16. Consort Conundrum

16

CONSORT CONUNDRUM

Seth wanted to curse the remarkably bad timing that had allowed his brother to drive past just as he and Deborah were about to get in the car, but it seemed as if she’d accepted his explanation about making deliveries and didn’t need any further elaboration.

Wasn’t that part of the reason why Charles had thought he could get away with all this in the first place? The mercantile often needed to pick up items in Prescott, although most of those sorts of work trips were handled during normal business hours. Still, his duties with the bootleggers offered enough opportunity for plausible deniability that Charles probably thought it wasn’t too much of a risk.

All the same, the near-miss put Seth on edge. When he’d first proposed this date, he’d thought that maybe he and Deborah could stop at the picnic area on the way home, could possibly take a moonlit walk and share their first kiss. Now, though, with his nerves jangling and his anger at Charles for pursuing such a dangerous means of making extra money resurfacing at exactly the wrong time, he thought it was probably better to take Deborah straight to Ruth and Timothy’s house.

He wanted his first kiss with her to be perfect, and he knew it wouldn’t be tonight.

So he drove back to Jerome and then helped her out of the car before walking her up the steps to the front door. Something about her lovely face seemed almost puzzled, as if she, too, had thought this might be the time they finally shared a kiss.

Doubt crept over him, but he pushed it away. While he wanted to take Deborah in his arms, he knew he didn’t have any desire to share such intimacies on the front porch of his aunt Ruth’s house.

“Dinner was lovely,” Deborah said. “And so was the drive. It was fun to see Prescott.”

If she was disappointed that they hadn’t stopped somewhere to steal a few kisses, it didn’t show in her expression or her tone. Maybe he’d imagined the puzzlement he’d noticed a moment earlier.

But no, there it was again, only a flicker in her clear gray-blue eyes, just enough to let him know she wanted this, even if she wouldn’t attempt to initiate any intimacies.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. “We’ll have to go back sometime.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he hoped he wasn’t being presumptuous. Possibly, he’d misinterpreted that flash of…something…in her face, and she was instead thinking of the best way to tell him that she didn’t believe they should be planning any future meetings.

His worries were dispelled as soon as she replied, however.

“That would be wonderful,” she said. “Or really, anything you can think of. It’s fun getting to explore the area…and to spend time with you.”

And before he could even begin to react, she reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze, and placed an even quicker kiss against his cheek.

A tingle went through him at that brief touch, one that signaled he was more than happy to get even such a very small caress.

She flashed him a smile, then went inside.

Seth, on the other hand, stood outside on the porch for a moment, then placed his fingers against the spot on his cheek where her soft lips had been pressed only a moment earlier. How could he be so utterly thrilled by a simple kiss on the cheek from Deborah Rowe?

Because you love her, he realized then, with a kind of simple wonder.

As he walked down the porch steps and headed back to his car, he began to whistle.

Jerome didn’t boast anything as fancy as a real florist, but Seth had already learned that it was just as easy to pay one of his cousins a nickel to gather some flowers for him — roses and snapdragons and cheerful zinnias — and tie them with a ribbon before leaving them on the porch at his aunt Ruth and uncle Timothy’s house, along with a note for Deborah.

No wild declarations of love — Seth knew he was no poet, just a hard-working man who also happened to be a warlock — but a proposal that they go to the dance hall in Cottonwood on Friday night, where a local band he knew was good would be playing. He supposed they could have gone dancing earlier than this, and yet he thought it was a better idea to have a few dinners and a picnic or so under their belt before he started waltzing with her.

Did she even remember how to dance? He had no real idea, although it seemed as if she appeared to recall most things that required simple motor memory.

Well, if she wasn’t especially keen on the idea of going to a dance hall, they could always have another picnic. Several spots along the Verde River offered smooth, sandy shores, perfect places to lay out a blanket and share a meal…places secluded enough that he knew he and Deborah would be shielded from any prying eyes.

All day he couldn’t stop thinking about that impulsive kiss she’d pressed against his cheek, although he wouldn’t allow the happy memory to distract him from his work. Still, he was cheered to see a note tucked under the doormat when he returned home a little after six.

