15

Cassie clutched the train’s handrail for support. This couldn’t be happening. She’d watched Garrett’s casket lowered into the ground. Thrown a handful of dirt over the polished surface. Felt her heart ripped from her chest as the preacher read words from Scripture over the grave.

And now Garrett stood next to the passenger car with Reverend Greely beaming beside him.

The reverend broke the charged silence. “Mr. Fitzhugh teaches in the school building that I pointed out. When I told him about meeting you, he was most anxious to pay his respects.”

Garrett removed his hat and gave her an easy grin. His blond hair glinted in the sun’s slanted rays. “From the look on your face, I’d guess you don’t remember me.”

“Garrett . . . how could I forget you?” Cassie leaned against the vestibule wall for support. Her heart battered against her ribs.

His handsome features clouded. “I’m Patrick. I had no idea you’d mistake me for my brother. I’d forgotten for the moment that we looked so much alike.”

Grief she’d thought buried stung her eyelids. To see Garrett again—no, he wasn’t Garrett. She reached toward him, grasping at air. “P . . . Patrick?”

She searched her memory for a recollection of Garrett’s brother. He’d attended the funeral, along with numerous family members and friends. She remembered being told he taught school somewhere farther west, but beyond that he’d made no impression on her at the time. She offered him a weak smile. “Forgive me, please. You took me so by surprise. It’s kind of you to come to greet me.”

“I often wondered what became of you after—”

The conductor stepped into the vestibule, arms folded over his chest. “Best take your seat, miss. We’ll be rolling soon.”

She nodded, then extended her gloved hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Fitzhugh. It was a pleasure to see you again.” Politeness required the remark, although seeing Garrett’s brother had been anything but a pleasure. Stunning blow would better express her feelings.

He bowed over her hand. “The pleasure is mine. Godspeed, Miss Haddon.”

Cassie collapsed onto a seat on the right-hand side of the deserted car. Her limbs trembled. Memories of Garrett tumbled through her mind. Like Patrick, he was tall and slender, with piercing blue eyes. They’d met at a dance in St. Louis and he’d been taken with her immediately—and she with him. When he proposed, Mother saw him as their best hope to restore their fortunes. Then, in a blink, he was gone. Struck by a runaway team when crossing a street.

Now, sitting alone in the passenger car, Cassie wondered what her life would have been like if they’d married. Her mother would be settled into the home Garrett was planning to buy for them, instead of living at the edge of nowhere with her brother. Cassie would be the lady of the house and not working in a restaurant to earn a living.

But she’d never have met Mr. West, with his arresting eyes and gravelly voice. The Lord had closed one door but another stood ajar. A tingle bubbled up inside when she imagined the surprised expression on her employer’s face when she arrived at work tomorrow.

The train rocked into motion. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Patrick Fitzhugh running alongside. He waved his hand at her.

She stood and struggled to open the window as the train gathered momentum. After several attempts, she succeeded.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Miss Haddon! I forgot to ask your destination! Where do you live?”

She leaned out the open window. “Noble Springs.”

“I may—” The train’s whistle blew the rest of his sentence away. He disappeared from her view, along with Calusa’s bleak streets.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the seat back. At the moment, the pain of leaving her mother overwhelmed any thoughts of Garrett or Patrick Fitzhugh. The image of Mother clutching Uncle Rand’s arm burned in her mind.

She prayed he’d take the responsibility seriously.

The following morning, Cassie awoke early despite having arrived in Noble Springs after ten the night before. The cabin felt empty without Mother’s presence. Cassie’s decision to stay in Noble Springs came at a price she hadn’t anticipated.

She swung her feet to the floor. The sooner she left for the restaurant, the sooner she’d see Jenny—and Mr. West.

She padded to the main room and stirred the fire until coals winked among the ashes. After tossing a few small pieces of wood into the firebox, she placed a kettle on the stove to heat for tea. While she waited, she donned her blue print dress and arranged her hair in a neat coil at the back of her head.

Peeking into the oval mirror that hung over the bureau Faith had given her, she pulled a few tendrils loose in front of her ears. No sense in looking too severe when Mr. West arrived.

As soon as she finished her tea, she zipped out the door into the sultry morning. The butternut tree across the street from the restaurant cast an umbrella of welcome shade over the kitchen entrance. Excitement tickled her throat as she burst through the doorway.

“I told you I’d be back, Jenny.”

The cook turned from the worktable where she’d been scooping scrambled eggs and potatoes into a shallow bowl. “Praise God you’re here. I couldn’t imagine how I’d get along without you today.” Her grim expression telegraphed worry.

“Mr. West always helps—” Cassie bit off the rest of her comment when she noticed Wash Bennett standing between the two worktables. She’d never seen him at the restaurant early in the day.

