Authors: Al Lacy
As Bill pulled out the papers to look them over, Lucy arrived with Blake’s order. She placed a heaping plate of chicken and dumplings in front of him, set a small plate with two large rolls next to it, and gave him a broad smile.
Blake frowned. “You were supposed to bring
one
roll and a small plate of chicken and dumplings.”
“I know, but the cook figured your appetite might be better by now.”
Blake chuckled. “Okay, Lucy. I’ll eat as much as I can.”
“Hope you like it. I’ll be back with more coffee in a few minutes.”
When Lucy was gone, Bill looked up from the papers and said, “That’s a pretty good interest rate, Blake. And the terms are more than fair.”
“We try to treat our customers right.”
“Well, you sure are treating me right, I’ll say that.”
“Come by the bank tomorrow, and we’ll put the money in your account.”
“Will do,” said Bill, stuffing the papers back in the envelope and handing it to Blake.
Blake looked at the food before him, and his appetite seemed to grow stronger as the aroma of hot rolls and chicken and dumplings teased his nostrils. Smiling at Bill, he said, “This looks pretty good.”
“Better be,” said his friend. “I’ll let you pray, then we can talk a little.”
Blake thanked the Lord for the food, then said, “You talk, Bill. I’m going to eat.”
Bill Borah talked about the new building project and his plans for expansion. He would have to add to the kitchen, hire another cook, and hire a couple more waitresses.
Lucy returned and filled Blake’s cup with fragrant coffee, and as he ate, Blake was surprised at how hungry he had suddenly become.
When Bill was in the middle of describing how he would rearrange the entire cafe, a young couple from the church stopped at the table. Mike and Rosie Brannan had moved to Sacramento from Placerville, California, about four months ago. They had been at the funeral that morning and now shared their sympathy with Blake once more. He thanked them, and they left.
In the next few minutes, more people stopped at Blake’s table to offer their condolences.
Bill Borah smiled. “All of us in the church think the world of you, Blake. And the rest of the town does, too, including the women. I’m surprised that some fortunate female hasn’t latched onto you and married you.”
Blake laughed hollowly. “Tell you what, Bill. Like with your daughters, all the single Christian young women in Sacramento are either married, engaged to be married, or are dating some man steadily. There aren’t any young women available.”
“Well, my boy, the Lord’s got just the right girl picked out for you. She’ll come along one of these days.”
“I’m patiently waiting for her to show up, Bill. I’m less than three years from thirty. It’s time I got married, all right. I’ve prayed a lot about it, but I just have to wait on the Lord.”
Bill stood up suddenly and said, “Evelyn’s giving me the evil eye. I’m keeping you talking, and your food’s getting cold. I’d better get back to the counter.”
Blake went back to work on his meal. A few minutes later, he saw Pastor and Mrs. Clarke come in. Lucy greeted them and explained that all the tables were full; they would have to wait till one opened up.
Blake stood up and called, “Pastor! Come on over here. I’ll share my table with you and Nora.”
Pastor Clarke gave a little wave and allowed Nora to go ahead of him as they worked their way toward Blake’s table.
Being the perfect gentleman, the sandy-headed man rose to his feet in honor of Nora Clarke. As the preacher seated his wife, Lucy came with coffee and cups. After pouring the coffee, she took their orders and headed for the kitchen.
“Go ahead and eat, Blake,” Clarke said. “Your food will get cold if you wait for ours to come.”
While Blake continued to eat his meal, the pastor said, “I want to thank you for what you did in the offering last Sunday.”
Blake grinned. “I was glad to do it.”
“I can’t tell you what a blessing it is. Your gift will completely pay for the new Sunday school wing we’ve been needing so badly.”
“The glory goes to God, Pastor,” Blake said humbly. “If He hadn’t blessed me financially, I wouldn’t be able to do things like that. It makes me really happy to be able to help the church.”
“Well, you know what the Bible says … when you sow bountifully,
you reap bountifully. Nobody ever outgives the Lord.”
“That’s for sure. We use a teaspoon when we give. He comes back with a scoop shovel!”
Blake entered his apartment, lit a couple of lamps, and looked around, knowing he would soon leave it and move into his father’s house, which he had inherited.
