She read the letter three times. Then she sat down, took the best writing paper in the shop, and answered that she wasn't a parcel to be moved from wealth into poverty. She was a woman entitled to choose where she belonged. If he wanted to ask whether she might marry him, he should ask clearly and allow her to answer clearly, without making pity the middleman.
He arrived in the city eleven days later, disheveled from the journey, carrying a ring he had saved for months to buy. She met him in the workroom among bolts of ivory silk and baskets of pearl buttons. He took one look at her, forgot the careful speech he had planned, and said, "Would you marry me?"
She smiled. "Yes."
Then he laughed, and she kissed him before either had time to become afraid of the happiness opening in front of them. She told him she would keep her business and travel between its office and the ranch as needed. He agreed before she finished the sentence. They planned a winter wedding because the ranch needed him and her workshop could spare her only for a limited season. Neither knew that the banker was making plans of his own.
The rancher listened to this history while the candles shortened and the snow piled against the bedroom window. He had known she owned a workshop, but he had imagined a small, successful trade that supported its proprietor and perhaps a few workers. He had not understood the scale of the commissions, the wholesale contracts, or the careful investments she'd made to protect the company from lean seasons. The more she explained, the more impressed and troubled he became.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
She studied the pearl embroidery covering her knees. "Because I wanted to learn who you were before you knew what I could buy."
He looked wounded. "You thought I'd court you for your money?"
"I didn't know. I had met men who were enchanted by the owner of a successful concern until they saw the woman behind it. And I'd met men who became much more affectionate after learning the balance in her accounts." She lifted her eyes. "With you, I wanted to begin without either mistake."
He considered her answer. "I can understand that. But a marriage doesn't have room for too many unopened letters."