Hometown Cinderella: Hometown Cinderella\The Inn at Hope Springs (18 page)

She brought a tea cozy and placed it over the pot.

He wanted to offer to carry the tray into the parlor but was afraid she would refuse the offer. Thankfully, he was saved by Lizzie’s return to the kitchen. “Come along, Papa.”

He gave a last look Mara’s way but she shooed him out of the kitchen with her hand. “Everything is ready.”

Dietrich skipped along ahead of them. “Mama and Lizzie baked a cake with icing and cookies. I can’t wait to try them. They didn’t let me eat any yesterday, but Mama let me lick out the mixing bowl when I got back from your house.”

Gideon chuckled. “Well, they’ll taste all the sweeter today then.” He entered the parlor and his laughter died. Mrs. Blackstone was seated in an armchair, looking as regal as royalty. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Blackstone.”

“Hello, Gideon. Show your father to a seat, Lizzie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She led him to the long horsehair sofa. “Have a seat, Papa. Dietrich, you, too. I’ll be right back.” She motioned to the low table in front of the sofa. “Isn’t everything pretty?”

He stood gazing down at the tea things on the fine embroidered cloth he recognized as one of Elsie’s. Pretty china cups, saucers, plates, small silver spoons and forks and a silver platter of cookies were artfully arranged on it. “My, I’ve never seen anything so nice.”

“It’s Mrs. Keller’s best tea set. Don’t you like it?”

It was pretty—each cup painted with a large pink and yellow rose, the edges gold.

“Well, take a seat, Papa. I’ll be right back with the cake.”

He made his way around the table but knocked his shin against its edge, sending the china to rattling. His hand shot out and he stepped back, bumping into the sofa.

Lizzie came up to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. You go along.” He sat down, not daring to move another inch. Dietrich joined him on one side, laughter lighting his brown eyes.

“That was a close call,” Gideon told him with a wink.

Dietrich nodded. “A close call,” he parroted with a giggle.

“That’s enough, young man,” Mrs. Blackstone reprimanded from her chair.

Dietrich quieted immediately.

Gideon touched the knot of his tie again. “Cold outside, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” They both glanced toward the windows but they were shaded by gauzy white curtains so there was little to be seen. “I have stayed pretty much indoors today.”

“That’s wise.” He placed his hands on his knees, trying to think of something else to say. “The grange is having a dance next Saturday.”

“Is that so?” She fiddled with a jet button on her bodice. “Well, I expect you’ll be there.”

“Yes, I ’spect so, to play the fiddle with Joe and Henry.”

“Of course.” She chuckled. “I admit I wasn’t thinking of your fiddle playing.”

“Oh?”

She turned her head a fraction, giving him a coy look. “Very well, Gideon, if you want to pretend ignorance, we’ll leave it that way.”

He stared at her until her meaning began to penetrate. Did she mean he was going courting? His cheeks felt as warm as the sides of the woodstove in the corner of the parlor.

He jumped at the sound of footsteps. Lizzie entered with the cake platter held aloft, and Mara followed right behind her with the teapot on a tray.

He stood to help then thought better of it. Before he could make up his mind whether to help clear off room on the table, Lizzie set down her platter and turned to take the teapot off Mrs. Keller’s tray and set it down. It also contained a small plate with lemon slices and a thick mug.

“Thank you,” she told Lizzie. “That’s everything, I think. Now, Lizzie, you take the place of honor behind the teapot and pour for us.”

Lizzie came around and sat next to him. He couldn’t help but be proud of her in her pretty green dress, her long hair falling in thick curls down her back, another green ribbon holding it in place away from her face.

Mara stood on Lizzie’s other side and held a cup and saucer for her. Lizzie lifted the cozy off the pot and poured. “Cream and sugar, Mrs. Blackstone? Or lemon and sugar?”

“Just a spoonful of sugar, dear.”

