Blowing on Dandelions (16 page)

Enough playing this fish; it was time to land her prize. She snapped her pole back, knowing her catch was exhausted and would be easy to land. At the exact moment she pulled, though, the trout seemed to get a second wind and plunged forward, pulling against her line. The string broke and the sudden release of weight sent Lucy stumbling backward. Her fish disappeared under the surface.

“Oh no, Lucy! See what you went and did!” Mandy sent up a wail that could probably be heard all the way home. “Why’d you pull on the line so hard? You always tell
me
not to do that.”

Lucy tossed her pole on the ground and plopped down next to it. “Hush, Mandy. There’s no need to shout.”

“Yes, sirree. I wanted to eat that trout. He was a whopper. Ma’s going to be disappointed.” Amanda sank to her knees and clutched the broken end of the line, gazing at it as though staring at it hard enough could bring the fish back.

“Then I guess we’ll have to try again.” Lucy ruffled the little girl’s hair and grinned. “Maybe you’ll catch the next one and show me the right way to land him.”

Zachary sank onto the grass beside them, a rusty can in his hand. “Want me to put another hook and worm on for you? I don’t mind.”

Lucy eyed the can that was packed with moss and worms they’d dug right before they started fishing. This was the part she hated—threading the worm on the hook. Pa had taught her how when she’d been Mandy’s age, but she’d never had the heart to teach her little sister. Ma didn’t like to fish, and they hadn’t gone out often since Pa died. That was one thing she enjoyed about Zachary, besides the fact she could talk to him so easy. He loved to fish, too, and didn’t make her feel like a sissy for not liking to bait her own hook. “Thanks.”

Mandy scooted closer. “Can I watch?”

Zachary shrugged. “Sure, I can teach you.” He finished tying off the hook then plucked a worm from the can and began threading it on.

“Ouch! Doesn’t that hurt?” Mandy inched away but her gaze stayed glued to the worm. “I don’t think I want to do that.”

Zachary didn’t look up. “Naw. They don’t have feelings.”

“Is he dead?”

“Nope. They have to wriggle around so the trout notice and want to eat them.”

Mandy shuddered. “Why would anything want to eat a worm? They’re yucky.”

Lucy laughed and reached over to tickle her little sister. “Not to fish, silly. To them it’s like eating a stick of candy.”

“Eww!” Mandy wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s not. Will you put a new worm on for me, Zachary? I don’t think I want to learn.”

Zachary grinned. “Yep, doesn’t bother me.” He worked in silence for another minute, then helped Mandy get situated on the bank. “This is a good spot. I’ll bet you catch a big one. But be sure you keep a close watch on your line and …” He dropped his voice to a loud whisper while casting a glance at Lucy. “Don’t jerk on it hard if you get a nibble.”

“Okay, Zac. I won’t.” She beamed at him and then turned her attention to the tip of her pole.

Lucy came up next to him and gave him a playful push. “Don’t jerk on it hard, huh? I suppose you’re going to remind me of that whenever we go fishing?”

“I might.” He laughed and snatched up his pole.

“You’d better not, or I might have to tell your secret.” She gave him a sly look.

He kept walking, stopping a short ways upstream at a still pool. “I don’t have any secrets, so I guess I can keep teasing you.”

“No? I saw the way you looked at Beth last night.”

He turned a startled face her way. “I didn’t … I don’t …”

Lucy sobered at his distress but let him squirm a little longer, like a worm on a hook. She finally relented. “I’m sorry, Zachary. I was joshing. I won’t say anything, I promise. You’ve never told anybody my secret, and I won’t tell yours.”

He heaved a big sigh. “Thanks. But it’s silly ’cause she’s way older than me. I think she’s kind of pretty, but I feel sorry for her that her aunt is trying to marry her off. Beth doesn’t seem very happy to me.”

Lucy nodded. “I know. But you’re almost fifteen. How do you know she’s way older?”

He looked thoughtful. “I dunno. I guess I figured she must be at least seventeen.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

He jumped backward like he’d been slapped. “No, sir. Not me.”

“Want me to find out?” She almost giggled at his discomfort but chose not to. Zachary had become her best friend, and she wouldn’t hurt him for the world. She felt bad about all the horrible things he and his pa had been through and wanted to help. If that meant talking to the quiet girl who’d come to live at their house, she’d do it.

