9
Once the supper patrons left, Cassie entered the dining room and began clearing tables. To her relief, a quick glance showed her that the pie pans were empty, and no one had folded the crust to one side in order to eat the filling alone. Then she shrugged. Over the past weeks, she’d learned that hungry men would eat anything put before them. The platters always came back to the kitchen empty.
Tableware clinked on crockery plates as she gathered soiled dishes. Soon she and Mrs. Fielder would take time to eat their own supper. Then she could judge for herself the success or failure of the piecrust.
“Miss Haddon. A word, please.” Mr. West’s peremptory tone stopped her midway to the kitchen. He crossed the dining room from the grocery entrance.
She lifted her chin, the better to meet his criticism head-on. “I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted all afternoon. After this, I’ll leave the cooking to Mrs. Fielder, I promise.”
He reached for her arm and then dropped his hand before touching her. “What are you talking about?”
“The meat pies. The crust was dreadful, wasn’t it?”
“That was the best piecrust I ever ate. Light. Flaky. Almost floated onto the fork.” His dusky skin flushed darker. “I sound like a woman.”
You could never sound like a woman, she felt like saying. Not with that gravelly voice.
He cleared his throat. “Thing is, I’d like you to start baking pies for desserts. Mrs. Fielder is a good cook, but she has limits. Pie is one of them.”
“I . . . I’ve never really made a whole pie. Just the crust. Our cook did everything else.”
“Well, how hard could it be? Crust, apples or something, and bake.”
Cassie felt light-headed. She’d been afraid she’d lose her job, and instead he’d added a complication.
She still had to face Mother when she went to Rosemary’s tonight. Then worry about making the cabin livable. And now Mr. West wanted her to leap into something she’d never done.
She gazed into his eyes, warm and brown as molasses, and heard herself say, “All right. When do you want me to start?”
“Saturday. I’ll get in a supply of dried apples tomorrow, and see to it they’re waiting for you when you arrive Saturday morning. Mrs. Fielder can help you find whatever else you need.” His face wore the delighted expression of a man who’d discovered treasure in his backyard.
She groped for a chair and sat. “Not Saturday. Please. I was going to—”
“Going to what?”
“Ask for the afternoon off.” Her words tumbled together. She drew a deep breath and held it, feeling a pulse throb in her neck.
“First today, now you want Saturday. I was afraid of this.” He fingered his moustache as he stared at her. “If you’re going to work here, you need to be committed. This isn’t an off-and-on pastime.”
“I assure you, I’m not a dilettante. I need this job—never more so than now.”
His eyebrows rose. “And why is that?”
To her surprise, his voice sounded gentle, almost like he cared about her answer. The worry she’d bottled up all afternoon spilled over.
“I found a cabin to rent. Mr. Slocum said we could have it on Saturday.”
“‘We’ is you and your mother?”
She nodded.
“So you’d like to take the afternoon to settle there?”
“Yes. Please.” She studied his face, trying to read the thoughts behind his noncommittal expression. If he refused, she and Mother couldn’t possibly be settled in the short time between the end of her workday and full dark on Saturday. Spending the Lord’s Day laboring was out of the question.
He straddled a chair facing her. “All right. Take the afternoon. Just remember, I’ll be expecting pies on Monday.”
“Thank you. I . . . I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” She jumped to her feet and grabbed a stack of plates to go to the kitchen.
“Miss Haddon.”
She paused.
“I’d be happy to lend a hand. Let me know if you’d like some help.”
“Oh! Thank you. I will.”
Her heart gave a happy bump at the thought of spending time with him away from the restaurant. Then she chided herself. If he helped, the move would be completed sooner. Then he’d be assured she’d be back at work on time Monday to bake his promised pies. It wasn’t as if he were personally interested in her.
“I won’t even consider such a thing.” Cassie’s mother sat in a slipper chair under the window in their bedroom, her hands folded on her lap desk. “Leave this comfortable house to live in two rooms?” Her red hair cascaded down her back in a thick braid. She wore her wrapper, although the sun hadn’t set.
Cassie arched an eyebrow. “You’re living in one room now. Except for meals, Rosemary tells me you spend no time downstairs.”
“Well, that’s different. I could if I wanted to.”
“We can’t wait any longer to hear from Uncle Rand.” She knelt beside the chair and took her mother’s hands. “Rosemary and Elijah need this room for their baby. They’ve been more than gracious to us, but the time has come for us to have our own place to live.”
Mother jerked her hands free. “If you call a rotting cabin a place to live. I certainly don’t.”
