Hyacinth (Suitors of Seattle) (3 page)

Hyacinth wasn't certain how to respond to that, so she said nothing.  Their meals arrived, and she had the pot roast put in front of her.  She picked up her fork and slowly started eating, wondering what it would be like to have a man like Lawrence court her.  Of course she understood he was just seeing her because of their mutual interest in writing, but he was a fascinating man.  For the first time, she was with a man whom she sincerely hoped she would be able to get to know better.

*****

After dropping Hyacinth off at her home, Lawrence drove his buggy through Seattle's quiet streets to his own home, just a few streets over.  Hyacinth was the woman he was looking for.  He knew it.

He walked into his office after asking the groom to unhitch his horse.  His house was much bigger than it needed to be for one man, but he wanted a family.  He'd thought once that Amaryllis might be the perfect woman for him, but when he'd kissed her, there had been no special feelings.  He didn't know what he'd expected from the kiss, but it certainly hadn't been there whatever it was.

He picked up his copy of
The Seattle Times
and quickly flipped through it until he found the column he wanted to read.  At the beginning of November, a new column had made its debut in the paper, an advice column for lonely men who were looking to find wives.  He read the column carefully, thinking about how it would apply to his new relationship with Hyacinth. 

When he was finished reading, he gave a brief nod.  He could make certain
he gave her as much attention as possible.  Early in the morning he could wait in front of her house and walk with her to the library where he knew she'd spend her day.  He would learn her schedule and make his presence known fully.  She'd never doubt his love for her again.

Chapter Two

Women love flour.  If you love a woman, you should shower her with flour.  She will then realize how much you truly care for her and will thus be more receptive to your advances.  William Livingston, Advice Column to Lonely Men published in The Seattle Times, December eighth, 1896.

Hyacinth was starting to get nervous.  When she left her house in the mornings, Lawrence was there waiting for her.  He sat with her at the library all day, making his presence known, and most evenings he invited her out to supper.  She had never been pursued by such an
attentive
man before.  The word "stalker" had come to her mind more than once, but he didn't frighten her, really.  He just overwhelmed her with his presence at times. 

They had gone to dinner and attended a play in the week since their first outing together.  He had been a perfect gentleman the entire time, of course, and she had no complaints there.  It was her morning to stay in, and she could see him standing across the street, waiting to accompany her to the library.  In the rain.  She thought briefly about running out to tell him she'd be staying in, but she hadn't asked him to wait out there for her anyway.  Crazed man.

Hyacinth descended the stairs slowly, thinking about the scene she'd be writing later that day.  It was time for her heroine, Ambrosia, to receive her first kiss.  Of course, Hyacinth had never been kissed herself, so she couldn't help but worry she couldn't do the scene justice.  Perhaps she should kiss Lawrence -- for research purposes, of course.  Why else would she ever kiss the man?  It wasn't like he had full kissable lips or anything.  And his shoulders just looked broad under his jacket.  Surely he wasn't as attractive as her mind was making him out to be?

Hyacinth bumped into the wall leading to the parlor.  She sighed.  She was always
walking into walls.  Sometimes she had a hard time focusing on the world around her, because she was so busy living in a world of her own design.  Now she wasn't living so much in her literary worlds as she was in a world of fantasy with Lawrence as the star.

Her mother looked up.  "Did you hurt yourself this time, dear?"

Hyacinth shook her head, mortified anyone had seen her bump into the wall.  It was bad enough that she'd done it, but getting caught was something altogether different in her opinion.  "No, Mama.  I'm fine."  Thankfully her mother didn't ask why she walked into the wall.  Everyone just expected it of her.

Mary patted the spot on the small sofa beside her.  "Come sit with me for a minute.  I want to ask you something."

Hyacinth had always hated conversations that began that way, but she obediently moved across the room to sit beside her mother.  "What's that?"   Her voice was full of trepidation as she asked the question, but she wouldn't lie to her mother.  Somehow, the woman always knew when one of her daughters was lying to her.

"I know you've been seeing a lot of Lawrence, and I just wanted to know if it's time for you to talk to your aunt about him?"
  Mary referred to Uncle Max's wife who had agreed to investigate each of the men her nieces were interested in.

Hyacinth shook her head.  "Aunt Harriett?  Well, no, I don't think so.  I mean, he does act inordinately interested in me, but I think we've just started to realize we have a lot in common."