“I don’t want her to think I’m chasing her.”

“I won’t tell her. I can be friendly and find out without her knowing you’re interested.”

“You sure?” The furrow in his brows made a deep crease at the top of his nose. “Besides, I’m not really
interested
.”

“I know what I’m doing. She’ll never figure out a thing. I promise.”

“Thanks. I’m not glad our house burned down, but I’m sure happy your ma invited us to stay at your boardinghouse. At least till we figure out what we’re gonna do for a place to live.”

“Me, too.” Lucy nodded, then squealed. “Mandy’s got a fish! Hold on Mandy, don’t let it pull you in!” She tossed her pole to the side and sprinted toward her sister, wondering how in the world she’d keep the promise she made to Zachary. She’d never been much good at making friends with girls, and Beth Roberts had to be one of the shyest girls she’d ever met.

Chapter Twenty-One

Frances fanned herself with a newspaper. She wouldn’t be surprised if she were having a heart attack. Should she hobble out of the parlor as fast as her gimpy foot would allow, or stay and battle it out with the old biddy who had just entered the room? Luncheon was over, midday was fast arriving, and the tea she had brought to the parlor lured her into staying.

Wilma Roberts looked as proud as a peacock sporting a new crop of tail feathers—and, in Frances’s opinion, her voice would rival the bird. She was too plump for the ruffles, flounces, and folderol embellishing her person. The costumes might be tolerable, but her manners were far from it. No, indeed. The woman had obviously
not
been taught from
Godey’s Lady’s Book
.

All of this was Katherine’s fault, and Frances planned on letting her know as much. Life was not the same since the arrival of Mrs. Roberts a number of days ago. Frances picked up her teacup and took a sip, watching as the odious woman slouched her way across the room. Humph. Poor posture. More evidence of an unfortunate upbringing.

She straightened her own carriage, then set her cup aside and folded her hands in her lap. Staying here seemed the best option. After all, if she got up now and abandoned her post, it would appear as though she were fleeing the room. This was her home, and she would not allow anyone, least of all Mrs. Wilma Roberts, to drive her from any area in which she chose to relax. She’d take this up with Katherine later. Right now she had a battle to wage. If she played her cards right, she’d venture she could convince this woman to depart before nightfall.

Frances forced a smile, for smile she must if she hoped to win. “Good day, Mrs. Roberts. Where is your lovely niece?” In her way of thinking, the girl was as shy as a field mouse, if not as drab, but it wouldn’t do to say as much to the girl’s doting aunt.

Wilma Roberts stopped, eyes widening. “Why, Mrs. Cooper! I declare. You were so quiet I didn’t know you were here. You gave me quite a start.” She clapped a hand over her heaving bosom as though to emphasize her words.

Frances snorted. The creature had seen her the second she stepped into the room. Mrs. Roberts hoped to ignore her, pure and simple. “Well, some people do not see the need to talk every minute to make themselves known.” She snapped her mouth closed. That was not what she’d planned to say, but the woman only had to flap her lips to irritate Frances.

Mrs. Roberts’s jaw dropped.

Frances lifted her chin. Better make haste to repair the breach before she lost her opportunity altogether. “Pardon me. I did not mean to appear rude.”

Mrs. Roberts appeared to search for a suitable reply as she slowly walked to the divan facing the chair where Frances sat. She motioned toward it. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Frances abhorred lying, but there were times it was better than speaking the plain truth—as much as she’d love to do so at the moment. “Certainly not. You live here as well as I do.” She waved toward the tray on the low table beside her. “Katherine brought tea earlier and it is still quite hot. Would you like me to pour you a cup?”

“Thank you, yes.” The matron settled back against the divan cushions with a low groan. “My feet are about to drop off, and my knees feel as though they will not hold me up much longer.”

Something akin to sympathy tickled Frances’s conscience, but she shot an arrow through it before it had a chance to take hold. She would not cater to any weakness where this woman was concerned, even if Mrs. Roberts
did
suffer from pain similar to her own. She carefully poured the tea from the Limoges china pot she’d brought from her home. “Why, what have you been doing that is so exhausting?” She kept her tone light.

“Beth and I have been traipsing around town. The dear girl insisted on going down to the stores in hopes of meeting interesting people.”

