This calls for a celebration.” Mason gestured toward the depot site, where a tall wooden plank fence surrounded the excavation that had finally resumed. It was early May, and as Papa had predicted, the contractor the UP had chosen had not hired any of the men who’d participated in the strike in March but instead had brought his own crew. Eugenia had taken a number of pictures of the work, while Mason had scribbled in his ever-present notebook. Now that they were finished, he wore a grin as he said, “Can I interest you in one of Esther Snyder’s pastries?”
“Oh, yes.” Eugenia saw no reason to hide her enthusiasm. “Others may disagree, but I’m convinced she bakes the best cakes and cookies in Cheyenne.”
Of course, even if Esther’s creations tasted like sawdust, Eugenia would have accepted Mason’s invitation simply to have a reason to spend more time with him. Memories of the waltz they’d shared were never far from her thoughts, and though he hadn’t referred to it, Eugenia knew she wasn’t imagining the new warmth she’d seen in Mason’s eyes. The night they’d danced together had been a turning point, changing what had been a friendly partnership into something more, something Eugenia was almost afraid to name.
She placed her hand on the crook of his arm and enjoyed their leisurely stroll north on Central Avenue. When they reached the bakery, she was surprised to discover that for once it was devoid of customers, although Jeremy stood behind his easel in the far corner.
As the doorbell tinkled, Esther Snyder emerged from the back room, her face wreathed in a smile. “Look, Jeremy. Two of our favorite people are here.”
Eugenia blinked in surprise at the realization that Mason had been here often enough to have gained “favorite people” status. “I was going to introduce Mason to you,” she told Esther, “but obviously there’s no need.”
“Indeed not. Mason is one of our best customers, although I suspect the real attraction is not my baked goods but my husband.”
As Jeremy wiped his hands on a rag and approached them, Mason gestured toward a table for four. “Would you two join us for some cake and conversation?” Though he hadn’t said anything, he’d obviously noticed that Esther was with child and might want to sit down.
Jeremy nodded. “If you’re sure we won’t be interrupting.” His eyes lit on the camera Eugenia was carrying. “I’d like to learn more about that apparatus of yours. The last one I saw was a daguerreotype.”
When they were all seated with an assortment of cakes on a platter in the center of the table and cups of steaming coffee and tea before them, Eugenia addressed Jeremy. “Photography has changed a great deal since daguerreotypes. We no longer usesilver-plated copper plates. Now it’s Mr. Eastman’s American film.” When Jeremy nodded, encouraging her to continue, she explained. “That’s paper coated with two types of gelatin. It’s lighter than the metal plates, and we can make exposures in far less time than before.”
Mason lifted the camera from the floor where Eugenia had placed it. “Show him how the back rotates.”
When Eugenia had finished the demonstration, pointing out how simple it was to switch between portraits and landscapes, Jeremy was silent for a moment. “I guess I’d better worry,” he said. “These newfangled inventions will put me out of business. People won’t want to wait the days it takes for me to paint their portrait when you can give them one in hours.”
“Speed isn’t everything,” Eugenia said, sensing the depth of Jeremy’s concern. Painting portraits and landscapes was his livelihood. It couldn’t be easy, fearing he might lose the ability to provide for his family, especially once the baby arrived.
Mason swallowed a bite of cake then laid his fork on his plate. “The way I see it, you’re both artists. Eugenia captures a person’s image at one moment in time. Her photographs are very realistic and show exactly what that person looked like and what he was doing then. When Jeremy paints a portrait, he seeks to depict the depths of his subject’s personality. Neither one is better than the other. There’s a need for both.”
What a sensitive man! Eugenia’s heart soared at the way Mason had defused a potentially painful situation, and she couldn’t help contrasting that with the cruel comments Chauncey had made when he’d brought her here. Eugenia loved her father. She wanted to honor him, but surely there was a way to convince him that Chauncey was not the right man for her.
“Eugenia!” Papa looked up from the ledger he’d been consulting. “I thought you and Louisa were at the dressmaker’s this morning. You know I want you to have a new gown for our party. Nothing but the finest will do for my daughter.”
But the finest was not Chauncey Keaton. Eugenia swallowed, trying to tamp down her nervousness. Though Papa rarely denied her anything, this was different. “Aunt Louisa is having her fitting now. I’ll join her in a few minutes, but first I wanted to talk to you.”
Papa looked concerned. “Is there a problem with the party? I thought everything was settled.”
“There’s no problem with the party.” Eugenia knew how important the gala was to her father. He’d invited everyone in Cheyenne who supported the UP, and the fact that several railroad officials were coming from Omaha would make it the largest event prior to the cornerstone ceremony. “The invitations have gone out, and the food is all ordered,” she said, reassuring him.
“Good, good.” The furrows between Papa’s eyes disappeared for an instant then reappeared. “What’s wrong? Do you need a new camera?”
“No, Papa. The camera is fine. I wanted to talk to you about Chauncey.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What about Chauncey? He’s a good man.”
Remembering the way Chauncey had treated Jeremy, Eugenia could not agree withher father. “There’s no easy way to say this. I don’t want to marry him.”
“Nonsense!” Papa sputtered. “He’ll be a good husband. He’s a good cattleman, and I know he’ll take good care of both you and the ranch.”
