Chapter 6

Hat set at just the right angle? Yes. Gloves wrinkled? No. Josefa smoothed the leather anyway and wriggled her fingers inside their soft casings. She checked her cape, again, for lint or hair from Polly’s cat, who was supposed to be a barn cat but who spent more time indoors and ruled everyone’s hearts. Even Lupita’s.

Everything had to be perfect for this meeting. She had to look the part: fashionable, assured, confident in her ability to learn all aspects of the art of dressmaking.

She gave herself a full-body twirl in front of the dressing table mirror in Agnes and Seth’s bedroom. The dark purplish-blue serge cape was impeccable. No wrinkles and no uneven sections where the indigo dye hadn’t taken well. She checked her skirt one more time for wrinkles, then blew out a sigh. Just get out there and go, Josefa. Oswald is waiting. The dressmaker in town is waiting. Polly and Billy are probably already seated in Oswald’s barouche. She glanced out the window. Sure enough, Polly and Billy were perched on one of the facing cushioned seats with…why, it was shy Cornelia from St. Isidore’s. Josefa was glad the quiet orphan had ventured out. She was in her late teens and needed to learn how to be at ease in the world.

Josefa stole one more peek in the mirror to make sure every hair was in place. A loud chuckle from the parlor stopped her hand midcheek. Was that her aunt laughing at something Oswald said? That couldn’t be. Lupita frowned every time she heard the man’s name.

Josefa shook her head and walked toward the parlor.

She stopped in the doorway. Lupita was seated with her hands in her lap and her face alight with mirth. Oswald stood by the mantle leaning on the wood with one arm. He directed the force of his charm toward Lupita.

“So, she finally said to me, ‘Master Oswald Heller, if you do that one more time, I will march straight to your parents.’ Of course, I begged her, I pleaded, I cried—I was only five, you know—and she relented. Said if I cleaned up the mess, she would think about giving me a reprieve. Wouldn’t you know, it took my little arms and legs hours. I say, hours! But I never did it again. Ah, the value of such a housekeeper. I will never forget her. She helped raise me. What a wonderful woman she was. And you remind me so much of her.”

Josefa’s skirt rustled as she entered the room.

“Here she is!” said Oswald with an expansive sweep of his arm. “You look beautiful as always. I was just telling your aunt about—”

“What a bad little boy he had been and how he taxed the patience of everyone…”

“…especially the saintly housekeeper!” the two said in unison and laughed.

Josefa was speechless.

“Boys will be boys,” Lupita said. “I’m glad you have grown into a more upstanding young man and have gotten over your bad ways.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I have matured.” A priest couldn’t have sounded more fervent, Josefa thought.

“Hey, you guys ready in there? Let’s go!” Billy’s voice rang from the barouche.

Oswald held out his arm, and Josefa grasped it. With his other free hand, he made a half bow to Lupita, who gave him a gracious nod. Really? Josefa sensed she had stepped on stage into a bad play. Something was not quite right.

“You be on your way now,” Lupita said. She stood and ushered Josefa and Oswald toward the door. “Another beautiful day, it is. Enjoy. But let’s not forget it is the week of our Lord’s Passion.”

Oswald stiffened. They exited and approached the carriage, and Lupita closed the door softly behind them.

“Is the dressmaker expecting you?” He was suddenly distant. It was as though the Oswald of the parlor had changed into a different man. He helped her step up into the barouche and followed.

“Yes, I sent word into town,” she said.

They settled themselves, and the driver signaled for the horses to start. She was finally on her way. Josefa embraced the anticipation, the day, the handsome escort, the step toward her dream. Cardinals stirred and chirped as the barouche rolled past holly, pine, and oak trees.

“This is a tight fit,” Oswald said. He shifted, and Josefa felt the pressure of his thigh press hard against hers. She inched as far as she could away from him and toward the carriage wall, both uncomfortable and a little excited at his action. She could see across him, and there was space between him and the other side of the carriage.

Next, he lifted his arm and stretched it behind her on the edge of the seat back. Within moments, his fingers brushed her shoulder.

Josefa had no idea what to do. Acknowledge his action? Ignore it? Ask him to move his hand? She met Polly’s gaze, and then Billy’s. Both fairly gaped at what was taking place. Cornelia had averted her head and watched the scenery they passed.