“Indeed.” Frances would love to tell this woman what she thought of that. It was clear to anyone who met the young woman that she’d rather cower in her room than encounter a stranger, but the comment played right in to where she’d hoped to lead. “I am very surprised you decided to move back to our humble boardinghouse.”

“Really? We find it a delightful place, Mrs. Cooper.”

“But it is so dull for a young woman of your niece’s age.” She held out the rose-sprigged cup and saucer. “Be careful. It is still quite warm.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Roberts placed the saucer on her knee and balanced it with her fingertips.

“How old is your niece? Seventeen? She appears rather young.”

“Oh my, no. She turned twenty last winter.”

“Ah. Old enough for a serious beau back home.”

Mrs. Roberts squirmed, and her fingers whitened around the teacup handle. “I’m afraid not. She was at a girls’ school prior to heading West and hasn’t met any suitable young men.”

“Poor dear,” Frances crooned. “I am afraid she will not find one here, either. The only men who usually board with us are traveling salesmen or poor schoolteachers. Not that I know from personal experience, as I have not lived here long, but from what I hear, all the wealthy patrons frequent The Arlington Hotel. It was the first two-story brick building built in Baker City, and millionaires have stayed there for weeks at a time. Can you imagine?”

“I had no idea.” Mrs. Roberts was positively drooling, and her teacup tilted precariously.

“You really need to move to the hotel, my dear.” Frances lifted her cup, letting her words settle in the air.

Steps sounded at the arched doorway, and Katherine hurried into the room. “Oh, there you are, Mama. I checked your room and didn’t find you. I hoped you were feeling better.”

Frances glared at her daughter. She’d interrupted at the most sensitive point of the conversation. “I am fine. We are having a cup of tea and a nice chat.”

Katherine looked as though she might laugh. “A nice chat?” she echoed in an incredulous tone. “Good. I’m glad to see the two of you have made up.”

Mrs. Roberts set her cup aside. “What’s this I hear about you not feeling well, Mrs. Cooper? Have you been ill?”

Frances didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They might never get back to their topic of conversation. But at least she’d planted the seed of an idea and could only hope it would take root and grow. “I said I am fine. There is nothing to worry about at all.”

Katherine moved closer. “It didn’t sound like nothing earlier.”

“Can’t a woman keep anything private around here?” Frances thunked her saucer and cup onto the side table, not caring if she slopped the remaining tea or chipped the china.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t realize it was a secret. I think most of us are aware you’ve been struggling lately.”

Frances poked a finger toward Mrs. Roberts. “
She
did not know, did she?”

Mrs. Roberts’s brows knit in a fierce scowl. “Well, I never.” She struggled to her feet. “No. I did not. Nor do I care. And here I thought you wanted to make up and be friends. I guess that’s what I get for making assumptions and trying to return kindness for that … that …” She eyed Katherine and closed her mouth. “And I will
not
be following your suggestion, Mrs. Cooper, as it appears you are not to be trusted.” Mrs. Roberts nodded at Katherine, then swept out of the room without a backward glance.

Katherine sank onto the spot the matron had vacated. “
What
did you suggest? Did you somehow mislead her, Mama?”

Frances couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That is utter nonsense!” Now her daughter wanted to chastise her as well? She would not allow herself to be subjected to this kind of treatment. “Poppycock, that is what it is. The woman simply misunderstood my attempt to give her sound advice—that is all. Nothing to go on about, if you ask me.”

“What kind of advice?” Katherine cocked her head.

“Oh, about her niece, if you must know.”

“Yes?”

“I do not know why I must explain every conversation I have with someone else.”

“I’m trying to keep peace between my boarders and family members. I can’t have paying boarders antagonized, Mother. As you pointed out not too long ago, we need the money.”

“Oh, bother.” Frances waved a hand in front of her face. “I was not antagonizing anyone. I simply asked how old the girl is. When she told me Beth is twenty, I asked if she has a beau at home. The woman said she does not and has not met anyone since leaving school. So I told her she is not likely to meet anyone here and should move back to a nice hotel, where there are plenty of wealthy patrons.”

“Mama.” Katherine simply stared.

Frances shrugged. “There is nothing wrong with suggesting she move. I am sure she would be happier elsewhere, and it is obvious she wants the girl to find a husband. I offered a solution. I cannot imagine why she would take offense at something so practical.”

