Hestia watched Selene’s hand shake as she tried to slice the pie while the men waited for them in the parlor. “Here, let me get that.”
“I can do it.”
Seeing that Selene wanted to do as much of the work as she could to impress Artie, Hestia did her best not to interfere. Still, she felt her cousin’s nervousness. Did she already have a crush on Artie, or was this her way of carrying on a mild flirtation to pass the time? At least Artie was a mature man, able to defend himself against any false feminine wiles.
“I’ll take the coffee.” Hestia figured Selene’s handling a hot liquid wasn’t a good idea, considering her state. She took the tray with the small silver coffeepot, sugar and cream, silverware, and cups. Selene followed with another tray of four slices of pie on Aunt Louisa’s good china.
After they were served, the men didn’t waste time before tasting the dessert right away. Hestia suspected they must have eaten less lunch in anticipation of this treat.
Artie closed his eyes, a look of happiness on his face as he let the pie melt in his mouth. “This is even better than I expected.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Were you expecting a poison ivy pie?” Selene’s teasing manner and tone of voice reminded Hestia of the way her cousin had spoken to Booth when she first arrived.
Hestia shot a glance Booth’s way. No trace of jealousy over Selene’s coyness with Artie colored Booth’s handsome features. Instead, he caught Hestia’s glance. She looked down at her sliver of pie then back up, and she saw him grin. If Selene had ever presented Hestia with competition for Booth, she did no longer.
“Or something,” Artie mumbled, though still having a smidgen of pie in his mouth. He swallowed and wiped his lips with a cotton napkin. “But I could eat a whole pie this good.”
“Hestia did help me with it.” A hint of a blush colored Selene’s cheeks.
Hestia held back her surprise. She hadn’t considered that a flapper as bold as Selene possessed the ability to blush, and such a confession showed how far her cousin had progressed. “With practice, you’ll be able to bake anything by yourself in no time.”
“I’m not sure I want to go that far.” Everyone laughed at Selene’s quip, but Hestia had a feeling she wasn’t joking.
Booth’s fork slid into his slice of pie. “So how’d the doctor’s visit go with Miss Louisa?”
“Very well.” Hestia felt grateful to deliver a good report. “She was able to walk a few steps to her chair. She’s weak, though. I’m not encouraging her to overdo it. She still needs help.”
“So you’ll be staying a little longer?” Booth’s eyes brightened.
Hestia noted that his voice sounded hopeful. “Yes, I think I should stay at least another week.” She had a thought. “I suppose that means you’ll be stuck escorting me to church, if you don’t mind too terribly.”
“I don’t mind at all. In fact, it will be my pleasure. Not that I wish your aunt to be anything but her feisty self.” He grinned as the others laughed.
“I know. But the good news is that she will be completely well soon.”
“I wish I could go to church.” Selene set her empty plate in front of a painted Colonial girl figurine on the nearby occasional table.
An awkward silence told Hestia they knew Selene’s secret and that going to church wasn’t in the picture for her anytime soon. “I wish you could go to church with us, too.”
Selene looked at both men but didn’t flinch. “You know, don’t you?”
“Yes, we do,” Artie said in just above a whisper.
With shame on her expression, she looked at her lap. Hestia felt embarrassed for her. “How did you find out?”
“Miss Olive’s nephew, Eric. We eat lunch together.” Booth leaned toward her in a sympathetic manner but stopped short of patting her on the knee. “Please don’t blame Eric. I was keen on him telling us because he was telling how Miss Olive was lecturing his sister. She was mighty upset when she heard about the situation.”
“If a speech from her aunt is all it takes to save her from getting into the trouble I’m in, I think it’s a copacetic idea.” Selene’s hand went to her midsection, but she took it away with a quick motion.
“As though any lecture would have kept you from your parties.” Hestia didn’t mean to chastise her cousin, but she spoke the truth.
Selene grimaced. “True. I didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to me.”
“So you’re really sorry you lived like a flapper?” Artie’s tone of voice told her what the answer should be.
“I regret that this happened.”
“Do you want to go back to New York and live the same way you used to after all this is over?” Artie leaned toward her.
“Artie!” Booth slapped him on the knee. “What’s the matter with you, asking such a thing?”
“I’m sorry.”
Selene looked pensive. “No, I’ll answer. I don’t know what the future holds. As for my old life, I can’t say I don’t miss my friends. And I do like the new fashions.”
“Never let it be said that Selene doesn’t tell it like it is.” Hestia laughed.