“Why don’t all the ladies sit together,” Billy said and then started to move.

“We’re fine,” Oswald said. Billy sat back.

Josefa swallowed.

She sat still, not moving a muscle, wishing, once again, she knew the etiquette of sophisticated people. This might be how they court, even early in a relationship.

“Speed it up, will you. Let’s get this interminable ride over with,” Oswald called to the driver.

When the driver turned to acknowledge the request with a nod of his head, Josefa saw that it was Bernie Wade, whose mother, Estelle, cooked for the Alloway House in town. The Wade family, whose roots in Florida went as far back as the Spanish occupation, worshipped at the orphanage chapel with the grove residents.

“Hi, Bernie!” she said. “Do you know which shop I need to go to? And how are plans coming for the school?”

“Hey yourself,” he said. “Sure do. And last time I heard, the sisters and my mother were figuring out a good location.”

“I believe they’ve agreed on a piece of property,” Cornelia piped in.

Josefa felt, rather than saw, Oswald’s stare and felt his hand on her shoulder curl into a fist.

“Riders and drivers do not converse,” he said, as if reprimanding a class of recalcitrant children.

“I talk to whoever I want…” Billy started to say before Josefa’s head-shaking stopped him. The day suddenly felt warm.

“So, where are the three of you going while we’re at the dressmaker’s?” Oswald asked.

We? thought Josefa.

“I’m gonna visit my favorite dog pal Lumpy at Clyde’s Mercantile and probably go to the livery stable and maybe the firehouse. You know they got some kind of pump truck they can haul out to fires and—”

“And you…” Oswald looked at the girls. His voice was again cooler than it had been when he spoke with Lupita.

Josefa watched Polly’s face fold into one of its mutinous moods, but the younger girl kept her temper.

“Cornelia and I will visit with the Alloways. Do you know them yet? Fanny is still an Alloway, but her sister Eunice is now a Williams since she married Clyde. Their father founded Persimmon Hollow. They run the academy where Agnes taught before she had the baby. They use their house as a boarding house, too. They had to start it after their father lost all his money.”

“In some foolish venture, no doubt,” Oswald muttered. “Starting this place would qualify.”

“Hardly!” Josefa said. “He had guaranteed settlers’ investments, and when many people gave up after a hard freeze killed their citrus groves, he paid back every last penny to whoever requested it. He went bankrupt and died soon after.”

Oswald grunted. “My dear Josefa, you will never have to worry about opening a boarding house after we are married. I will drape you in the finest jewels and clothing, and plant you in elegant surroundings of antique furnishings, fine china, silver, and an army of servants.”

Josefa’s hand flew to her mouth, and it wasn’t because they had just rolled over a dip in the roadway. Her heart beat against her corset, which she had laced so tightly she could hardly breathe. Had Oswald just asked her to marry him? They weren’t even officially courting. And surely, he would seek approval first from her uncle. He would propose the right way, too, not in a jolting carriage. He was speaking generally is all.

But he had distinctly said married. She wasn’t as elated as she expected to be at hearing the word. And why had Ben’s earnest, honest face just darted into her mind?

The riders lapsed into silence. Visions of rooms adorned with plush carpets, velvet drapes, carved furnishings, and fine artwork crowded Josefa’s imagination as the barouche rolled beyond the grove’s land. The terrain changed as they passed Lake Winnemissett, lined with ancient live oaks shadowed with Spanish moss that hung to the ground. The slight dip gave way to gently rolling sandhills blanketed with longleaf pine trees as they neared the center of town. Profusions of bright pink phlox and yellow coreopsis carpeted the roadsides and empty fields. The overstuffed rooms in her mind felt musty when she drank in the view of the spring blooms.

Finally, they rolled to a halt in front of the dressmaker’s shop, sandwiched between the corner druggist and the newspaper office still under construction. The door to Persimmon Hollow Dressmaking was open. “We specialize in cutting and fitting,” proclaimed a big sign in the window.

Josefa hardly felt Oswald’s hands as he helped her out of the barouche.

“I’ll meet you at the Alloway House in about an hour,” she said to the youngsters, who had already started to scatter.

“But if you find another ride back to the grove, no need to wait for us,” Oswald said before turning to Bernie. “Take this over to the livery and clean it up.” Bernie nodded.

“Ready?” Oswald then addressed Josefa.