Dancing on Friday would be fun, Deborah had written, but I’m not sure I remember how. You’ll have to show me.

Which was more than fine by him. Although he would never count himself an expert, he could manage a box step and the foxtrot, although he knew better than to attempt a tango, even as tempting as the thought of lowering her into a seductive dip might be.

He went inside and laid her note on the kitchen table, then commenced washing up so he might review his options for supper. Although he still had some cold chicken in the icebox, the thought of eating it didn’t seem terribly appealing. Maybe he should walk up to the English Kitchen and get some noodles to bring back here for dinner. In general, he did his best to avoid that sort of splurge, but he knew he was feeling restless and thought that maybe getting out and taking a walk up the hill to the restaurant would help him work off some of his nervous energy.

It wasn’t just him, he realized as he headed out. The whole town seemed to have an odd energy to it, a shift he couldn’t quite put his finger on, as if something fundamental had changed, even if it all appeared much the same to him. People smiled and waved at him as he walked up Hull Street toward the English Kitchen, although no one approached to discuss precisely what was so exciting.

At times like this, when it felt as if there was some momentous news he’d somehow missed, he wished he’d splurged and bought a telephone for his bungalow, even though at the time it had seemed like an expense he didn’t need to make. In a town as small as Jerome, notes such as the one Deborah had left for him seemed to work perfectly well.

He was just leaving the restaurant, a bag of noodles in his hand, when he bumped into his mother, of all people.

“Oh, there you are,” she said. “I just walked down to your house, but you weren’t home.”

“I decided I wanted some noodles for dinner,” he replied, hefting the bag he held.

She gave it a dismissive glance. “No, family dinner tonight. We have a lot to discuss.”

“We do?” Seth said, more mystified than ever. Like everyone else, his mother had that same air of barely suppressed excitement about her, as if she bubbled inside with news she was just dying to share.

“Yes,” she said firmly, locking her arm with his. “Let’s go.”

He supposed he could have protested, although he knew when Molly McAllister got that look in her eyes, it was better to go along for the ride.

Besides, while he might have wasted some money on those noodles, he knew he would get much better at the family flat above the mercantile.

When they arrived, the table was already set, and the rich aroma of chicken à la king filled the air. This only increased Seth’s puzzlement, since he knew his mother never splurged on such a meal unless it was a very special occasion.

His father and Charles stood near the table, obviously waiting for them to arrive. Exactly why Molly had gone on her mission to find Seth rather than sending Henry or Charles, he couldn’t say for sure, although he knew his mother tended to have a better sixth sense about where to find him than either his father or his brother did.

“Sit down, sit down,” Molly said. “I’ll just bring in the chicken, and then Charles can share his news.”

Charles was the source of all this excitement? Seth couldn’t begin to think why. Somehow he doubted that his brother would have announced to everyone that he was quitting the bootlegging business, which was the only news Seth would have liked to hear.

Or…had Mary suddenly relented? He supposed he could see why such a change of heart would be an important reversal for his family, even though he still couldn’t quite understand why so many other people in Jerome would be happy to hear such news.

Molly returned and set the large bowl full of chicken à la king near her husband’s place setting, along with another bowl full of egg noodles. After she sat down, she sent an encouraging glance at her oldest son.

“We’re all here, Charles, so go ahead and tell your brother the news.”

Unlike their parents, Charles didn’t seem very happy at all. His jaw was set, and his blue eyes glittered underneath the bright electric chandelier overhead.

“It appears I’m Abigail’s consort,” he said, his tone flat.

For a second or two, Seth could only stare at his brother in surprise.

Why hadn’t he heard about any of this?

Because he’d been at work all day. And Charles…a man who had no problem keeping secrets…clearly hadn’t seen the need to tell his younger brother that it had been his turn to share the consort kiss with the prima -in-waiting. Why Mabel had decided to go directly to Charles rather than someone else in the clan, Seth couldn’t say for sure. It might have been as simple as Abigail announcing that if she couldn’t have one brother, she might as well try for the other.

In the end, none of that really mattered. What mattered was that Charles, who seemed like the last person suited to be the next prima’s consort, was going to assume that role after all.

