Garth smiled and nodded a response. However, sometimes change was not a choice but something forced upon one. Had his wife not died, he would not be here in Blessing. He’d still be in Minneapolis.
‘‘Penny, is the coffee hot?’’ Hjelmer called as he pushed open the door to the family quarters.
‘‘Will be in a minute,’’ she called back.
Hjelmer peeked under the edge of a towel that covered something cooling on the table. ‘‘Molasses and ginger, one of my favorites. Have a chair.’’ He indicated one on the other side of the table.
‘‘Good to see you again, Mr. Wiste,’’ Penny said as she pushed through the fabric hanging in the doorway between the store and the house. ‘‘I see you found Hjelmer.’’
‘‘Garth says he wants to buy that lot on the other side of the church.’’
‘‘Wonderful.’’ She added several sticks to the firebox and pulled the coffeepot forward. ‘‘Have you decided which plan you will use?’’
‘‘Not yet. But whichever plan, I need to get a cellar dug before the house gets here. And since I need to return to Minneapolis to clear up some unfinished business, I want to find someone to dig it for me.’’
Hjelmer nodded slowly. ‘‘I’ll talk to Thorliff. We’ve a crew that builds, digs—whatever needs doing. You lay it out, and they’ll take care of it.’’
‘‘I see. They pour concrete walls for the cellar too?’’ Garth glanced up at the clock over the kitchen sink. How could he hurry this conversation along? The hands were clicking toward eleven at an alarming rate. He knew Sophie didn’t have a lot of time this close to the dinner hour.
‘‘Of course.’’
‘‘Will some of your men be working on the flour mill reconstruction?’’ ‘‘Most likely. Seems lately we have more jobs here than men to do them. Blessing is growing.’’
‘‘Ingeborg is looking for more help for the cheese house too.’’ Penny set a plate of cookies on the table. ‘‘You take cream with your coffee?’’
‘‘No thanks. Black is best.’’ Garth waited while she filled his cup. ‘‘How much do you want for that lot?’’
‘‘Well . . .’’ Hjelmer rubbed his chin and stared out the window. ‘‘I was asking two fifty, but for you I’d take two hundred.’’
Garth thought a moment. ‘‘How much for the other one?’’
‘‘That’s about a third smaller, say one fifty.’’
‘‘How about one seventy-five for the larger one?’’
‘‘You drive a hard bargain.’’ Hjelmer looked up at Penny, then back to Garth. ‘‘Cash, or do you need time to pay it out?’’
‘‘Cash, as soon as I return from Minneapolis. I’ll give you fifty now and the rest then.’’
‘‘Deal.’’ Hjelmer extended his hand. ‘‘You want a well dug, I can take care of that.’’
‘‘How much?’’
‘‘Depends on how deep we have to go. Water table is pretty high here, but you need to go deeper for sweet water.’’
Garth glanced at the clock on the shelf between the windows. ‘‘Will fifty down get you started?’’
‘‘And possibly finished. I’ll start as soon as you mark out your house. Do you want a windmill or just a pump?’’
Before he left at five to eleven, Garth had a contract in his pocket and a decidedly different weight to his pocketbook. He wished he had time to pace out the house location, but he’d told Sophie eleven, and he refused to be late. Besides, someone else would be sure to tell her what he’d been doing if he didn’t get there right away. News had a habit of getting around town faster than birds flew.
He took the boardinghouse steps in one bound and opened the door, still whistling. When he didn’t see her behind her desk, he headed for the kitchen. ‘‘You know where Sophie is?’’ he asked Mrs. Sam.
‘‘Miss Sophie in her room.’’
‘‘Is she sick?’’ Sophie was usually right in here.
‘‘Not dat I know.’’
‘‘Lying down?’’
Mrs. Sam shrugged and shook her turbaned head. ‘‘Just go knock on de door.’’
‘‘Of course, thank you.’’
He crossed the dining room and went through the vestibule. Her door was closed. Taking a deep breath to throw off the feeling of apprehension, he tapped on the door.
‘‘Come in.’’
Her voice sounded all right. He pushed open the door and stepped just inside so the door wouldn’t close. ‘‘Sophie?’’
‘‘Over here.’’ She rose from the wingback chair that faced the window overlooking the street. One hand clutched an envelope with a sheet of paper.
‘‘What is it? Are you all right?’’
