Landon uncovered the third dish of potato salad and moved it down a table next to the other two bowls. That was the last one. He stepped back to inspect the display. Finished and grouped like with like. He and his father did a decent job of making the tables appealing. A feast for the stomach and the eyes. Would Miss Mueller think so? He glanced at her. She rubbed her ankle. It would be blue and purple by evening.
A loud cheer rose from the front of the church. The newlyweds and their guests would be coming this way soon. He headed over to Miss Mueller. “We’re finished. Is there anything else you’d like us to do?”
“You’ve done a marvelous job. I wouldn’t have considered placing the foods the way you have. We usually let the person bringing something set it where they want it.”
“It makes more sense to have all the potato salad in one place, doesn’t it?” He scratched his chin.
She wrinkled her forehead and chewed her lip.
“Unless there is a reason?”
“There is. It’s a tradition passed down from generations. If one has all the bowls together, someone might get their feelings hurt if their bowl isn’t touched. And sometimes people forget to put something on their plate, and they have a second chance of doing so as they move down the row.”
“We should move them around then. I’ll get Father—”
Her eyes widened, and she looked past him.
“Emmie, who is this?”
He turned to find an older woman standing behind him. “I’m Landon Knipp, ma’am. My father and I helped Miss Mueller set out the food.”
“They aren’t staying, Granny. They offered to help when I misstepped and twisted my ankle.” She stood, wobbled, and caught the edge of the table to steady herself.
“Nonsense. You helped my granddaughter, and you must stay. There’s plenty of food.” The older woman beamed. “We love having new people attend our church. Where are you from?”
“St. Louis.” His father stepped next to him. “My son is looking at a building to open his new business.”
“What do you do, Mr. Knipp?”
“If I decide to settle here, my store will carry items you can’t find at the mercantile. My father owns Knipp Emporium in St. Louis. And I’m opening our second one.”
“What does that mean? Things I can’t find at the mercantile?” Emmie narrowed her eyes.
Landon’s heart stuttered. He’d insulted her town and her. “Items from all over the world. Fine china, exotic spices from India, that sort of thing. When a customer walks in, we want them to be wide-eyed and speechless while they take in the displays.”
“Followed by excitement. Don’t forget that, Landon. Lest the ladies think you want them to be as quiet as a church mouse while they shop.” His father chuckled.
“You won’t be competing against the mercantile, then?”
“Not at all. Our intent is to have different choices. Not everyone gets to travel around the world purchasing items to decorate their homes or give as gifts. Like this.” Landon pulled a handkerchief stitched with embroidered birds from his pocket and handed it to her.
She traced the stitching. “It’s beautiful. You’re right. I haven’t seen anything like this before.”
“Our store will be filled with items like this.”
“Look, Granny, isn’t this exotic?”
Mrs. Mueller held it in her hands and rubbed the fabric between her thumb and finger. “The fabric is soft as down.”
“You will do well with a store in this town. When will you decide?” Mrs. Mueller cocked her head. “And where do you plan on living?”
Emmie knew what was coming before Granny asked. She wanted a boarder to fill George’s room. “Granny! That’s none of our business.”
“It certainly is. Did you forget we run a boardinghouse?”
She squirmed like a little girl under Granny’s glare. “No, but remember—”
“This is not the time or place to discuss this.” She turned to them. “If you are in need of a place to stay, please come see us. We have plenty of rooms available.”
Rooms she’d worked hard at emptying of boarders. She knew Granny didn’t want to leave this town, but it wasn’t fair of her to expect Emmie to stay here. She wanted to be with her family, and that included Granny. Yes, she did want to marry and have children but not here. No, she did not. She wanted to be near her momma. But Momma wouldn’t approve of her pouting. She gathered her emotions and tucked them away.
“Mr. Landon, it would be an honor if you’d stay with us for a short time.” Please turn down the offer.
“Thank you, but Father and I will return to St. Louis this afternoon. I have some decisions to make. I’ve seen several towns that fit my needs.”
His words were like warm butter, and the tension in her shoulders dissolved. A problem diverted, though looking at him again, it wouldn’t be hard to find him a wife if he did stay. Handsome, with those Jersey-cow eyes framed with long, dark lashes. Yes, there would be a few women in town that would want to sit at his table every night. Good thing he was leaving, because she might be tempted to get his attention and that would mess up her plan.
There were quite a few people at the reception. Landon listened in on conversations as he filled his plate, hoping to get a feel for the people of the town.
“Something’s going on, Walter. I think Emmie is up to some shenanigans.”
Hearing Emmie’s name, he whipped around and took note of the two older men behind him in line.
“Milton, I’m telling you. Orville getting married didn’t surprise me. He still has all his hair. But George? Didn’t you notice how Miss Emmie got him to slick down his hair and make sure his mustache didn’t have food in it every Sunday?”
“You might be right. Do you think she’s trying to match us up, too?”
“We best keep an eye on her. I like things the way they are.” Milton plopped potato salad onto his plate.
“Landon?” His father spoke into his ear. “You listening in on conversations again?”
“Yes. You can learn a lot about the culture of a place when you do that.”
“You’re in Illinois, son, not a foreign land. Not much different from where you grew up. Let’s look for a place to sit.”
Under a young tree, they found a spot that hadn’t been claimed and settled beneath it with their packed plates. From here, Landon observed Miss Emmie Mueller undetected. Her delicate fingers piano-key danced through the air while she chatted with another woman.
“She’s a pretty one with that blond hair.” His father wiggled his fork in her direction. “Are you thinking this town might offer you more than a place to sell wares from abroad?”
“You know me too well. But it’s not just her. I know nothing about her. It’s the townspeople that will be the key to having a successful business. Like those celebrating this wedding. I should think them to be an indication of the type of people I’d be selling to.”
Miss Mueller filled her own plate even with an injured ankle. He noticed. Yes, he did. He’d been watching for a beau to offer her assistance, but none came. Maybe she didn’t have one. Curious that one so beautiful wouldn’t have a group of bachelors hanging around trying to capture a smile from her.
“—and you’d need furniture, too.” His father’s words broke into his thoughts.
“Pardon? My mind drifted somewhere.”
“I thought as much. I’ve been observing your keen interest in the young Miss Mueller. Your fork has been hovering over that piece of ham for quite some time.” His father raised his eyebrow. “What interests you the most about her?”
He stabbed the piece of meat and stuck it in his mouth, debating whether to answer his father’s question.
“You’re stalling, son.” He laughed loud enough for a group to turn and stare.
Landon tipped his hat at them. “She must be a member of this church as she is talking to everyone. One of my high priorities. I desire a marriage such as my brothers’ and yours. This might be the best town we’ve seen to open the store.” And Emmie Mueller, the possible matchmaker, was the first woman he wanted to get to know.