The Bartender’s Mail Order Bride(13)

“Maybe they just haven’t met the right person yet,” Pepper said, her attention returning to her plate. The older sisters and the men let out a collective sigh of relief as the rest of the girls returned to eating.

As her family finished dinner, Meg let her mind wander once again to Sam, his strong hands and laughing eyes, and eventually wandered to other thoughts, likely brought up by Pepper’s question. She hadn’t thought her plan out too far down the line, and after she and Sam were married, she wasn’t exactly sure how that would turn out. Would he love her? Of course he would.

All she knew at the moment was that she intended to be his bride, and if she wasn’t excused from the table soon to read his letter, she’d burst.

“Papa, may I be excused?” she said as forks were beginning to be laid down and the conversation turned to the younger sisters’ new teacher at the school.

Her father looked up at her, his surprise evident as he said, “What? No dessert?”

“Meg, you always have dessert,” Sage, one of the twins, said her fork suspended in mid-air.

“I have some things on my mind tonight, Sage. You can have mine, if it’s all right, Papa.”

Maria had entered the dining room from the kitchen and her big, brown eyes bored into Meg until Meg had to look away. The last thing she needed now was Maria asking more questions.

Her father took the unusual request briefly into consideration and said, “Why not? The girls can sing without you tonight.”

Meg folded her napkin and laid it on her plate, scooting her chair back. “Thank you, all. Excuse me,” she said, her hand in her pocket and wrapped around Sam’s letter.

As she rushed down the hall and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, she took it out of her pocket and laid it down on the bed. She sat beside it, staring at it briefly before she tore it open. Her stomach flipped as she started to read.



Dear Miss Bailey,



Thank you for responding affirmatively to my request for a bride. It is quite a coincidence that you reside here, so close.

From what you have told me, it would be a fine union  , as your skills and interests are a perfect match for what I wanted.

I do apologize that we have so little time to get to know one another, but I assure you that you will have a separate room at my home and no marital relations are expected.

In the interest of time, I suggest that we meet on Thursday at noon, at the Occidental restaurant. It will give you an opportunity to meet me in public before we actually get married, which I also propose is that same day at 1:00 p.m. I do hope that you understand the urgency of the situation, and that a marriage is required as quickly as possible, as I outlined in my advertisement.

Please confirm your acceptance of these conditions as soon as possible so that I might begin making arrangements for our wedding.



Yours truly,

Samuel Allen



Meg slowly set down the letter on the bed. She thought for a moment that it was a particularly unromantic letter, but then remembered that he thought he was writing to a perfect stranger. She just knew that once she presented herself, he’d be different, more at ease. All they needed was a little time.



She quickly found paper and pen, and crafted her response.



Dear Mr. Allen,



I am pleased to see that you have accepted my request to be your bride. I do realize that time is of the essence in your situation, and I am agreeable to the date and time, both for meeting you and for marriage. Thank you for your consideration regarding separate sleeping quarters.

I do believe that you will be pleased with this arrangement, as I expect to be as well. This is something that I’ve longed for, and am happy to be of assistance.

I will meet you in two days’ time on Thursday at noon at the Occidental restaurant. So that you know who I am, I will be wearing…



Meg set the pen down and thought for a moment. What would she be wearing? This was happening quite quickly, and that was good because if she gave herself time to stop and think about things—whether she should pack all of her clothes, what her father would say, what her sisters would say—she might back out altogether, and that would be her last chance to be with the man she cared about, and most likely loved already.

She got up and opened her wardrobe, flipping through her dresses. Her heart tugged at the thought that she was actually picking out her wedding dress, and that her mother wouldn’t be there to see it.

Her hand brushed over a purple satin skirt with matching jacket, its deep sheen catching her eye. It was the last dress she and her mother had picked out together before her mother died, and she knew it was her mother’s favorite. She took it out of the wardrobe and stood in front of the mirror of her vanity, turning right and left with the dress held in front of her.