Even as the thought flickered through his head, Seth knew it was a little uncharitable. No one else in the clan knew about his brother’s bootlegging activities, after all, and only saw Charles as an upstanding son who had taken on an active role in the family business. If he was almost five years older than Abigail, so be it. She was so frail and unassuming that a lot of people in the clan probably thought it would be better for her to have a consort who took on more of a commanding role.

But what about Mary?

Because everyone was watching him, clearly waiting for his response, Seth quickly said, “Congratulations! This must be very exciting for you.”

“Yes,” Charles replied, although he still looked decidedly unenthusiastic. “Abigail’s very happy. She and her mother are already planning the wedding.”

Which would be lavish by Jerome standards, befitting the future prima of the clan and her new husband. Or at least, he assumed it would. He hadn’t even been born when Mabel married her consort, but he’d seen photos of the blessed event, with the prima’s hair in an elaborate pompadour and wearing a white silk wedding gown with ridiculously puffed sleeves.

Abigail’s dress would be very different in style, of course, but Seth was fairly certain she’d make sure her day involved just as many flowers and just as much feasting.

“They both want a June wedding,” Molly put in, gaze fond as she looked over at her eldest son. “That might seem fast, but you know how Mabel is when she gets an idea in her head.”

Yes, Seth did. All the more reason why he was very glad she wouldn’t be his mother-in-law.

“Can they really put something like that together in only a few weeks?” Henry asked, and his wife gave a philosophical shrug.

“With all the clan helping them out? Of course they can.”

“Luckily, all I have to do is put on my best suit and show up,” Charles remarked as he ladled some chicken and noodles onto his plate.

Molly’s right eyebrow lifted. When she looked like that, both her sons knew they had better take notice.

“You will most decidedly do more than that, Charles Emerson McAllister,” she said. “Whatever is asked of you, and more.”

Although Charles didn’t exactly deflate, his tone was much more conciliatory as he said, “Of course, Mother. I was only making a little joke.”

“Some things are best not joked about,” their father said mildly. “One of which is your marriage to the prima -in-waiting.”

Charles nodded, and Molly took up the conversation there, talking about possibilities for Abigail’s bride dress, which venue would be best for the reception, and the most likely places for Charles to go to purchase her a suitable ring. Seth did his best to act as though he was interested in all this, but through the entire discussion, he couldn’t help wondering one thing.

What was his older brother going to do about his ties to the bootleggers now that his life had been changed so utterly?

Dinner lasted a good long while, but eventually, Seth was able to take his box of stone-cold noodles and head for home. When he got there, he put it in the icebox, mainly because it seemed wasteful to throw away the food so soon. Why it would be any better after he let it sit for a day or two, he couldn’t even say to himself, but somehow, waiting to deal with it seemed less extravagant.

After the noodles were taken care of, he poured himself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table, still feeling somewhat shell-shocked.

His brother was going to be Abigail’s consort.

The idea had an air of utter unreality about it, as if it was something Seth had once read in a book and now didn’t know for sure whether it was actually true. But the reactions of his parents — and the other McAllisters he’d seen on the street, who obviously had gotten the news well before he did — told him this actually was happening.

He didn’t think anyone could have missed Charles’s distinct lack of enthusiasm about the situation, but it seemed clear his parents had decided to brush it off. No doubt they were doing their best to tell themselves he was only startled because he hadn’t expected to be chosen for the consort kiss until some of the McAllister cousins who were closer to Abigail in age had their turn…and also that they understood he still carried a torch for Mary Towne, even if everyone else involved had moved on.

But weren’t a prima -in-waiting and her consort supposed to be rapturously in love once they’d shared their fateful kiss, the one that was supposed to spark a lifelong passion that would never burn out?

That was the story everyone had been told. Now, however, it seemed as if real life could be just a little more complicated.

Seth sincerely hoped his brother would get better at acting the role once his initial shock wore off. Having a future consort who appeared less than happy about his upcoming nuptials wasn’t anything the McAllister clan would want to acknowledge.

In the end, though, this was a row Charles would have to decide on his own how to hoe. Seth knew he was only peripherally connected to the situation and could stay safely out of it for the most part.

Thank the Goddess.