“There’s really no need for you to accompany me,” she replied, timid but determined.

“I insist.”

“No.” She drew in as deep a breath as her corset allowed. She wished she had listened to Agnes and Lupita and loosened it a bit.

Oswald’s face darkened, and he took hold of her elbow in a proprietary manner.

Josefa so hated confrontation.

“Mr. Heller, you would be so bored at our talk of fabric and thread and patterns,” she said. “I would feel remorse if you were forced to listen to such womanly concerns.”

She wasn’t Lupita’s niece for nothing. If a boulder refuses to move, find a way to go around it. Wasn’t that what her aunt had counseled her more than once?

Oswald’s lips pressed together. After a few moments, he dropped his hold on her as abruptly as he had first taken it.

“Thirty minutes. Not a moment longer. I will return for you.”

He turned on his heel and walked off. Josefa felt reprimanded, again. She needed to figure him out if she were to fit into his world.

Oswald and his peculiarities faded the second she stepped over the threshold into Persimmon Hollow Dressmaking. Rows of shelves filled with beautiful bolts of cloth greeted her. Upright dressmaking forms were off to one side, and display cases of needles, thread, and other notions filled the glass-fronted counter. Behind that counter stood a small woman, who watched her with a tired but assessing gaze.

“Welcome,” she said. “You must be Josefa. Please come in.” The woman came around to the front of the counter as Josefa introduced herself.

“A beautiful cape,” the seamstress said. “Did you make it?”

Josefa nodded, pleased to receive the compliment from a skilled tailor. She had only to take the briefest of looks at the sample dresses to know the quality of the work that took place in the small shop. “I dyed it, too.”

The woman’s eyes widened with respect.

“I’m Mrs. Penn. Esmeralda Penn. Forgive me, but I have little time for chitchat. Ever since word of the president’s visit became known, I haven’t had a moment’s rest between orders, fittings, and alterations. And here I am trying to tidy up business so I can get home to help my sister and brother-in-law tend our aged parents. Now, you sit at this machine and piece together the sleeve that has been cut. It’s right here. That will give me a good look at your seams and stitches, and I’ll be able to tell if you can follow a pattern. So many young women can’t these days.” She pointed out a machine, lifted and set down the sleeve, and smoothed a nearby display.

The woman was a nervous burst of energy. In light of that, Josefa felt a little less like a person on trial. She pulled off her gloves as Esmeralda led her to one of the two treadle sewing machines in the shop. It was similar to the one her aunt and uncle had purchased for her soon after she arrived in Persimmon Hollow. More cause for relief. She sat down but then sprang back up and looked to see what she had sat on.

“A Bloomingdale’s catalog!” Josefa grabbed the rare gem of a book. “It must be the only one in all Persimmon Hollow.”

“You may well be correct, my dear,” Esmeralda said as she took it and placed it on the counter. “I had it shipped on special order from the store. You get to work and let me know when you’re finished. I’ll be right here, stitching the beadwork on this gown.” She indicated a half-finished garment on a dress form. “Brocade, this one is. Ordered by Mrs. Stetson herself for an event she’s planning at the Stetson mansion. Oh, but she and the Mister had quite a tussle over that place. He wanted to sink far too much money into it to suit her. ‘Just a winter camp, you know,’ she said to me. ‘I talked him into building only seven thousand square feet instead of ten thousand,’ she told me. I had to bite my lip not to laugh outright. This little shop here is only seven hundred square feet, three hundred fifty down here and the same upstairs, where I’m living now that we…oh, that’s enough. You get on with your sewing.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Josefa knew she could feel at home in the tidy shop with the talkative owner.

A half hour later, Josefa snipped off the final thread and gave the sleeve to Esmeralda to inspect. Oswald should have been back by now. Josefa was glad he wasn’t.

Esmeralda slipped on a pair of wire-rim spectacles and studied the sleeve construction. Josefa held her breath. This had to work. It had to.

“Tell me a little more about yourself,” Esmeralda said. She continued inspecting the stitchery as Josefa explained how she lived at the grove with her aunt and uncle.

“The apprenticeship is rigorous, you understand,” Esmeralda said.

Josefa wanted to jump for the joy she felt. She got up in haste.

