Ignoring the judge, Tommy's father popped up and pointed his finger at Papa. "Lockwood," he yelled. "You let your daughter marry my son, and I'll agree to a one-time town."

Thunderous applause and the stomping of feet followed his outburst.

"Order!" the judge bellowed. "There will be no showdown!" His pleas went unnoticed. Applause and shouts of approval drowned out both the judge's voice and the pounding of his gavel.

The blacksmith pumped his fist in the air. "It's about time. That's all I gotta say. Let's get these two young'uns married off so we can all live in peace."

"Hear, hear," shouted a man sitting next to him.

Not to be outdone, the mayor stood, his head encircled by blue smoke from his cigar. "I think that's a fine idea," he said. "What do you say, Lockwood?"

All eyes turned to Meg's father, whose face was as stoic as rock. "My daughter might not wish to marry-"

"Why wouldn't she wish to marry him?" someone bellowed. "If she's as heartbroken as you say she is, she'll welcome Tommy's change of heart."

Aware that everyone's attention had now shifted to her, Meg felt her heart pounding against her ribs. Her gaze sought Grant's. Losing, Miss Lockwood? I'm afraid that's something of which I have no knowledge.

She gasped for air and willed Grant to do something, say something. Much to her dismay, he remained seated and in conversation with his client. Had he planned this all along? Planned for Tommy's last-minute change of heart, should things start to go her way? She didn't want to believe it of him, but what else could she think? He'd made no secret about his feelings, about how much he loathed breach-of-promise suits. But never did she dream that he would go to such lengths to keep the judge from ruling in her favor.

"I-I..." She cast a pleading look at Barnes. For goodness' sake, don't just sit there. Do something!

"The lady says yes!" someone shouted, and the courtroom erupted again with shouts of joy.

"Order!" The judge's incessant banging finally gained control. "Counselors." He gave his bench another whack of his gavel and rose like a raven about to take flight.

"In my chamber. Now!"

Meg walked out of the courtroom in a daze, only to find a noisy celebration in full swing. Two feuding families were about to join forces through marriage. At long last, the town would be united under one time zone.

Bells pealed out, the Farrell bell joining forces with the church bells to create a cacophony never before heard in the town. The Lockwood bell remained silent.

Sallie-May pushed her way through the throng of people. "Oh, Meg. I'm so sorry-"

She said more, but her voice was drowned out by the revelers.

Tommy caught up to Meg, and the crowd corralled them in a tight circle. Meg felt like her whole life was spinning out of control. A wooden puppet controlled by strings couldn't have felt more helpless.

The newspaper editor plied them with questions. "How did it feel when he proposed a second time?"

"Well, I-" She looked at Tommy, and he looked at her. "I was surprised," she murmured. Surprise didn't even begin to describe how she felt. Tommy Farrell, I'll kill you. I swear I will! Announcing his intention to marry her in court at the last possible moment was almost as bad as leaving her at the altar. Worse!

"When's the wedding?" someone called out.

"We haven't set a date yet," Tommy said, wiping beads of perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand.

The minister interrupted. "I say we get these two young people married off as soon as possible. How about this weekend?"

Much to Meg's dismay, the celebration seemed to last forever. She just wanted to go home and hide. If it was possible to fall through a hole in the ground, she would have gladly done so, but never had the ground beneath her feet felt more solid.

Grant walked out of the courthouse. The crowd closed in around him like ants at a picnic. Folks patted him on the back and offered congratulations.

Meg felt a heavy weight crushing down on her.

So this was Grant's doing. She should have known. A big-city lawyer like him was bound to have a clever plan up his sleeve. He would do anything rather than lose a case.

So when did you think up the plan? Before we kissed? Or after?

His gaze met hers. His face was inscrutable and his dark eyes even more so, letting nothing in and even less out. After a moment, he turned and vanished amid the crowd of well-wishers. Had he physically trampled on her heart, it couldn't have hurt more.

The sheriff stepped out of his office just as Grant rode past on his horse. "Why, you sneaky dog, you," he called after him. "Congratulations."

Ignoring him, Grant urged Chester into a full gallop.

People actually thought that Tommy's courtroom shenanigans had been a legal trick.

As if he would agree to such a thing. He still couldn't believe Tommy had acted on his own. Grant hadn't thought the young man had it in him. Even more surprising, Meg seemed to go along with it.

He'd obviously attached more importance to their New Year's kiss than she had. How could he have been so wrong?

He was so focused on his thoughts that at first he didn't see the widow Rockwell dragging a small table across the street. When he did, he was tempted to keep going, but she looked so weary that he didn't have the heart.

Dismounting, he tethered his horse to the fence. "Here, let me help you with that."

The woman's face melted into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Garrison. Much obliged."

He picked up the table and hauled it across the street. "Didn't we move this yesterday?"

She looked blank. "Was it just yesterday? Why, I guess it was." She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. "Which house do you think I should live in?"

"Beats me," Grant said. "They both look the same." In truth, the houses were identical down to the blue trim.

