“I have two pieces of news!”
Isobel Glasen glanced up from the sewing draped over her lap as her assistant seamstress breezed into the back room of the dress shop. “What sort of news?” she asked, bending over the gown again. The commissioned dress of red print silk would be picked up this afternoon, and Isobel needed to finish hand-stitching the black braiding along the bodice.
“First, I’ve fallen in love.” Stella Ivy sighed dreamily as she plopped into the vacant seat in front of the nearby sewing machine.
Unsure whether to groan or smile, Isobel settled for raising her eyebrows in a mild show of interest. This was not the first time Stella had declared herself in love—and Isobel suspected it would not be the last. The girl traded hearts like seasonal gowns.
Isobel didn’t fault her too much. After all, at twenty-two years old, Stella was still young with her whole life ahead of her. A life that would likely include a husband and children.
“Who is the fortunate beau this time?” Isobel asked.
The girl removed her hat from her strawberry blonde coif and smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “He’s a newly hired wrangler for the Running W ranch and his name is Franklin.”
Isobel finished one line of braiding and used the tiny scissors pinned to her shirtwaist to cut the excess thread. “When did you meet Franklin?” She couldn’t recall Stella mentioning a young man with that name last week.
“Just now.” Stella jumped up to hang her hat and coat on the hat tree.
The girl had met this boy minutes ago and was already convinced it was love? Isobel suppressed a skeptical chuckle. Not that romance couldn’t happen in such a way. It just hadn’t happened in that way for Isobel. In the past, she’d taken her time to get to know a man before choosing to risk her heart. Even then, that hadn’t lessened the reality of getting hurt.
With her thoughts focused elsewhere, she accidentally poked herself with the needle. She put her thumb to her lips to alleviate the smarting. How she wished old pains could be as easily soothed and forgotten. At least she had no fear of being hurt in the future. Her courting days were long past. She was content with her dress shop, her cozy apartment on the second floor above and the company of her beloved aunt and uncle who lived not too far from town.
“I encountered a huge puddle of mud on the walk to the shop this morning,” Stella said, her hands gesturing, animating her story. “As I was trying to figure out how to cross without getting my shoes dirty, this handsome wrangler happened by. He introduced himself and insisted he help me cross the street.”
Isobel couldn’t help a genuine smile this time, even if it was a small one. What girl could resist a gallant hero? “When will he be in town again?”
“This Saturday. He wants to take me for a buggy ride.”
Holding the next line of braiding in position, Isobel began sewing it into place. “What will Gerald think?” Stella’s last beau was the son of the bank manager.
“It hardly matters. I don’t care what he thinks anymore,” the girl replied with a sniff. “He was standing right outside the bank, waiting to talk to me, and didn’t even bother to come over to help.”
Poor Gerald. He would now join the handful of suitors who found themselves on the receiving end of Stella’s cooling infatuation. Or perhaps the real people Isobel ought to feel sorry for were Mr. and Mrs. Ivy. The couple had expressed their frustration and fears that Stella would never settle down. It was part of the reason they’d been so eager to have their daughter come work for Isobel three years ago. Not necessarily for the monetary benefits but for what they called the blessing of being around Isobel’s “mature and ladylike character.”
At the age of twenty-eight, Isobel knew that was the Ivys’ diplomatic way of saying Stella might profit from being around a spinster.
Whether their motive was to show their daughter what might befall her if she remained fickle in love or a hope that Stella would gain greater restraint and wisdom working at the dress shop, Isobel couldn’t say. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
“Which dress do you want me to work on this morning?” Stella asked, pulling Isobel’s attention to the present.
She pointed with her needle at the half-finished, black-and-white striped afternoon dress lying on top of the cutting table. “I told Mrs. Kitt that we would have it ready for her to pick up tomorrow.”
The wives and daughters of Sheridan’s elite didn’t change their gowns nearly as often as their wealthy counterparts back East did—something Isobel hadn’t minded giving up when she moved to Wyoming seven years ago. However, her customers did like to feel that they looked every bit as stylish as the rest of the country, even way out here in the shadow of the Big Horn Mountains. And her dress shop had thrived as she’d provided those fashionable gowns.
