Josie wiped her damp hands on her apron for the tenth time as she set three plates on the table. This was her first full day as a housekeeper, and she hoped she made it to her second before getting fired.
It had taken a good amount of scraping and scrubbing to remove Lacy’s pancake batter from the table’s surface, not to mention the chair and the floor. The honest work and the gleaming kitchen filled her with a measure of pride.
Josie set out the utensils and moved the mounded platter of food from its warm spot on the stove to the center of the table. She hoped it would pass as her own cooking. What would she do tomorrow? Good grief, what would she do this afternoon for a meal?
No, she couldn’t think of that right now, she had to get through this meal first. This afternoon wouldn’t matter if her employer figured out she hadn’t cooked any of this.
She would have asked God for help, but she figured the years she had spent at Agnes’s pretty much canceled her share of salvation. She needed this job. Needed the money, but most of all, she needed to be here, in Houlton, to find her daughter. And this store would be her means to that end. Sooner or later, she would find the family that had her little girl, she just had to wait until they came into the store. Josie knelt to wipe up a stray glob of batter that had escaped her.
"Smells good."
Josie stood quickly, concealing the batter-filled rag behind her skirt. Cordell Williams’ disheveled figure stood in the doorway, shirt untucked, suspenders slung down around his hips. Good thing she was planning on doing the wash today, because he looked like he’d slept in his clothes.
He stared at her, his warm eyes filled with emotion--sadness, perhaps pain. Josie swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and tried to smooth her damp apron. "Good morning, Mr. Williams. Well, um--Breakfast is ready." She motioned toward the table.
He ran a hand through his hair raggedly, weariness settling into the lines and crags of his face, as if it weren’t morning at all, but late into the night. Cordell glanced at the food on the table, then rested his gaze back on her, his expression unreadable. He remained in the doorway, and Josie thought for an absurd moment he was afraid to come into the kitchen. Uneasiness weighed her down as his amber eyes scanned her, and she caught herself nibbling at her lip.
He knew already. He’d figured out she was not a housekeeper, that she was nothing but a whore who didn’t even know how to cook. Josie’s heart thumped in her chest and her pulse drummed in her ears.
Cord turned abruptly and strode to the bottom of the stairs. "Matthew! Lacy!" he shouted, "You have exactly five seconds to come down these stairs for breakfast, or I’m coming up to get you. Five. Four. Three. Two..."
Bounding thuds sounded above Josie’s head and continued down the stairs, ending at the doorway.
"Do I have to?" A young boy’s whining voice floated into the kitchen, not far ahead of Lacy’s elf-like figure as she skipped into the kitchen.
"Oh, boy! Pancakes!" The girl grinned and winked at her.
Josie shook her head slightly to remind the imp of their pact, but Lacy happily whirled away and plopped herself on a chair, fork in hand. Josie kneaded her fingers in her apron.
Cordell followed his son into the kitchen. "Well, I guess we’re all here," he said, scratching his beard-roughened chin. "This is Matthew."
Josie nodded at the solemn boy. "Hello Matthew, it’s nice to meet you." He didn’t look up to meet her smile.
A frown creased Cord’s stubbled face. "Matt, you remember your manners?" he said gently.
The boy swept his tousled brown hair from his eyes. "Hello, ma’am." He tilted his head, his eyes almost meeting hers, then turned quickly away.
"We, ah, Lacy and I made pancakes for breakfast." She motioned toward the heap of food in the center of the table. "Lacy told me they’re your favorite, Matthew."
"Pancakes are Lacy’s favorite. She even likes the burned ones Pa makes." He glared across the table at his sister. "She knows I don’t like pancakes at all."
Disappointment fell over Josie. "Well, there are the eggs as well. Do you like those? What about bacon, there’s plenty." Josie hoped the boy wouldn’t ask for something else, unless he wanted mush, or she would surely be out of a job before breakfast was over.
"Just put some on his plate and he’ll eat it," said Cordell, "just like his Pa." He smiled and held out his plate, shoveling a pile of scrambled eggs, several strips of bacon, and a small mountain of pancakes onto it.
Lacy stabbed a couple of pancakes with her fork and flopped them onto her plate, then proceeded to roll them up and eat them with her fingers. Cordell served her a small pile of eggs, then handed the spoon to Matthew, who reluctantly filled his plate. Cordell smiled at the boy and tucked into his food.
Josie exhaled a silent sigh of relief. They all seemed happy with the meal and Cordell was no longer staring at her like she had two heads. Maybe the deception had worked. She glanced down at the dishrag still in her hand, reminding her that she should start the hot water for dishwashing.
Cordell’s fork stopped and he looked up across the table at her. "Aren’t you eating?"
"Oh. I--I’ll have mine later."
He put down his fork and took a slurp of coffee. "You don’t have to eat separate from us. We aren’t fancy around here, in case you haven’t noticed. Sit down and fill a plate. You went to all this work, it’d be a shame to let it go cold." A ghost of a smile played across his mouth. He nodded to the empty chair in front of her.