“Would you rather stay in a boardinghouse full of workmen? Right now, that’s our only other option.”
“How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice? What happened to my respectful daughter?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve changed since you started working for that Mr. West. He’s put these notions into your head, hasn’t he?”
“I make my own decisions.”
“You don’t make mine.”
“This time I have. The rent is paid for the first month. We’ll move in Saturday after I finish cleaning the rooms. That way we’ll be all settled and ready for church on Sunday morning.”
“You don’t know the first thing about cleaning a house.” She sniffled. “My own daughter, scrubbing floors. How did we ever sink so low?”
Cassie bit back a sharp retort at the sight of her mother’s tears, and used a soothing voice instead. “Lots of families are suffering as a result of the war. Things are bound to be better soon. Who knows? Uncle Rand may pop up any day.”
Mother stood and stared out the window. Gripping the sill, she asked, “What about furniture?”
Cassie felt a surge of triumph. Asking about furnishings meant her mother was thinking ahead to living in the cabin.
“We won’t need much. I’ll see what I can do.” She infused her voice with confidence she didn’t feel, then put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “I need to go tell Rosemary our plans.”
“Your plans, not mine.”
Instead of responding with further argument, she kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As she descended the stairs, Cassie wondered at the strangeness of life. She’d always believed she would live under her own roof after she married. But Garrett Fitzhugh, her fiancé, had died two years ago in Jefferson City. Then a train derailment left her and Mother in Noble Springs following Garrett’s funeral.
Now here she was, preparing to make a home for the two of them by herself. So many changes in such a short time. She prayed the Lord would help her mother accept more changes to come, beginning with Saturday’s move.
She found Elijah reading in front of the bay window in the sitting room. Bodie lay at his feet. The dog gave his tail a lazy thump, but didn’t rise.
Elijah lowered his magazine. “You look like you need a cup of Rosemary’s mint tea.” He smiled. “She’s in the kitchen at the moment.”
Tiredness weighted her shoulders at the memory of everything that had happened since she left the house that morning. “It has been an eventful day. I’ll let her tell you my news later.”
He nodded and returned to his reading.
“I heard you say you’d had an eventful day.” Rosemary stood in the kitchen entrance.
“Indeed I did. I rented a cabin for Mother and me from Mr. Slocum. We’ll move in on Saturday.”
“No. That soon?” She sank onto a chair.
“I promised you we’d be out by the end of the week.”
“You know I’d never hold you to such a promise.” Rosemary rested her fingers against her cheek. “You have no . . . possessions. Is he renting furniture to you as well?”
Cassie huffed out a breath and sat facing her friend. “That wasn’t part of the bargain. We only need a bed and a couple of other things.”
“Like a table and chairs, curtains, rugs, dishes . . .”
A headache stirred in her temples. She hadn’t thought about curtains, rugs, and dishes. Or pots and pans, knives and forks, or a scrub bucket and mop, for that matter.
She straightened her shoulders. She’d do what their housekeeper had always done. Make a list. Then buy what she could.
On Saturday morning, Jacob stood with Jesse Slocum surveying the empty cabin.
“Didn’t know this place was back here until Miss Haddon said she’d rented it.” He shifted on one foot and looked the older man in the eye. “You think they’ll be safe?”
“Don’t see why not. Any trouble, they can come get me. I’m usually here.”
“Unless you’re in the mercantile.”
“Yup. But daytime’s not what you’re worried about, is it?”
Jacob flushed. He hadn’t realized his worry showed. Sooner or later, Miss Haddon’s innocent beauty was bound to attract attention from the men in the boardinghouse across the street. He doubted her mother had the grit to stand up to a threat to their safety.
“I feel responsible for her. Somebody’s got to care.” He stepped inside the entrance, his boots crunching on wood chips and bark scattered over the floor. Flames flickered behind the open damper in the small stove at the back of the room.
Jesse pointed to a glowing red area around the stovepipe. “Thought I’d better make sure this thing wasn’t rusted through anywhere. Works fine.” He took a stick from a box of firewood on the hearth and pushed the damper closed. “We’ll let it burn itself out. Don’t need heat today anyhow.”
Ducking his head beneath the lintel, Jacob moved into the second room. A few fingers of light spread from gaps in the shutters. Pegs lined two of the walls about four feet from the floor. An iron bedstead was pushed against a corner. New rope crisscrossed the side rails, forming a platform for a mattress tick. He turned to Jesse.
“When did Miss Haddon have this brought over? Thought they weren’t moving until this afternoon.”