A regretful look entered Selene’s eyes. “So the two of you knew, but you were still willing to come here and eat pie with us?”
“Yes,” Artie was quick to answer. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He rose from his seat, holding his empty plate and fork. “Say, Selene, would you like me to help you take the dishes into the kitchen?”
“Sure.” She sent him a smile and rose from her seat as well.
“Need some help?” Hestia thought she should ask, but she doubted they wanted her around.
“I think we can handle it,” Artie confirmed.
Hestia and Booth handed them their dishes. Hestia watched them exit and then leaned toward Booth, keeping the volume of her voice low. “I wish she could have met someone like Artie before she met Ned.”
Booth leaned in to hear her. “So that was his name? Ned?”
“Yes.”
Booth looked toward the kitchen. “Selene is what some of the bold fellows would call a tomato, even now.”
Such a comment would have sent waves of jealousy—and maybe even shock—through Hestia not so long ago, but she could tell by Booth’s blank expression that he had no fixation on Selene. “She is lovely, especially without all that face paint.”
“Maybe if Ned could see Selene, knowing the baby is his, he would change his mind. Maybe he would even marry her.”
“You sound like a hopeless romantic.”
“Is that so bad?”
“No. It’s charming, especially from someone as manly as you are, Booth.” Hestia recalled everything Selene had confided in her. “No. There’s no hope for them to get back together. And after talking with her, I think it’s probably for the best.”
Booth shook his head. “Seems hard to believe, considering the situation.”
“Yes, it’s a situation I never thought I’d see happen in my family, and especially with Selene. She was always so confident, so beautiful, so carefree. I envied her.” Hestia clamped her mouth shut, wishing she had never made such a confession.
“You never had reason to envy her.” Hestia was glad he didn’t insist that she answer, as he launched into another topic. “Since you’ll be staying for another week, you can go with our friends from church tomorrow night.”
Hestia tried to remember the announcements that had been made in church before formal worship started. When social issues arose, she only half listened since she never thought she’d be there long enough to be included. “Oh. The hayride at the Carpenter farm.”
“Yes. And if you want to leave early enough to go to the pumpkin patch and choose a few pumpkins, we can take a picnic supper. I can raid the icebox and find something for us, I imagine. Would you like that?”
“I think Aunt Louisa will allow it. And if we go early enough for a supper, I’ll prepare the food. No need to disfurnish your mother.” She couldn’t resist making an observation. “Do you like pumpkins, or are you just hoping for pumpkin pie?”
“A little of both.” He grinned and fiddled with the change in his trousers pocket as he asked the next question. “So will you let me come along about five to pick you up for the hayride? That should give us time for pumpkin picking.”
“Sure. We could choose several. I have a great recipe for pumpkin soup that makes quite a nice lunch on a fall morning.” Hestia sighed. “I wish Selene could go. She and Artie make a nice couple.”
“Aren’t you rushing to make a match?”
“Maybe, but you have to admit they’re cute together.”
“Yeah. But I think Selene can forget about getting out of the house anytime soon.”
“I know. I wish she’d been more protected before. Uncle Ralph shouldn’t have trusted her beau. I think he would have put a stop to the relationship if he’d been home more. But truth be told, she could have been stronger in her resistance to Ned. I, for one, wouldn’t allow a beau of mine to take advantage of me like that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
Hestia leaned toward him and lowered the volume of her voice. “Do you really think Artie likes Selene?”
“Didn’t you see the way he hung on her every word—and how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her? Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s got a crush on her.”
“Even with her being in the condition she’s in? That can’t be easy.”
“I’ve talked to him, and I think he’s more worried about her spiritual condition than her physical condition. I can’t help but wonder—is she a Christian?”
“Of course.” Hestia hoped her quick answer didn’t seem as if she protested too much. “I mean, I know they’re members of a church in New York. Not sure which one.”
“Pretty much everybody is a member of a church. You can be on the roll for fifty years and still not be going to heaven.”
“True. I know she believes in God, though I have to say, her actions of late don’t reflect well. But I’m not her judge.”
“No, and neither am I. But if anyone can convince her to change her ways, Artie can.” Booth’s expression softened and he looked into her eyes. Those blue eyes that Hestia had grown to care for concentrated on her face, making her feel…loved. Shyness overtook her. Why did she think such thoughts? His next question brought her out of her daydream. “So since Selene’s here, you’ll be helping with her?”
“As long as I’m in town, yes.” She was glad he cared enough to ask, but she didn’t want to be forward enough to admit it.
