill. Tye wasn’t sweating because of the heat.
It must be the thought of marrying me
. How flattering.

Claire plunged ahead. “Last night I found out why Reid is so anxious to marry me. It’s why I wanted to speak with Mr. Rawlins.”

“It has something to do with the bakeries?”

“Yes.” To keep her hands busy, Claire picked three long stems of grass and started to braid them together. “You know that my father took out loans to expand the business so each of his sons could have his own bakery, and when the notes were called he lost everything to the bank.”

“Yes.” Tye fiddled with the brim on his hat.

“Reid stepped in and bought the company—lock, stock, and lemon jelly cake. Now he’s offered to give day-to-day management of the bakeries back to my family if I’ll agree to marry him.”

“So how would marrying me help you?”

The tension and impatience in his voice made her grimace, but Claire believed it important that he have a clear understanding of her motives for proposing this marriage. “I’m getting to that.”

She finished the braid, then ripped another three stems of long grass from the ground. “Reid didn’t stop with the offer. He made certain I’d need to accept him by coming to Fort Worth and repeating the stories being told in Galveston about our Not-So-Magical Wedding Cake. It ruined the business here and left me without any options. Or so I thought.”

“That’s what I am? An option?”

Claire ignored the interruption. “Last night Reid told me the Donovan Bakeries will be the cornerstone of a business empire he intends to build. Now, for that to happen, the shops must continue to operate at the level of success they’d achieved with my family at the helm. I believe that success is the direct result of two factors: my family’s work ethic and Magic.”

Tye’s gaze had drifted away toward the southwest side of town. Claire followed its path and spied Willow Hill. For a moment she felt a flush of shame at the idea of using his troubles to alleviate her own. Yet the fact remained she’d be helping him, too. She had to remember that. She was proposing this solution for her family
and
for his family. Not for herself. She wasn’t doing this because she
wanted
to marry him.

Was she?

She cleared her throat and continued her story. “With the right incentive, Reid could probably hire hardworking employees for the bakeries. Nothing, though, will make up for the lack of Magic in the products those people produce. And without Magic, he’ll be hard-pressed to achieve the success he craves to impress his father. Obviously Reid realizes it.”

“Why do you say that?” Tye asked, his attention returned to Claire.

“Because he’s been so sneaky. Da won’t sell the recipe. And if Mr. Rawlins is right, and taking the question to court couldn’t guarantee a win, then Reid would have burned his bridges with the family so he’d never get the Magic.”

“So he figures to marry for the recipe? What makes him so certain you’d give it to him?”

“Da married into the recipe himself, and he’s never made a secret of the fact he intends to carry on the tradition with his own children. Once we married, Reid would have complete access to Magic.”

Tye cut his eyes toward her and snorted. After muttering something she couldn’t quite make out beneath his breath, he added in a louder tone, “You must have thrown a fly into his buttermilk when you left him at the altar.”

“I imagine so. And I’m fixing to do it one better right now. If only you cooperate, that is.”

The moment seemed to drag on forever as he sat without speaking.

Finally, anxious to interrupt the silence, Claire tossed away her grass braid, dusted off her hands, and said, “So you see, Reid wants my recipe, and the only surefire way to get it is to marry a Donovan. I’m his choice.”

Tye’s lips twisted. “Bet Brian’s relieved.”

No one could put as much sarcasm in a drawl as Tye McBride
, she thought.

“Your father should sell him the recipe.”

Claire shook her head. “That’s what he said last night when I told them the news. We all feel so stupid for not figuring this out before now. Da is ready to sell the recipe, even though he swore an oath he wouldn’t when he was given the secret himself.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear your father has finally come to his senses. Let him sell the Magic and y’all can go about your business. You won’t have to marry Reid and you certainly don’t need to marry me.”

“Da can’t sell the recipe, Tye. Breaking his oath would break his heart, but that’s only part of it. Magic is what makes our products special. If anyone could make it, then every bakery in town would be exactly the same.”

“If anyone could make it, no man in this country would be safe.”

Claire swallowed a groan. She was sick and tired of Tye and his talk of aphrodisiacs, and because of her frustration she skipped directly to the meat of the matter. “All the pieces fell together in Mr. Rawlins’ office. I help you and you help me and my family has their livelihood and you have the Men—Blessings. It’s actually quite tidy.”

“Tidy?” Tye shook his head and winced. “Sugar, believe you me, marriage is anything but tidy. You still haven’t explained how marrying somebody other than Jamieson can help you.”

“You’ll listen?”

He shrugged. “Might as well. No skin off my nose just to listen.”

Claire smoothed her skirts and soothed her temper. “It came to me in the middle of the night—not marrying you, mind you, but the idea of the factory.”

“What factory?”

“A Magic factory.”

Tye winced and rubbed his eyes. “Now you sound like Katrina.”

“It’s a matter of thinking beyond the parameters of the moment,” Claire explained, ignoring his comment “My family doesn’t need bakeries to support themselves, because they have Magic. And Reid Jamieson wants it. It would be foolish of them to sell the recipe, but why not sell the product? They could bottle it and sell it to Reid. They could sell it across the country. It’s not difficult at all for me to imagine bottles of Magic next to bottles of vanilla extract in kitchens all across America.”

“The population of our country would boom,” Tye observed in a mocking tone.

“Would you be serious?”

“I’m always serious when I’m talking about weddings. Of course, I’ve yet to hear what Magic factories have to do with them.”

“Oh. Well.” Claire inhaled a fortifying breath and said, “It’s money. Da doesn’t have any, not enough to build a factory. You told me once that you had plenty. I thought maybe you could—”

He shoved to his feet. “Money? This is all about money? You want to marry me for my money!” Disgust laced his voice as he added, “Hell, honey, I never took you for a prostitute, but then I’ve been wrong about women before. Way wrong.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned and left her sitting beside the river, her thoughts as murky as the water drifting by.

A lump of emotion weighed Claire down like an anvil as she slowly stood. Tye McBride could be as mean as a cornered cottonmouth when he wanted. She started after him, and slowly, with every step she took, the hurt drained away. Anger took its place, and her pace increased.

She didn’t move fast enough to catch him before he hitched a ride on the trolley down Main Street. By the time she retrieved her buggy from the square by the courthouse and drove to where she guessed he might be headed, Tye had made it halfway to the apartment above her bakery.

She drove the buggy right up beside him and picked up the conversation as if it had not been interrupted. “I’m not prostituting anything, Tye McBride. I’m not proposing a real marriage with love and babies and death-do-us-part vows. I’m talking about a simple business proposition; a marriage of convenience to last only as long as you need. As soon as your brother returns for his family, we can have the marriage annulled. And I’m not asking you to give us the money. It would be a loan. A business loan that the Donovans would repay with interest. That’s what I’m asking for my part of the deal.”

He drew to a halt and looked up at her. “A marriage of convenience. As in platonic marriage? Between you and me?” The smile that spread across his face held no hint of amusement. “You do live in a fantasy world, don’t ya, hon.”