Jesse scuffed a few dead leaves to one side with the toe of his boot. “Well, this old thing was left out here when we built the big house. Wife wanted everything new.” He shrugged. “Figured the ladies could use it.”
Jacob hid a smile. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to concern himself with their safety after all.
Back in the main room, he took a piece of paper from his pocket and scratched “bed” from his list. The challenge now would be to see how many necessities he could provide without the Haddon ladies knowing he’d done so.
On Saturday afternoon, Cassie lifted her shawl from a peg next to the kitchen door. Her hands shook. She had so much to do. One afternoon in which to shop for supplies, clean, and arrange their possessions in the small cabin. She’d stopped by there on her way to work. Wood chips littered the floor, left from the firewood Mr. Slocum had moved to a lean-to beside the alley. Cobwebs netted the grimy windows. Mother was right about one thing. She didn’t know the first thing about cleaning a house.
Today, she’d learn.
Mrs. Fielder spoke behind her. “You got everything you need to live in that old place? I heard you came here with nothing more than a trunk full of pretty clothes.” She cleared her throat. “Between me and my daughters, we might be able to scare up a skillet for you, and maybe a kettle or two.”
Grateful tears welled in Cassie’s eyes. She turned, laying her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Bless you. You heard correctly. Anything you can spare would be very welcome.”
“Now, no need to take on so. Can’t hardly find my way around my own kitchen for all the clutter. Glad for a reason to make some room on the shelves.”
After thanking her again, Cassie pushed open the screen door and set off for Lindberg’s Mercantile. Mrs. Fielder’s unexpected kindness lightened her steps as she strode past the businesses along the boardwalk. A smile hovered on her lips. The woman’s brusque exterior hid a warm heart.
Still smiling, she pushed open the mercantile door. At the sound of the tinkling bell, Faith Saxon glanced up from the counter where she stood, then hurried toward her. “Mr. Slocum told me you’re moving into his old cabin today.” She hugged Cassie.
“I am.” Cassie returned the hug, then stepped back. “I was hoping you’d be here this afternoon.” She took a quick glance around. “Where’s little Alexander?”
“He’s asleep behind the counter in the buggy Curt made for him.”
“Your husband is a man of many talents.” She tiptoed over to the buggy and gazed down at the sleeping baby. His blond hair lay in wisps over his forehead. “He looks more like you all the time,” she whispered.
“Today’s his two-month birthday. I baked a Dolly Varden cake for him this morning.” Faith’s blue eyes sparkled. “He won’t get to eat it, of course, but Grandpa will certainly enjoy a slice or two. It’s his favorite.”
Cassie liked Faith’s grandfather. In spite of his age and memory troubles, he accompanied Faith and Curt to church each Sunday, and never failed to greet her and Mother in a courtly manner. She’d never known either of her own grandfathers. Her father’s father died before she was born, and her mother evaded questions about her own parents.
Wishing she could settle in for a visit instead of having to hurry to the cabin, she stepped away from the baby and drew her list from her handbag. “I came to buy a few things before I can start cleaning. There isn’t much money, so my list is small. To begin, a bucket and scrub brush and some towels. Oh, soap and a broom.”
“I think you’re very brave. I can’t imagine scrubbing out a dirty old cabin. Spiders, mice, and who knows what running around inside.” She shuddered.
Cassie shook her head. “I can’t either, but it needs doing before we can live there. I’m praying I can have everything spotless before Elijah brings Mother over with our trunk this evening.” Her mind flashed to the interior of the cabin as it looked that morning when she peeked inside. Maybe spotless was too tall an order. As clean as possible might be more realistic. She drew a deep breath. With the Lord’s help, she’d do her best.
Faith took the list from Cassie’s fingers and scanned the contents. “You’re right, this is a small list. Dishes, four yards of blue gingham, a lamp, tableware. Are you sure you’ve thought of everything?”
“It’s all I can afford. I’m hoping to get Mother interested enough to sew curtains with the fabric.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Worried wrinkles creased Faith’s forehead. “Curt and I can make room for you.”
“Thank you, but no. We were in the way at Rosemary’s, and it would be no different in your house. Now that I have employment, I can take care of my mother by myself.”
After paying Faith for the purchases and securing her promise to have Curt deliver the items she didn’t need right away, Cassie stuffed everything else but the broom into the bucket. With her hands full, she walked to the corner of King’s Highway and then turned north toward High Street. After a couple of minutes, someone fell into step behind her. The back of her neck prickled.
She increased her pace.
So did the person following.