“Hard work never bothered me. I love to sew, create dresses, and fashion new things, and I can’t wait to learn so much more and—”

“Hold on, my dear. You’re getting ahead of yourself. This isn’t all glamour, not by a long shot. In fact, much of this will be drudgery to you. Hemming, boning of corsets, beadwork, alterations, that sort of thing. Are you willing to do that?” She looked at Josefa over the top of her glasses.

Josefa didn’t care if the woman had said she had to spin the cotton for thread or tend silkworms for fabric. She had gotten the apprenticeship! She glanced at the wall clock. Forty-five minutes, and no Oswald. He’d been all in a huff, and now he was late. Josefa couldn’t wait to get home and tell everyone about her success. Right this minute, she wanted to skip around the corner to the Alloway House and tell Fanny and then run across to the mercantile to tell Eunice and Clyde, and—

“When can you begin?” Esmeralda asked.

“Is it all right if I wait until next week, this being Holy Week?”

“Of course, dear. The apprenticeship will last two months. I’ll be here through the president’s visit; it’s just too busy otherwise to leave. Plan on long days. At least ten hours.”

Not me, thought Josefa. Not ten hours in the shop. No one at the grove would hear of it. She’d take work home. Time enough to discuss that with Esmeralda later, though.

A shadow fell into the room. It was attached to Oswald, who strode in, as usual, as though he owned the establishment.

Josefa glanced at the clock. A full hour had passed.

“I got the apprenticeship,” she said, going over to greet him with hands outstretched.

“The what?”

“The apprenticeship. To the dressmaker.”

“I thought you came here to be fitted for a gown and to look at fabric.”

“No, I came to interview for the apprenticeship.” She distinctly remembered how Polly had blurted out information about the apprenticeship when they were gathered on Oswald’s porch. He was quite forgetful. “You know my dream is to be a dressmaker of high fashion. Like Charles Worth. You know, the designer? In Paris? Only I want to be here. Based in Persimmon Hollow.”

“Don’t be silly, Josefa,” he said. “You wear the clothes. You don’t make them. Furthermore, someone of the stature you indicate resides in the world’s top cities, not in a dusty backwater. Let’s go. The other three are nowhere to be found. That’s fine. They’re young and energetic and can make their way back themselves.”

“I can’t go back alone with you, without anyone there,” Josefa said. “Surely you understand the rules of chaperonage. My aunt’s a stickler about it. Besides, we agreed to meet the others at the Alloway House.”

She mustered back the dignity that had drained under Oswald’s words, lifted her skirt hem, and started to walk past him to leave the shop.

“Thank you, Mrs. Penn,” she said. She turned and looked back before she stepped outside. “I’ll be here bright and early the day after Easter.”

Oswald shook his head as she passed him. Josefa noticed it but chose not to acknowledge his mood, which threatened to tinge the lovely day with gloom.

Esmeralda lifted a hand to wave goodbye. Josefa saw that the woman was again in assessment mode, only this time of her and Oswald.

“Wait!” Esmeralda called a moment later and ran out of the shop after them. “Thought you might like to borrow this.” She handed Josefa the Bloomingdale’s catalog. Josefa clutched it as a lifeline. The catalog would allow her to study what was and wasn’t popular. Maybe she could even design clothes from Persimmon Hollow, sew the samples, and send them to Bloomingdale’s where they could make more, to order, for clients. Yes, anything was possible.

“You should get in the carriage,” Oswald said as Josefa started to walk past the barouche that was again in front of the shop. Bernie looked straight ahead, as though he didn’t hear anything.

“Did you forget?” Josefa asked Oswald. “We’re going to the Alloway House. We’ll meet Billy, Polly, and Cornelia there and ride back to the grove together.”

“No, I didn’t forget. But it’s more important that you learn how to behave like a fashionable lady…if you want to be one.”

“Not if it means leaving behind family members and ignoring friends,” she said. Her insides churned, and not from delight.

“I thought we might return early so I can give you a tour through my house, which I dare say is preferable to town chitchat.”

Josefa actually vacillated for a moment. The idea of seeing his house tempted her mightily.

“I’d love to see your house,” she said, “but not right now. I’m committed to visit at the Alloway House.”

“My point is, you can break such rules. Are you coming?” He stood next to the carriage, one foot propped up on the floorboard.

Josefa didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and walked toward the street corner, half-expecting Oswald to follow.

She heard the squeak of the barouche and the sounds of Oswald climbing in. “Take me home, Bernie,” he said.

