Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles 03] (30 page)

Ladora nodded, but then she called after Grace. “I…uh…do you think you and the colonel could see your way to letting me stay on for a few weeks more? Just until I find something else?”

Now it was Grace’s turn to be confused. She turned back around. “Why would you want to find something else?”

“Well, if you’re wanting to take over as housekeeper.”

“What?! No! I—” Grace started to laugh. “Oh no. That’s not what I meant at all.” She shook her head. “Goodness gracious, Josiah would either starve or drown in a pile of clothes I’d ruined trying to do the laundry. No, no, no.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve forgotten the very little I ever knew about cooking or housekeeping. I just want to help the woman who does those things so well.” She hesitated. “The truth of the matter is that I don’t know how this is all going to work out—my coming home, I mean. I’m not really good for anything.” She smiled. “Although I do like to think I was a first-rate rhubarb chopper before you got so prickly about letting me work in the kitchen.”

Ladora laughed. “Well, all right, then. You can help as much as you want. We’ve got double the baking to do today. Can’t be baking on the Sabbath. The colonel isn’t quite so strict on the rules about all that, but the Good Book says we ought not to be a stumbling block, and some of the ladies would question my status with the good Lord if I was to bake a passel of pies on the Sabbath. And that might reflect poorly on the colonel. Can’t have that.” Ladora took a deep breath. “Now I’ll get to the eggs, and you get to the kitchen.” She bustled off.

Grace had lined up the pie pans on the kitchen counter and commenced to processing the pie plant when Ladora came in, her apron pockets bulging with fresh eggs.

“You said you’d think on calling me ‘Grace,’” Grace said. “Have you thought on it?”

“Fact is, I asked the colonel what he thought about it before I chased you down this morning.”

Grace looked toward Josiah’s office. “He’s up?”

“He is.” Ladora nodded. “And fit to be tied. I headed to the front porch to fetch his newspapers, and there he was, going through his papers like they was a haystack and he’d lost the only needle known to mankind in the midst of ’em. That’s when I asked him about what I should call you.”

“And he said?”

“He said I should do whatever it takes to make you feel to home ’cause he don’t want you running off again ever.” Ladora smiled. “So,
Grace
, if you’d want to make the colonel his coffee this mornin’, that would allow me to get to the business of the piecrust—not that I’m giving orders or anything.”

Grace stood in the doorway with Josiah’s coffee in hand. “Ladora was right,” she said, as she held out the mug of steaming coffee. “She said you were searching for the proverbial needle in your haystack of papers.”

Josiah took a sip of coffee with a grateful sigh. “Actually, I found what I was looking for the first time, but reading through it reminded me of something else.” He set the coffee mug down on his main desk. “And it would appear that that
second
needle in my research haystack may have gone permanently missing.”

“Can I help?”

He gestured at the research desk. “I was sure it was right here, but if I don’t find it soon, yes.” He smiled. “Just don’t let me be the one to make you abandon Mrs. Riley today. Talmage is sure to bring out the largest crowd yet tomorrow. That means the ladies have the opportunity to take in a good deal of money for their missions projects.” He gazed across the room at the portraits hanging on the wall. “Mr. Shaw will be by Monday morning. And I really do need to locate a specific report so that I’m fully prepared for his visit.”

Grace followed Josiah’s gaze across the room. “Who is the man standing next to you in the one on the left?”

Josiah didn’t answer right away. “What, exactly, do you know about Noah Shaw?”

“Only what I’ve already told you. I met him on the train, when I was in full ‘Madame Jumeaux’ mode.” She sighed. “I was quite insufferable. Looking down my nose at everything, waxing braggadocious about my European tour. To his credit, Mr. Shaw was patient, kind, and generous.” Again, she asked about the man in the photograph.

“That’s Kit LeShario. He was one of Luther North’s scouts. The last I heard, Bill Cody had hired him to work out at Scout’s Rest—that’s Bill’s ranch out in Lincoln County.”

“And you know him because…?”

“
Knew
him,” Josiah said. “Over twenty years ago.” He took another gulp of coffee. “Did Shaw say anything to you about his family? Where he’s from? Anything at all?”

Grace thought back. “Nothing that isn’t already in the brief commentary printed in the Chautauqua program.”

“The program!” Josiah glanced over at the other desk. “I haven’t so much as looked at it.”

“And there was an article in the
Dispatch
about him last week. It would have been Wednesday. Miss Rhodes did her second Ten for Ten interview with him, as well.” Grace motioned to the stack of newspapers in the corner. “I’ll find them for you, but first, come and eat breakfast before it gets cold. Ladora has had enough upsets for one day.”