He’d just bent down to start pulling off his work boots when someone knocked at the door. At once he straightened, startled. He seldom had visitors, and even when he did, he usually had some advance notice that they would be dropping by.

Could it be that Deborah had slipped away from Ruth and Timothy’s house and come down the hill to see him?

As much as Seth might have wanted that to be the case, he somehow doubted Deborah would do anything so bold. Not because she didn’t possess the requisite fire or spirit to act on her own, but only because she wouldn’t want to do anything that might compromise her reputation, which was already on slightly shaky ground thanks to the utter mystery of her origins.

Frowning, he went to the door and opened it. Outside stood his brother Charles, still wearing the same stony expression he’d been sporting through most of dinner.

“We need to talk,” he said, and brushed past Seth almost as though he wasn’t there at all.

That kind of behavior only deepened his scowl, but he didn’t reply at once, and instead shut the door before turning toward his brother, who now stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed.

“I thought I already offered you my congratulations,” Seth commented dryly, but Charles only made an impatient gesture.

“I don’t give a damn about that,” he replied, irritation flashing in his eyes, their clear blue almost as bright as his own. “Believe me, this situation was none of my choosing, and you know that as well as I do.”

Maybe a bit of hyperbole, but it also didn’t require a mind reader to see that Charles was less than pleased to be Abigail’s future consort.

“Because of Mary?” Seth ventured, and his brother’s brow darkened.

“Mary,” Charles replied, “and a whole lot more. This new wrinkle puts me in a hell of a bind.”

“Your outside arrangement,” Seth said. Even though they were alone here and the windows were shut tight, making the little house positively stuffy, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to utter the word “bootlegging” aloud.

Charles’s mouth twisted. “As good a way as any of describing it. But yes, that. I know Mabel, and therefore I know she’s going to want me involved with as much of the wedding planning as possible, even though I don’t give a good damn about any of it. Then there’s the house — ”

“‘The house’?” Seth repeated, not sure what his brother was driving at.

The answering look that Charles sent him dripped with condescension. “You don’t really think Mabel is going to let her precious Abigail live in a flat above a store, do you? No, she’s already talking about buying the Waters’ house — ”

“The one you wanted for you and Mary?”

Angry fire flashed in his brother’s eyes. “Yes, that one. I suppose the Goddess is having her little joke with me. Then again, good-sized houses aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here, so it’s probably not so surprising that Mabel would choose that one. At any rate, I’ll be trying to juggle wedding preparations with setting up a new house so Abigail can go straight to a fancy new home as soon as we’re married.”

Seth wondered if he should say “sorry,” even though none of this was his doing. However, he decided it was probably better to remain silent and allow his brother to speak his piece. It wouldn’t change the situation, but it might help him a little to vent his frustration to someone he knew wouldn’t betray his confidence.

“And of course Mabel wants me to stop working at the store,” Charles continued. “I know that a consort doesn’t work, but I didn’t think she’d ask me to quit until closer to the wedding. Which is why I’m talking to you, Seth.”

He didn’t much like the sound of that. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

His brother released a disgusted breath. “It has everything to do with you. If I’m not working at the store, then you have to.”

Hell, no, rose in Seth’s mind, but he kept that inner protest to himself. In the back of his mind, he’d always known that if something should happen to Charles, he’d need to step in to pick up the slack. Working at the mine was more lucrative, but family came first.

“I can do that,” he said calmly. No point in letting his brother see that he was not entirely pleased with the prospect, even if Seth might allow himself a few inner grumbles.

“Good,” Charles replied. “Because you’ll need the cover of working at the store to take over my Prescott route for the bootleggers.”

Had Charles completely lost his mind? But no, he stood there calmly enough, looking as though he hadn’t just made a completely outlandish proposition.

“I can’t do that,” Seth said flatly, and his brother’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, you can, and you will,” Charles returned. “They won’t care about the change in my circumstances, and obviously, I can’t tell them the whole story. The only way to prevent them from retaliating against me is to make sure their deliveries continue uninterrupted…and that means having you drive the truck to Prescott whenever they need you to. If there were any way to continue doing it myself, I would. But I can’t risk having Mabel discover what I’ve been up to. She’s going to be watching me like a hawk now that I’m her daughter’s new consort.”

