part0011

L inc drank a few sips of his beer and waited while the man gathered his thoughts. He understood how difficult this must be to talk about.

Thatcher finished his second beer, and waved the bartender off for a third. He picked up the letter, folded it, and handed it back to Linc.

Finally, he said, “John Thatcher was my uncle, my mother’s youngest brother. He started Thatcher Sawmill just after the war with money he’d saved from his early logging days. Like Henry Sealy, Uncle John worked to expand the mill, and in a few short years, Thatcher Sawmill supported the economy of that area.

“One day, he suffered a heart attack. The doc said, more than likely, it stemmed from the year he spent as a prisoner of war.”

“I’m sorry he had to deal with that,” Linc said. There wasn’t a family who had escaped the harshness of the war in some way. Even though he was young, Linc remembered the toll it had taken on his own family.

“Yeah, it was tough on him,” Thatcher continued, “But he survived. Unfortunately, the doc limited his time at the mill. John didn’t want to sell, so to keep the business going, he hired Jimmerson Tolbert to run it.”

Except for the reason, that’s exactly what Griffin had done. He’d hired an experienced man, Tolbert, to help run the office. Linc’s interest and curiosity in the results of that hiring were more than piqued. “How’d that work out?”

“As it turned out, not as well as he’d hoped it would. Uncle John’s letters to my mother were upbeat in the beginning, but became less and less enthusiastic, and less frequent. He was having a hard time making ends meet and closing the mill seemed his only option. At my mother’s urging, I traveled to the mill, to offer my help in getting things back on track. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived, the mill had been burned to the ground, and Uncle John was dead.

“The local inquiry into the fire found that, in his despondency, Uncle John had deliberately set the fire to collect the insurance money. He had died from his efforts, and caused serious injury to Tolbert, who discovered him and tried to save him from the flames.” He signaled the bartender and pointed to his glass. He glanced to Linc and asked, “You?”

“No, I’m good.”

After the bartender brought him another beer, he continued, “The Thatcher Sawmill, and our family, suffered a devastating blow that night. Tolbert told the board of inquiry the fire was so advanced when he discovered it, that it was only with great effort by the loggers, that the planing mill and lumber yard were saved. The offices and most of the logger’s barracks and homes burned to the ground.”

“That’s when you decided to sell?”

“Yes. Uncle John left the mill to my mother. The estimated cost to rebuild the sawmill, which had a daily cutting capacity of 75,000 feet, was $40,000. With only a part of that amount covered by insurance, there was no way we could afford to do it. Besides, you could fit in one of ma’s thimbles what any of us knew about running a sawmill, and Tolbert wasn’t in any shape to help.

“We sold the mill to a company from back east, who had the money to invest. They soon announced that the mill would be rebuilt, and to the extent possible, company employees would be used to rebuild it to maintain their jobs. They did it, and I understand it’s back running at a profit.”

“That’s essentially what’s in this letter,” Linc said.

“Then, if the inquiry found your uncle to blame, and your family sold the business, why have you been bird dogging Tolbert for the past year?”

“Some months after everything was settled, we received the remainder of Uncle John’s belongings from the lawyer who handled his estate. Included in the box were past records from the mill, some personal items, his bible, and a rather large packet.”

Linc had a suspicion where this was going. “What did you find?”

“Detailed bookkeeping for the mill for the last six months and, what appeared to be a second set of records. What do you make of that?”

“I would say your uncle suspected Tolbert of skimming off the top.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

Griffin had been worried about a possible arsonist, but Linc was sure a bookkeeper hadn’t entered his mind. It surely hadn’t crossed his. “Thatcher, would you be willing to join forces with Griffin and I to investigate this further? We might have better success.”

Thatcher downed what was left of his beer, and thrust his hand toward Linc. “I’m your guy.”

Emmeline sat at the table, in the brightly decorated kitchen, waiting for Tildie’s reaction to the chocolate cake she’d brought. It wasn’t her first effort, or even her second, but she had high hopes this latest attempt would pass Flat Rock Point’s most discriminate chocolate lover. Finally, when she couldn’t stand the wait any longer, she shifted in her chair and cleared her throat.

“Tildie, please don’t keep me waiting any longer,” she urged. “What do you think?”

The woman, known for her skill at baking throughout the county, took another bite and closed her eyes like the judges at the county fair. “Well . . . the texture is light, yet it doesn’t fall apart on the plate, and the chocolate is sweet not bitter.”

“Yes, but is it something I can contribute to the picnic?”

