24

Cassie walked the block up Third Street to West & Riley’s, Wash following a few paces behind. Her stomach churned. Jacob left her waiting all last evening without sending word. Now he expected her to meet him in the store, rather than calling for her with his buggy. And why did Wash appear so anxious? She exhaled a long breath. In a moment she’d have her answers.

Upon reaching the grocery, she stepped to one side while Wash unlocked the door. Mingled aromas of vinegar, coffee, and tobacco greeted her when she entered the quiet room. She glanced around, expecting to see Jacob.

“He’s in back, missy. In his office.” Wash paused at the entrance to the deserted dining room. “I’ll wait in the kitchen ’til he’s fixing to leave.”

“Thank you.” She crossed to the storeroom and peeked around the doorway.

Jacob sat at his workable, his injured leg resting on a packing crate. In the lamplight, his skin looked gray. Deep grooves channeled either side of his mouth. The lines disappeared into a broad smile when he saw her.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come today. You must be thinking the worst of me.”

“I don’t know what to think.” Be swift to hear, slow to speak. “I waited for you until well past dark.”

He winced as though she’d delivered a blow. “Will you forgive me? You were on my mind every moment, but I had no way to reach you.”

“You could’ve sent Wash, like you did this morning.” She perched on a chair facing him.

“Wash wasn’t with me, or I would have.”

“Then what happened to you? Wash said something about your leg.”

“I’m afraid I might have set back the healing. The pain is . . . rough.” He swallowed, his face grim. “But I had to see you this morning. I have to know you’ll forgive me.”

“Oh, Jacob. Of course I forgive you.” She reached for his hand. “You can’t be blamed for an accident. What happened? Did you fall?”

An uneasy expression crossed his face. “Yes. I was walking on rough ground and stumbled.”

“Walking on rough ground? With crutches? Why would you do such a thing?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I have no right to speak to you like that.”

“You have more right than anyone. I’m grateful you care.”

“You know I do.”

“Cassie, I—” He clamped his lips shut and sucked in a long breath. “I’m going to stay at home and rest my leg for the next week. Would you take care of the receipts . . . and the ledger?” He patted the green leather book.

She felt a swell of triumph. He trusted her. “I’d be glad to.” She grinned at him. “See, you’re not too old to change after all.”

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After Cassie left, Jacob unscrewed the posts that held his ledger together. He lifted the front cover and removed the page where he’d listed names. After folding the sheet into a rectangle, he tucked it into his pocket and then replaced the cover.

Cassie’s caring attitude tempted him to tell her the whole story behind his miles-long walk back to Noble Springs. He’d come close, but lost his courage at the last moment. The risk was too great. If she’d known him during his early days in Boston, she’d have crossed the street when she saw him coming. In fact, she wouldn’t have walked on the same streets he frequented.

Ruggero’s taunt was as much a setback as the pain in his leg. He doubted that sending Byrne a larger share of West & Riley’s profits would protect him from eventual exposure.

When he heard footsteps, he turned his head toward the entrance.

“Wash?”

“Right here. You ready to leave?” He’d filled out in the weeks since he’d been hired. Now his bulk complemented his height of over six feet.

Jacob nodded. “Please help me to the buggy.” Gritting his teeth, he tried to suppress a groan when Wash hoisted him from the chair.

“Did you tell her how bad you’re hurtin’?”

“I said I was staying home to rest my leg.”

“She cares about you. Maybe she’ll bake you another pie.” Wash chuckled as he handed him the crutches. “I brought the buggy around front so’s you don’t have far to walk.”

“Thank you.” With the other man’s help, he crossed to the boardwalk and stopped at the passenger side of the buggy. Wash held him steady while he negotiated the step.

Jacob fell back against the seat. “Again, thank you.”

“That was a sorry trick those two pulled. If I hadn’t been late leaving last night, I’d never have seen you.”

He managed a mirthless laugh. “You’d have seen me sooner or later. I’d have slept on the floor of the grocery rather than walk another step. The bottoms of my feet are bruised from the rocks, not to mention the pounding my leg suffered.”

Wash untied the reins, then guided the buggy west on High Street. Noontime sun glared down on their heads. After a moment or two of silence he said, “You’re not goin’ to let this go, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” He turned his head away, staring at the roadway as the buggy rolled out of town. His mind buzzed with the implications of Lenny Ruggero calling him by his former name. He and Byrne had not merely disrupted his time with Cassie, they threatened him with exposure.

The day would come—soon—when he’d have to take action.

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After West & Riley’s closed the following Saturday evening, Cassie sat in Jacob’s office entering the day’s receipts into the ledger. Another good week. Jacob would be pleased when he returned on Monday.

“Missy?”