Josefa twirled around and stared at him. Her mouth started to form the word but.

“You’ll have to make other arrangements,” he said. “Josefa, I’m not a man to be crossed. Especially by an obstinate woman.”

As the beautiful carriage glided off with the handsome man inside, Josefa had a premonition her future was riding away. Why was Oswald so cross? She wasn’t obstinate. Was she? First, she had crossed Lupita’s will. Now Oswald’s. But he was the one who had changed plans. Or did he? She realized he’d never actually agreed to visit the Alloway House.

She second-guessed herself all the way to the Alloway House. There had to be a way to make her dreams fit together. She tried to recover the joy of the apprenticeship news, but it had faded along with her spirits. She didn’t want to ruin her chances with Oswald, not when he had already mentioned marriage. To think she might live in that grand house of his, and so close to Taylor Grove. She’d get to stay in Persimmon Hollow. And be a dressmaker of note, if all went well. Such a beautiful dream, Josefa thought. All the pieces fit. Was she the only one who could see that?

As she turned up the walkway to the two-story wood-frame house, a cluster of people awaited her on the porch.

“Well, did you get it?” Polly was practically dancing around in excitement.

“She don’t look too happy,” Billy said.

“Doesn’t,” said Fanny Alloway. Her silver curls bounced when she talked.

“You were gone long enough, you must have got it,” Polly added.

“Hey, where’s that Oswald guy?” Billy asked and stepped off the porch to look down the street.

Cornelia hung back a little, watchful of everything. Estelle, the cook, also looked down the street for the carriage.

“He’s gone,” said Josefa. “He had to go,” she amended. She didn’t want to explain anything, not just now. “We have to find another way to return home.”

“Oh, honey, that’s too bad. I was hoping to see my Bernie,” Estelle said and then went inside.

“I’ll go see if Clyde’ll lemme borrow a wagon,” Billy said and headed across the street to the mercantile.

“Tell Clyde and Eunice to come over and join us for a bite to eat,” Fanny called. “My boarders are out for the day, so I welcome this company. Now, come here, Josefa. Stand up straight. Lord have mercy, I’ve never seen anyone slump in a corset before.” The plump woman shook her head. She looked closer at Josefa.

“Did everything go OK with Mrs. Penn? She’s a nice woman, a hard worker. Talks a bit much, but we all have our eccentricities.”

Josefa nodded and sat down in the wicker swing. She placed the catalog carefully on the table beside her. “I got the apprenticeship.”

“Well, that calls for a celebration! Estelle, do we have any of that pound cake left?” Fanny called ahead as she went indoors. Polly came and sat on one side of Josefa, and Cornelia sat on the other. They swung in silence.

“Was that old rat mean to you?” Polly finally asked.

“Not mean,” Josefa said. “Well, maybe a little mean, but he didn’t seem to think so. I don’t understand everything he says or does. I think it’s because he’s from a different class of people than I’m used to.”

“That doesn’t give him an excuse to act weird,” said Polly, swinging the chair harder. “Can’t say I like him as much as you do.”

“You will, once you get to know him,” Josefa said. She hoped. She hoped she would, too.

“Cornelia, what do you think of him?” Polly asked.

“I can’t tell, not from that short a ride,” Cornelia said. “If Miss Josefa likes him, that’s fine with me.”

“You’re getting old enough to just call me Josefa, you know,” Josefa said to her. “You’re, what, almost seventeen, right?”

“I just turned seventeen last week.”

“Now there’s a reason to celebrate,” said Josefa as Fanny came back outside. “We have a birthday girl here.”

“Wonderful! Come in, let’s set the table extra special. I love a celebration. You know I sometimes get lonely here with Eunice married and living over at Clyde’s now, even if it is only across the street. Even with the boarders here, isn’t that silly of me? When the last of the winter folk leave, it’ll be far too quiet.” The normally bubbly Fanny looked as close to sad as Josefa had ever seen her.

An hour later, they were all seated around the table eating pound cake after a hearty lunch. Josefa now had the catalog on her lap, so nervous was she of forgetting the treasure upon departure.

“Tell us about the apprenticeship,” Fanny insisted. “We want to hear all the details.”

When Josefa reached the part about the long days, Fanny interrupted.

“My dear, how will you go back and forth to the grove each day after putting in such hours. Have you thought about that?”

