Free The Bad Luck Wedding Cake by Geralyn Dawson Page A

you down real fast. Folks around here are anxious for The Confectionary to open.”
    “Good.” Claire couldn’t help but smile at that.
    Ten minutes later they were seated around her kitchen worktable drinking strong black coffee and nibbling on molasses cookies. Lars swallowed a bite, studied the cookie in his hand, and observed, “You’re a dash short on ginger. Maybe a scosh too much cinnamon, too.”
    “They are just perfect,” Claire shot back.
    That started a debate over Claire’s baking skills that lasted a good five minutes. After that, the conversation segued into the Donovan family and the state of everyone’s health and happiness. For the moment, the subject of Claire’s former fiancé and aborted wedding was studiously avoided, a fact she very much appreciated.
    While Lars relayed Patrick’s latest escapade at a recent horse race, he moved his head and winced in a way that caught Claire’s attention. She studied the man. His bloodshot, droopy eyes displayed evidence of more than weariness from travel or worry. He’d obviously had a late night. Wordlessly, she rose and walked over to her cache of Magic. She grabbed a bottle and a spoon and plopped them down onto the table in front of him.
    He eyed her offering then rubbed his forehead. “Ah, Clary, you are an angel of mercy.”
    “I hate to waste a spoonful of Magic curing the hangover you undoubtedly picked up in the Acre, but I can’t stand to see any animal suffer.”
    “The Acre?” His brow furrowed with his scowl. “What do you know about Hell’s Half Acre? How do you know about it?”
    “How is it you found the Acre before you found me? That’s what I want to know.”
    “Claire,” Lars warned.
    She rolled her eyes. “How do I know about the Acre? I stage dance at the Green Parrot every Friday and Saturday night. You should see my costume. The stockings are—”
    “Catherine Claire!” His eyes narrowed dangerously.
    She sighed. “I live in this town. I’m aware the Acre exists. That doesn’t mean I have to frequent it.”
    “You shouldn’t know about it at all. You shouldn’t be here. You won’t be here for long.” Lars slapped his hand down on the table. “Go pack your bags, Claire. You are coming home with me. If we hurry, we can catch the afternoon train.”
    This was it. Time for pistols at twenty paces. “No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “You have to.”
    “I do not.”
    “But your mother and father—”
    “Tried to make me marry a man I do not love.” She shoved to her feet. “It’s been wonderful to see you. Please take my love back to Mama and Da along with my apologies for any embarrassment I have caused them, but that is all you are taking back to Galveston. I am an adult I make my own choices and I choose Fort Worth to be my home now. This is where I’m building a new life, the life I want. Not the life Da wants for me.”
    Lars sat back in his chair and frowned. “I knew you’d be stubborn about this. Guess I’ll have to give you the letter.”
    “What letter?” Claire asked, her stomach tensing.
    “From your father.” Lars reached into his jacket and removed a folded sheet of paper. “Just in case I found you.”
    Lars tossed the page into the middle of the table, and the brightness seemed to fade from Claire’s day. Staring at the paper, her mouth went desert-dry. Emotions she couldn’t name and didn’t want to face bubbled like hot tar in her gut. “What’s in it?”
    Lars reached out and squeezed her hands. “Read the letter, Clary. It’s a serious situation. Your family needs you.”
    It was a knife to the heart. If her family truly needed her, how could she deny them help? The paper felt cold beneath her fingertips. She felt cold beneath her skin. “I couldn’t marry Reid, Lars.”
    “I know it seems that way.” He tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. “But he’s a good man, Clary. He will make you a fine husband.”
    Will make you . Not would have