Dietrich’s feet began to swing against the edge of the sofa. Gideon put his hand on the boy’s knee, stilling him, and bent close to his ear. “That cake looks mighty good.”

The boy’s gaze traveled to the tall cake which dripped with white icing. He nodded. “Do you think we’ll have it soon?” he whispered.

“I’m sure we will,” Gideon whispered back, his eyes going to Mara who walked across the room, taking Mrs. Blackstone her teacup.

Lizzie turned to him. “Papa, do you want it the way you usually take it?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

He watched her pour, his pride growing at her steady and graceful hand. She put a scant spoonful of sugar into his cup and a splash of milk, gave it a brief stir then turned to hand it to him with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said with an answering smile, taking the cup and saucer with great care and setting them on his knee.

“Dietrich, how about you?”

Mrs. Keller approached the table with a smile. “Dietrich will have some milk with his cake.” She handed her son the mug she’d carried in earlier.

Dietrich took it without a word.

“What do you say, dear?”

“Thank you, Mama.”

Lizzie poured tea for Mrs. Keller, and he noted she took a slice of lemon with hers. Then she asked Dietrich to pass the plate of cookies around while she cut the cake.

Gideon took the boy’s mug before he slid off the sofa.

Balancing these two items, he was content to watch Lizzie cut the cake. “Mrs. Blackstone, will you have some lemon cake?”

“Yes, I’ll try a piece. It smelled so good when it was baking yesterday.”

Mrs. Keller took her cake to her as Dietrich offered her the platter of cookies. Gideon leaned forward and set the boy’s mug on the low table to receive the cake plate Lizzie handed to him. Dietrich came back and set the cookie plate back down on the table then sat back down beside Gideon.

Lizzie reached across Gideon to hand the boy his slice of cake.

“Thank you,” the boy said without prompting this time and quickly dug into his cake. His mother brought him a napkin, tucking it into his collar, and then offered one to Gideon.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile, leaning back carefully, the cake and tea balanced on each knee.

Mara took her cup of tea from Lizzie, glancing about the room, deciding where to sit. The logical place was on Lizzie’s other side since it was a long sofa. But she opted for another armchair near Carina.

She set her cup and saucer on a small table at her side and smiled as first Dietrich offered her the plate of cookies and then Lizzie brought her a piece of cake.

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking each, not because she had any desire to eat, but as an encouragement to the children. She noticed Gideon had not tasted any of his food or tea yet. Was his stomach experiencing as many flutters as hers was?

“How do you like the cake, Papa?” Lizzie looked at her father’s plate. “Why, you haven’t even tasted it yet!”

“No, I haven’t had a chance. It looks mighty good, though.” As he spoke, he managed to take up the small fork and spear a piece of cake from the plate on his knees, all the while holding the cup and saucer with his other hand on his other knee. Mara’s hands clutched each other, wishing she could tell him to set his cup on the low table in front of him, but not wanting to distract him further.

“It’s yummy!” Dietrich said around a mouthful of cake.

Gideon swallowed before speaking. “Yes, it certainly is. Did you bake it yourself?”

“Uh-huh,” Lizzie answered promptly. “Mrs. Keller told me what to put in but I did it all myself.”

Gideon nodded and took another forkful.

Mara followed suit, in order to be able to compliment the girl herself, since Carina remained silent, sipping her tea, her cake half-consumed.

“It’s very good, Lizzie,” she said when she had swallowed. “Light and moist at the same time. A nice hint of lemon in both the icing and the cake.”

Carina eyed Mara steadily. “Lemons are certainly dear this time of year. It’s not quite the season.” She addressed Gideon. “By Christmastime they’ll be coming into season.”

Mara set her cake plate down and took up her teacup, squeezing the lemon slice with her fork and stirring the cup. Carina never failed to fault Mara for some household or food expense even when Mara bought them out of her own earnings.

“Well, it sure tastes good,” Gideon said.

They fell silent. Mara could hear Dietrich chewing then gulping his milk, but she stopped herself from saying anything. Today was not the time or place.