"All right." She grasped the back of the chair.
"That’s Ma’s chair." Matthew’s urgent whisper stopped her before she sat down. The boy stared at his father, distress written across his face.
Cordell glanced at Josie, sadness resting in the lines around his eyes. He placed his hand over his son’s. "It’s all right, son," he said gently. "Your ma won’t mind Miss Josie sittin’ in her chair."
"But Pa--"
"Eat your breakfast, son. You’ll be late for school."
"I’m not hungry!" Matthew shouted and jumped out of his chair. He grabbed his schoolbooks and ran out the back door, slamming it behind him.
Cordell sighed heavily, staring after Matthew, then he closed his eyes briefly and turned to Josie, sorrow etching his features.
"I’m very sorry, Mr. Williams, I didn’t mean--"
"No, I’m the one who’s sorry. It’ll just take some time for them to get used to you, especially the boy." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I guess I should have discussed hiring a housekeeper with them before I brought another woman into the house. It didn’t occur to me until I saw you and...well, anyway, we’ll just have to give Matt some time. Emily’s death was very hard on him. On all of us." He stared at his empty plate for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Well, I better get the store open," he said, scooting back his chair. He tweaked his daughter’s nose. "See you for lunch, Sweetpea."
Josie watched his back disappear through the door as he pulled his suspenders up and tucked in his wrinkled shirt. A part of her ached for the man’s loss. He obviously loved his wife very much, as the children had. He needed someone to take care of him, to bring him out of the fog of grief he had disappeared into. To take the sadness out of those eyes.
Josie turned to Lacy, who was busy licking maple syrup from her plate, and smiled. The children needed a mother.
Stop it. They need a real mother, not a whore masquerading as a housekeeper. You can’t give them what they need.
She wasn’t here to take Emily’s place. She was here for one thing: money. Everything in her life had always been about money. Money to eat, money to buy Momma’s medicine, money to help one of the younger girls at Agnes’s when she missed her monthly. She never wanted any of the other girls to go through what she had when Agnes sold her baby.
A wave of painful grief swamped her, and Josie pinched her eyes shut against the memories. God, the pain was always so close to the surface. She had learned to block out everything else--the constant round of dirty, smelly loggers on top of her, Agnes’s continual taunting, the sobs from the next room, even Fritz’s beatings--but she could never find the strength to escape the memory of the day her daughter was torn from her, or the constant ache of her empty arms.
This job was about money, nothing else. If she was going to build a life for her and her own daughter, she had to keep detached from this family long enough to build a nest egg, find her baby, and move on.
But first she needed to learn to cook so she could keep this job. "Lacy, are you ready to go visit Grace?"
Lacy bounced out of her chair and twirled over to Josie. "Yay! Annie Gracie! She always has the bestest cookies. Can we make cookies, Annie Josie?"
"I’ll have her show me her recipe." Josie couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. Lacy was a bundle of exuberance. "But first we need to wash the dishes."
"Okay! I’ll clear the table, just like me and Momma."
Yes, just like her ma. For Josie eventually would leave her too. She just hoped the girl wouldn’t get so attached that her leaving would hurt her.
Cord stared at the receipt book until it blurred. Christ, he wanted a drink. It would cure his hangover, but not his problem. The whiskey only chased away the grief and guilt for a short time, replacing it with a physical pain that blotted out everything for a while. But every time, it all came back.
He rubbed his temples for the hundredth time, alternately cursing and blessing the headache that still plagued him. Business had been thankfully slow, but it was sure to pick up after ten. If his head didn’t explode before then. Jesus, he hated that damn whiskey. If only he could make it without the stuff.
The door jingled open and Cord shoved the receipt book aside. The familiar scents of Bay Rum and tobacco assaulted his nostrils, and Cord wrinkled his nose.
"Jack, you take a bath in that cologne?"
Jackson DuPree let out a good-natured laugh as the heels of his shiny black boots tapped a cadence on the floor boards. "Always know how to treat your customers right, don’t you, Cord?"
"Does that mean you’re here to buy something, Jack, or just to be nosy, like yesterday?"
"Why Cordell Williams," he drawled, exaggerating his Southern accent, "how could you accuse me of such nastiness?"
"Easily," said Cord, rubbing his right temple. "Your nose is always in my business, almost as bad as Leticia’s."
Mock insult registered on Jackson’s face. "Now, Cord, there’s no call to be rude. My, but you’re testy these days. Hell, you look worse than you did yesterday. I figured with that sweet-voiced little gal back there--"
"Not another word, Jack." Cord leveled a glare at the man that made his head pound worse.
"I told you yesterday she’s just a housekeeper." Jackson’s chuckle only made Cord more angry. "And why the hell am I explaining anything to you anyway? It’s none of your business."
"You’re right, Cord, it ain’t none of my business." Jack leaned his elbows on the counter. "So what does she look like?"
Cord jammed a weary hand through his hair. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
Jackson grinned, flashing his mouthful of teeth. "Well I try, friend, I certainly try."