Bringing Stella on as an assistant had been a blessing for Isobel, too. Together they were able to produce nearly twice as many dresses as Isobel had by herself. So much so that a year ago she’d begun to seriously consider the idea of expanding her shop. When the building next door came up for sale, it had seemed more than fortuitous.
Isobel had been saving for months now in order to buy the building. She’d even hoped Stella’s interest in Gerald might help sway the bank manager to champion her plans, though that was less likely to happen now that the young man was no longer a suitor.
“If I hurry and finish Mrs. Kitt’s gown, can I keep working on my May Day dress?” Stella picked up the striped gown and returned to the sewing machine.
Isobel nodded. The girl had a natural knack for sewing, and her gown would surely be the envy of many at the town gathering. And since Mr. Ivy was the city council member in charge of this year’s May Day festival, Stella had talked of little else the past few weeks.
“Are you going to make yourself a new dress for the celebration?” The girl looked over her shoulder at Isobel. “A yellow one would look so lovely with your amber eyes.”
It wasn’t the first time Stella had made such an observation, nor was she the first to do so. Whitman Russell had often complimented Isobel when she’d worn yellow, even before they’d become engaged. A few years older, Whit had been handsome and successful, so she’d been inclined to believe his opinion. However, when he’d ended their engagement, Isobel vowed never to wear yellow again—and she’d held fast to that commitment.
“If I decide to attend and make a new dress, it won’t be yellow. Maybe something red, like this one.”
Stella gave her a contemplative look. “Red would be nice, too.” She returned her focus to the garment on the sewing machine. “Whatever color you pick, I think you ought to wear your hair down, Issy. If mine was half as thick and pretty as yours, I’d never wear my hair up.”
Another style choice that was out of the question. Beau Doyle, Isobel’s second fiancé, had preferred it when she wore her hair down. He’d grown up out West and didn’t put much stock in anything stylish—be it hair or clothes. Isobel had fallen for him nevertheless, only to have her half-patched heart shattered all over again when Beau asked for his ring back. That had been six years ago and she hadn’t worn her hair down in public since.
After snipping the last bit of thread from the braiding, Isobel held up the dress. It was simple yet elegant. She smiled and rose to her feet as something else Stella had said earlier repeated through her mind.
“What was your other piece of news?” Isobel placed the finished gown on the table.
“Hmm?”
“You said you had two pieces of news.”
Stella spun in her chair. “You’re right! In all the excitement of telling you about Franklin, I almost forgot.” She paused, likely for dramatic effect, then announced in an incredulous tone, “Gerald was waiting to tell me that the building next door has been sold.”
“What?” Isobel’s joy over the completion of another beautiful gown snapped. Sharp disappointment rushed in to take its place. “It’s already been sold?”
“I’m afraid so.” Stella climbed to her feet and came to put her arm around Isobel’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Issy. I know you wanted to buy it.”
Isobel glanced down through tear-brimmed eyes at the red dress. “I was sure that, once we completed the spring and summer orders, I’d have enough money.” She ran her hand over the silk material, her dreams of a larger dress shop tearing apart like tattered pieces of fabric. “Has the new owner moved in?”
“That’s what Gerald said.”
Willing back her tears, Isobel lifted her chin. “Then I ought to go next door and welcome him or her.” It was the proper, ladylike thing to do, no matter how much it hurt to give up on her original plan. And a lady was what her late mother had raised Isobel to be.
You must embody those refined qualities, my dear Isobel. For that is the only way you’ll survive and thrive in a world that measures a woman’s worth far differently than God does.
The memory elicited another ripple of pain, both from the accuracy of her mother’s words and the grief Isobel still felt at times since Lydia Glasen’s passing eight years earlier. Now was not the time to dwell on the past, though. Tucking the grief away, Isobel placed her hat on top of her dark brown hair and slipped on her coat. It might be spring, but it was still chilly outside.
“I’ll be back,” she said as she moved to the door.
“You’re a better woman than me, Isobel.” Stella folded her arms and leaned back against the cutting table. “I’d likely march into Gerald’s father’s office and demand he rethink the sale.”
Isobel allowed a soft laugh. If she’d had any siblings, she would have enjoyed having a younger sister like Stella. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but it would accomplish little. I didn’t have the money in time. This new owner did. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
“I still wish it had worked out for you.”