“Are these your father’s paintings?” Gideon asked, motioning with his fork at the seascapes adorning the walls.

Before Mara could answer, Carina spoke up. “Yes, they were my late husband’s work after he moved up here.”

Gideon studied them a few moments as if he’d never noticed them before. “They’re real pretty,” he said finally.

Carina asked him about someone from the hamlet who was sick and they began to speak of the man’s condition.

Mara allowed herself to sit back a fraction and sip her tea. In truth, it had been stressful to plan this tea party, not only because she hadn’t wanted it to seem as if she were singling out Gideon to entertain him, but because she had been forced to include Carina as well. She hadn’t invited anyone else, because she hadn’t wanted to create even more speculation among her neighbors.

She had gone through with the party, though, for Lizzie’s sake. The poor girl so wanted to learn how to behave properly as a young lady in social situations.

Mara was so occupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice how restless Dietrich was growing. He was swinging his legs against the sofa, the heels of his shoes hitting its carved mahogany base.

Before Carina could reprimand him for scuffing it, Dietrich suddenly leaned forward, reaching for his mug of milk. Gideon reached out, rising a fraction from his seat, as if to grab the boy’s plate from his knee. Instead, his own cup fell from its saucer and hit the edge of the table. Mara watched in horror, extending a hand as if she could stop the fall, but instead, hearing the shatter of porcelain.

She rose and rushed to the sofa, seeing the puddle of tea against the floorboards and three large pieces of porcelain scattered about.

Not hearing the sounds of voices around her—“I’m sorry,” “Mama, Mr. Jakeman broke your cup—” “I’ll get a rag—” Mara knelt down, crowded between Dietrich’s legs and the edge of the table. She picked up the largest piece of broken cup. It was true what Lizzie had said, it was like an eggshell.

The next moment, she felt the table being moved away from the sofa and Gideon crouched down opposite her. “I’m awfully sorry, ma’am.”

Before she could think what to say, Carina stood behind him, craning to see what had broken. She broke out into a cackle. “One of the crown jewels! Serves you right!” She addressed Gideon. “She was so proud of that set, carting it around everywhere, packing it up so carefully.” She sniffed. “Pride goeth before a fall!”

“Carina!” She shot her stepmother a look of mortification.

“That’s a shame,” Gideon said softly. “I was clumsy.”

“Please think nothing of it. It wasn’t your fault.” She focused on the pieces on the floor. Gideon’s large hands began to pick up the remaining pieces, making more evident how fragile they were.

“That’s all right, I can do that.”

“It didn’t break in too many pieces. Maybe you can glue it back together.”

She met his sorrow-filled eyes, not having the heart to disagree. Instead she smiled, trying to put a good face on things. “Yes. I can do that and use it as an ornament on my shelf.”

He nodded. “That’s a good idea.” He looked so hopeful her irritation and disappointment melted.

Lizzie returned from the kitchen with a rag. “Here, Mrs. Keller, let me get in there and wipe up the mess.”

“Let me just get the smaller pieces.”

“That’s all right, I’ll pick them up.”

“I can get them,” Gideon added. Without giving the others a chance, he began to collect them. Mara marveled at how he was able to pick up the tiniest shards between his blunt fingertips and place them gently into his palm. She had a sudden contrasting vision of Klaus’s pale, long-fingered hands, which could slap her in a blink of an eye when he lost his temper or claw into her upper arms and shake her, leaving her skin bruised for days.

But worse than the physical marks were the verbal shafts, sharp, stinging, snide barbs perfectly aimed where he knew they’d hurt her the most.

Best leave the piano playing to me, dear. Your performance may have pleased your papa, but European audiences are more discerning than an American ear. Change that gown, it makes you look sallow. You’ll be outshone by the countesses and duchesses we’ll be seeing this evening
…

“Mrs. Keller, are you all right?”

She started at the look of concern in Gideon’s eyes. “What?”