Love Finds You in Poetry, Texas (5 page)

Corabelle began to fan herself once more, her eyes narrowing into slits. “How am I supposed to wed someone who does not know I exist, pray tell?”

“Oh, don’t fret.” Belinda nodded, hoping to offer some assurance. “You just leave the details to me. I’ll manage just fine, I assure you.”

Funny, even as the words were spoken, she felt a knot in her stomach. How in the world could she manage to convince Georg to fall in love with—and marry—Corabelle Watkins? The way things were going, she’d be the laughingstock of Poetry.

Belinda guided the horses around the bend to the outskirts of town, preparing herself for the inevitable questions from their guest.

“Gracious, the town is small,” Corabelle observed, looking this way and that. “Quite different from the city, no doubt about that.”

“Yes, but we have a lovely mercantile,” Greta explained. “We call it Poetic Notions.”

“And look over there.” Belinda pointed to the hotel. “That’s Stanzas. The owners have a fine reputation in these parts. Folks come from all over to visit our area. The restaurant is one of the best in the state.”

Corabelle pointed at a sign reading Rhyme and Reason. “What is that, pray tell?”

“A bookstore,” Belinda explained. She pointed across the street. “Peter Conrad runs it. He carries the best poetry ever written and is a wonderful storyteller.” She smiled as she thought of the older man with his long, flowing beard and unusual wardrobe. “If you ever need a poem, he’s your man. He keeps the finest books in the state—all of the classics and more.” Just then, Peter came out of his store with Mayor Edwin Mueller on his heels. The two men glanced up as they passed by. She couldn’t help but notice the curiosity in their eyes when they saw Corabelle. Not that she had time to stop and explain right then. That would come later.

Belinda continued to point out the shops as they drove along. “And over here we have Limerick’s Livery.”

“I see.” Corabelle nodded. “But these business names are so...”

“Unusual?” Greta asked with merriment.

“Yes. Quite different.”

“Oh, but it’s wonderful,” Belinda said, her heart swelling with pride. “Everyone does such a fine job of contributing to the poetic feel of the town.”

“I see.” But what about the barbershop?” Corabelle nodded in the direction of the sign above Georg’s shop, which simply read K
AUFMAN
’
S
B
ARBERSHOP
. “Am I to marry a plain, discontented man with no imagination?”

Belinda released a groan.

Just then, Georg stepped out of the front door of the barbershop onto the boardwalk. He slapped one of his customers on the back, a broad smile on his face. Then he looked up as the ladies rode by, his eyes widening as he took in Corabelle Watkins. A smile wider than the Sabine river lit his face.

Belinda looked his way and grinned. Well, praise the Lord! Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

Georg looked up as a passing wagon blew dust all over him. He groaned and brushed himself off. The sound of a couple of cackling females caught his attention, and he gave the wagon another look. Belinda Bauer and Greta Klein waved, and he smiled in response. He’d just lifted his hand to wave when he caught sight of the woman seated on Belinda’s left. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he stood frozen in place.

The blond beauty looked his way with a girlish smile. He managed a nervous wave, but, in doing so, knocked over the broom he had leaned against the side of the building moments before. Scrambling, he picked it up and clutched it in his hand.

Above the clomping of the horses’ hooves, he distinctly heard the sound of the women laughing.

Well, never mind that. He could laugh at himself, all things considered. If only he could get another look at that beautiful stranger.

After thoroughly introducing Corabelle to the town of Poetry, Belinda stopped at Poetic Notions to drop off Greta. Afterward, she made the drive to her house, with Corabelle chattering a hundred miles an hour beside her.

“If I’m not to marry the plain, discontented barber right away, then where will I stay?” she asked with a perplexed look on her face. “I will need a place. And time to woo him.” Her expression shifted to one of concern. “Though I hadn’t counted on having to win his heart, so I do feel a bit deceived, in that respect.”

“I’m so sorry.” Belinda blinked away the tears that threatened to come. She hadn’t been completely honest...with anyone. How could she redeem this situation? There was only one way. Georg had to meet Corabelle and fall in love with her. Right away. Belinda would see to it, no matter how difficult the task.

“Do you think it will take long to win him over?” The lovely New Yorker’s eyelashes fluttered, and Belinda managed a smile.

“No time at all, I assure you. You are quite beautiful and kind. Georg will fall head over heels in short order.”

As she spoke the words, a strange twisting feeling grabbed hold of Belinda’s heart. Georg had to go along with this. If he refused, the whole plan would fall apart. Who would want to hire a matchmaker incapable of making one simple match, after all?

Belinda remembered the expression she’d seen on his face in town and relaxed a bit. Surely that was a hopeful sign.

They arrived at Belinda’s home minutes later. As she pulled the wagon up to the front of the house, her three brothers ran out to meet them, the expressions on their faces quite a sight to behold. In fact, she’d rarely seen them so boisterous. At once, Belinda sensed a potential problem.

“Let me help you down, miss,” James said, extending his hand with gentlemanly flair.

