He tightened his grip on her waist. His chest stretched with a breath he held and held until she wondered if he’d ever breathe again. But when he spoke again, it was she who stopped breathing.

  “It may seem sudden, Olive, but I know my mind. I know how I admired you from the beginning. I know how hard I tried not to think of you in a possessive sort of way, how hard I tried to keep Ruby at the center of my thoughts. But the more I was around you, the more untenable it was to consider her.

  “You’re young,” he said. “You haven’t been married before, so I’m going to give you the experience you deserve. I’m going to court you and woo you. I’d work fourteen years for you like Jacob did for Rachel if I needed to, because you deserve that. But . . . just so you know . . . I love you and that’s not going to change. It might grow stronger, but I want you in my life and in my family. Take all the time you want in making your decision, but as far as I’m concerned, my decision has already been made. But that’s not to pressure you. You take . . .”

  He was rambling, bouncing back and forth between assurances of his enduring affection and apologies for having his affections settled before giving her a chance to know her own mind. There was nothing for Olive to do besides watch, listen, and find his discomfort endearing.

  “For now, just this is what I want.” He looked over the water and the shore in the distance, giving Olive a chance to hide her smile. “What I want is the ability to spend time with you, to work with you if you’ll allow it, the privilege of letting my children get to know you better. That’s all I’m asking for. You’ve been kind . . .”

  Oh no. He must have seen her mouth twitch because he stopped abruptly. “Are you laughing at me?” His mouth quirked sideways, and his shoulders relaxed.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” she said. “You’re telling me that you love me, and I think you’re telling me that you’re going to ask me to marry you someday. I don’t know if that qualifies as a proposal, so I’m uncertain how I’m supposed to respond.” Funny how delightful it was to look him in the eyes now that she had nothing to hide. “The best thing for me to do is to stay quiet until you finish your presentation and see how you’re feeling after that.”

  “Oh, Olive. I’m feeling like I want to kiss you.”

  Now that was a statement that she understood. His eyes traveled to her lips and Olive sprang into action. It took a hand to his chest to halt what he intended.

  “I can’t kiss you,” she said. “You know that.”

  “I most certainly don’t know that! Whyever not?”

  “Remember last time? It didn’t go well.”

  “I remember.” He sighed. “I could live to be two hundred and I wouldn’t forget that kiss.”

  “Then you have to understand why it’s impossible. I can’t kiss you again until I figure out the right way to do it.” Her heartbeat was notching up, just talking about it. “Maybe there’ll be some books on kissing at the church bazaar? That’s how I learned architecture.” She was spouting nonsense to stall.

  “You gave me an amazing kiss the first time. So amazing that I was unprepared and failed to behave properly.” The sun was down now but twilight lingered enough for her to see his eyebrow quirk.

  Olive was finding it difficult to form words. She licked her lips, then remembered their dinner. “Oh no! I ate pickles. You can’t kiss me when I reek of pickles.”

  He seemed entranced by her lips, leaning even closer, tilting his head in a way she now recognized. “I ate pickles too. I love pickles. Almost as much as I love olives.” Maxfield paused long enough for her to reconsider, but Olive found herself stretching toward him.

  She’d meant to keep her eyes opened, but as their lips met, her head tilted back, her eyes closed, and she felt herself being drawn into the whirlwind that had produced the last disaster. The music from the band turned into a roar in her ears. She remembered she should hold back this time, to let him take the lead, but she soon found that patience in this area was not one of her virtues.

  Her only salvation was that he pulled away. At least his lips were gone from hers because now they were pressed against her head, flattening that hairdo she’d fretted over.

  Olive clung to him as he gathered her up against him.

  “This is going to be harder than I expected,” he said. “I am undone by your enthusiasm.”

  “It’s that bad?” Her senses were returning but they all called out for more of Maxfield. She disentangled herself, trying to restore the decorum they’d abandoned. “I’ll try to be more subdued in the future.”

  “That’s entirely unnecessary.” He had adopted that nonchalant air again, but Olive knew the truth. He was as enthusiastic as she. “I’m not offended. In fact, I’m enchanted, but I never got to finish that presentation. The one where I ask you to marry me.”

  Olive fanned her face as she turned toward the gentle lapping of the lake. Being the wife of Maxfield Scott, a man whose name she’d revered for years, was a ludicrous idea. The girl who read the secondhand architecture books at her mother’s sickbed would say no. She’d be alarmed at the prospect. She’d do everything in her power to avoid such a prominent role.

