“Your grandfather has lost the last of our money.” Greta fumed without looking up.
June had just left, and Anna had found Greta standing at the window staring down their hill over the city, a gray apron covering her plum and white pinstripe dress.
“He missed the meeting of residents, and he just crawled into bed two hours ago. Won’t be opening the bookstore today.”
Anna clung to her book, aghast at the thought. “Are you sure?”
“Soon as I saw him sneak up the stairs, reeking of whiskey and tobacco, I knew.”
A sudden anger filled her. “Why would you assume he gambled away all our money just because he was drinking?” Her voice cracked on the last word. Greta didn’t know her grandfather as well as she did.
“Dear,” Greta began soothingly, “you know he’s done it before.”
“A long time ago. Why can’t you believe that he’s changed?”
Greta sighed. “See for yourself.”
She pointed toward the moneybox in the kitchen. It had been full with nearly thirty dollars the last time Anna had checked. But peeking inside now felt like a betrayal.
“Well, perhaps he moved the money somewhere else. Or needed to buy some things.” She walked to the kitchen window while Greta shook her head and sat by the fire to knit.
A few minutes later, her grandfather stumbled down the stairs with a cloud of whiskey stink surrounding him. He turned the water on and put his mouth under the stream, taking great gulps. Without turning it off, he felt behind him for a chair then melted into it, resting his head in his hands.
“I was trying to get some money for us, for the family…” He trailed off, clearing his throat.
Greta didn’t look up from her knitting. A tightness wrapped around Anna’s head, a piercing tension. It was hard to reconcile her beloved grandfather, who smelled like cinnamon and reminded her of Ireland, with the man who did things like this.
She turned the faucet off then put a hand on his shoulder. “But you didn’t lose all of it, did you?”
His bloodshot eyes stared back at her with open shame. She turned away from him and returned to the kitchen window. Although it was a warm summer’s day, she felt winter steadily, inevitably racing toward them. Their summer garden only contained sage, thyme, carrots, parsnips, and pea sprouts. Over the years, their family had come to rely on the markets and stores in town for fruits and vegetables, which were stocked nearly year-round thanks to frequent shipments in a port city.
Without the lost shipment, their bookstore wouldn’t bring in enough income over the winter months to fill their pantry shelves, let alone restock the bookshelves. Their inventory of books would dwindle at the same time as the bounty of their garden. Her stomach twisted at the thought of not having enough food for the winter. It was in moments like this that she questioned her own selfishness; if she were married, it would be less of a burden on her family.
She pulled out her small notebook and ink pen. Her grandfather stood and crept back upstairs, taking each step slowly, stopping to groan at the top.
Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Anna kept her hand resting on the soft skin of her neck. They needed a new plan. She wrote a list: Seeds to Buy: potatoes, squash, cabbage, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers. It was still early June, so if she was lucky, she might have time before the first frost to grow enough food to last the winter—but it would be close. Hopefully winter would come late.
She squinted at Greta who drifted past her toward the oven. The smell of chocolate and butter filled the room as the older woman set a pan of cookies near the open window to cool.
“Now he’ll sleep the day away. Best that way,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”
Anna glanced at her without responding. The small icebox sat in the corner, and she peered inside at the butter and milk. There would be no money to buy these things soon, but if they made enough jars of blackberry jam, sweet pickles, and stewed tomatoes, she could trade. If she stayed home from the bookstore in the late summer and early autumn, and if she and Greta worked hard, they might make enough to trade or sell at the market to supplement their flour, salt, and sugar.
She took inventory of the small pantry: two rows of thick shelves lined both sides. Spices, oils, and other staples were there now, but it would only be a matter of weeks before they disappeared.
“What are you thinkin’?” Greta’s eyebrows were knit with concern.
Anna hated being wrong about her grandfather, but that wasn’t Greta’s fault. “Remember when you first married my grandfather, and you did all kinds of canning, preserving, and pickling?”
With a far-off smile, Greta nodded. “With my first husband, I faced greater times of need than you ever will in these modern times. Your grandfather is a fool for gamblin’ with our money, but he’s also the most positive and resourceful man I’ve ever known.”
Anna frowned at the word “fool,” but continued. “We need to take things into our own hands. Can you teach me some of the things you used to do before the markets? If we buy more seeds and turn up more rows, we can grow enough food to see us through the winter, and maybe even extra to sell to buy other ingredients.”
Greta’s eyes gleamed. “A mighty fine idea.”
They decided to start by surveying the garden. It was much too small at just three rows. It would only provide a few extra sides of vegetables throughout the winter. Along the woodland border, there were bushes of raspberries and blackberries, already in full bloom. Humming a tune, Anna briskly covered the length of their yard, Greta beside her, as they checked on the five apple trees and two cherry trees.
Greta had a satisfied expression. “Trees look good. And there’s more berries than we can eat.”
“Plenty for preserving,” Anna said, grinning at Greta.
They also inspected the root cellar, now mainly used to store the wine her grandfather made. The grassy roof stood only slightly higher than the ground—a wood awning held up the ground above the door, with shallow steps leading underground. Inside, thick darkness greeted her eyes; when they adjusted, she saw empty glasses lining the shelves and old, rotten piles of turnip heads someone had forgotten to plant. Such a waste.