Belinda gave her oldest brother a look of warning, though he didn’t seem to notice. No, his eyes were firmly fixed on their new guest, whose cheeks were now crimson.

As Corabelle extended a gloved hand in his direction, her eyes twinkled. “Why, thank you, kind sir. You Southerners are ever-so-polite.”

His eyebrows elevated mischievously and he cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Corabelle giggled. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to all of this
ma’am
business,” she proclaimed, as James slipped an arm around her slender waist and lifted her from the wagon. “But I do have to say it’s quite flattering.” Her feet landed solidly on the ground, but James never released his grip from her waist. Instead, the two continued to stare into each other’s eyes, their faces only inches apart.

Sensing trouble ahead, Belinda took the opportunity to interrupt. “You will find that the men in Poetry are, for the most part, gentlemen.” Not that she spent much time thinking of her brother as a full-grown man. He might be twenty-three, but his boyish actions put her in mind of someone much younger at times. Still, she could not deny the look of interest in his eyes as he gazed at Corabelle.

At this, her twin brothers, Elijah and Elisha, took to squabbling, one punching the other. Belinda groaned and gestured for them to fetch Corabelle’s trunk. They climbed aboard the wagon and flexed their muscles to show off for their guest. She responded with a ripple of laughter.

Minutes later the boys finally settled down, and Belinda led Corabelle inside.

Her mother appeared wearing her plainest calico dress and a faded apron. Her hair, usually pulled up in tidy fashion, looked a bit limp—likely from the heat. “Belinda, I’ve been worried about you. I went into town, and you weren’t at the store. Wherever did you run off to?”

“Oh, well, I...”

Thankfully, Mama turned her attention to Corabelle. “Well, who have we here?” she asked, giving Corabelle a brisk once-over. “A guest?”

“Yes.” Belinda had been dreading this part. She knew her mother would have a hundred questions but hoped she’d put them off till after dinner. Bringing a visitor to the home unannounced had never been done before, especially not a visitor as refined as this one. “Mama... everyone...this is Corabelle Watkins, from New York City. I went to the train station to fetch her.”

“Well, forevermore! You should tell a person.” Belinda’s mama swept the young woman into her arms. “Welcome to Texas, Corabelle. I’m Hannah. We’re happy to have you, of course. To what do we owe the pleasure? Are you here visiting friends or relatives?”

“Oh, no. Neither of those. I’ve come in want of a husband.” Corabelle puffed her shoulders back and made direct eye contact with James, whose cheeks lit up redder than a rooster’s comb.

Mama laughed. “Well, I daresay you’ve come to the right place. We’ve men aplenty in Poetry. And more than a few handsome ones in this very household, if one happened to take a second glance.” She gave James a look, and he winced.

“Mama, can I speak with you? Privately?” Belinda gave her a look, but her mother seemed too distracted to notice.

“You must be exhausted, Corabelle.” Mama took their guest by the hand and smiled with her usual tenderness. “Why don’t you let the boys take your trunk to your room and you can rest awhile before dinner. We’re having pot roast and potatoes with biscuits. Folks all over Kaufman County rave about my biscuits.”

“Sounds delicious.” Corabelle slipped a gloved hand over her mouth as she yawned. “So sorry... I guess I am tired.”

“Show her to your room, sweet pea,” Mama said, turning her daughter’s way. “Our guest looks tuckered out.” She paused a moment, gazing at Belinda. “For that matter, you do, too. Maybe you should both catch a few winks before supper.”

Belinda hated to admit it, but it wasn’t exhaustion she was feeling. No, it was sheer terror. But she had to tuck those feelings away, at least for now. She led Corabelle to her room, her mind moving in a thousand different directions at once.

The young woman squealed with delight when she saw the four-poster bed. “Oh, this is lovely, Belinda. Just beautiful!”

“Thank you.” Belinda couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the exquisite handiwork. “Papa made it. He and the boys are wonderful with a lathe. I’ll show you more of their creations later. And Mama made the quilt, of course. She tried to teach me, but I never took to it.”

“I’m quite good with a needle and thread,” Corabelle said. “Perhaps she could teach me.”

“Perhaps. But for now, go ahead and take a nap. I’m sure you are exhausted.”

“What about you?” Corabelle asked as she unbuttoned her shoes. “Aren’t you sleepy?”

“No. I, um...well, I have a few errands to run. I will wake you when I get back. By then it will be suppertime. Georg will be here to share the meal with us. I’m sure you’re going to adore him.”

“Fine.” Corabelle yawned. “Although right now wooing a man is the furthest thing from my mind. I just need a few hours to rest. Perhaps then I’ll feel differently about things.”

“Yes, surely a bit of rest will do the trick.”

After getting Corabelle settled in, Belinda headed off to the barbershop. She managed to avoid her mother’s questions by slipping out the back door and running across the lawn. The trip to town seemed shorter than ever—something to do with how fast she ran, she was sure. Urgent matters called for urgent actions. And nothing could be more urgent than making sure Georg Kaufman came to dinner.