“When is the baby supposed to arrive?”
“We think it’s supposed to be in the spring. Late March or early April. Then one of Aunt Louisa’s distant relatives is supposed to take the baby.” Hestia prayed they would treat the baby well.
“Oh. That must be sad for Selene. But at least maybe she’ll get to see the baby sometimes.”
“Maybe. But they’re in Georgia, and I doubt they’ll encourage visits.”
“Selene’s time here will be difficult for her with just your aunt. I know Miss Louisa is strict.”
Hestia remembered Selene’s having to break her habits of smoking cigarettes and wearing face paint. “Much more strict than the adults she knows in New York. Maybe being with Aunt Louisa for a spell will do her some good. She may be able to slow her down and ground her in solid values.”
Meanwhile, Selene tried not to shake as she and Artie went into the kitchen. Why did she feel this way? Surely it wasn’t Artie.
Happy to have a distracting task beckon, she piled dirty dishes into the sink and allowed water to loosen the few remaining crumbs. By this time she knew where Aunt Louisa kept the dish towels. She withdrew a white cotton one embroidered with hummingbirds and handed it to Artie. “Sure you don’t mind doing women’s work?”
“I wash and dry my own dishes at home. Why not here?”
She poured Purex soap flakes into the water. “I can’t imagine my father saying that. My, but you are an unusual man.” She laughed. It felt good.
His lopsided grin made her feel good, too. “I can’t say I love doing the dishes, but I’ll bet Hestia and Booth appreciate the time to talk.”
“I think they do. I’m amazed that Hestia can breeze into town and find an eligible bachelor right away.” She hadn’t meant to blurt such a jealous comment.
Artie took a dish from her. “Hestia does have her charms, but so does my present company, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Maybe it’s the glow of motherhood.” She’d never been so glad to be occupied with dishes, not wanting to look at him as she reminded him of her shame.
“Maybe. But I have a feeling you have always been lovely.”
“Tell it to Sweeney.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. I mean, you don’t need to flatter me.”
“I am not being kind,” Artie protested. “I’m being truthful. I have a feeling you could use a friend and a little conversation once in a while. Am I right?”
The conversation she had with Artie hardly qualified as the type of quick-witted banter she was accustomed to with her New York friends, but conversation with a man offered a refreshing perspective she hadn’t experienced in recent memory. For the first time, she realized she’d never been friends with a man, any man. The men she knew either paired off with her friends and were so off-limits she barely greeted them, or they were interested in her as a girlfriend.
She remembered one of the many times she and her New York friends had talked about men. Bessie had insisted that men and women could never be just friends. But Artie, with his unaffected magnetism and easy manner, made her wonder if Bessie, for all her sophistication, could have been mistaken.
Artie stopped drying in mid-swipe. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested you’d want to see me as a friend or anything else. I didn’t mean to overstep.” His soft tone betrayed hurt, not malice. “I won’t stop by again.”
“No!” Her answer spewed from her mouth so quickly she embarrassed herself, but the way he relaxed his posture an inch told her he felt relieved by her answer. “I was just thinking about New York and how different it is from here. How different the people are.”
“I imagine I don’t compare favorably. You think I’m a country bumpkin, I bet.”
“No, I don’t.” Still, she swallowed.
Artie, with his plain but strong looks and straightforward ways, would have fallen under that label for her not so long ago. But away from her crowd, when she could look at people without her city lenses, she could see them differently. She remembered long-ago visits to this very place and how Mother had complained all the way on the train as Father insisted they visit. Mother would pout and grouse, but Selene tried to look forward to the trip as part of a big adventure. She could always relax in Maiden, something impossible to do in the social whirl of New York. Eventually they returned home, too soon for Selene and Father but not a moment prematurely for Mother. The instant Mother returned she’d telephone the beauty salon for one appointment, then the fashion salon for another, and then she’d telephone her friends to schedule lunch at the Algonquin. A gift of jewelry from Father would follow, usually involving diamonds, and Mother was happy again.
She couldn’t imagine Artie even considering consoling anyone with jewelry, regardless of whether he could afford to do so. She wasn’t sure whether or not he could, but she had a definite feeling he could never buy anything as large as the stones in her mother’s jewelry box, the box she had inherited. She would have much rather had her mother in her life.
“Are you sure you don’t think I’m a country bumpkin? I’m not certain I’d pass muster with your New York friends.”
“You wouldn’t fit in there, but you fit in here just fine. And for now, I’m planning to fit in here, too.”