The apartment took up the complete second floor of a lovely Victorian home. He had filled it with rich mahogany furniture upholstered in jewel-toned fabrics. The same fabric was used for the window coverings. The glowing lamps illuminated the patina of the ornately carved woodwork.
Blake had collected several pieces of beautiful artwork. Delightful paintings were displayed on the walls, and exquisite sculptures adorned tables and shelves.
His housekeeper kept everything in mint condition, and Blake always enjoyed coming home to this peaceful setting at the end of a long day. Before he moved into his father’s house, he would have it done over to resemble his apartment.
Weary from the strain of the day, he decided to go to bed early. As soon as he slipped between the sheets, he began praying.
“Lord, please help me to be an effective witness at the bank. Let me use Dad’s death as an infidel to help the employees see they need to be ready to die. I’m concerned especially for Haman. Please work in his heart. Help me to be a shining light for You to the community, too, Lord.
“And, Lord … I … I sure am lonely. You provided Adam a wife because You said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an helpmeet for him.’ Well, it isn’t good for
this
man to be alone, either. I only want the woman You’ve chosen for me. You haven’t seen fit to bring her into my life yet, but I’m asking You to do so soon.
“Lord, I thank You for the way You’ve guided my life ever since I was saved as a boy. And I’m thanking You in advance that You will answer my prayer for a wife.”
B
Y MIDMORNING THE NEXT DAY,
Blake Barrett had moved his personal items into his father’s office at the bank. Bradley Barrett’s office was large and well furnished. He had also kept a desk just outside the office in an area where Blake and Haman had their desks, plus desks for a secretary and a secretary-receptionist. The area was surrounded by a waist-high railing and was entered by three separate gates.
Once Blake had arranged things in the inner office to suit himself, he did the same with the desk in the enclosed area. While he was moving the last of his things, he saw Bill Borah enter the lobby and he reentered the large office to pick up Borahs loan papers, which he’d left on the desk there.
Borah spoke to a couple of customers who were waiting in line at the tellers’ cages, then approached the receptionist, Sandy Benton.
“Good morning, Sandy. Mr. Barrett is expecting me to come in today and close on my loan.”
“Yes, Mr. Borah, he mentioned that to me earlier.” Sandy looked over her shoulder. “He was at his outer desk just a moment ago. Come on through the gate. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Sandy had just risen from her chair when Blake came out of his office carrying a folder. “I saw him coming, Sandy. Hi, Bill. Come on over here and sit down.”
As Borah passed secretary Hortense Reed’s desk, she looked up from a stack of papers and smiled shyly. “Hello, Mr. Borah. Nice day.”
“Sure is,” he said.
Haman Warner had a customer at his desk and only nodded at Bill, then put his attention back on the customer.
Within twenty minutes, Borah was shaking hands with Blake, thanking him for the loan.
As he was leaving, he held open the gate for a well-dressed young couple who had just been invited by Sandy to come in and sit down in front of her desk.
Blake was placing papers back in Bill Borahs file folder when he heard the man say, “I’m Ben Roper, ma’am. This is my wife, Minnie. We just got married, and we want to open a checking account.”
“I’ll be happy to take care of that for you, folks,” Sandy said.
Blake slid some papers to the center of his desk and began going over them while picking up bits and pieces from Sandy’s conversation with the young couple.
Roper pulled out a wad of currency. “I’ve been working the gold mines in the Sierras, ma’am. I didn’t have a checking account. Did everything by cash. But now that I’ve married Minnie and am going to settle here in Sacramento, I figured it was time to put my money in the bank.”
“Smart move,” Sandy said. “Did you two meet in the mountains?”
“Well, not exactly,” Minnie said. “We met by mail first, then after a few months of corresponding, I came out here from Baltimore, Maryland, to be Ben’s mail order bride.”
Blake’s head came up with a start.
“Oh! I think that’s wonderful!” Sandy said. “How romantic!”
Sandy asked all the necessary questions to process the Ropers’ account and then placed signature cards before them and held out pen and ink. The Ropers signed the cards and Sandy blotted them, then picked up the thick wad of currency and said, “How much do we have here, Mr. Roper?”
“Eight thousand dollars, ma’am.”
Sandy nodded, filled out a deposit slip, then rose from her desk and said, “I’ll take this to one of the tellers and be back with your receipt.”