  Her gaze traveled across the lake to the gently sloping hills on the far side. That girl would say no, but Olive wasn’t that girl any longer. She was a woman who met with investors, hired construction crews, and directed them to build her creations. She was a woman who could appreciate a man like Maxfield and all that he had to offer. A woman who would love him ardently and tenaciously.

  She would be a better woman because of him and, in her opinion, he was already a better man because of her.

  Olive turned. She couldn’t hide her heart’s decision. He read it on her face and dropped to one knee on the dock. He took her hand, and the rest was easy from there. In fact, it was the easiest decision she’d made in her life.

  CHAPTER

  29

  It was Mr. Blount’s final walk-through of the newly finished addition, and Olive was holding her breath. He’d walked the construction every day, but this was an inspection and, as a mine owner, Mr. Blount knew the importance of thoroughness. He stuck his head inside the fireplace in the great hall and commented that he didn’t see any light shining through. He bounced on the floor, making sure it didn’t give any more than it should. He flipped the light switches, grunting his approval when the lamps responded, and then he slid open the pocket door that led to Mrs. Blount’s enclosed porch.

  “Are you happy?” he asked Mrs. Blount, who was bent over a massive potted plant.

  Hugging the pot with both arms, she scooted backward, pulling it toward the screen and the indirect sunlight. “I’m happy if you’re happy,” she said.

  Of course Mrs. Blount was happy. Her new rooms were perfect, and she was constantly sharing her delight with Olive as she arranged and rearranged the new furnishings. But with a husband like Mr. Blount, Olive understood her answer. Thankfully Olive’s husband was nothing like him.

  “I’m only happy if this is the biggest house in Joplin.” Mr. Blount raised an eyebrow at Olive. “What did your cousin Amos say about that?”

  Despite the fact that Olive had an office with her name on it and Amos hadn’t shown up at the construction site for weeks, Mr. Blount still pretended not to understand who the builder was.

  “With the addition of the enclosed porch, your home is the biggest in Joplin.” She looked about the beautiful room. Too bad it represented a selfish pride. Maybe someday someone would own it who appreciated it for the design instead of the square footage.

  “It’s perfect,” said Mrs. Blount. Maybe somebody already did appreciate it.

  “Then we can close the books on this deal.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s the remaining balance on the project. I’ll be sure and recommend your boss for the work he did.”

  Olive couldn’t help but grin as she took the check. “Thank you. Amos will be grateful.” She dropped it into her bag and snapped it closed. Just in the nick of time. Olive’s day had been full between visiting her mother’s grave and packing her bags, then there was that short appointment they’d had with Pastor Matthew that morning. Now there was so much to do before the train left.

  She walked with her head held high, more concerned about accomplishing her tasks than who was looking at her and what they thought. Her office would be neglected for the next two weeks, but her clients were aware of the situation. The department store, the railcar, and Boone and Maisie’s new house would wait until she returned.

  It was no longer a surprise to see Maxfield sitting behind her desk, although he was always quick to jump out of the way when she entered. Or maybe he was quick to jump to her. In unison, they pulled out slips of paper and presented them to each other.

  “Mr. Dennis is satisfied?” she asked as she scanned the amount on Maxfield’s check.

  “He agrees that no one counts the square footage of their porches so in reality, his house is the biggest. How about Mr. Blount?”

  “His porch is so wonderful, of course he’s going to count it. It would be a disgrace to ignore it.” She looked again at the amount. “That is all you were paid? You didn’t charge enough. The great Maxfield Scott shouldn’t work for peanuts.”

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. That was just for the addition. But now that you mention it, I hope your check was only a partial payment too. My wife’s time is worth more than this.”

  “Absolutely.” She lifted her chin, daring him to repeat the kiss he’d bestowed that morning in front of family and friends.

  Maxfield complied, short and sweet. “Regretfully we have a deposit to make and a train to catch, but there’ll be more kissing before the day’s done. Don’t you worry.”

  He handed her the check, then picked up the two bags of luggage that waited by the door. From there, everything was done in a rush, from the deposits at the bank to the instructions for Eric to carry out while they were gone. Leo and Stella had already been taken to Granny Laura’s farm to stay while their parents honeymooned, and Olive had no doubt that they would be as wild as March hares by the time they returned.

  They’d reached the train station and boarded the private car her sister had arranged for them before she thought to tell Maxfield, “Did I mention who I saw while you were meeting with Mr. Dennis? Amos and Ruby. He had her trying to ride a unicycle on Main Street.”

  “I wish him all the luck.” He took her bag, set it on the dresser next to the bed, and removed his hat. “Did I mention to you that our bid on the residential lot was accepted?”

  Olive’s jaw dropped. “The bid for our lot?”