“Thanks, Stella.” Her young friend’s support meant a great deal.
She walked into the dress shop’s main room and paused to angle the dressed mannequin in the picture window before stepping outside. A brisk breeze swished her light blue skirt around her shoes. A stab of frustration pricked Isobel anew as she surveyed the building next door. But, as she’d told Stella, there was nothing more to do but accept things and be neighborly.
Squaring her shoulders, she covered the short distance of sidewalk between her shop and the next. The door had been propped open. Isobel spied a man in wrinkled work clothes crouched before the counter, a paintbrush in his hand. He wore no jacket and his sleeves had been rolled back. Was this the new owner or a hired worker?
“Good morning.” She rapped a knuckle against the doorjamb and curved her lips into a friendly smile. “I own the shop next door and was hoping to meet the owner of this establish—”
Her greeting ended on a startled gasp when the man spun around and stood. Isobel blinked, hoping and praying she was dreaming. That in another moment she’d realize she was wrong about the new shop owner’s direct connection to her painful past.
There was no mistaking those blue-gray eyes and dark blond hair, though, even if she hadn’t seen them in ages. Which meant the man staring wide-eyed at her was none other than Whit’s younger brother, Alec Russell.
“Isobel Glasen?”
Alexander “Alec” Russell lowered the paintbrush in his hand and took a step toward her, unsure who was more shocked—Isobel or himself. While she looked older than the last time he’d seen her, he would recognize Isobel anywhere. Those beautiful amber eyes were unequivocally hers, as were the lovely face and dark brown hair. But he certainly hadn’t expected her to be among the first people to walk into his newly acquired building.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I was thinking the same about you,” he said, giving her a playful smile. “I knew you’d come West to live near your aunt, but I didn’t know you’d come to Sheridan.”
Isobel inclined her head in a stiff nod. “I’ve been here for the last seven years.”
So this was where she’d come after her broken engagement with Whit. Alec had wondered, especially since his older brother had claimed not to know where Isobel had ended up.
Letting Isobel go had been the only big mistake Alec could ever recall his brother making. In every other area of life—business, family—Whit had achieved great success with innate skill and seemingly little effort. On the other hand, Alec hadn’t initially gone into owning a business as his father and brother had. He’d completed schooling in veterinary medicine and had worked more than a decade at a dude ranch in North Dakota. Even so, Alec still felt obscured by his brother’s shadow.
His father’s edict last month had handed Alec his first real opportunity to prove himself. In order to receive the rest of his inheritance when he turned thirty in August, Alec had to put his veterinary skills to real use by establishing a successful clinic. He’d been given half his bequest to start his business and he’d been allowed to pick the location. Given that his best friend, West McCall, who also came from a wealthy family in Pittsburgh and had worked at the dude ranch, too, had married the year before and was now living near Sheridan, Alec had chosen to set his clinic up here.
Getting his veterinary practice running wasn’t the only challenge he faced, though. He’d also been instructed to find, court and marry a good woman by his birthday. His father wanted Alec to finally settle down, something Alec wanted, as well. However, anytime he’d liked a girl in the past, he would inevitably discover that she had feelings for someone else—usually his brother or a friend.
That had been the case with Isobel, too. Alec had secretly harbored feelings for her, but before he’d braved sharing them with her, she and Whit had announced their engagement. Alec had even considered going after her when that engagement was over, but in the end, he’d decided against it. He wanted to find a girl who wasn’t interested in him just because she’d been thrown over by his brother or someone else Alec knew.
Despite what had happened in the past, Alec was still glad to see Isobel standing in front of him. It wouldn’t hurt to have another friend here in Sheridan. She didn’t look as pleased to see him in return, though. Her demeanor radiated the same ladylike poise and beauty he remembered, but her expression bordered on panic.
“Are you relocating to Sheridan permanently?” she asked in a strained tone that broke the charged silence that had settled between them.
Alec nodded. “I just bought this place.” He gestured to the walls with his paintbrush. “I’m setting up a veterinary clinic—once I have everything ready.”
“A veterinary clinic?”