“Not exactly,” said Josefa. The idea of Ben driving her back and forth popped into her head. And just as quickly left. She couldn’t ask for that, even if he was to be working for Seth soon, and even if Seth would allow it. Lupita wouldn’t let her travel that much with a single man so close in age.

“That gives me a marvelous idea,” Fanny said, reaching for her fan from the sideboard and flipping it open. It fluttered as she spoke. “I’m quite astonished no one thought of it already. You simply must stay here at the house with me, Josefa, for the two months of the apprenticeship.”

“I couldn’t impose…”

“Impose! Nonsense! It will solve your transportation problem and my wish for more companionship. Do you think your aunt or Agnes would object? I don’t think so.”

“It’s probably the only arrangement they would condone,” Josefa said. “I could go back to the grove on weekends. Or at any time needed, really.”

“Then it’s settled,” Fanny said. “Pending their approval, of course.”

“That bigwig boyfriend of yours going to be visiting?” Clyde asked as he leaned back his chair onto two legs. “Told me in passing a while back he had something important to discuss with me. I reckon he’ll tell me one of these days. Sure ships in enough goods. Like to be furnishing three homes, so many crates have come off the boat and railroad for him in the past few months.”

“He rivals Mr. Stetson as the wealthiest personage in Persimmon Hollow,” Eunice said. “Quite different than our other settlers, and no one knows just why he chose to come here. Mr. Stetson knew Persimmon Hollow through his long friendship with our father, God rest his soul. And Mr. Stetson has given quite generously to the Academy. Mr. Heller, on the other hand, was impatient the day I extended an invitation to visit the school. Hardly gave me the chance to explain the caliber of our institution. He did, however, indicate he’d consider making a donation.”

“He musta known you were the principal and didn’t want to get in trouble,” Clyde said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well, nothing has come of the lukewarm offer yet,” Eunice said.

Josefa had a worrisome thought. Talk of Oswald or being with Oswald often carried a note of darkness. She had to think of a way to change that. To change him. Surely he could be made to see the value of family, friends, and community life. Surely he understood that wealth didn’t give a man license to be arrogant. Surely.

***

At the grove a few days later, Josefa couldn’t shake the idea of seeing the inside of Oswald’s house. Seated under the arbor, she tried to sew tiny stitches in the bodice of a new gown she wanted to have ready in case she had a chance to attend a presidential reception. The whole town buzzed about the Florida tour and speculated about receptions and political speechmaking.

She bent her head over the tiny pleats she inserted for their decorative appeal. Little white beads would look stunning atop them. Josefa sewed at a fast clip, for she suspected she’d have little time to devote to her own projects once she started helping Mrs. Penn in town. She ran her hand over the fabric. Such a beautiful green satin. It had been a gift from her mother, so Josefa treasured it and had saved it for a special occasion. She wondered if her mother would have liked Oswald. Or Ben.

A mockingbird trilled from a nearby magnolia. She could see it through the open spaces in the tangle of foliage that covered the arbor. Soon the thick jasmine vine would be in full bloom, and the scent would take prominence as citrus blossoms faded. Now, though, the sweet, calming waves of orange blossom fragrance made her understand why spring was a time for love.

Part of her wished she were stitching her wedding gown. She tried to imagine herself married to Oswald and living as a fine lady. The image faded in and out. She could see fine clothes, jewelry, elegant furniture, and lavish table settings. She just couldn’t see Oswald. It was as though she had inserted herself into the etchings of interiors and dinner parties that she studied in the pages of Harper’s Bazaar. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite fit Oswald into the daydream. The image of Ben’s face kept intruding. Josefa shook her head. He didn’t fit the scene at all. Ben, comfortable in a drawing room? No, she thought not. He was an outdoorsman.

Ben and Oswald were such opposites. Yes, they were both good-looking, each in his own way. Both were intelligent. But Oswald was forceful, opinionated, full of action, and, she had begun to suspect, selfish. But also rich. Ben was quiet, thoughtful, observant, kind. And not rich.

Money shouldn’t matter, she told herself. She made a sloppy, irregular stitch and thrust down her sewing in her lap. It did matter. If she didn’t find a husband of worth who could support her and her dreams, Lupita would find one for her, in Texas. So Oswald it had to be. Ben could be a dear friend. She would grow to love Oswald and push away any feelings that arose for Ben. Just because she was always happy to see him didn’t mean she loved him. She only thought about him now because…because she was still mad at Oswald for his behavior.