Mary raised an eyebrow.  "You do?  He's a famous writer, and you're a young lady who just finished school in Seattle.  What on earth could the two of you possibly have in common?"

Hyacinth shrugged, realizing she'd almost given herself away.  She didn't know why she wanted to keep her writing a secret from her family, but she did.  The mere thought of her sisters finding out about it, made her want to run to her bedroom and throw the covers over her head, never to be heard from again.  "Just opinions and things.  Nothing important."
  She couldn't let herself be teased over her writing, and even with Jasmine gone, there was a great deal of teasing that took place in the Sullivan household.

Mary shrugged.  "If you're certain."  She sighed.  "He sent you a rather odd gift today.  Well, several rather odd gifts actually."
  She was obviously perplexed about the gifts, whatever they were.

Hyacinth frowned.  Lawrence had never before sent her a gift.  What could he possibly have sent her?  "What did he
send me?"  She knew it couldn't be a ring, because they just had a friendship.  Maybe flowers? 

"Fifty pounds of flour in five ten-pound bags."

Hyacinth blinked a few times.  "Why would he give me flour?"  She'd never heard of such a thing.  Did he think she liked to bake?  And even if he did, that was an incredibly odd gift. 

"I was wondering the same thing, but I thought maybe you two had discussed something about baking?  I don't know."  Mary looked bewildered by the odd behavior of the young man courting her daughter.  "At least Sean, Daniel, and Alex did things that made sense to me.  I don't understand your Lawrence at all!"

"He's not 'my Lawrence', Mama.  We're just friends."  How many times did she have to say it for her family to begin to believe her?

"Then why is the man standing in the rain in front of the house again?"

Hyacinth sighed.  "I have no idea.  I think I need to run out there and see, though."  She stood and went to the coat closet in the entryway, pulling out her coat and an umbrella.  She put the umbrella over her head as she moved through the chilly morning air to where Lawrence stood across the street watching her house.

When she approached, he held up a hand in greeting.  "Did you get my gift?"
  He watched her face eagerly, obviously proud of what he'd sent.

Hyacinth nodded, a bit nervous.  "Why did you send me flour?"
  She knew it wasn't polite to question a gift, but she needed to be able to understand him if they were to remain friends.

He shrugged.  "I received some very good advice from a man more knowledgeable than I that women enjoy receiving flour as a gift."
  He'd thought it was odd advice, but he was going to listen to everything the man had to say.  He needed a wife, and more importantly, he needed Hyacinth to be that wife.

Hyacinth made a face.  "Are you certain he didn't mean flowers?  I can't think of a single woman I know who would want flour as a gift, but everyone enjoys flowers." She thought of the many bouquets of roses her eldest sister Rose had received over the years, and thought it would be nice to receive a bouquet of hyacinths just once. 

Lawrence frowned, wondering if somehow
The Seattle Times
had published the article with a typographical error.  He'd thought it seemed strange that a woman would want flour as a gift, but that's exactly what the article had said.  "I suppose it's possible I misunderstood.  Would you prefer to receive flowers?"

She blinked at him a few times.  "Well, of course, I'd prefer to receive flowers.  My name is Hyacinth.  I was named after a flower
, as were all seven of my sisters.  We love flowers.  We've never really had a choice in the matter."  The man must be even more unaware of his surroundings than she was to not know she liked flowers.  She wondered absently how many walls he walked into every day.

Lawrence sighed.  "I'll do the trite thing and bring you some flowers then.  What's your favorite flower?"
  He had thought the flour was at least an original gift.  Who really wanted flowers?

Hyacinth shook her head, trying not to laugh at him.  "Why don't you guess?"

He looked into her eyes for a moment, brushing the rain off the brim of his black hat.  How was he supposed to guess her favorite flower?  It wasn't like she had it written on her forehead for everyone to see.  "Are you going to the library today?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep the conversation under control.

"No, I usually stay home on
Tuesdays.  Mama likes for us to spend the day together at least once per week."  She studied him for a moment before adding, "I also spend Monday afternoons at the battered women's house."

He nodded.  "I see.  Well, I'll be off then."  He tipped his hat to her.  "You won't come to dinner with me?"
  He had always been happy with his own company, but lately, he wanted her to be with him all the time. 