A flicker of disappointment shot through him at her confusion. Didn’t she remember he’d become a veterinarian? He remembered nearly everything about her—at least, the things she’d liked and disliked seven years ago. Maybe he was being foolish to think they could resume being friends or that she’d see him as anything other than the younger brother of her former fiancé. “I graduated from veterinary school...”
“I remember,” Isobel said quietly. “You were home for a month in the spring the last time I saw you.”
Pleasure wound through him at her recollection. “My father’s been hinting in his letters for over a year now that I need to set up a practice. I figured with West McCall living nearby, this was as good a place as any to do it.”
“Were you in town for West’s wedding last year?”
Alec smiled at the memory of his friend’s happy day. “I was.”
If only Alec had known then that Isobel was living here, he could have stuck around to see her. “How did you hear about the wedding?” The Russells and the McCalls had been longtime family friends, but Alec didn’t think Isobel knew West’s family well and she hadn’t been at the wedding. He would have definitely remembered if she had.
“I made the bride’s dress.” She glanced around the room. “So you bought this building?”
He followed her gaze. “Yes, I’m hoping folks around here will let me take care of their sick and injured animals.”
“Animals?” There was no mistaking the horror on her face this time.
Alec chuckled. “That’s what a veterinarian does, Isobel. Cares for—”
“I know that, but you can’t do that here.” She retreated a step, her fingers kneading together at her waist. “I-I own the dress shop next door.”
He’d always suspected she would make something of herself and her extraordinary talent for dressmaking. “Congratu—”
“Which is why you can’t have animals in this building,” she said, cutting him off again. “What would my customers have to say about that?”
Fighting a frown, Alec folded his arms. “Your customers won’t need to step foot in here, unless, of course, they have an animal that needs tending to.”
“You don’t understand.” She matched his stance by crossing her arms, as well, her eyes throwing off yellowish-brown sparks. “What about the noise or...or...the smell? My customers expect cleanliness, quiet and style.”
Annoyance heated his neck. Though he secretly feared he wouldn’t turn out to be a born businessman like his father or Whit, he wasn’t completely inept, either. “I plan to run a neat, respectable establishment, too. But you’ll have to forgive me on the style factor. That isn’t so much of a requirement when working with God’s four-legged creatures.”
Isobel looked as if she wanted to spit nails at him, but she wouldn’t. One thing Alec knew, even after all these years, was that Isobel Glasen never acted in a way that wasn’t in keeping with being a proper lady.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Doctor Russell,” she ground out. “Welcome to Sheridan.” Head held high, she stepped over the door’s threshold. “Seeing as I have no pets or animals of my own, I doubt we’ll need to interact more than is customary for two neighboring business owners.”
Alec’s irritation deflated in the wake of her cool formality. “I hope we’ll get to see each other more—”
“Good day.”
Throwing him a tight smile, which looked anything but genuine, she spun on her heel and marched away.
“Good day,” he repeated to himself.
Alec turned to face the room and ran his hand through his likely paint-flecked hair. His excitement at seeing Isobel again had exited the building right along with her. If he couldn’t win over an old acquaintance with his plan for a veterinary practice, would he ever be successful in convincing the rest of Sheridan that they needed his services? With a sigh, he returned to painting the counter.
While he didn’t know what had caused the rift between Isobel and his brother, Alec had experienced enough heartbreak of his own to recognize the glimmer of hurt he’d seen in Isobel’s gaze and demeanor just now. He hated the idea that his older brother might be the cause and that Isobel might harbor lingering resentment toward Alec because of his connection with Whit.
You knew where she was, God, he prayed as he painted, when I felt good about coming here. So help me understand why.
Maybe another reason for his being in Sheridan was to help Isobel heal from the past. Or maybe it was simply to convince Isobel, and thereby the other townsfolk, that a veterinary practice was more than a smelly, noisy establishment. Either way, he wanted to do right by her if he could.
The one thing he wouldn’t allow himself to consider, though, was that he’d been given a second chance with Isobel. Her ringless finger attested to her unmarried status, but she might still have a beau. Regardless, Alec wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.
He needed to find a girl to court and marry, but he wouldn’t knowingly pursue someone who years ago hadn’t been able to see past Whit to the eligible man standing behind him. This time, Alec was determined to find a girl whose feelings matched his own, a girl who liked him first and foremost for being himself.