“I’m glad it worked out, too. I couldn’t have picked a better man. But now I need to make sure the boys get washed and into bed. Finish your tea, and I’ll get the tray in the morning.” Bending over, she gave Sylvia a kiss on her forehead.
“All things considered,” Angel said as she reached the door, “it’s good to see you again.”
Chapter 15
Sylvia finished her tea, and lay down after extinguishing the lamp alongside the bed. She placed her palm against her thumping heart, and relaxed for the first time in months. Her coolness had been all bluff, based in abject terror.
Even though Gerald had been sick for two years, it had still shocked her when the doctor pronounced him dead. Terrified at being alone in the world, she turned to his solicitors for guidance, only to discover she was penniless. A shiver ran through her when she recalled that dark time after the solicitor’s visit.
She’d walked the floors all night, wringing her hands. Not only did she have herself to worry about, but Angelina had been pampered and spoiled her whole life, and with the scandal about to break, there would most likely be no suitable match for her.
She’d had to get them both out of New York, and fast. The Bride Agency seemed a godsend after her sister, Louise, told her under no circumstances was she to bring her stepdaughter with her. Curse the woman. The only way Sylvia was able to present the plan to Angelina, without breaking down herself, was with a stiff backbone.
The trip from New York to Virginia had been bleak, and she’d cried most of the way, feeling as though she’d failed her husband’s daughter.
As terrifying as that ordeal had been, the Yankees taking over Louise’s house, the hurried trip to Richmond, and her sister’s death shortly after their arrival had almost stolen her sanity. The friends who had taken them in made it known in no uncertain terms that Sylvia’s presence was no longer welcomed.
She sold the last of her jewelry to buy a train ticket west. She had little to eat from the time she left home, hoarding the small amount of money left from the purchase of the train ticket for the stagecoach ride that would take her from the train’s last stop, to Oregon City. If Angelina had not been home to pay the driver who brought her and her luggage from town, she would most likely be sitting in jail right now.
Nathan would allow her to stay. A great weight lifted from her shoulders. Thinking about Angel’s family, and all those children, she knew things would be hard here, but she was more than ready to help if at all possible. Never again did she want to feel the horror of being alone in the world with nowhere to go, and no one who cared what happened to her.
Turning over, she bunched the pillow into shape, and enjoyed the best night’s sleep she’d had in over four months.
Nate lowered the newspaper he’d been reading as Angel came into the room. He set the paper on the table next to him, and crooked his finger. “Come here.”
She walked to him, crawled on his lap, and laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple, and rubbed circles on her back.
“Was I too hard on her?” He studied her face.
“No, she was fine when you left.” She sat up, with a glint in her eyes. “She seemed to be more interested in commenting on your looks.”
“Really?” Nate grinned. “And exactly what did she say?”
“Oh, she thinks you’re handsome.”
“And do you agree with her opinion?” He smiled lazily, played with the loose ends of her hair.
“Well, I would say you’re not exactly hard on the eyes.”
Nate cupped the back of her neck. Lowering his mouth, he whispered against her lips, “But I’m incredibly hard somewhere else.” He brushed his lips back and forth over hers. “Open for me, honey.”
The kiss grew from easy and gentle to desperate as their tongues tangled. Nate slanted her head to deepen the kiss. He scattered her hairpins, and ran his hands through the silky strands of her glorious hair.
“Open your dress,” he murmured. Angel fumbled with the buttons, but finally got them undone. Nate gripped her shoulders, and slid the dress and chemise down her slim arms to bare her breasts. Her nipples were erect, aching to be suckled.
“You’re so beautiful.” He gently took her breasts in his hands. Reverently, he kissed and then teased the pert nipples.
“Nate.” Angel gasped. “We have no bed.”
He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. “I forgot.” Nate half-heartedly closed the dress and buttoned it. Then he pulled her head to his chest.
