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Despite Deidre’s determination to lie abed the next morning, even as sleep eluded her, she rose early, leaving Lori still dead to the world. She showered and dressed and found Mrs. Phillips already in the kitchen, though it was only seven.
The older woman set two cups of fresh coffee on the tiny kitchen table. “Did Lori enjoy the fireworks?”
“Enraptured was more like it.” Deidre grinned. She sipped the steaming brew and let out a soft rush of air.
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”
“It’s horribly obvious, isn’t it?” Deidre shook her head, a familiar hopelessness filling her. She had never been the lively, vivacious, gregarious character Charity had been. “He’s practically my brother-in-law.”
Mrs. Phillips dropped into the chair across. “Nonsense,” she said with her usual pragmatism. “Charity is gone. You’d never even met the man.”
At least not as far as Mrs. Phillips was concerned. The only other person who knew about that meeting between Deidre and Jackson when Lori was a baby was Charity. And Charity was gone, leaving Deidre buried under a mountain of guilt. Jackson was turning out not to be the wastrel she’d believed when she’d met him four years ago. Somewhere along the way, he’d even quit drinking. There was the possibility he’d been on a bender for only that one night.
Dread consumed her. She didn’t look forward to enlightening Jackson to Lori’s true parentage. He would hate her for sure, she thought glumly. An overwhelming urge to burst into tears threatened her. She had to tell him the truth. Her greatest fear was that he would try to take Lori away. The very idea had her biting back bile, but her conscience refused to allow her to keep such a basic truth from him. It just became a matter of finding the right moment to tell him.
A brisk knock filled the house, and Deidre blinked back the sting behind her eyes. “Who on earth could that be at this hour?”
Mrs. Phillips started to rise, but Deidre stopped her. “I’ll get it. You finish your coffee.”
She hurried into the small foyer and peered through a small window to the porch, then opened the door.
Tevi, Lydia, greeted her with wide smiles. While Jo’s was less exuberant, it appeared genuine all the same.
Tevi held up her offerings. “We come bearing boxes.”
Deidre moved back from the door, inviting them in.
“We have able-bodied men at the ready once we finish packing up,” Lydia chimed in. She waved a piece of paper. “We also managed to finagle somewhat of a list of the things Ruth wouldn’t mind keeping.
Jo followed in last. “Sorry to arrive so early. It’s actually quite rare for the three of us to be in one place at the same time.”
“Not at all. Please. Would you care for coffee?”
“Certainly,” Lydia said.
With no objection from the others, Deidre led the three sisters to the tiny kitchen and introduced them to Mrs. Phillips. “Lori is still sleeping. She had an exhausting day yesterday. Mrs. Phillips, I so believe we’re going to require more sustenance.”
They moved to the dining room and laid out a plan of action, enjoying a plate of muffins and scones Mrs. Phillips had managed to pull together. It was decided that Lydia and Tevi would tackle Penelope’s room, while Jo and Deidre would start with Ruth’s list in the bedroom Mrs. Phillips was using.
“Jackson should be here soon. He said there are some files he needs to look at, so he volunteered to pack the household office,” Jo said.
That left Mrs. Phillips to box up Reverend Knox’s clothes for donating, since Deidre had already cleared the bedroom of his personal effects.
It was decided by consensus that the furniture, kitchen supplies, and books from the office would be left for the incoming parson.
Deidre was astonished at the weight lifting from her shoulders now that there was an established plan of action.
Lori walked in rubbing her eyes. “I want to help.”
“You can help Mrs. Smith and me,” Deidre told her. “Or Mrs. Phillips.”
“I’ll help Mrs. Phillips. She doesn’t have anyone.”
“A very good plan, my dear. Let’s get you some breakfast and then dressed so we can get started, hmm?” Mrs. Phillips led Lori through to the kitchen.
“She’s an adorable child,” Jo said softly.
Deidre smiled, aware of another stab of guilt pounding her flesh. “I couldn’t be more proud.”
Ruth’s list mostly consisted of shoes, a few clothes, and a box that had belonged to Penelope. “I think I know the item she means,” Deidre said. The troop followed her up the stairs. “I always feel strange when I walk in here.” She went over to the closet and took the box from the bottom of the closet. “I think this is what Ruth was speaking about.” She handed the box to Lydia.
Jo’s gaze went to the cedar chest that stood at the foot of the bed. “Oh, how lovely. There’s a hope chest.”
“It is. The items inside tell their own story,” Deidre said. She glanced around the room. “Outside of the clothes, I think it’s all right if everything else stays.”
“Is anyone here?” Jackson’s voice floated up the stairs.
“We’re up here,” Tevi called down.
Deidre went warm all over. “Perhaps I could see Ruth’s list?”
Jo handed it over.
“Ruth’s room is this way,” Deidre said to her, leading Jo out and Tevi and Lydia behind.
They walked down the hall in silence and opened the door to the next room. Deidre stood aside allowing Jo to enter.
“Goodness,” Jo said, as she took one look at the twin bed. It was made up with a soldier’s precision, with nary a crease. “That bed is perfect, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Mrs. Phillips is quite the companion.” Deidre went to the closet took out the six brown, black, and navy-colored, out-of-fashion dresses and laid them on the bed. She did the same with the shoes. There were only three pairs. “I know I shouldn’t say anything, but it doesn’t appear Ruth had very much.”
“Yes.” Jo’s curt tone, which Deidre found curious, did not invite confidences.
“There’s no mirror.” Jo moved over to the dresser and picked up a wooden handled hairbrush. “Ah, here’s a handheld one.”
Deidre had also been relieved to see it the other day. No woman, especially one as young as Ruth, was indifferent to how her hair looked. It brought her to a normalcy Diedre had been concerned about. “If you’ll clear the dresser, I’ll get a box.”
Jo nodded. “Of course.”
Deidre slipped out of the room and made her way down the stairs to the front porch. On her way back, she heard rustling coming from the private office and peered in.
Jackson sat at the small escritoire stacked with loose papers. He was looking through a ledger of sorts.
Deidre moved into the room. “What do you have there?”
“Knox’s financial records. I imagine Ruth will be highly interested in this. Her father’s frugality has paid off, leaving a nice little nest egg for her. Nothing substantial, but at least the man left her something.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” Relief hit Deidre with a thump in her chest. Ruth was alone now; she needed—no, deserved—something for all she’d suffered. It didn’t escape Deidre notice that Ruth’s situation was very similar to her own.
There was one significant difference between them, however: Deidre had Lori.