She swung around and smiled at Wash. “Thank you for waiting with me. I’ll be finished soon.”

“No hurry. Someone’s at the back door asking for you. I didn’t let him in.”

“Who is it?”

“Never saw him before.”

Her mind raced as she tried to think of who might seek her out. As far as she knew, Wash had never met Curt Saxon, Faith’s husband. If something happened to Faith, he’d be the only person she knew who’d expect to find her at the business after closing time.

She snapped the ledger shut and rose. “Only one way to find out.”

“The boss said to watch out for you.” Wash stepped closer. “I’ll stay right nearby.”

“That’s a comfort. Thank you.”

When they entered the kitchen, she hesitated a moment and then strode to the screen door.

Light from the room shone on the visitor’s blond hair. Cassie stepped backward, her hand at her throat. “Mr. Fitzhugh.”

He gave her an easy smile. “I went to your cabin first, then figured you might still be here. I told you I’d be back to court you properly.”

“And I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“Your mother sent you a gift.” He held out a small parcel. “May I at least deliver it to your hands?”

From behind her, Wash made a noise like a growl. Judging by the expression on Mr. Fitzhugh’s face, she could imagine how imposing he looked. She pushed the door open partway and took the package.

“Please give Mother my thanks.”

He stepped into the opening, but remained in the alley, keeping part of his attention on Wash.

“She enclosed a message. I realize it’s late. Since no doubt you’ll be at church tomorrow, I’ll wait until then for your reply.”

Cassie huffed out a breath. The man was as persistent as a swarm of ticks. “Fine. You can take my response back with you when you leave.”

He flashed the same easy smile. “Until tomorrow, then.”

She closed the screen with more force than necessary, then slammed the inner door shut and sank onto a chair.

“Should I have said you wasn’t here?” Wash leaned against the closed door.

“No. I wouldn’t want you to lie.” She clutched her mother’s gift, wondering what had possessed her to use Mr. Fitzhugh as a courier. Upon further thought, she was sure she knew the answer.

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Cassie sat at the table in her cabin and untied the ribbon binding the paper-wrapped parcel, exposing two folded pillowslips. She smoothed her finger over the soft linen and then unfolded them. Each one displayed the initial C surrounded by flowers, done in her mother’s exquisite embroidery.

Her heart warmed at the memory of sitting in their parlor at home watching her mother work colored floss into beautiful designs. Most of her handiwork had been lost during and after the war years. Cassie pressed a pillowslip against her chest, grateful that Mother was making an effort to return to former pastimes.

An envelope remained in the package. Since her mother sent Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver the message, and he was expected to carry a reply back to Calusa, things apparently weren’t going as well as she hoped. She tensed as she removed the letter.

9th July, 1868

My dearest daughter,

I hope this gift pleases you. I thought of your long-lost trousseau with every stitch, and pray you’ll set these pillowslips aside for a new beginning. Mr. Fitzhugh was most anxious to deliver them when I told him what I was working on. He is such a dear young man.

She blinked. Trousseau? And Mother told Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver the package? She felt the jaws of a trap closing around her. Gripping the paper so hard it wrinkled, she read the remainder of the letter.

What with the way that Mr. West keeps you busy with your job, you may have forgotten that my birthday is coming up on the 15th of this month. My friends here (few they may be) are planning a small celebration for me. Of all the gifts I could receive, a visit from you would be the finest. Thus the reason for asking Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver this message, rather than trusting to the post. I pray you’ll make every effort to be with me on my special day.

I anxiously await his return with your reply.

Your loving Mother

Cassie dropped the letter on the table and paced the room. She had forgotten her mother’s birthday. Today was the eleventh. For her to travel to Calusa, she’d have to depart in four more days. Even if she only spent one night with Mother, that would leave Jacob with no one to bake pies while she was gone.

She ran her fingers along the sides of her head, dislodging her braids. She hadn’t seen Jacob since he’d asked her to take care of the accounts. Mr. Fitzhugh expected a response tomorrow, and Jacob wouldn’t return to work until Monday.

Stumbling past the wrapping paper and pillowslips strewn on the tabletop, she fell to her knees beside her bed. Lord, help me. I want to please you. I want to please Jacob. I want to please Mother. I ask you to show me what you want.

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On Sunday morning, Cassie walked to church along the alley rather than the boardwalk, hoping to avoid Mr. Fitzhugh until she was safely seated next to her friends. She’d talk to him afterward. She skirted around the cemetery at the rear of the churchyard and slipped inside just as the bells ceased pealing.

When Rosemary saw her, she scooted closer to Elijah to make room on the pew. Cassie settled into the space with a grateful smile.

“You’re late today,” Rosemary whispered.

“I had trouble sleeping last night, so naturally I overslept this morning.”