The lack of a private place to lay his wife down and make love to her irritated him. He loved the way she responded to his touch. He only had to kiss her, or in some cases, look at her a certain way, and she seemed to melt. Familiar with the type of wife who only tolerated her husband’s attentions, he blessed his lucky stars for Angel. He loved watching her, so prim and proper in church, knowing in the privacy of their bedroom, it didn’t take much for him to turn her into a passionate and responsive lover.
Angel glanced out the window over the sink as she washed the breakfast dishes. Halfway from the house to the barn, Sylvia attempted to hang the family’s newly washed laundry. As she hung one piece, another fell to the ground. Angel covered her mouth and giggled.
True to her word, Sylvia tried hard to not be a burden to Angel. That she wasn’t successful didn’t deter her from trying. When she attempted to change Julia-Rose’s diaper, she gagged so much Angel had to take over and send the poor woman out the back door to the fresh air.
Sylvia offered to pack school lunches for the boys, but they raced for the pantry when they came home, exclaiming they were starving after eating only those tiny jam sandwiches for lunch. To add to the drama, Luke and John rolled on the floor, holding their stomachs, moaning. Watching the display of misery, Sylvia merely sniffed and said she had no idea little boys ate so much.
The laundry itched like crazy from un-rinsed soap, and a whole day’s worth of eggs landed on the floor when Sylvia took the basket from Luke, only to drop it when a bug crawled out from between two eggs.
Angel sent her to town to buy bread, and she came back with a lovely scrap of a hat, and no bread. She apologized profusely, and was adamant that she would sell a piece of jewelry that Angel’s papa had given her so she could repay her for the hat. Later, in a burst of guilt, she admitted she’d already sold the last of her jewelry.
She dropped dishes while washing and drying them, and stumbled out the back door screaming when she came face to face with Matt’s pet mouse.
Nate came into the bedroom and sat alongside Angel. “Darlin’, if your stepmother doesn’t stop helping us, we’ll go broke.”
Angel sighed. “I know, but she’s trying. She’s so out of her element. But it’s actually nice having another woman to talk to when you are all gone during the day.”
“Do me a favor and keep her away from my clothes. The shirt I wore today caused the worst rash from dried soap.”
“Oh, poor man, can I help with your rash?” Angel said with mischief in her eyes.
“As a matter of fact,” he said as he pulled his undershirt over his head, “you can kiss all the parts that are red.” His fingers lowered to unbuckle his pants.
“Um, if your shirt caused the problems you want me to kiss away, why are you taking off your pants?”
“The rash has spread, darlin’,” he said as he bent his head toward hers. “It spread something awful.”
Lucy placed the heavy silver fork alongside her plate, and tapped the back of the newspaper her father held in front of his face.
“Papa.”
“Um.”
“I want to ask you something.”
He lowered the newspaper and appeared to notice her for the first time. “What?”
“I want to have a Christmas Party. Something extravagant. Something that will make everyone green with envy.”
He folded the newspaper, and set it alongside his empty plate. “You can have a party if you want to, honey, but I don’t know that I want everyone to be jealous. That doesn’t seem like a nice reason to throw a party. Especially a Christmas party.”
As heat rose to her face at her papa’s rebuke, she cast her eyes down. “Nothing exciting has happened since I came back from Europe. I’ve told everyone all about my trip, the places I visited, the people I met, the clothes I had made, and my friends seemed bored when I bring it up. I need something to look forward to.”
“I guess if your mama were still alive, she would be having all sorts of entertainments.” He sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t have a woman’s influence. Maybe I should ask your Aunt Adeline to stay with us for a while.”
“No, Papa.” Lucy answered abruptly. The thought of that old, dried up witch living here, judging her every move, sent chills down her spine. It had been bad enough dealing with the older woman for the few weeks she stayed with them while Lucy planned her party. Her aunt had done nothing but criticize, even telling her papa that he’d spoiled her terribly.