“Practical?” Katherine leaned forward, gripping her hands in her lap. “Can you truly tell me you said it because you care about Mrs. Roberts or Beth? Or would it be closer to say you want them out of your hair?”

“Of course, it is not going to hurt my feelings if they decide to move, but that is beside the point.”

“Is it, Mama?”

“Certainly.” She winced as she got to her feet. “I am not going to sit here and be reprimanded any longer. It is not your business what I think or say. I am your mother, after all, not your child.” There. She would not tolerate being scolded by her own daughter over something as trivial as recommending a better place for those people to live. It wasn’t like she’d done anything sinful, for heaven’s sake. Nor would she apologize to Wilma Roberts. Not today and not ever.

Katherine blew out a loud sigh as she exited the parlor on Mama’s heels, not caring if Mama heard or not. She’d come very close to speaking her mind but had held back, knowing the words and tone would come out disrespectful. But more than anything, she’d wanted to light into Mama and make her understand how cruel her actions had been. If Mrs. Roberts’s revelation about their lack of finances hadn’t been given in confidence, Katherine would have made sure Mama recognized the inappropriateness of her comments.

Not that it would’ve made much difference. Her mother wrote her own rules. Saying something about Mama’s health probably hadn’t helped, and she wished she’d kept quiet, but she’d assumed everyone in the house was aware of Mama’s affliction. After all, she’d stayed in her room more than once while others gathered in the parlor to talk, and she’d missed meals due to headaches or aching feet. Katherine exhaled. When things calmed down a bit, she’d make sure to apologize for that slip, but right now she’d better see if she could repair the damage. Of course, Mrs. Roberts probably wouldn’t storm out and take her business elsewhere, but the last thing Katherine wanted were ill feelings or strife coloring the atmosphere in her home. That would not do at all.

She walked past Micah’s door. The poor man had looked like a trapped animal when Mrs. Roberts and Beth accosted him in the parlor, and he hadn’t ventured there since. Maybe she’d check on him after this errand was finished. She trooped up the stairs to the second floor and tapped on Mrs. Roberts’s door.

Nothing. No rustle of skirts or footsteps. Maybe the woman was visiting Beth in her room. She moved to the next door and knocked.

“Yes?” Beth’s timid voice barely penetrated the wood panels. She opened the door a crack, peeked out, then smiled and swung it wide. “Mrs. Galloway. I was worried it might be Mrs. Cooper come looking for Aunt Wilma.”

The young woman’s smile was contagious, and Katherine gave one in return. That was the most words she’d heard Beth string together since she’d arrived. “Is your aunt at home, dear?”

Beth shook her head. “She went for a walk to clear her head. I’m afraid she was a little upset when she left. She slipped down the back stairway so she wouldn’t meet your mother in the parlor.”

“I see.” Katherine hesitated, not wanting to pry but still concerned about the elder Roberts’s state of mind.

“Forgive me for my poor manners.” Beth took a step back. “Won’t you come in? I don’t think she’ll be gone long, and you’re welcome to wait.”

“I’d love to visit, but I’m not sure how long I can stay. I have supper preparations to start in the kitchen, and I imagine I’ll hear your aunt when she returns.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I don’t want to keep you.” A crestfallen expression blanketed Beth’s features.

Katherine stepped forward and touched the girl’s arm. “I’d be happy to chat for a few minutes. We haven’t had a chance to get acquainted since you arrived.” She left other words unsaid but could tell by the young woman’s expression that she knew exactly what she meant—the poor girl rarely got a chance to speak when her aunt was around.

“Thank you, Mrs. Galloway.” The pinched look smoothed. “Would you care to have a seat?” She motioned toward a damask chair that flanked one side of the window and waited until Katherine sat before sinking into its twin, adjusting the hem of her skirt to cover her ankles.

A hush settled over the room, and Beth cast her gaze from object to object as though seeking a topic of conversation.
Poor dear.
Katherine could only imagine how she felt trying to entertain a stranger on her own. Had she ever encountered this type of situation before? According to Mrs. Roberts, the young woman had attended a girls’ school before heading West. Better to help her along than to let the silence become uncomfortable. “How do you like our little city, Miss Roberts?”