She pointed to the stairs at the side of one house. "As a child, my husband slept upstairs in the loft."

Her eyes glazed over, and a look of confusion crossed her face. "Or was it that house?"

Grant suddenly realized that the woman wasn't off her rocker, as he had supposed; rather, she was grieving, and that was something he knew about.

Recalling how good it had felt to talk to Meg about his sister, he said, "Tell me about your husband, Mrs. Rockwell."

The woman looked surprised and then pleased. "You want to know about my Charley?"

"Yes, and I'll tell you about Meg."

"Who's Meg?"

"What?"

"You said you'd tell me about Meg. Was she your wife?"

"No, no, I mean..." Grant shook his head. Where was his brain? "I meant to say Mary, my sister. I'll tell you about her."

But even as he spoke about his beloved twin, his mind kept drifting back to Meg.

"I can't do this!" Meg cried out, hands planted on her waist.

At long last, she and Tommy had managed to escape the crowd of well-wishers. Now it was just the two of them, facing each other on her front porch like two combatants.

"I hafta marry you, Meg. Don't you see? It's the only honor'ble thing to do."

Tommy looked like he'd just been in a fight. Shirttails hanging over his trousers, he'd somehow managed to lose his bow tie, and his spiked hair stood on end as if it had been combed with an eggbeater.

"Don't talk to me about honor. If you were all that honorable, you would never have left me at the altar in the first place!"

"I don't blame you for bein' riled. If I was you, I'd be mad too."

"Mad doesn't even begin to describe how I feel!" She threw up her hands. "You knew the judge was about to rule in my favor. That's the only reason you agreed to marry me."

Tommy grimaced and raked his fingers through his hair. His shoulders drooped along with his expression. "Meg...the only way my family can come up with ten grand is if we sell the shop and mortgage the house. Even then"-he shook his head-"that won't even begin to pay for legal fees."

"Oh, Tommy, no. You can't do that."

"If I don't marry you, my family will end up at the county poor farm."

She felt trapped. Worse, she felt sorry for him. For the whole Farrell family. "I don't want your money, Tommy. I don't."

"It doesn't matter. The judge said if I don't marry you this time, I better come up with the big bucks else he's throwin' me in jail."

"Oh dear goodness." Her heart rose to her throat. "He can't do that."

"He's the judge. He can do anythin' he wants."

Her mind whirled. There had to be a way. "I'll have Papa talk to him. Tell him we don't want the money."

Tommy shook his head. "The judge made his rulin'. There ain't nothin' we can do. 'Sides, everyone is countin' on the Farrell-Lockwood feud comin' to an end."

He was right. It was no longer just the two of them affected. It was the whole town. How did life become so complicated?

"What did Grant...uh...your lawyer say?" If Tommy noticed her slip of tongue, he gave no indication.

"He said that marryin' you was the only way out."

Tommy only confirmed what she already suspected, but still Meg felt her heart squeeze tight. "He...he said that?" So he had planned this all along. The kiss was just a...what? A ruse? A game? A way to keep her distracted?

"Don't look so horrified, Meg. You make it sound like marryin' me is the end of the world."

That's exactly what it felt like, but she didn't want to say as much. "What...what about Asia and the Pacific Islands?"

Tommy shrugged as if his dreams were of no consequence, but the faraway look in his eyes told her otherwise. "It won't be so bad. I'll be a good husband to you, Meg. I swear. I'll never stray, and I won't cause you any more problems. Maybe one day, we can go the islands. Just you and me."

She tried to breathe, but something like a boulder was lodged in her chest. This whole mess was partly her fault. If only she'd known her true feelings from the start. She loved Tommy, she did, but now she realized that love was more like for a brother than a lover.

"I don't know, Tommy..."

"We don't have to go to the islands," he said, misunderstanding her hesitation. "We can go to Paris or Ireland or even Italy."

The more he talked, the lower Meg's spirits fell. Her feelings for Tommy had never caused her to lose sleep or stop eating, not even when he'd left her at the altar. Not like the people who wrote to Miss Lonely Hearts. She'd experienced none of the tortured misery of a broken love affair as described in the letters. None of the heartache.

If she could force herself to love Tommy as he deserved to be loved, she would gladly do so. But the heart had a mind of its own, and the most anyone could do was follow.

Of course, that didn't mean she had feelings for anyone else. Certainly not for Grant. Not now. Not after he'd thrown her under a train, so to speak, rather than lose his case.

"There's somethin' else," Tommy said, staring down at his feet.

She gulped and knotted her hands by her sides in an effort to brace herself. Something in his voice told her that things were about to get a whole lot worse.

"What is it, Tommy?"

He looked up. "Judge Lynch is only in town for another week."

She frowned. "So?"

"That means that I have seven days to come up with ten grand or-"

Her stomach turned over. "Or...or what?"

"Marry you."

Twenty-five.

Josie's door opened to Meg's knock.

"Oh, Meg. Come in." Josie took Meg's hand and pulled her inside. "Are you all right?"

Meg gave a wooden nod. "As all right as I'll ever be."