On the surface, that excuse made some sense. However….

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Seth asked, then went on without waiting for his brother to reply. “Maybe it would be better if the prima knew the truth. She certainly has the power to ensure the bootleggers stay far, far away from our family.”

Charles’s lip curled in contempt. “Don’t be an idiot. Mabel might have magic, but they have guns. Do you really want to risk the safety of our clan members, merely for a chance to expose those men for what they are?”

But you’re fine with risking my safety, Seth thought then. There had been times over the years when his older brother’s words or actions had upset him, even angered him, but until now, he’d never experienced white-hot, burning fury over Charles’s apparent disregard for anyone other than himself.

That anger left Seth at a loss for words, creating a brooding silence that his brother decided to fill.

“It won’t be forever,” he said. “Only until November or thereabouts, when the roads start to get icy. At that point, they’ll move their operations to the south and come into Prescott through a different route that won’t take them over the mountain.”

“And when spring comes again?” Seth replied, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice. “Do you think they’ll have conveniently forgotten about me by then?”

“Of course not,” Charles said easily. “But I’ll negotiate with them, make it understood that they’ll need to find someone new for the Jerome run by the time the roads clear. In the meantime, you’ll keep all of us safe…and make some good money on the side that you can spend on that pretty girl of yours.”

Blood money, Seth thought, but again, he held his tongue, especially since he knew he was being a bit melodramatic. Running liquor was against the law, but most people saw breaking Prohibition as a victimless crime.

Well, except for those unfortunate souls who might come up against the wrong side of the bootleggers and never be heard from again.

Still, he hated the idea of being roped into that kind of activity, hated that his brother’s rash actions were forcing him to participate in criminal behavior that could result in his going to jail if he ever got caught.

But Charles was right. A prima’s consort didn’t work unless it was some kind of artistic pursuit that still allowed him to stay home and remain at her side. Being a shopkeeper certainly didn’t fall into that category, which meant Seth had to take over his brother’s position at the store.

A position that provided perfect cover for the much darker, more dangerous matters he pursued on the side.

With a looming sense of finality, he said, “When’s the next run?”

“Tomorrow night,” Charles replied at once. His tone had shifted to one of relief, as if he knew that by asking such a question, Seth had already agreed to take on the Prescott delivery route.

Of course it was Friday night. He didn’t much like the idea of breaking off his date to go dancing in Cottonwood with Deborah, although maybe there was something else he could offer her, like going to the movies on Saturday evening. It wouldn’t be quite the same, but it would be better than nothing. He’d just have to invent some sort of plausible excuse for canceling the date, although he supposed the sudden shift his career would probably be enough to explain away the change in plans.

What else could he do, now that he’d already tacitly agreed to take his brother’s place at both the store and on the Prescott run?

“It’s quite simple,” Charles went on. “You just need to drive the truck to the exploratory mine shaft. The barrel of moonshine will be hidden toward the back, behind some boulders we rolled in there to provide camouflage. Fill the jugs provided with moonshine, load them into the truck, and drive them to the Palace in downtown Prescott.”

Seth’s eyebrows lifted. A bootlegging operation was happening in the same restaurant where he’d taken Deborah to dinner only the day before?

Now his brother’s expression turned almost condescending. “You mean you really didn’t know there was a speakeasy under the Palace?”

“Not being in the habit of frequenting those sorts of places, no,” Seth retorted.

Charles didn’t even blink. “I never realized you were so holier-than-thou.”

That was probably the last phrase Seth would have ever applied to himself. “I’m not,” he said. “But I try to avoid situations that could bring trouble to our clan.”

Maybe the slightest lift at the corner of his brother’s mouth. “There won’t be any trouble,” he said smoothly. “As long as you do as you’re told. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Lionel Allenby and inform him you need to resign from your foreman’s position to come work for the family business. I know he’ll be understanding.”

Of course he would, because by then, Charles would have already let him know what had happened…or at least, he would have provided a heavily edited version of the events of the past day, one that would pass muster with a civilian.

Seth didn’t bother to comment. His brother might have set them on this perilous course, but it sure looked as though he’d have to be the one to safely steer this ship to shore.