‘‘Yes, I think so.’’ But her face looked pale, as if she’d received a shock. She held out the letter. ‘‘This is from Mrs. Jorgeson, widow of the captain of the
Sea Lily
in Ballard.’’
Garth waited.
A narrower piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He stepped forward and squatted down to pick it up for her. Handing it back, he stared into her eyes. He knew the paper was a check.
What could make
her act so strange?
T
HIS CAN’T BE REAL.
Sophie watched as Garth knelt to pick up the check. Thick dark hair, darker than her own, neither brown nor black but a blend. Although from this angle, she saw threads of silver in his. He wasn’t that much older than she, or at least it seemed that way.
When he looked up at her, confusion carved lines in his broad forehead, perhaps becoming wider as the hairline receded slightly.
‘‘Here.’’ He put the paper back in her hands. Hands that now had started to shake. ‘‘I think you should sit down. You look pale.’’
‘‘Yes, I’m sure.’’ She took back the check and tucked it into the folds of the letter as she sat on the edge of her chair.
‘‘Sophie, what is it?’’ He glanced over to make sure the door was still open before sitting on the footstool in front of her.
Should I tell him? Who would I rather tell first? Mor and Grace?
Her thoughts ran back in time again.
Ah, Hamre, so close you were to buying
your boat. I don’t know what a fishing boat costs, but this is a lot of money
to have saved. No wonder you fussed at me. If you had only told me, perhaps
I would have acted better
. All the while her thoughts were drifting, she inserted the letter back in the envelope, precisely, to make sure no edges were bent.
When Garth took her hands, she stared down at them. His broad with dark hairs on the back, hers slender, chapped, badly in need of lotion. When she and Grace were little, their mother had smoothed their chapped hands with goose fat because they had no money for lotions and nice soaps. These had become her one indulgence since she took over the boardinghouse. And still her hands were chapped. She brought her thoughts into focus. Why was he holding her hands like this? Were they such good friends?
‘‘I can travel now.’’ Her voice barely stirred the air in the room.
Go
on all the adventures I want. Why am I not singing and dancing and
announcing this to the world?
‘‘I see.’’ But his face said that clearly he didn’t.
She tapped the envelope. Since she’d already started telling him, she might as well finish. ‘‘With the fishing season over, Mrs. Jorgeson sent me the money Hamre had been saving for his boat, including his share from this year’s catch. He’d invested his savings with Captain Jorgeson. No wonder Hamre loved fishing. He made a goodly amount of money.’’
But look at the price he paid, or I paid. According to Pastor Solberg,
Hamre is in heaven worshiping at Jesus’ feet
. Her nose stung and her eyes filled.
And I thought him stingy. Which he was
. ‘‘He got really angry at me one day because I took some money from the pouch and bought a new hat. I thought he’d think me pretty and be proud of me.’’
‘‘I’m sure he thought you not only pretty but beautiful.’’ Garth paused. ‘‘For you are.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’ She drew her hands free. They shouldn’t be alone in her room, let alone him holding her hands like that. And yet it felt so good, so familiar. Ah, how she’d missed a man holding her hands. She peered into his face. A dear face still clouded with . . . with what? Confusion? Of course, so much information . . . and here he—
‘‘Think of someone besides yourself, Sophie.’’
She could hear her mother’s words ringing in her ears, words from long ago and inferences from not so long ago.
‘‘Oh, you had something to tell me, to show me, you said.’’
Some
friend I am, thinking only of myself like this
.
‘‘I have a feeling your news is of more import than mine.’’
‘‘Not at all.’’ She leaned forward. ‘‘What is it?’’
He pulled some papers out of the inside breast pocket of his jacket. ‘‘I want you to help me choose which house to buy. Like Andrew, I’m going to order a package from Sears and Roebuck. I picked these up at Penny’s.’’ He laid three pieces of paper in her lap. ‘‘On the front of each page is the exterior view and on the back are the floor plans.’’ He held up the first of the front views, then the second and the third. ‘‘What do you think?’’
Forcing herself to concentrate, Sophie looked at each one carefully. ‘‘I think they are all wonderful. Where will you build it?’’
‘‘I bought a half acre lot from Hjelmer. It’s on the other side of the church. There will be room for children to play, to have a garden, and maybe a big shade tree or two.’’
‘‘You have been busy.’’
‘‘I decided life is too short to spend waiting.’’
