Authors: Penny Richards
Cilla seemed surprised by the gesture. “Even you?”
Feeling the threat of tears, Allison nodded. She was thankful her relationship with Cilla was progressing so well and pleased that she'd realized what she'd done was wrong.
“Even me. Someday I'll tell you how poorly I behaved when I went to tell your father what happened. My conduct was not very grown-up or appropriate.”
Cilla looked fascinated by the admission. “What did Pa do?”
“Let's just say that his behavior was on par with mine.”
“I'd like to have seen that,” Cilla said with a saucy grin.
Hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction, Allison asked, “Are you looking forward to the ice-cream social tomorrow?”
The smile disappeared. “Yes and no. I want to go, but I wish I had something new to wear. The only really nice dress I have is my blue-and-white gingham, and I'll have to wear that to church the next morning.” A flicker of sorrow darted through her eyes. “Some of the other girls have new things.”
Allison remembered being where Cilla was. Changing physically and emotionally. Knowing she wasn't as pretty as some of her friends. Knowing she was smarter than most of the boys. Uncertain how to handle either situation. Inherently happy, she was joyful one moment, sad the next. Flying off the handle for little reason.
Poor Cilla! As much as she loved her father and he loved her, Colt was no substitute for the mother she'd lost. She needed a mother, and for the moment, Allison was the closest thing she had. She searched her mind for something to say to make her feel better without putting the father she adored in a bad light. As she often did, Allison mentally framed a short prayer before speaking.
“Well, no doubt they have mothers who sew,” she offered when she'd finished and gathered her thoughts. “When I was growing up, dresses got passed down from Belinda to Ellie and then to me. My mother would let out the hem or take it up and add a different style of collar and maybe some cuffs or new sleeves. Sometimes she just changed the old buttons for new and added some lace, just something to make it look new to us.”
“You wore hand-me-downs?”
“Oh, yes, and was glad to have them,” Allison said. “My family wasn't wealthy, but we did well enough until my father got ill, and then there was no money for store-bought fripperies. We were taught that it wasn't what we had, but how we used what we had that was important. My mama always said that we were very blessed because we had a roof over our heads, food to eat, a bed to sleep in and we were healthy. She told us that there were plenty of people who would be thrilled to have what we did and that we should always be thankful God had given us so much.”
Cilla seemed to think about that.
“Here's the problem as I see it,” Allison continued. “You don't have any sisters to pass things down, you don't have a mother to sew for you, and I doubt it ever enters your father's head to get you anything new until you outgrow your dresses.”
Cilla's eyes widened. “How did you know?”
Allison leaned toward her young friend and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It's men,” she confided, her eyes twinkling behind the lenses of her spectacles. “They don't understand that we women need an occasional pretty dress and gewgaws and such. As long as they have a clean pair of pants and a shirt when they need them, they're pretty happy. Why, most of them don't even notice when their collars and cuffs need turning.”
“You're right,” Cilla said with a nod of wonder. “Pa never notices how worn-out his shirts are looking. I have to tell him to go to the mercantile and pick out some new ones.”
“It must be hard to have so many responsibilities at your age.” Allison was truly amazed at how well Cilla did with the responsibilities life had handed her.
Cilla's shrug seemed to say that it was nothing; that was just the way things were.
“I admire you for taking such good care of your brother and your father.”
“You do?”
Allison nodded. “Very much. I wasn't very domestic growing up, and according to my mother, I always had my nose in a book. I'm not certain I could have done as well as you do.”
Cilla clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them for a moment, then looked up, a solemn expression on her face. “Miss Grainger,” she said. “May I ask you something?”
Uh-oh. What now? “You may,” she said with a bit of trepidation.
“Did you have a beau when you were my age?” Cilla asked, looking at Allison from beneath her eyelashes.
Oh, dear! She hoped they were not about to get into a discussion about the birds and bees. She drew in a steadying breath and said, “Well, I believe I was a little older than you when I developed my first crush on a boy. Tommy Hartwell.”
“Did he like you back?”
Allison laughed. “He had no idea I was even alive.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “In my very limited experience, it seems to me that young boys prefer blondes and brunettes, not girls with red hair and freckles. Why? Have you set your sights on some boy?”
“Maybe,” she said.
Allison prayed for inspiration and a change of topic.
God must have been listening, because a thought popped into her mind almost instantly. She clapped her hands together and offered Cilla a bright smile. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“It won't help for tomorrow, but I know how to sew, and I can teach you. What if I ask your father if he'll buy some material, and you and I can work together to make you some new things? I can show you how to cut out the patterns and how to use the sewing machine. Would you like that?”
“Oh, Miss Grainger, would you?” Cilla breathed, her eyes alight with excitement.