Back in the kitchen, Greta started a pot boiling and turned with a smile. “We can start mid-August. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll have to wait for an opportune moment to bring the idea up with Grandfather—he’ll miss me at the bookstore.”
After graduating school three years prior, she had been working full-time at the bookstore with her grandfather. He likely didn’t want to lose his favorite and only employee for weeks. There was no money to hire outside help, but there was nothing else to be done.
Later that evening, she settled in by the fire to read the newspaper. As she browsed, something caught her eye. It was an offhand reference in an article, about a woman named Isabella Bird who had traveled around the Rocky Mountains and climbed Longs Peak back in 1873.
Anna grinned and pulled the paper closer to her. There were women all over the country who had wild dreams. She cut the article out and tucked it into her pocket—a story to treasure, dream about, live up to. It felt as if her world was expanding with swift momentum, pulling her away from the mundane, into a delicious kind of life.
The next morning, Anna tucked the book inside her bag as her grandfather thumped down the stairs, his slippers tapping each step rhythmically. As Greta had predicted, he’d spent the rest of the previous day sleeping, so Anna hadn’t been able to show him the book or speak with him about her new plan for the winter.
“Good morning, lassie! I’m sorry,” he said, embracing her in a warm hug. “Forgive me?”
Anna smiled half-heartedly, then nodded. He was difficult to stay mad at. She hooked the gold chain of her bag over her shoulder, clicking shut the clasp and admiring the embroidered bluebird and cherry blossoms covering it.
They walked to the bookstore arm in arm. She carried a basket of Greta’s freshly made cookies and muffins, which always sold well.
“Why don’t we stop by that doctor’s office to thank him, eh?”
Her grandfather leaned in toward her with a twinkle in his eye, and she nodded.
They found white tents set up along Second Avenue, people conducting business in the swept-up aftermath. A long line had formed in front of a tent with a cloth banner stating “Tacoma Relief Bureau” hanging across the opening.
As they passed the line, Anna listened.
A stocky man removed his hat then wiped sweat from his glistening forehead. “One committee to widen streets and another to handle donations. First Regiment is guardin’ property, but I already lost everything…” He turned away, and his voice melted into the hum of voices.
Beside them, the harbor was filled with merchant ships, fishing boats, and everything in between. She surveyed the piers to see if her brother Levi was in port early, even though his ship wasn’t expected for another month at least. She ducked as two men made a sharp turn in front of them, carrying a load of cedar logs tied with thick twine.
Finally, they arrived at the office and met Doctor Evans’s secretary who was a large woman with glasses and a gray bun. She waved them through to his office. A little boy of about eight whimpered in a chair while the doctor sat in front of him on a stool.
“Oh dear, sorry to disturb you. Didn’t realize you had a patient,” Anna said, turning on her heel and nearly bumping into her grandfather in her hurry.
The boy winked at her. “Ahh, I don’t mind none.”
Doctor Evans shrugged and waved them inside. “I suppose there’s no harm. Come on in.”
Anna blushed, but moved inside the room, nodding politely.
“Won’t hurt much, right Doc? Promise?” the boy asked.
“Well, either way, William, you’ve a mighty fine story to tell. Jumping right out of a tree to catch a raccoon!” Doctor Evans folded his arms over his chest, betraying a smile.
He stood, his eyes drawn to Anna as he shook her grandfather’s hand.
“How are you feeling, Miss Gallagher?” He motioned to the boy. “William has a shoulder out of socket.”
Anna waved at the boy and turned to face the doctor. “I’m just fine. Wanted to say thank you for your assistance.”
He had a different air about him at work—a quiet confidence.
Her grandfather took a seat on a wooden chair near the door. “Nice to meet you properly, Doctor Evans. Don’t let us stop you. We can wait.”
“Please, call me Connor.” He drifted closer to Anna. “Why don’t you give me a hand, Miss Gallagher?”
She nodded, placing her hat and purse on a seat near the door.
“Okay, son, let’s get this shoulder back the way God intended.”
Connor positioned her to hold William’s arm just so, popped a candy stick into his patient’s mouth, then yanked the arm quickly. A loud shout escaped from William’s mouth, followed by a deep exhale. He grabbed the candy out of his mouth and gave a serious nod.
“You see, I’m tough like my Pa.”
“You’re the bravest boy I’ve ever had in my office, and I’ll tell everyone so.” Connor patted the boy on the back.
The way the little boy peered up at the doctor—with admiration and respect—gave Anna hope. It seemed there was more to him than what she could gather from their previous encounter.
The secretary rushed into the room. “Mr. Towers has come to fetch you on account of his wife takin’ a fall!”
Anna glanced at her grandfather, and they both stood.
“We’ll get out of your hair. I have critical bookstore business to attend to myself,” her grandfather said with a chuckle.
Connor hastily gathered supplies, throwing them in a leather satchel, but his voice was calm.
“I’m really glad you stopped by. I’ve been wanting to speak with you.” He turned to face Anna and reached for her hand. “May I call on you at home sometime? I’d love to get to know you and your family better.”
She nodded, her heart skipping in its rhythm. Hopefully, he had an adventurous spirit in addition to being a handsome doctor who was kind to children.
Her grandfather happily clapped his hands together once, then cleared his throat.
Connor smiled broadly, turning to him. “Sorry to dash, but of course Mrs. Towers is in need. I’ll be in California for a residency for the next four weeks, but I’d be honored to call on Anna when I return at the end of July.”