“Of course, it is. Is that why you brought the cake, for my approval?”

“Partly, I wanted to give you, and Owen, something for taking me to the play this evening. But yes, I wanted your honest opinion. Laurel tasted a bite from the bottom and she liked it.”

“What do you think of your efforts?”

“Laurel said the third time’s the charm.”

“Yes, but you, Emmeline, what do you think.”

Her cheeks warmed at the question for her to evaluate her own baking, aloud. “I’m very pleased.”

“Good!” Tildie exclaimed. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Emmeline’s cheeks warmed again at the praise, and she couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would think of her working in the kitchen. She smiled to herself and cut a slice of cake. She also found herself wondering if a certain lumberman liked chocolate cake?

“Tildie, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Lincoln Bass to accompany us this evening.” She sipped her tea. “I remembered you saying you had extra tickets.”

“Oh . . . well I . . . um,” Tildie said, hesitating.

“I apologize,” she quickly offered. “I’ve over-stepped, and I’ll pay you for the ticket.”

The woman laughed. “Heavens no, that isn’t the problem, but the extra ticket is. You see, I invited a young man to go with us, who’s new to town and our congregation, and I thought you two should get acquainted.”

“Goodness, I’ll have to let Linc know that I miss-spoke.”

“Nonsense.” Tildie waved her hand back and forth. “I have a couple of things to do, and you wanted to post some letters. We’ll just go to the theater and buy another.”

“Thank you.” The woman, who had stood by Laurel when she’d come to this town as a mail order bride, was proving to be just as nice as her sister had said.

Tildie stood, stacked her cup, saucer, and cake plate with Emmeline’s, and said, “We’d better get high behind, the afternoon will be gone before we know it.”

As they made their way to the first stop on their list, the size of the town amazed Emmeline. Flat Rock Point would easily fit into one small corner of Philadelphia. For instance, they’d walked to the middle of town from the parsonage, an action she would never consider back home.

Though small, there seemed to be most everything one might need. The livery and train depot anchored the town on one end, while the new theater anchored the other. In between, there was a café, hotel, apothecary, a bank, the general store, and a women’s dress shop. She hoped they had time to stop in today, as there were several pieces of jewelry on display in the window, and the most darling hat she’d ever seen.

The next stop on their trail was the general store. While Tildie did her “once around”, as she called it, for necessities, Emmeline took her letters to the back for posting. No one was there, so she took the opportunity to read over her letter one last time. She wanted to be sure she had remembered to tell her mother and Adeline everything.

I apologize for not writing sooner, but there’s been one thing after the other to keep me busy. First, I want to send a special thank you to Papa for surprising us with the train car for our trip to Flat Rock Point. Coral and Josie are angels but being able to let them be themselves without interrupting the other passengers, is the only way to travel.

Mama, hold onto your new fall hat, Laurel is teaching me to cook! I have helped with dinner and my third attempt at baking a cake, was well received. Don’t tell Cook, I want to surprise her the next time I’m home.

I’ve truly surprised myself at how much I like it here. The temperatures during the day are warm to hot, but the air is much cleaner than Philadelphia. Laurel says we’ll be having jacket weather soon and I look forward to that.

The Sealy Lumbermill is having their annual picnic in a couple of weeks to celebrate fall and to welcome the newest members of the community, of which I’m one. I’m included in the planning and will contribute my chocolate cake. The whole thing is so exciting!

One last thing, I want you to know I’ve forgiven Malcolm for leaving me at the altar. I know I don’t have to, but it’s time to let it go. I wish him all the best.

Well, I must go, I’m in town to attend, of all things, a play at the town’s revived theater. In my next letter, I’ll tell you how it went.

There, that should’ve covered all she’d done since her arrival. She really hadn’t wanted to add that note about Malcolm, as she didn’t think she would ever really forgive him. But she knew her mother and father would want her to apologize. Frankly, she no longer cared if the society matrons were appeased.

She hadn’t been in Flat Rock Point long, but it had been long enough to see that the people here were genuine and meant what they said. It was no wonder Laurel loved it here. She refolded her letter, returned it to the envelope, and looked around for Mr. Babcock. She saw him on the other side of the store, helping Tildie.

The other two letters she needed to post were from Laurel. One was a reminder to Henry and Gwenda Sealy, her in-laws, about the picnic. She said they knew about the party but would appreciate a note.

The second was going to Griffin’s brother, Markus Benning, who had run into a bit of hard luck lately. Laurel hadn’t shared too many specifics, except that his lumber mill had burned from an apparent lightning strike, leaving him homeless and without work.

