Bless the Bride (Molly Murphy, #10)

“I’ll wager that your future husband doesn’t look kindly upon it,” one of the other young women commented wryly.

Sarah was still smiling. “Well, no, Monty is trying to force me to give it up immediately. He worries about my walking alone through those streets. In fact he insists on escorting me to and from Elizabeth Street even though I keep telling him that I am perfectly safe, but I believe he has visions of my being carried off as a white slave.”

This brought much merriment from the other women.

“Anyway, his wish will soon be granted,” Sarah continued, “as there is a lot of preparation to be done for the wedding. Gown fittings, seating charts—don’t you find it an absolute bore, Molly?”

“I do, rather,” I agreed. “In fact I’ve just fled from my future mother-in-law’s house, where I was told that my sewing skills were sadly lacking and my future children would be walking around in rags. She nearly died when I pointed out that there were department stores in New York with ready-made clothes for my children.”

They laughed again.

“And does your future husband approve of the work that you do, Molly?” Carrie Chapman Catt asked.

“Not at all,” I said. “He’s a captain in the police department and he doesn’t think that being an investigator is a suitable job for a woman—especially as it treads on his toes.”

“But you’ll give it up when you marry, surely?” Sarah said.

“I suppose I’ll have to. I’ve more or less promised him that I will, but I can’t see myself sitting at home getting bored either.”

“We can find plenty for you to do for the cause,” Carrie said.

I grinned. “I don’t think he’d be thrilled about that either.”

“Aren’t young men a bore,” the sharp-faced girl said. “The world would be a much better place without them.”

“It would rather limit the future population, Mildred,” Carrie Chapman Catt said mildly.

“I wish humans could just split apart like amoebas,” Mildred said.

“Don’t you mean amoebae?” one of them teased.

I began to feel as I always did in such educated company, that my own education was sadly unfinished. I’d had to stop my lessons with the girls at the big house when my mother died. Sid returned with the sangria and glasses were refilled. I must say it was delightfully refreshing. I forgot that it was mainly red wine until a pleasant feeling of ease came over me. The other women seemed similarly affected.

“I suppose I should be getting home,” one of them said at last.

“There’s no hurry,” Gus replied. “Stay for dinner if you like.”

“I’m afraid that Monty will be coming for me any moment,” Sarah said. “We are to have a late supper with his friends at the Waldorf, and he insisted on coming here to fetch me. You know how he likes to escort me everywhere. In a way it’s sweet, but it can be so annoying.”

As if on cue there was a thunderous knocking from the front of the house.

“The bridegroom cometh,” Sid said as she disappeared inside. We heard the sound of a male voice and a few seconds later Sid reappeared.

“The bridegroom cometh, but it’s the wrong bridegroom,” she said with a wry look on her face.

Striding down the hall with a face like thunder was Daniel.





Six



I got to my feet a little unsteadily, as the alcohol in my two large glasses of sangria was now making itself felt.

“Daniel!” I exclaimed.

“What on earth are you doing here, Molly?” he asked, then remembered his manners and tipped his hat. “Good evening, ladies. Miss Goldfarb. Miss Walcott.”

“Captain Sullivan.” Gus returned the compliment. “We persuaded Molly to leave darkest Westchester County so that we could give a small party in her honor.”

“Ah, I see. How kind of you, but you might have told me, Molly. If I’d known you were coming back to the city, I would have made time for us to select the last few items of furniture together.”

“It was all rather spontaneous,” I said. I was conscious of those interested faces watching us. “Please excuse me, ladies.” I went over to Daniel before there could be any kind of scene. I wasn’t sure if he’d be angry with me for leaving his mother, but I wasn’t taking any chances. “It’s good to see you, Daniel,” I said when we were safely in the conservatory. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, looking down at me fondly. “I’m itching to show you the improvements I’ve made across the street. You haven’t seen them yet, have you?”

Now I was in a quandary. I didn’t want to tell an outright lie to him, but I realized that he would probably have wanted to do the grand unveiling himself. “I just peeked inside,” I said, “in case you were there.”

“And what did you think?”

“From what I saw it looked wonderful, Daniel. Like a brand spanking new house. So elegant. You’ve worked a miracle.”

He smiled and I saw the tension lines leave his face. “I’m rather satisfied with it myself. Shall I give you the grand tour now then?”