“Fresh out of the oven.”
Outside again, she gazed across the street at the office of Tate Enterprises. Movement in the window caught her eye, then disappeared.
Was that Carson? Had he been standing there, gazing outside?
Everyone said he was extremely busy. But if he had time to waste staring out the window, perhaps this was, indeed, a good time to pay him a visit.
She smiled to herself. She’d carefully planned out exactly how she’d handle this meeting with Carson. It seemed she was off to a good start.
Marlee hurried across the dusty street and walked inside. Drew Giles sat behind a desk in the reception area. She’d met him a few days ago when he’d come into the Harmony General Store.
“Afternoon, Miss Carrington,” he said, rising from his chair.
Marlee smiled. “I wonder if I might speak with Mr. Tate?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Drew said. “He’s mighty busy.”
Marlee held out her basket and pulled back the cloth. “Would you like a cookie, Drew? Fresh from the oven at Flora’s.”
“Miss Lucy makes the best I ever tasted,” Drew said. He took a cookie, bit into it and sighed. “Well, I guess Mr. Tate can spare a few minutes.”
Drew rapped on the adjoining door, then pushed it over. “Miss Carrington here to see you, boss,” he said around a mouth full of cookie.
Marlee mentally reviewed the plan she’d made to get Carson to donate the money for the festival’s musical group. She also recalled her vow to stick to business and not lose herself in thoughts of the kisses he’d given her.
Her resolve crumbled when she walked into his office and found him standing behind his desk. Such a handsome man. What would it be like to lean against that wide chest of his? To lay her head against those shoulders?
Marlee started, realizing where her thoughts were going. She had to stick to business—no matter how fast her heart raced in Carson’s presence.
“Good afternoon,” she said, and felt her cheeks color a bit at hearing how her words had come out in a breathy little sigh.
Carson didn’t seem to notice. He just stood there staring at her. Then he hustled around the desk and pulled out a chair for her. Marlee lowered herself onto it, grateful to take a seat since her knees had started to tremble.
Carson threw a harsh look at the doorway. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Drew’s grin widened. “Sure do, boss,” he called, as he backed away.
Carson sat down in the chair behind his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Carrington?” he asked.
“I thought you might enjoy some cookies.” She placed the basket on his desk and pulled back the cloth. The delicious scent of the cookies wafted out.
He glanced at the cookies, then at her.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “Was there another reason for your visit?”
Marlee was slightly miffed he hadn’t taken one of the cookies, then reminded herself that Carson was known to be a man in a hurry. She decided it was best to get right to the point.
“I’m sure you know about Mr. Barrett’s accident, and how the family has rushed to his bedside,” Marlee said. “And I’m sure you also know that the family had agreed to perform at the Christmas festival, but now can’t possibly do so.”
Carson just nodded.
“It’s become necessary to hire another musical group to perform,” Marlee said. “The good news is that Mrs. Tuttle has found a wonderful replacement who has graciously agreed to come to Harmony on very short notice.”
Carson stared at her. She’d hoped he’d ask some questions, or at least express some pleasure that the Christmas festival would go forward. Surely he knew what it meant to the town of Harmony.
“However, this new musical group is charging for their appearances,” Marlee said, “which makes it necessary to ask for a donation—”
“No.”
“—from—”
“No.”
Marlee huffed. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Carson looked properly contrite, and gestured for her to continue.
“What were you going to ask?” he said.
“I was going to ask if you could find it in your heart to donate the money—”
“No.”
Anger spiked in Marlee. “You haven’t heard the amount.”
“Fine, then,” Carson said. “How much?”
“Only one hundred dollars—”
“A hundred dollars? For people to come here and sing?”
“They’ll perform a number of concerts,” Marlee pointed out.
“Hell,” Carson grumbled. “Maybe I’m in the wrong business.”
“Those performances will bring lots of visitors to town,” Marlee said.
“No wonder old man Barrett was always trotting those kids of his from place to place to perform,” Carson said.
“It will mean a great deal of business for our merchants,” Marlee said.
Carson shook his head. “Look, Miss Carrington, I—”
“It’s for Christmas,” she implored.
A moment passed, and finally Carson said, “I can’t help you.”
“But—”
“I make money. I don’t give it away.” Carson gestured to her market basket. “Did you think some cookies would convince me to donate that kind of money?”
Yes, she did think that it would at least help, but now she felt the gesture had made her look naive and silly. Still, she wasn’t going to tell him that.
Marlee pushed her chin up. “It’s accepted tradition to offer refreshments during a business discussion,” she told him.
“A business discussion involves two people each getting something out of the deal,” Carson told her. “What are you offering—besides cookies?”
Wild notions flew into Marlee’s head, things she’d only heard whispered about among the girls at the Claremont School for Young Ladies. And now she was actually thinking about them—and doing them—with Carson.
The room seemed to grow warmer as Carson