She glanced between Jenny and Wash. A premonition twisted her stomach. “Something’s wrong. Where’s Mr. West?”

“He’s home with a broken leg,” Jenny said. “Wash here found him in the grocery last night when he came in to clean the floors.”

Cassie swung around to face Wash. “What on earth happened?”

“His boot hung up on one of them crates in the back. Guess he didn’t see it. He pitched facedown, snapped his bone like a matchstick.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. The image of Mr. West lying alone and injured brought quick tears to her eyes. “The poor man! What a blessing you were here.”

“Yes, missy, it was the Lord’s work for certain. After the doctor left, I carried Mr. West home in his buggy, then come back here this morning to give you ladies the news.”

“Who’s looking after him?”

“Reckon I am.”

Jenny tapped a spoon on the edge of the bowl. “I cooked this for his breakfast. There’s plenty for you too,” she said, leveling her gaze on Wash. “When you get back, just dump it in a skillet for a couple minutes to get the eggs good and hot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the covered bowl in his large hands. “I’d best be going.”

Cassie stepped closer to him. “Please tell Mr. West I’ll have a surprise for him this afternoon. You are coming to get his supper, aren’t you?”

“Yes, missy. I’ll tell him. Might make him feel better.”

After Wash left, Jenny wrapped Cassie in a hug. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back. I know how your mother is.”

“I confess, leaving her was harder than I thought it would be. But she’s with her brother, so I’m trusting him to watch over her well-being.” She tried to imagine her mother in Uncle Rand’s house, wishing she’d had time to see her settled before the train arrived. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed. Hard. Yesterday couldn’t be changed. Right now she needed to focus on their immediate dilemma.

“How will we keep the restaurant and grocery operating without Mr. West?”

“I don’t know. I been studying on it since Wash told me what happened.” Jenny grabbed a knife and attacked a mound of potatoes waiting to be diced.

Cassie stared at the floor as if the solution might be written on the spotless boards. Her mind roamed over the routine Mr. West had set for his business. Thinking out loud, she said, “Young Timothy comes into the grocery before Mr. West unlocks the restaurant door. We already know how to handle the meals. That leaves counting receipts and writing everything in those ledgers he keeps.”

“You make writing in ledgers sound easy. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Her knife whacked a potato into strips.

Memories of evenings spent with her father in his study filtered into Cassie’s mind. Though several years had passed, she remembered his meticulous accounts of their crops and holdings. The process couldn’t be too different than what Mr. West did with his business. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Do you think he’d allow me to help?”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take offense, but you couldn’t find your way around the kitchen two months ago. Now you think you can manage the whole lot?”

Her conviction wavered for a brief moment, then she squared her shoulders. “I won’t know unless I try. When Wash comes back at suppertime, I’ll ask him to take me to Mr. West. We’ll let him decide.”

“He don’t let too many people know where he lives. I doubt he’d welcome a visit.”

“We’ll see.” She grabbed a stack of plates. “I’ll get the dining room ready for breakfast, then start on pies.”

After setting the tables, Cassie slipped into the grocery. Timothy paused in the midst of dusting the shelves when he saw her.

“You’re the lady who works with Miz Fielder, ain’t you? I never saw you up close before.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“That’s right. I’m Miss Haddon.”

He dropped the feather duster on a counter. “The swamper said the boss broke his leg. He ain’t coming in today.” He puffed out his chest. “I reckon I can handle things fine without him. Since you came to work, he’s over in the restaurant lots more than he used to be. He leaves the store to me.”

She swept her gaze over his patched trousers, worn shirt, and lanky blond hair hanging over his forehead. Likely he needed his job as much as she needed hers. “Mr. West has mentioned how much he depends on you.”

Timothy flushed. “He has? I mean, good to know.”

The aroma of frying bacon drifted through the doorway and reminded her she needed to be in the kitchen. She drew a quick breath. “Has he taught you how to enter receipts in the ledger?”

“No sirree—I mean, no, miss. Nobody touches them books but Mr. West.”

She clasped her fingers behind her back so he couldn’t see her hands tremble. “Since he’s not here today, I’ll take care of the ledger for him after you lock the grocery.”

“I don’t know . . . he never said . . .”

“He didn’t plan to break a leg. We’ll have to do all we can to help him until he can come back, won’t we?” She gave him her brightest smile.

“Yes.” He drew the word out to two syllables. “I reckon so.”

“Good. Please come to the kitchen after you lock up, so I’ll know it’s time for me to tally the books.” Perspiration prickled across her forehead. Her father had been protective of their finances. Mr. West might be angry, but after leaving for Calusa without his blessing, she needed to prove herself. Managing his accounts would be the perfect opportunity.