Waiting. That’s what I’ve been doing
. She paused, feeling the baby moving.
After the baby is born, I can hire a nanny to travel with us
. She hesitated to think it, but . . . she would be nearly rich. That would make things so much easier. Perhaps Grace would like to come along. This wasn’t a new thought, but she’d never had the money to seriously think about anything. Unless, of course, she sold the boardinghouse.
‘‘So which do you like best?’’
His question brought her back to the moment. ‘‘Which do
you
like the best? That is the question.’’
‘‘I narrowed it down to these three, and now I need a woman’s opinion. Your opinion.’’
Then you better go ask my mother
was her first thought, closely followed by a warm feeling that flowed around her heart. She returned her attention to the papers, turning them over to see the outlines of the walls and rooms.
‘‘They are all big houses.’’
‘‘I know. Remember, I already have two children. I like both the front and back porches on this one and the four bedrooms upstairs. I’m thinking of a coal furnace in the cellar. Like Thorliff has.’’
Who is going to care for your children?
The question popped into her mind, and then she remembered another of their talks where he had said his sister might come and live there when he had a house.
‘‘I need to sell my house in Minneapolis, but I’m going to order one of these first.’’
‘‘So you are leaving?’’
‘‘For a while.’’
How long?
‘‘Who will build your house if you are gone?’’
‘‘I’ll be back. You still didn’t tell me which one you like best.’’
‘‘What color will you paint it?’’
‘‘What color do you like?’’
‘‘White with green trim. And maybe some yellow or . . .’’ Her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘‘I saw a house in Seattle with dark green trim and some yellow as part of the trim. It was really pretty.’’ She traced a line around a window on the picture he seemed to like the best. ‘‘Right in here. I vote for this one.’’
‘‘We agree.’’
‘‘We do?’’
Staring into her eyes, he lifted one of her hands and brought the back of it to his lips. ‘‘We do.’’ He leaned forward. ‘‘Sophie . . .’’
A knock at the half-opened door shattered the moment. Feeling like something special had just started and now lay in shards on the floor, Sophie sat back. ‘‘Come in.’’
‘‘There’s a gentleman here to see you, Miss Sophie.’’ Lily Mae peeked around the door.
‘‘Who is it?’’
‘‘Man who was here the other day.’’
Sophie sat up straight, slammed her palms on the arms of the chair, and heaved herself to her feet. ‘‘I guess he just doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.’’ She whipped off her apron and threw it across the back of the chair.
‘‘I’ll speak to him if you want,’’ Garth offered.
‘‘No thank you. I’ll do this myself.’’ She marched across the room and out the door. Without bothering to paste a smile in place, she paused in the middle of the vestibule. The man was standing in the entrance to the dining room, watching something so intently he didn’t hear her.
‘‘Mr. Cumberland, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?’’ She could feel her mother at her own house wincing at the tone in her daughter’s voice. Polite was not exactly a good description.
‘‘Good morning, Mrs. Bjorklund. Such a fine day, don’t you think?’’
‘‘It was.’’
State your business and get out of here. No matter how nice
you act, I remember the furious look from the other day
.
‘‘I talked with my associates. Could we sit down so I can show you what we decided?’’ He gestured toward the dining room.
‘‘No, I think not. We are busy getting ready for dinner.’’
‘‘Oh, I see.’’
She could tell he didn’t see at all. Perhaps he wasn’t used to not getting his own way. ‘‘Please, Mr. Cumberland, I have work to do. Just tell me what it is you decided.’’ She put a twist on the word, like it left a bad taste in her mouth, which it did. He decided? He and his associates decided?
‘‘Well, ah, I realized that I hadn’t presented my best offer the other day, and I wanted to make amends.’’
‘‘Make amends? I thought I explained to you quite clearly what my position was.’’
‘‘But you haven’t heard my offer.’’
She huffed a sigh. ‘‘What is your offer?’’
He pulled a paper from his breast pocket. ‘‘I have the figures all written down here. Are you sure there isn’t a man you’d like to have look at these? We’ve really put together a very good offer. Perhaps your uncle?’’
‘‘My uncle?’’
‘‘You know, Mr. Hjelmer Bjorklund? I think he would give you good advice. He understands the business world.’’
Sophie could feel Garth coming up behind her. She took a step forward and took the paper the man extended. Glancing down the column of figures, she reached the bottom line. Nearly double what he’d offered the time before.