The fact that Papa had repeated the word good so many times told Eugenia how upset he was, for it wasn’t like him to repeat himself. Though she didn’t want to distress her father, she couldn’t pretend.
“I don’t love him.” There. She’d said it.
“What do you know of love?”
“I know what Mama told me. I know how she felt about you, and I don’t have those feelings for Chauncey.”
Papa shook his head, his expression reminding her of the way he’d looked when she’d been a small child and had somehow disappointed him. “Feelings grow. You need to trust me, Eugenia. I only want the best for you, and that’s Chauncey.”
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
The next two weeks were a whirlwind of activity, getting everything ready for the party, and throughout that time Eugenia refused to think about Chauncey. He was still back East and would be there for at least another week. In the meantime, she savored every minute she spent with Mason. Though preparations for tonight’s party kept her busy, she and Mason visited the depot site each day, looking for anything new to document.
The plank fence encircling the construction site was now covered with posters for local businesses and traveling shows. When she and Mason had visited the bakery for some of Esther’s gingerbread, Eugenia had joked with both her and Jeremy, suggesting they advertise there. They’d demurred, saying they had no need to attract new customers, especially since Esther was providing the desserts for tonight’s gala.
Eugenia moved from the kitchen to the dining room to the parlor, mentally checking items off her list. Everything was ready. All that remained was Eugenia herself. She climbed the stairs and entered her room. The seafoam-green silk gown Madame Charlotte had designed for her was the most beautiful one Eugenia had ever worn. Intricately draped and trimmed with Venetian lace, it was a true masterpiece. As Eugenia slid it over her head and admired the effect in her cheval mirror, she smiled, wondering how Mason would react when he saw it.
His reaction was everything she’d hoped for and more. As Eugenia descended the staircase, Mason stared at her for a long moment then chuckled.
“This is the first time I’ve been speechless in…” He paused, considering. “The truth is, I can’t ever remember being at a loss for words. You literally took my breath away.”
Though Papa and Aunt Louisa were standing at Mason’s side, Eugenia had eyes only for him. “That’s the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me. Thank you, Mason. May I say you look particularly dashing tonight?”
“You’ve seen these clothes before.”
“Maybe so, but your smile is brighter than normal.” And, oh, how that smile made her heart race.
“If so, it’s your fault.”
Papa cleared his throat, bringing Eugenia back to reality. “Are you ready? The first of our guests are arriving.”
Dutifully, Eugenia stood in the receiving line between Papa and Aunt Louisa, then moved into the parlor to circulate among the guests while they waited for dinner to be served. Everyone seemed to enjoy the hors d’oeuvre, and when they sat down for dinner, she heard nothing but praise. By any measure, the party was a success. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if Eugenia could have spent the evening with Mason.
As it was, she’d spoken to him only in passing, but she’d been aware of him no matter where she went or what she did. She saw the way he brought a flush to the older women’s cheeks and knew he was being as charming to them as he was to everyone. There was no flattery in Mason, just honest compliments.
As the hours passed, Eugenia smiled so much that her face hurt. Still, she could not regret a single minute, for the evening was everything Papa had wished for.
“Great job, Eugenia,” Papa said when the last of the guests had departed, leaving Eugenia alone with her father, her aunt, and Mason. “I could not have asked for anything better.”
“Thank you.” Eugenia led the way into the small sitting room, noticing that her father appeared tired. “Would you like some warm milk?” When she’d been a child, it had been Papa who’d encouraged her to drink it before bedtime, saying it would help her sleep. It was only later that she’d learned that he’d never outgrown his fondness for the children’s beverage.
“That sounds good.” He turned to his sister. “What about you, Louisa?”
Aunt Louisa nodded. “With a dash of nutmeg, if you please.”
“I’ll get it.” Eugenia rose. Though she could have summoned a servant, they’d all worked so hard that she didn’t want to disturb any of them.
“Let me help.” Mason stood at Eugenia’s side and slid the pocket door open so she could precede him.
When they reached the kitchen, Eugenia pulled a pan from the cupboard and filled it with milk.
“I want to echo your father,” Mason said as he leaned against the doorjamb. “You were the perfect hostess. Thanks to you, everyone had a wonderful time.”
“What about you? Did you enjoy the evening?” Though this had been part of his job, Eugenia hoped Mason had found some pleasure tonight.
“I did. Only one thing would have made it better.”
Though she’d been about to light the stove, Eugenia turned to look at Mason. There had been an unexpected note in his voice, one that made her wonder what his one thing was. For her, it would have been to have spent more time with him.
“What’s that one thing?” she asked.
“I wish we could have danced.”
Eugenia inhaled swiftly as memories of the minutes they’d spent in each other’s arms rushed back, overwhelming her with their sweetness. It would be wonderful, so very wonderful, if they could repeat that. She looked at the open space in the middle of the kitchen. “There’s no music, but if one of us hums, we could dance right here.” Without waiting for his response, she began to hum a waltz.
Mason smiled. “You really are perfect.” He opened his arms and drew her into them. Within seconds, they were dancing in the kitchen, their feet moving as smoothly as if they were in a ballroom with an orchestra providing music.
Afterward, Eugenia could not have said how long they danced. All she knew was that as they twirled and dipped, Mason’s gaze never left hers. And then he stopped, his eyes darkening with emotion as ever so slowly he lowered his lips to hers.