"So are you here for something, or is a visit from Jackson DuPree gonna become a daily event?"
"Aw, now I really am hurt, Cord. Seein’ my smilin’ face doesn’t make your day?"
Cord let a smile tug the corners of his mouth. "I don’t know, Jack, you’d be a helluva lot prettier in a dress, I think."
"Well now, that’s awful funny, because my older sisters thought the same thing, when I was a boy. I hear I was the purtiest little girl in all Georgia."
Cord shook his head and chuckled. Jack could always make him laugh, the damn fool.
"Mr. Williams?"
Cord spun around toward the soft voice that floated to him from the back door. Josie peeked around the door, nervously tucking a tendril of raven hair behind her ear. Somehow the motion made her look vulnerable, childlike. Cord shook the thought away.
"Well, who do we have here?" Jack said, his voice a sly whisper. "Looks like the mystery woman is unveiled."
"You just stay here, Jack." Cord made his way around the counter to the back of the store. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t know you had someone--"
"Oh, don’t mind me," Jack called, pretending to inspect a bolt of cloth.
Josie shrunk back behind the door. "I just wanted to let you know that Lacy and I were invited to Grace’s. Is it all right if we go over there for a while? We’ll be back by lunchtime."
It figured Grace would be by there already, poking her nose around. "Yeah, I don’t mind. Lacy likes spending time with Grace. She’s a great cook and helped me with the kids more times than I care to admit." Cord glanced over his shoulder. Jackson was doing a poor job of hiding his eavesdropping. "Just be warned. She’s a terrible gossip."
A soft crease formed at the corner of Josie’s mouth. "She admitted as much this morning."
"Well, she’s harmless enough, and means well. Don’t let Lacy eat too many cookies. Grace sends some home for Matthew, and Lacy has them all eaten before she hits the door. She gets a bellyache."
Jackson cleared his throat. "Excuse me, ma’am, I was wondering if you could lend me one of your lovely hands for a moment."
Josie’s eyes were wide as she stared at the gambler. "I--I’m sorry?"
Cord scowled. The man just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. "Jack, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?"
"You see, ma’am," Jack said, ignoring him. "I seem to be having a problem deciding which of these bolts I like. Which do you find preferable?"
Josie tentatively stepped from the doorway, briefly scanning the fabric Jack held out. "I’m sorry, I wouldn’t know."
"Well, now, that doesn’t help my decision. Surely you must have a preference. What about this one?"
She swallowed thickly and looked at Cord, questioning, her fingers fisting in her skirt. Dammit, if that gambler wasn’t gonna get a fist along side his head.
"This one would look just lovely against your rose petal skin. And you are quite lovely, my dear."
Cord bristled. "Jack, I think--"
"Thank you." Josie’s cheeks pinked as she whispered the words. "No one’s ever--" A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she bit her bottom lip and looked at the floor.
"And getting lovelier by the minute." Jackson grinned at Cord. He held up two bolts. "I just can’t decide which to buy for my Jenny. She so likes the finer things."
"Is she your wife?" Josie asked softly.
"Well, she is my lady, but I am as yet a free man."
Cord snorted. "That woman’s no lady."
Jackson grinned at Josie. "I declare, I cannot decide which of you is lovelier."
Irritation flooded Cord. "Dammit, Jack. Don’t compare Josie to that woman. She ain’t the kind of woman you talk about with a lady." He glanced over at Josie. She looked as though she wanted to be anywhere else but there. Damn that Jackson for embarrassing her. Cord shot him a warning glare, but Jack ignored him and turned back to Josie.
"Now, which of these should I buy Jenny, then? Perhaps I should let her choose."
"I don’t want that woman in my store," Cord said between clenched teeth.
Josie glanced up without looking at either cloth and pointed to the closest bolt.
"I thank you kindly, ma’am," said Jackson, touching the brim of his hat. "Your judgment is estimable. I am indebted to you for your opinion."
"I--I really have to go," Josie sputtered. "Grace is waiting." She scurried back through the door.
Cord turned to Jackson, fisting his hands at his sides. "What the hell was that all about, Jack?"
Jackson grinned. "Just gettin’ a feminine opinion with the fabric for my trousseau." He tossed the bolt of pale blue sateen on the counter. "Put enough of that on my account for a vest. I’ll be back to pick it up later."
Cord followed him to the door. "Dammit, Jack, why do you try so hard to make me angry?"
Jack turned to him in mock surprise. "Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous."
Cord glared at him. "You know I ain’t ready for that. Hell, I can’t even look at another woman without thinking of Em. Josie’s just a housekeeper."
Jack chuckled and nodded. "And a mighty pretty one at that, friend. I just may have to show my face around here more often." He turned as he stepped through the front door. "It’d give that lovely lady somethin’ to look at besides that scowl of yours, Cordell."
Cord took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his headache take over again. That’s all he needed, Jackson hanging around, reminding him how pretty his housekeeper is.
Another wave of pain throbbed behind his eyes. I’m sorry, Em.