  Maxfield smiled as he pulled at the ribbon holding on her hat, then lifted the hat and dropped it atop her luggage. “I gave them the earnest money and we’ll close the deal when we return.”

  Olive squealed like the carefree child she never got to be. “Our house plans. We have to finalize our house plans.” She dug through her bag until she located her sketchbook. Flipping over the cover, she paged through until she found their latest project. “I can’t wait to get these done,” she said as she sat on the bed.

  “I can think of other things I’d rather do,” grumbled Maxfield.

  “Our offices,” she said. “We haven’t finished planning them.” With both parents working, having an office at home with the children made sense, but the Scotts were going the extra mile and designing an office each for Maxfield and Olive. Two independent architects, two separate doors, two distinct creative styles—all in one family.

  “I don’t care much about my office right now,” Maxfield said. He dropped a kiss on her neck and sent shivers through her bones.

  He was trying to distract her. “Good, then you won’t mind if I scoot this wall here and then we’re settled?” Olive held the plans out with hands that couldn’t help but tremble.

  “I don’t mi—” Max straightened. “Wait. Why would you do that? That makes your office bigger than mine. No, it’d look better if the wall were here.” He tapped an empty space in the middle of her office.

  “Nice try. That gives you nearly fifty square feet more while I’ll be scrunched up in a corner.” She couldn’t speak until the chill from his next kiss passed. “If we moved your window here and the wall there, then that would give me more room.”

  “My legs are longer than yours. They’ll never fit, not with all my books and shelves.” He shrugged, then found a place beneath her ear that he’d hitherto missed.

  “What if we attach a screened-in porch to your office?” she asked. “Would that satisfy you?”

  “Hmm . . . I’ll have to ask Amos. He’s going to be the designer of this house if you don’t cooperate.”

  Another kiss, but this one more than a peck. Olive sighed. “I guess if Blount and Dennis could work it out, we can too. Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t let Calista talk me into watching your children?”

  “It was only a matter of time,” Maxfield said as he took her sketchbook and laid it aside. “Your talents wouldn’t have gone unnoticed for long and once I discovered what a beautiful, accomplished lady you were, I wouldn’t have stopped until you noticed me.”

  The room swayed and the Joplin depot slowly slid past the window. In a matter of minutes, everything she knew, everyone she knew, would be left behind. But she’d be back. She’d found the one piece of the puzzle that her family couldn’t provide, and he fit perfectly into her life in every way.

  A Note from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  I can’t believe we’re at the end of THE JOPLIN CHRONICLES (at least for now). Thank you for spending time with the Kentworth cousins. They were so fun to write. I have dozens of ornery cousins, and they are more like the Kentworths than you might imagine.

  Once again, I’d like to thank the generous Joplinites who helped me with my research and local connections. In particular, we should celebrate the members of Historic Murphysburg Preservation. It was a walk down the streets of Murphysburg that convinced me to write about an aspiring architect and the type of people who would have commissioned those impressive homes.

  As usual, when naming my characters, I used the family names of Joplin’s early citizens, although it’s only to honor them, not to suggest they were involved in any of my fictional shenanigans.

  A real Joplinite mentioned in the book is the acclaimed architect Austin Allen. Maxfield’s fictional career was modeled after Allen’s, but forgive me for moving his timeline up, as Allen would have just graduated high school in 1899. Despite dying at the young age of thirty-six, Austin Allen made rich contributions to the beauty and culture of Joplin.

  Another Joplin architect you should know about, especially since she was untrained like Olive, is Matilda Weymann. Around 1890, Mrs. Weymann designed her sprawling Queen Anne at 508 South Sergeant Avenue. The house contained such modern conveniences as speaking tubes and a central vacuum system. You can still see that home today. Another connection the Weymanns have with THE JOPLIN CHRONICLES is that Matilda’s husband was the zinc miner who discovered the Crystal Cave just three blocks from their house. One couple whose lives inspired two different storylines—impressive!

  Thank you again for reading my stories. Without my readers, this pecking at a computer would be pointless. If you want to connect, you can find me at reginajennings.com or on Facebook.

  Blessings!

  Regina

  Regina Jennings is a graduate of Oklahoma Baptist University with a degree in English and a minor in history. She’s the winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award and a finalist for the Christy Award, the Golden Quill Award, and the Oklahoma Book of the Year Award. Regina has worked at the Mustang News and at First Baptist Church of Mustang, along with time at the Oklahoma National Stockyards and various livestock shows. She lives outside Oklahoma City with her husband and four children and can be found online at www.reginajennings.com.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Books by Regina Jennings

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Contents

  The Kentworth Family

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  List of Pages

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