She didn’t know much about the logging and lumber business, except it was dangerous and dependent on the whims of mother nature. She didn’t know how Laurel managed to cope knowing Griffin was in constant peril.

“Ah, Miss Weidner, sorry to keep you waiting.” Mr. Babcock lifted the countertop entrance and took his place behind the Post Office window. “How may I help you today?”

“I have some letters to post.” Excitement tugged at her, as this was the first time she’d ever posted her own letters. She handed them to him and said, “If you’ll tell me what I owe you for postage and these two peppermint sticks?”

“That’ll be eight cents.”

She gave him the change, and smiled, pleased with herself. Tildie joined her, and Emmeline asked, “Were you successful?”

“Oh, yes, very. Mr. Babcock, if you’ll deliver the items we looked at, as well as what’s on this list?” She handed over the list of grocery items she’d written down before they left the house. “Now, Emmeline, we must be on our way, if we’re going to be ready for the performance this evening.”

“Do we have time for just one more stop?”

“Now, tell me, what do you have up your sleeve?”

Emmeline hooked her hand onto Tildie’s elbow. “Something very exciting, that I think you will love!”

Emmeline exited the theater, just behind Tildie and Owen. She was bookended by Linc on one side and the new man in town, Thatcher Whiteaker, on the other. She had to admit she’d rather enjoyed being the center of attention between two handsome men all evening. Now they were outside, though, Linc had grown quiet, almost sullen.

“I enjoyed the play, didn’t you?” When neither man answered her, she continued, “But, then I always enjoy Romeo and Juliet .”

Tildie adjusted her new hat. “I thought the troupe did an excellent job. Even Owen managed to stay awake.”

As if on cue, the preacher yawned. Emmeline faked a cough in order to smother a giggle.

“Gentlemen, we have refreshments at the house,” Tildie stated. “I’m afraid I won’t take no for an answer.”

After a moment, Thatcher spoke, “Mrs. Waggoner, I’m going to beg off, if you don’t mind. It’s already late and I have to be back at the mill early in the morning.”

“Of course, I understand. You have a standing invitation, though. Anytime you’d like to stop by.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Goodnight, Miss Weidner, and Linc, I’ll see you tomorrow at the mill.”

“Goodnight, Whiteaker.”

She watched the man head off toward the hotel, and enjoyed a measure of satisfaction as Linc took her elbow. The four of them turned to walk toward the parsonage. She couldn’t help but notice Linc’s mood wasn’t improving that much as they approached the house. She held her tongue, but he was seriously spoiling her good mood.

When they reached the porch, she said, “Tildie, we’ll be along in a minute.”

“All right, dear. Owen will help set out the dessert and coffee.”

As soon as they were alone, she said, “Linc, you’ve been acting like a spoiled child all evening. What is wrong with you?”

He stared, silently, out into the night. Finally, he led her to the swing and sat beside her. “Emmeline, we decided to become friends earlier today, and—”

“Yes, I know that,” she interrupted.

“Shhh. He quickly placed two fingers on her lips. “Please let me finish.”

She nodded and waited for him to resume.

“Something’s happening between us, at least it is for me. I never gave a serious thought to getting to know one woman partly because my job isn’t always conducive to a relationship, for sure not a long-term one, and then, I never thought I’d be very good at it.

“I took our commitment this afternoon to heart, but this evening proved to me I want more. We don’t much follow the society conventions out here, like courting for a year or two before asking your father for your hand, and then marrying a year after that. We simply don’t have the time. If nothing else, my accident showed me how quick life can go. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think so.” She wanted to say more, but she sensed he wasn’t finished.

“Tonight . . . well, I didn’t like having to share you with Thatcher. I wanted you all to myself.”

“I feel the same way, Lincoln. I was only polite because Tildie asked him along.” She rested her hand on his forearm, adding, “I invited the man I wanted to come.”

“It’s true. I agree the old conventions don’t always apply, some would even argue they’re outdated.” She grinned. “Certainly, Laurel would, as she married Griffin on the day she arrived in Flat Rock Point.”

He caressed her cheek and gazed into her eyes. Lifting her chin, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Breaking their kiss, he asked softly, “Emmeline, are you willing to go with me down this path to find out what this is?”

Her heart pounded so forcefully in her chest, she was certain he could hear it, and if not, he most assuredly, could see it beating beneath the bodice of her dress.

When she was sure she could speak without her voice trembling, she answered, “I most certainly am.”