Despite her intention to be cool to Oswald for his rudeness in abandoning her in town, she jumped from her arbor seat at the sound of barouche wheels crunching the layers of downed oak leaves that fell from the trees. The Northern people were always surprised when Florida oak trees dropped their leaves in spring, as if the natural world’s cycles had gone awry. She never knew exactly how to explain it to them. Ben would be good at that, she thought. Drat! Stop thinking about him!

She picked up her sewing materials and took her time walking from the yard to the Taylor house. Oswald came only to the main house, never to the smaller cabin she shared with her aunt and uncle. She entered to find him seated with Lupita, Agnes, and Sarah Bight in the parlor. Sarah’s toddler, Noah, wobbled back and forth between her chair and Agnes’s, where baby Seth appeared an object of fascination to the little fellow. He reached his chubby arms out, touched Seth’s bootie, gave a little shriek, and wobbled back to his mother. Sarah picked him up, kissed him, and seated him back on her lap. He fussed, pulled, and pushed until she let him down. This time he toddled over to Oswald, squatted down, patted the black boot he wore, lost his balance, and fell backwards onto his behind. Surprised rather than hurt, he crawled back to Sarah.

The women all cooed and aahed. Oswald sat stone-faced.

A little pang went through Josefa as she looked at the baby and toddler. She wanted a little Seth or Noah of her own. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. She wondered what kind of children she and Oswald might have.

“Mr. Heller, would you like to hold the baby?” Lupita asked. She was testing him, Josefa knew, despite being charmed by him the other day.

“Er, ah, no thank you, ma’am, I fear I might drop him.” He stood up and faced Josefa.

“I’ve come to offer a tour of my house,” he said. “You had expressed interest, and I’ve been remiss in taking action. Would you care to go now?”

He turned and bowed to the others. “Ladies.”

“Do stay for some refreshments first, Mr. Heller,” Agnes said. “Lupita made a peach pie after hearing how much you liked them as a child.”

“I doubt it’s as good as the one your family housekeeper makes, but it can hold its own,” Lupita said.

Oswald hesitated, and the women seized the opportunity to ply him with slices of sweet, cinnamon-tinged peach pie and cool well water.

“Delicious,” he said, and downed his serving in five large bites.

“Do have more,” Agnes urged him and started to cut another piece from the pie on the tray Lupita had set on the small, round parlor table.

“Thank you, but no…I know how anxious Josefa is to see the house.” He rose and held out his arm to Josefa.

“That leaves more for us then,” Agnes teased. “Lupita, I’m sure Father Kenny would appreciate a piece of that pie when he gets here. Especially after the journey.”

Lupita nodded in agreement with Agnes’s suggestion. “Dios Mio, the man is a saint, leaving his parish to come all this way and guide us through Holy Week.”

“Is he here yet?” Josefa asked. “What time is confession?”

Agnes shook her head. “No, but he should be soon. Confession will be just before evening prayer at the chapel, I believe.”

Oswald halted his march toward the door.

“Your, ah, chaplain has left his own parish to visit here?”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Agnes answered. “Father considers this part of Florida mission territory and is vested in helping us grow. We have the orphanage here now, fundraising for the new church building is progressing, and three more Catholic families have settled in Persimmon Hollow in just the past year.”

Oswald cleared his throat but didn’t move from where he stood. Josefa inched a little closer to him. His sudden interest in her religion heartened her. She forgot about her decision to stay annoyed over his earlier actions regarding transportation.

“The Holy Spirit is at work, don’t you think, Oswald?” she said, and heard the note of hope in her voice that seemed to surface so often in her discussions with him.

He shrugged. “I guess. Where is this fellow’s regular parish?”

“Palatka,” Josefa answered.

“Interesting,” he said. “Well, shall we go? Good day, ladies.”

“Who is going with you?” Lupita leaned forward and set down her knitting.

“I have servants at the house, ma’am. All will be proper.”

“Take Polly with you,” Lupita said before picking up her yarn and resuming knitting.

“I’ll get her.” Agnes was quick to rise. “She’s out with the chickens. One looks different from the others and isn’t being accepted by the group. Polly plans to remove it and keep it as a pet.”