Hyacinth
watched him for a moment.  "No, not tonight.  Why don't you come to dinner with my family?  I don't think you've met my father yet."  She was from a very tight knit family and wanted her father's opinion of the man before they became closer friends.

Lawrence felt his heart expand in his chest.  Was she truly inviting him to spend the evening with her family?  Asking him to meet her father?  He needed to get to know her father if he was going to court her.  "I'd like that a lot."

Hyacinth smiled briefly.  "We usually eat around six.  If you arrive by half past five that would be best."  She turned and rushed back across the street, opening the door and leaving her umbrella in the foyer so it wouldn't drip rain throughout the house.  She stomped her feet on the rug just inside the door that her sister Violet had made when she was ten.

Walking back into the parlor, she took the seat beside her mother on the sofa.  "I've invited Lawrence to have dinner with us this evening.  He's new to town and as far as I can tell, knows no one but our family.  You don't mind do you?"
  The question was rhetorical.  She knew her mother wouldn't mind if she invited a man to dinner.  Her mother was thrilled that she was finally showing an interest in a man and not living in a dream world.

Mary smiled, shaking her head.  "
I don't mind at all.  I do think it's time for you to talk to your Aunt Harriett about him, though.  Even if he's just a friend, it's good to have him checked out and make certain he's not dangerous in some way."

Hyacinth sighed.  "I know you want there to be a romance blooming, but there's reall
y not, Mama.  He's just lonely."  She was starting to think she wanted there to be a romance as well, but she had no idea how to go about showing that to Lawrence.

"Why did he send you flour?  Do you know yet?"

"Something about how he was given advice that sending flour to a woman was a gentlemanly thing?  I think?  It didn't make much sense to me.  He's a confusing man sometimes."  Hyacinth shrugged, wishing she knew what was going on in the man's head.

Mary shook her head.  "That makes no sense at all. Someone must have told him to send flowers to a woman
, and he took it to mean flour.  It's the only thing that makes sense."

Hyacinth nodded.  "That really must be it."  She looked at her mother, knowing she had something planned for their day together, because she always did.  "What are we going to do today?"
 
Please don't say shopping.  Please don't say shopping!

Mary smiled, taking Hyacinth's hand in hers.  "I think we're going to spend today shopping!  You need some new dresses now that you're going out more, and you really need a new hat."

Hyacinth sighed.  "Why don't you ask Rose to shop with you?  You know I don't enjoy shopping."  She'd never enjoyed shopping the way Rose and her mother had.  None of her sisters had to her knowledge, but since Rose and Mary loved it, Mary assumed all women did.

"Nonsense.  All women enjoy shopping."  Mary got to her feet.  "We'll have lunch at the
diner while we're out.  It'll be a good day."

Hyacinth knew better than to argue when her mother had her mind set to something.  "Yes, Mama."
  She kept her face straight, trying hard not to let her disappointment show.  She loved her mother and if showing her love meant shopping, she could do it.

*****

They spent the entire day shopping for dresses and hats.  Hyacinth stood still while the seamstress measured her for several gowns.  Finally, when they were just about to leave, Mary said, "We'd like to see some wedding dresses as well please.  My daughter is convinced she's going to be an old maid, but I think she's going to need a dress much sooner than she realizes."
  Mary's eyes twinkled as she smiled at the seamstress.

"Mama, I'm not getting married!"
  Hyacinth was mortified that her mother was even suggesting buying a wedding dress. 

The seamstress looked between them, but she easily recognized Mary as the dominant personality and brought out her book of wedding
dress designs.  There weren't many available with Seattle not being a huge city yet and there being so few women around.  Mary flipped through the book quickly.  "Would you be able to customize a dress for her?  Hyacinth is rather wide in the hips, so she'd need something like this one for the bottom, but she doesn't have much of a bust, so I think this one would be perfect for her top half.  Could you make that work?"  Mary pointed out two different gowns as she talked.

The seamstress nodded eagerly, recognizing the amount of money she could make from such an order.  "I'd be happy to do that, Mrs. Sullivan.  Would you like me to have that done before the other dresses or after?  Your daughters don't tend to give you much notice when they marry."

Mary frowned.  "Hyacinth is going to be different, aren't you, dear?  She's going to give me a perfectly respectable six months after she's engaged before she marries.  She knows that her mother needs that from her."  She glared at Hyacinth, obviously trying to shame her into agreeing.