Blake left his desk and approached the young couple. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand to Ben. “My name is Blake Barrett. I’m president of the bank.”
The Ropers looked a little shocked to see such a young man bear the title of president. Ben Roper stood up and shook hands with him. Minnie offered her hand, and Blake gave it a gentle shake, then said, “I couldn’t help overhearing what you told Mrs. Benton, ma’am. You came from Baltimore as this gentleman’s mail order bride?”
Minnie looked up at Ben and smiled. “Yes,” she said, sighing with contentment. “And I’m sure glad I did.”
“Not half as glad as I am,” Ben said, reaching for her hand.
“I’ve heard, of course, of young women coming from eastern cities to become mail order brides,” Blake said, “but I’ve never met one.”
Minnie smiled. “Well, Mr. Barrett, you’ll never be able to say that again, will you?”
Blake chuckled. “You’re right about that!”
“Isn’t she something?” Ben said, his gaze roaming over Minnie’s features.
Blake grinned, but didn’t reply. “So how did you find her, Mr. Roper? Newspaper ad?”
“That’s right.
Baltimore Globe.”
“Did you put ads in several newspapers?”
“I guess about a dozen of them. All in newspapers in large cities.”
“I hope you don’t mind my asking these questions.”
“We don’t mind at all,” Ben replied.
Blake grinned again. “So did you get a lot of responses?”
“Sure did. Must’ve had some fifteen or sixteen women write me.”
“How did you happen to pick this young lady?”
“Process of elimination. I only wrote back to four women. The others didn’t interest me.”
“But how did you eliminate the other three and finally narrow it down to Mrs. Roper?”
“Well, the four women and I exchanged photographs and wrote about our likes and dislikes … that kind of thing. One of them didn’t write me back. Maybe she decided I was too ugly.”
“Oh, Ben,” Minnie said, giving his hand a squeeze. “That couldn’t have been it! Not as good-looking as you are!”
Roper put a hand under her graceful chin. “You just keep thinking that, honey.” Then to Barrett: “The three women and I corresponded for about two months, and soon I knew it was Minnie.”
“You see, Mr. Barrett,” Minnie said, “at the same time I was writing to Ben, I was also corresponding with two other men whose ads I had answered. How do I put it … there was something about Ben’s personality that pulled me toward him. You can tell a lot about a man when you’re getting long letters from him two or three times a week.”
Ben’s eyes held an expression of pure adoration as he reluctantly turned from looking at Minnie and said to Blake, “So by the time we’d been writing about three months, we both knew we had the same interests and goals in life. We dropped the others and seriously pursued each other. “We—”
Sandy Benton came through the gate near her desk. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” Ben Roper said. “As I was about to say, Mr. Barrett, Minnie and I corresponded another month or so and decided it was time to get together. I sent her the money, and a few days after she received it, I met her at the Sacramento depot. She lived in a boarding-house in Placerville while I continued my gold mining. After about six weeks of getting acquainted in person, we tied the knot. And boy, am I glad we did!”
Minnie giggled.
Sandy raised an eyebrow at Barrett and said, “Thinking of getting yourself a mail order bride, boss?”
The surprise on both the Ropers’ faces was comical.
“I figured you were married, Mr. Barrett,” Ben said.
“Me, too,” said Minnie. “Fine-looking man like you.”
Blake blushed.
Sandy said in a joking tone, “Mr. Barrett has the ideal young lady pictured in his mind, folks, but I’m afraid she doesn’t really exist.”
“Oh, yes, she does,” Blake responded. “She’s somewhere in this world, and one of these days she’ll come walking into my life. And I’ll know her when I see her.”
Sandy handed Ben Roper his receipt and said, “Hope you folks enjoy banking here. Oh!” She opened a desk drawer. “And here are your checks.”
Ben Roper thanked her. As he and Minnie were about to leave, he said, “Mr. Barrett, maybe your ideal young lady is in the East somewhere, just waiting for an ad from a bank president who needs a wife. You ought to give it a try.”
Blake grinned. “Maybe I will.”
“Let us know if you do … and how it turns out.”
Blake laughed. “Sure!”
When they had gone out the door, Sandy wiggled her eyebrows and said, “Mail order bride for Mr. Blake Barrett, eh?”