She darted a glance around the sanctuary and spotted Mr. Fitzhugh sitting near the front. He turned and nodded in her direction as if he sensed her gaze. She quickly tipped her head so her bonnet would hide the flush that warmed her face.

After going through the motions of standing and singing, she listened to more about Deuteronomy from Reverend French. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or sorry when he didn’t return to the passage about a brother marrying a widow. She hadn’t paid attention the first time and wished she knew the reverend’s opinion of Mr. Fitzhugh’s interpretation.

More than that, she wished she possessed the courage to talk to the reverend about her concerns. But as a newcomer to his congregation, she didn’t believe he’d want to spend time explaining something to her that she felt sure everyone else already knew. She sighed and scooted down in the pew.

As the sermon continued, part of her mind circled the dilemma of her mother’s birthday. She’d had no lightning bolt of insight during the night. By the time the service dismissed, she still had no idea what message she’d send back to her mother.

When she moved down the aisle, Mr. Fitzhugh elbowed in next to her. “You read your mother’s letter?”

She nodded.

“And your response?”

Taking a deep breath, she blurted, “Tell her I’ll be there on her birthday.” Her heart hammered. Now she’d have to tell Jacob what she’d done.

Mr. Fitzhugh gave her a benevolent smile. “I’m glad. Your presence will make her happy. The poor woman misses you.” He tucked his hand under her arm as they descended the steps. “I’m just sorry you’ll have to make the trip unescorted.”

“I did it before and no harm came to me.” She twitched her arm free of his touch.

He put out his hand and stopped her before she could reach the boardwalk. “I know we got off to a poor start last month, and I apologize. Can you overlook my rash comments and allow me to be your friend?”

Put that way, how could she refuse? His expression reminded her of Garrett at his most appealing. Besides, his presence in Calusa helped her mother adjust to life without her. She extended her gloved hand. “Very well, Mr. Fitzhugh. We will be friends.”

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That afternoon, with Mr. Fitzhugh on his way to Calusa carrying the message to her mother, Cassie’s conscience pricked her. She’d spoken too soon. She should have asked Jacob before committing two days out of the middle of the workweek. If they were to be together in the business, as well as in their personal lives, she couldn’t go dashing off on a whim.

She’d have to call on him at his home.

Today.

After church, she’d slipped on a comfortable old cotton skirt and bodice, and hung her green taffeta dress up for next Sunday. Now, with a resigned sigh, she went to the bedroom and removed the dress from a hook. Then she paused. Because he missed their Independence Day engagement, Jacob hadn’t seen her in the rose chintz. He wouldn’t be pleased when he heard her request, so she ought to look her best when she called on him.

Smiling to herself, she fastened matching rose-colored buttons on the fitted bodice, then smoothed the skirt over her cage crinoline. Her cheeks glowed pink when she checked her reflection in the mirror. Although the visit today was a necessary one, she had to admit she had more than the bakery on her mind. She missed Jacob.

Since suppertime was near, she prayed Wash would be at the restaurant collecting Jacob’s evening meal. She’d ask him to take her. If he’d already left . . .

She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Once outside her door, afternoon humidity smothered the air in her lungs. Leaves on the oak tree next to her cabin drooped in the heat. Thankful she didn’t have far to walk, she unfurled her parasol and reached the entrance to the alley in fewer than five minutes.

Jacob’s buggy wasn’t there. Hoping Wash hadn’t already come and gone, she hurried to the screen door. Jenny would know.

When the door squeaked open, Cassie and the kitchen’s occupants stared at each other in mutual surprise.

“Wash? Becca? Where’s Jenny?”

Wash jumped to his feet with such haste his chair tipped over. “In the next room. Is there somethin’ you need? Want me to fetch her?”

“No, thank you. You’re the person I came to see.”

Becca grabbed a rag and headed for the basin, where dishes waited on the slanted drain board. “I was just resting my feet a minute, missy.”

Clearly, she’d interrupted the two of them in a private moment. She hid a pleased smile at the realization that Wash and Becca had feelings for one another. After all they’d endured in their lives, they deserved happiness.

“Please don’t apologize. No reason you shouldn’t rest if you’re tired.”

Becca plunged her hands into the soapy water, but not before Cassie caught the relieved glance she sent in Wash’s direction.

He bent and stood the fallen chair back on its legs. “What can I do for you, missy?”

“I hoped you could take me to Mr. West, but I don’t see the buggy.”

“Be happy to take you out there. The buggy’s down at the livery. Needed a wheel repaired.” He rested his hand on the screen door. “Should be done by now. I’ll go fetch it.”

“Thank you.” When he left, she gazed across the room for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. Then she walked over to where Becca stood at the basin.

“How about resting your feet again? I’d like to ask you something.”