“I'd love to. Oh!” she cried, as another idea flashed into her mind. “Mrs. Granville just came back to town. What if I ask her and her daughter about the newest styles back in Boston? They're sure to know. In fact, I think Blythe spent a few weeks in Paris last year.”
Cilla's pretty face glowed. “That would be wonderful, Miss Grainger! They always look so stylish.”
“Indeed they do,” Allison agreed. “I'm sure they'll be at the ice-cream social tomorrow. I'll make an effort to speak with them then. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to help us. They're both very nice, though it seems Blythe is a tad shy and a little uncomfortable with our small-town ways.”
“Well, I'd be uncomfortable in a big city,” Cilla confessed.
“Me, too. Wolf Creek is perfect for me.”
That settled, they sipped at their lemonade and Cilla started her last cookie. She seemed deep in thought. After a moment, she sat up straighter, as if she were gathering her courage.
“I was wondering why you never got married.”
Allison stared at Cilla. She was so taken aback by the question that it never crossed her mind that it was not one a child should be asking.
“I was going to get married several years ago, but...as it turns out, the man I planned to marry decided that he, uh, didn't love me enough and called it off. He soon married another girl.”
“He threw you over for someone else?” Cilla asked with her customary bluntness. “That was shameful of him.” Somehow she managed to look both indignant and regretful for asking the question. “I'll bet it really made you sad.”
“At the time, yes,” Allison quipped, as if the whole ordeal had not been the worst thing that ever happened to her.
A memory of Colt's kiss skittered through her mind. That kiss and the way she'd felt during those few heart-pounding seconds his mouth was pressed against hers had put her past into perspective far better than time and maturity had. Jesse Castle had never come close to making her feel the way Colt did.
“Even though it felt very real, when I look back I see that we were very young and that what I thought was love was perhaps just two people with a strong foundation of friendship and mutual interests.”
“And you've never found anyone else you think you could love?”
“I've only just reached a point where I've begun to think about that possibility again,” she confessed. “But who knows what life has in store? And I'm very particular.”
“I imagine you want someone really handsome.”
Colt's face flashed into Allison's mind. She thrust aside the image. “Of course, any woman would be proud to have a handsome man for a husband, but I've always believed that pretty is as pretty does,” she said. “For men and women. Outer beauty fades, but inner beauty only grows with time and wisdom. To me, honesty and kindness and a man who loves the Lord are more important.”
“Oh.” Looking thoughtful, Cilla drained her glass and carried it to the dishpan. “Thank you for the cookies and lemonade, Miss Grainger,” she said. “If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stop for the day. I remembered something I need to do at home.”
“Certainly,” Allison said, wondering at the child's abrupt departure. “I'll see you tomorrow evening at the ice-cream social.”
“Yes, ma'am. We'll be there.”
The excitement and eagerness she'd displayed just moments ago seemed to have fled. “Is everything all right, Cilla?”
“Fine,” she said with a nod. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
W
hen Cilla left, Allison finished her ironing, changed into a skirt and blouse that were presentable and headed across town to Ellie's. It was still a little early for the noon rush, and she found Bethany refilling the salt and pepper shakers and her sister bustling around in the kitchen, taking care of the last-minute preparations.
“Hello, sister dear,” Ellie said, pouring a steady stream of thickening into a large pot of fragrant beef broth. “Grab the potato masher and mash those spuds, will you? I've already drained the water off for the gravy, which I'm trying to finish.”
Though Ellie sometimes had help in the kitchen, Allison was used to giving a hand when she was needed.
“Of course.” She rolled her sleeves above her elbows, washed her hands and tied the extra apron hanging near the doorway around her waist.
“What brings you here?” Ellie said. “You haven't been in much the past week or so.”
“I don't have as much free time,” Allison said, dumping some salt into her palm and then, deciding it was the right amount, into the steaming potatoes.
“Brady and Cilla come almost every day to work on their lessons.” She added pepper in proportion, and then a large chunk of butter. Taking up the twisted wire potato masher, she began working on the starchy vegetable.
“How's that going?”
“Fine. Cilla is doing very well with her piano lessons, and I hope to see improvement in Brady soon, since I think I've discovered what his problem is.”
She told Ellie what she'd heard from her professors and the ideas she'd already put into place or planned to in the near future.
“How did Colt take the news? He was so sure it was you at fault and not Brady.”
“Better than I expected,” Allison said. “So did Brady.”
“Are things still going okay between you and Colt?” Grinning, Ellie looked up from the gravy she was stirring. “I wasn't too sure you'd be able to work together after your, uh, rocky beginning.”
Allison blew a wayward strand of damp hair out of her eyes and tossed a wry glance toward her sister. “Well, there's nothing like the threat of losing your job to make a person cooperative.”
“You or him?” Ellie teased.
“Both of us.”
“Whatever you're doing must be working. The change in those kids is amazing. Even Gabe says they're on their best behavior when they help out at the store.”
