Love in the Balance by Regina Jennings Page A

to Mr. Hernandez in the workshop. He tried to teach me to make those tiny stitches, but they’re impossible to see. Once the Christmas rush slows down, I’ll most likely be looking for another position.”
    “That’s too bad.” Molly wrung every drop of disappointment out of the words until they were left dry. “Do you think you’ll be unemployed again?”
    He nodded.
    “Mr. Pierrepont—that man who bought me the boots—he’s leaving soon.”
    “’Bout time.”
    “He wants me to go with him.”
    The balustrade creaked under Bailey’s weight. Molly looked away, unable to bear the hurt on his face. The crickets chirped. She pulled her cloak around her tighter, wishing she could creep inside and hide.
    “And you don’t know what you’re going to do?” His voice fell gently, almost sympathetically.
    “You don’t understand. Every dance lesson, every music teacher Mother hired was to prepare me for an advantageous marriage. My parents raised themselves from obscurity to prominence. For me to marry poorly would be a reversal of fortunes for my family. Still, I’d do it for you—if you were ready.”

    “Wait for me, Molly. There’s no hurry.”
    “I waited on Weston, and he married someone else. What if you do, too? What if you fall in love with Prue? In the meanwhile, my corset’s getting tighter, my cheeks are getting paler—”
    “I haven’t noticed.”
    “But I’m not young anymore. Besides, once Edward leaves I won’t have that opportunity again.”
    “If he loves you—” Bailey’s voice caught, but he forced the words out— “he’ll come back.”
    Molly didn’t answer.
    “He loves you, right?”
    Did he? Edward must or he wouldn’t offer marriage. With his riches and position, he wasn’t desperate. Any girl would be lucky to catch him, just as any girl would be lucky to secure Bailey’s regard.
    “That’s not a requirement according to my parents. You know my situation.”
    “And I’m doing everything I can to get you out of it.” Even in the dark she couldn’t miss the longing in his eyes.
    Molly moved toward him and stepped into the rosebush.
    “Ouch!” She pulled away, snatching her cloak from the grasp of the thorns she’d missed.
    “My hedge of protection.” He chuckled. “Those church folks are praying for us. I hope while they pray for my defense against your charms, they remember to pray for my financial situation, as well.”
    His efforts to cheer her weren’t lost on Molly. Her frown relaxed into a smile that he shared until their gazes deepened, and then he broke it off. Just as well. At least one of them had some sense.
    Bailey straightened and surveyed the dark homes around them. “No one can tell you what you want, Molly. You’re a big girl and will have to live with your decision. But for now, I’m going to do everything I can to help you, even if it means sending you to your room. You really shouldn’t be out alone at night.”
    “Fiddle. These streets are as safe as Grandmother’s parlor.”
    “Not hardly. If you want to talk, don’t wait until dark—unless that’s the only time you can escape your escort.”
    She shrugged a shoulder. “You get to bed. I won’t keep you up any longer.”
    “Yes you will.”
    And even after Molly reached the alley she could still make him out, standing on the porch behind the rosebushes.

    December eighteenth marked the one-year anniversary of the reopening of Bradford’s Mercantile, and it was swarming like an anthill drenched in lemonade. The cobbler had given Bailey a half day off to travel to Prairie Lea for the celebration, and the trip was worth it. His entire family would be in attendance. Even Molly’s brother, visiting from Garber, had stayed to congratulate the proud shopkeeper.
    “There’s no finer store between here and Austin.” Nicholas Lovelace slapped a beaming Deacon Bradford on the back. When Deacon’s mercantile burned down a couple of years earlier, many wondered if the customers