“I can do the entertainments myself. I have Mrs. Flannery to help. It will be fine. Please?” Lucy stuck out her lower lip and used the cajoling voice she had perfected over the years.
Eli studied his daughter. Maybe Adeline had a point, and all the spoiling he’d done was wrong. His daughter seemed too wrapped up in herself and her possessions. It had never occurred to him the lack of a woman’s influence could damage her in some way. With his needs taken care of by a succession of widows happy with the jewelry and clothes he’d paid for, he never felt the urge to take a wife.
Perhaps he’d been wrong. Eventually Lucy would marry and possibly move far away, and he’d be alone in the big house. He mentally shook himself. His ruminations were starting to make him sound like a scared old man, not a vision he wanted of himself.
“All right, you can have your party. But let’s not try to make everyone envious.” He smiled and winked.
“Oh, Papa.” She leapt up and hugged him around the neck. “I love you so much.”
Eli rose, and then kissed her on the head. “I’m off to work now. I’ll see you tonight.”
Eli sat at the back of his restaurant, sipping coffee and going over the books. Since it was the middle of the morning, only two customers finished a late breakfast. Molly Forrester, a waitress in The Golden Buck since before he’d bought the place, wiped the tables, and made trips to the kitchen with dirty dishes.
The front door opened, and a woman entered and looked around. She hesitated briefly, and then made her way to the back where he sat. He watched her approach, intrigued with her feminine walk, almost a glide.
She stopped in front of him, her hands clasped together. “Excuse me?”
Eli sat back and his gut clenched. This was some woman. She appeared to be somewhere in her early to mid-forties. And a woman he could imagine underneath him in his bed. Classy, a real beauty. Petite, probably several inches shorter than his five-foot-seven.
Her pale blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon, which emphasized her light blue eyes. She wore a stylish blue and white flowered dress, with a scrap of material on her head that she most likely called a hat. Her full bosom emphasized a tiny waist, and her slight blush and fluttering hands attested to nervousness.
Eli stood. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes, you may.” She took a deep breath, pulling his gaze to her lovely breasts. “I would like to speak with the manager, if that’s possible.”
“Actually, I am the owner of the restaurant.” He bowed slightly, and said, “Eli Benson at your service, ma’am.”
The woman waved the handkerchief in her hand, and ran her delectable pink tongue around her lips. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I’m not good at this.”
Seeing her distress, his protective instincts rose to the surface. He motioned to a chair. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss . . .”
“I’m sorry. I’m Mrs. Sylvia Hardwick.”
Damn, the good ones are always taken.
“Would you care for tea, Mrs. Hardwick?” He asked politely.
“That would be wonderful.” Sylvia settled in her seat, and tugged her gloves off.
“I’ll be right back.”
He had the cook prepare tea and cookies, and asked Molly to serve them as soon as it was ready.
“Tea will be here in a minute.” Eli returned to his seat. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I need a job.”
Eli’s eyebrows climbed to what should have been his hairline, but disappeared years ago. The tiny bit of hair left on the sides and back of his head didn’t matter.
“A job?” He choked. “Does your husband approve of you getting a job?”
“I’m a widow,” Sylvia stated, “and I’m afraid my late husband left me in a poor financial state. I recently moved to Oregon City to live with my stepdaughter, Angel, and her husband, Nathan Hale. However, I would like to have money of my own, and not be beholden to her husband.”
Eli perked up at the mention of ‘widow.’ “You’re related to Nathan and Angel Hale?” Things were definitely looking up. “What sort of a job did you have in mind?”
“To be honest, Mr. Benson, I don’t know.” Her chin quivered and she burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.
The waitress arrived with their tea, and glanced curiously at the sobbing Mrs. Hardwick. Molly quickly arranged the teapot, cups and saucers on the table, taking furtive glances at Eli’s guest. He nodded as she added the plate of cookies. “That will be all, Molly. Thank you.”