“It's too soon to say they're really changing,” Allison said on a sigh, “but I'll admit that they have been wonderful. I'm almost afraid to hope it might last.”
She went to the icebox, took out a crockery pitcher of milk and poured the rich cream that had risen to the top into the potatoes.
Ellie shot Allison a sideways look. “Have you spent any more...family time together since you played croquet last Friday evening?”
“No,” Allison snapped.
“No need to bite off my head,” Ellie said, looking taken aback by her sister's reply. “Will you be meeting up with Colt and the kids at the ice-cream party tomorrow?”
“Why all the interest in what I'm doing with the Garretts?”
Ellie shrugged. “Just trying to catch up on what's been happening with you. Why are you so snappy when I mention him?”
“I'm not.”
“Are, too.”
Allison couldn't help laughing, but the sound seemed hollow even to her own ears. The uncertainty she'd tried to ignore rose inside her. She was in over her head when it came to dealing with men. Far out of her depth when it came to knowing what to do about the situation with Colt.
She looked up at her sister through a glaze of tears. “I just...”
“What is it?”
“He...um, yesterday, heâhe kissed me.”
Ellie stood very still. “And...?” she prompted.
“I...kissed him back.”
“Oh, Allison!” Ellie breathed, rushing to her sister's side and pulling her into a loose embrace. “That's wonderful! I was hoping this would happen.”
“It's a disaster!” Allison wailed, wiping at her eyes with the tail of her apron.
“Why would you say that? If he kissed you it means he's interested in you. He likes you.”
“According to Miss Austen,” she said, referencing her favorite author, “a lady is not justified for falling in love before the gentleman declares his feelings.”
Ellie took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Forget Jane Austen. This is real life, and while we all agree that he's a good man, Colt might not meet all of her qualifications for gentlemen.”
Allison pulled free of Ellie's hold. “That doesn't alter the fact that he said he kissed me to shut me up.”
“Did it work?” Ellie asked with a saucy grin.
“For a few seconds. Oh, Ellie, I'm so confused. Why is it that the first man to interest me since Jesse is someone who could never love me?”
“Why do you say that? You'd be perfect for him and those kids of his.”
“This isn't about the kids!” Allison stormed. “It's about me! I want someone to love me for me. I'd rather be an old maid the rest of my life than settle for someone because he and his kids
need
me. You know as well as I do that I'm not the kind of woman who would ever interest a man like Colt Garrett.”
“Why?”
“Because he's so handsome and...” She made another swipe at her damp eyes, and her voice trailed away. Making a little pirouette, she said, “Look at me.”
Once again, Ellie took Allison's shoulders in a hard grip. “You. Are. Beautiful. You just need to stop dressing like some eighteen-year-old schoolgirl and update your style. With a bit of a fashion change, you'd knock him for a loop.” She frowned at Allison. “Didn't we have this discussion a week or so ago?”
Allison gave her a watery smile. “We did. Can we change the subject?”
“In a minute. Did you like it?”
“What? The kiss? That's a really stupid question, Ellie Carpenter. I actually thought I might faint. Didn't you like it when he kissed you?”
“He only kissed me once,” Ellie said. “And I didn't hear any bells and the earth didn't stand still or anything. I certainly didn't feel as if I might swoon.”
Allison looked at her sister as if she'd grown two heads. Her heart still started racing whenever she even
thought
of Colt's lips touching hers.
“What I did feel was that he might be looking for something more than friendship, so I told him why we needed to break things off.” Ellie's past wasn't something she talked about freely or often.
“See? That was only a short time ago,” Allison said. “He couldn't be over you already.”
“Silly goose! There was nothing to
get
over. It was just a little peck to see what would happen, and it was nothing meaningful for either of us. How did you leave things?”
“I told him we should forget that it happened. As if I could. I hardly shut an eye last night.”
“The plot thickens!” Ellie said in a melodramatic voice, rubbing the palms of her hands together in glee. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd say our handsome sheriff didn't sleep very well last night, either.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He was in earlier with Gabe and Win.” Ellie turned back to her bubbling gravy. “He looked like death warmed over.”
“He did?” Allison felt a rush of pleasure at the notion the kiss had kept Colt awake, too. Common sense reasserted itself, whispering that most likely he felt guilty, or worse, was afraid he might have messed up their bizarre working relationship.
“I don't want to talk about it anymore,” she said.
“What shall we talk about, then?” Ellie had gone back to the stove and was stirring a big pot of green beans seasoned with salt pork.
“The Granvilles. With all the excitement, I'd forgotten that they've come back. Have you seen any of them besides Win?”
“Blythe and Libby were in yesterday for supper and Win was in this morning having breakfast with Gabe and Colt.”
“I suppose Win is as sinfully handsome as ever.”
