Chapter 15

Virginia rose early the next morning and used the writing desk in her room as it was meant to be used—for letter writing instead of working on a bonnet. Her letters took considerably longer than she expected, being careful not to reveal too much to Sarah about her own myriad, but no doubt silly and overly romantic, hopes and notions for a future with Paul—her husband. She then set about the real work of a second letter in Sarah’s care but directed to the builder. It took time to think up countless ways to complicate the rebuilding of her home in the city.

There was simply no way she planned to allow a choice any time soon of going back to the city or staying here. Not until she was convinced she was truly not a burden to Paul. There was no doubt about it. Having an option lurking for her to live elsewhere must be delayed. Only how was she to word this so not even someone as intuitive as Sarah could see through her ploy?

Paul sealed the letter he’d spent half the night composing—a night he couldn’t have wasted sleeping anyway, with thoughts of Virginia keeping him awake. He supposed he should feel a bit guilty, if manipulation was a sin. Both Virginia and his brother had seemed to think themselves guilty after they’d manipulated the wedding vows. But he felt not an ounce of compunction.

It was, after all, every financial institute’s responsibility to inspect the building process their good money worked to produce. Was he an unreasonable investor to expect someone to oversee every step of the way? So what if it delayed things? If the building was merely delayed one month or two or six, what of it? He might need every bit of that time to convince her to stay. But if she did decide to return to the city, at least she would live and work in the safest, most well-crafted building in all of Milwaukee. Thorough oversight would see to that.

It was Sunday, and even though only Mrs. Higgins and Tim had escorted Virginia to church last week, Paul intended to accompany them, at least today. The post office was closed for the Sabbath, but he knew the postmaster and could hand him the letters personally after services, along with a coin or two to cover the postage.

He fairly skipped down the stairs that morning, happy to see neither Virginia nor Mrs. Higgins had yet stepped outside to meet Tim with the buggy.

“Ah, Mr. Paul! You’ll be delivering the tithe in person today, then?”

Holding out both arms to escort the women, he smiled. “I will indeed, Mrs. Higgins.”