A small, almost imperceptible puff of air escaped Oswald as he and Josefa walked out front while Agnes went through the kitchen and out the back door.

Oswald helped her into the barouche and sat down heavily beside her. She saw that he had a different driver today, a thin, blond-haired young man she recognized as being from a poor family that lived out in the woods far beyond the settlement. They came to town once in a while on Saturdays.

Agnes and Polly came around the side of the house. Polly carried a plump young chick with feathers that curled instead of lying flat.

“She isn’t bringing that ghastly thing with her, I hope,” Oswald said. “I understand chaperonage, Josefa, but your family’s approach is ossified.”

Josefa had no idea what ossified meant and no intention of asking. Remembering how Oswald sat too close to her the last time they were in the carriage, she didn’t mind one bit that Polly would be with them.

Polly had a glint in her eye and a curve to her lips as she neared the carriage.

“Say hello to Pumpkin,” she said, and held the chick out toward Oswald.

Oswald studied the treetops.

“How cute!” Josefa said.

“Pumpkin, you better stay here. I have an idea you wouldn’t be welcome with us.” Polly was being too innocent. Two spots of color appeared on Oswald’s cheeks. He continued to inspect the surroundings.

Polly gave the chick to Agnes, who watched the whole encounter with a keen eye, and scrambled into the carriage as though it were a citrus cart and she a worker. Josefa was almost certain Polly made her moves as clumsy and plodding as possible.

“I can’t wait to show Pumpkin to Ben,” Polly proclaimed. “He’ll appreciate him,” she said, with the emphasis on the first word.

Josefa tamed the involuntary jump at the name, but Oswald hadn’t missed it.

“He’ll soon be gone,” Oswald said. “Just as well. Migratory workers can’t be relied upon for long. Never stay in the same place. And this one seems dimmer than most I’ve encountered.”

“Ben’s not dim,” Josefa said. “He’s quiet, is all.”

“And he’s not going anywhere,” Polly said. “He’s staying to work for my pop while Tio Alfredo’s leg heals.”

“First I’ve heard,” Oswald said. No, it wasn’t, Josefa said to herself. She knew he’d been at the grove the day that arrangement was solidified. Again, Oswald’s memory had failed him. He forgot to tell Ben to visit with Seth about citrus culture. Forgot about her apprenticeship. Forgot that Ben was to work at the grove. She’d have to help him remember things once they were married. If they were married. No, when, not if, Josefa. Not if.

Her tremor of uncertainty faded under Oswald’s detailed description of what they were about to see at his house. By the time the carriage stopped at the front door, Polly was bored, and Josefa was wrapped in a daydream of velvet drapes and crystal chandeliers.

Oswald smiled at her dreamy gaze as he helped her out.

***

After the tour, during which Josefa’s wonder increased with every room and Polly sneezed three times in the library full of antique furnishings, old books, and the smell of cigars, Oswald drove them to the grove. He refused Josefa’s offer of more refreshments.

Instead of returning home, he went to Clyde’s Mercantile, which also housed the post office and telegraph station.

“Howdy,” said Clyde, seated at the counter in his worn overalls.

“Good day,” said Oswald. “I’d like to send a telegram.”

Clyde prepared to take down the message. “Ready when you are,” he said to Oswald a couple minutes later.

“Prime opportunity in Palatka. Stop. This week only. Stop.” Oswald drummed his fingers on the counter.

“That it?”

“No. Add this: ‘Inquire at Po…er…’ No. Say: ‘Close to Catholic church. Stop. Timing critical. Stop.’ Now read it back to me, please.”

Clyde read, “Prime opportunity in Palatka. This week only. Close to Catholic church. Timing critical.”

Oswald nodded and gave Clyde the recipient’s information.

“Good thing they’re only in Jacksonville. Sounds like they’ll need to get a move on to take advantage of this deal you’re talking about.”

“I certainly hope so,” Oswald said as he paid. “And I hope they can read between the lines,” he muttered to himself as he walked back out into the bright sunshine.

Clyde sent out the message. “Yup, our Florida keeps growing,” he said to Lumpy when he finished. The dog wagged its tail on the floor but didn’t get up. “Soon we’ll be a right size state and a place to reckon with,” Clyde said and then went back to reading the Palatka newspaper that had arrived in the daily mail run.