“If you like fops.”
Allison burst out laughing. “Fops? I believe you're in the wrong century. Or at least the wrong country. Win Granville may very well be the best-dressed man I've ever seen, but I don't believe for a moment that he's vain about it.”
“It's a free country. Think what you will. Doesn't make it true.”
The shortness in her sister's voice stunned Allison to silence. It wasn't like Ellie to take such an instant dislike to someone the way she had to Win. Allison studied her sister, who refused to meet her eyes.
“Oh, El!” she cried after a moment, covering her cheeks with her hands. “You're smitten with Win Granville.”
“I most certainly am not, Allison Elizabeth Grainger!”
“It
is
a free country. You can say what you want.” She tossed her sister's words back at her. “Doesn't make it true.”
* * *
A brief but severe thunderstorm moved through Wolf Creek in the early morning hours Saturday, dumping so much rain that it was impossible for the ice-cream social to take place. Homer spread the word that it would be held the following Saturday instead.
Of course every child in Wolf Creek whined and cried with disappointment, but Allison viewed the weeklong delay as an opportunity to speak with Libby and Blythe about some new things for Cilla that she might possibly whip together by the following weekend.
Allison approached the Granville women after services Sunday. After explaining the situation and making certain they had time to speak with her the following day, she met with them in Hattie's parlor as early as was socially acceptable on Monday morning.
“It's very sweet of you to take such an interest in Sheriff Garrett's children, Allison,” Libby said, adding a splash of cream to her coffee. “I've heard they can be quite a handful.”
“Well, they have been known to create a ruckus from time to time,” Allison admitted. “But Colt is spending more time with them, which seems to be helping, and we've identified some of their problems and concerns, and they seem to be turning around a bit.”
“You said something yesterday about Priscilla needing some new things,” Blythe said.
Allison nodded. “Unfortunately, like most men, her father doesn't understand that the older girls get, the more they want to look pretty and stylish. She's grown so the past few months that she hasn't very many things that still fit. I told her that I knew the two of you could help us with that, since you're up on all the latest fashion trends.”
“We're glad to help,” Libby told her. “The mayor is having the old newspaper office cleaned out so that I can put my books there. Until he finishes, Blythe and I are sitting around eating too many of Hattie's cookies and twiddling our thumbs. This will make a nice change of pace.”
“You're going to store your books there until you find a place of your own, then?” Allison asked.
Libby smiled and gave a little laugh. “Actually, no. Since I have hundreds of books, I've decided to open a lending library. It will give me a purpose while I'm here, and I think it would be a valuable contribution to the town, don't you?”
“Oh, Mrs. Granville! That's wonderful.” Allison's smile encompassed both Granville women. “I was saying not long ago that it's a shame Wolf Creek doesn't have a library, and now to think we will. It's the answer to this teacher's prayers!”
“I'm glad you're so pleased,” Libby said. She clasped her hands together. “Now, about Cilla. Do you think she can come over so we can get some measurements?”
“I can go after her right now if you like, but I'm not asking you to make the dresses. I can do that. I just need some guidance on what young girls are wearing in Boston, though we have to keep in mind that this is a country town, and they should be appropriate for the area and the events she'll be attending.”
“We know just what you mean,” Blythe said with a little laugh. “Mama and I were saying just last night that we feel overdressed with our bustles and such. We're going to need to make some plain skirts and things so we won't stick out like sore thumbs.”
“You're staying, too, then?” Allison asked. There had been a lot of discussion as to whether Caleb and Gabe's half sister would make the move with her mother or return to Boston when her brother left.
“Only until Win goes back. I don't see me here.”
Libby cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered loudly, “The truth is that there's a young man back in Boston who seems quite taken with her.”
“Mama!” Blythe cried, her face turning red. She rose from her chair and said, “I forgot to bring the magazines and catalogs down. I'll run and fetch them.”
Allison laughed with Libby, thinking what a nice woman she was and wondering how she would like living in Wolf Creek after spending so many years in a big city. Of course, her situation would be much different this time.
When Blythe returned with the periodicals, they pored over them and discussed fabric and styles for a good thirty minutes. They decided not to make any decisions before consulting with Cilla.
Allison was just about to leave to get Cilla when Libby said, “What about you, Allison? As we were looking through the book, I saw a dress I think would be lovely on you.” She proceeded to flip through the pages until she found the one she was talking about and pointed it out to Allison.
She stared down at the drawing. The dress was like nothing she'd ever worn before. The bodice was simple. Fitted. Unadorned. “It's awfully...plain, don't you think?”
“Oh, no!” Blythe said, peeking over Allison's shoulder. “The simplicity is what makes it so perfect for you.”
Frowning, Allison turned to look at her. “You don't think it's too...close-fitting? I'm a little, um...plump and Ellie says I'm, uh, busty.”