“Mrs. Riley is upset?”

“Not anymore.”

“But she was?”

“She thought it would be putting on airs for her to call me ‘Grace’ and allow me to help with chores now and then. Thank you for setting her straight on the matter, by the way. And I took care of the other issue.”

“Which was?”

“Convincing her that I don’t want her job.” With a soft laugh, Grace motioned Josiah toward the kitchen.

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made….”
Noah lingered in his room on Saturday morning, replaying last evening in his mind, reveling in the memory of Emilie Rhodes’s kiss, and realizing that Robert Browning’s familiar words would never again be just another beautiful piece of literature. He, Noah Shaw, had found someone he wanted to grow old with, and Browning’s declaration that the first of life was made for the last resonated in a new way.

In the first part of his life, Ma had done her best to teach Noah things that would prepare him for the last part.
Learn to be content. Don’t long for things you cannot have
, she’d said on that long ago day when he’d tried to lighten his skin to please Sally Bennet.
Thank God for all you do have.
Wasn’t it nice to be so tall? And wasn’t he thankful for all that thick black hair? Just think of poor Mr. Cooper at the general store and the ridiculous way he combed his thinning hair, trying to make people believe he wasn’t half bald.

Even after Ma died and life got hard, Noah did his best to be thankful. Self pity was an ugly thing, and for all the hardships he might have had, he only needed to look around him to realize he’d also been blessed. He’d never gone hungry. God had provided people like Professor Gordon to teach him how to comport himself in society, and when the chance came to be on stage, Noah had been ready. And now, now he was ready for this. Ready to share his life with a brave girl—except, of course, when it came to snakes. The memory made him smile.

Every time he’d felt lonely, every time he’d longed for family ties and a real home, Noah had remembered Ma’s lesson.
Look around you. Thank God for all you have.
And he was thankful. It was just that meeting Emily and her family and friends had resurrected the old longing. Kissing her and holding her in his arms had whispered promise and hope. Now, as he lay in bed and relived last evening’s kiss, joy flowed through him.

I might not have to be alone, Ma.

A promise like that was enough to make a man smile. To make him want to sing, even if he was nearly tone deaf. And if the walls of this hotel weren’t so thin, he’d have begun his day with a rousing chorus of…something.

He might need to take another walk tonight.

S
he’d done her best to sleep, and now Emilie was doing her best to act as if she cared about Saturday’s highly lauded “Grand Joint Debate” to take place this afternoon on the Tabernacle stage—a debate over the “prohibition question.” It was easier to be enthusiastic about hearing the celebrated Reverend T. De Witt Talmage tomorrow afternoon. His article on “The Despotism of the Needle” was a special favorite of hers. Still, everything associated with the Chautauqua assembly seemed inconsequential in light of that fact that she’d been thoroughly kissed by the most handsome man in the universe—a man whose very presence thrilled her right down to the pointed toes of her white summer boots.

Noah had wanted to speak with Father today. “I may be a traveling man, but I’m no heathen, and it’s only proper that I request his permission to court you.”

She’d actually giggled. “No one thinks you’re a heathen, and I’ve just given you the only permission that really matters.” She’d stepped into his arms again and encouraged another kiss, but Noah captured her hand instead. “I want more than stolen kisses by the light of the moon, Emily Jane.” He smiled down at her. “Does the idea of being courted by a man you barely know horrify you?”

She shook her head. “I already told you that you’re the only name on my dance card. And I feel as though I’ve known you for most of my life.”

He’d walked her back to the Bee Hive then. There’d been no good-night kiss—unless Emily counted the one to the back of her hand—so here she sat at her desk on a sweltering July morning, trying to work. As if her entire world hadn’t been turned on end just a few hours ago.

She’d awakened when April and June got up and headed out to replenish the Bee Hive’s water supply. Now she was struggling not to daydream about Noah. She had only managed to write an introductory sentence to her article about Professor Davidson, who was providing an evening lecture and lantern show titled “From the Italian Lakes to Vesuvius.”

Mother and Father had gone to Italy on their wedding trip. Of course she and Noah wouldn’t be able to afford any such thing unless Father gave them a wedding trip.
Wedding. Honeymoon.
The former word made her smile. The latter caused a blush.

May’s voice sounded from the direction of her cot on the opposite side of the tent wing they shared. “So. Tell me.”

Emilie didn’t turn around. “April and June? They went to get water.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“It isn’t?”

“Turn around and talk to me,” May said, “or I’m going to make a sign that says ‘The Bee Hive, temporary office of E. J. Starr’ to hang outside.”

Emilie spun about on her stool. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” May said as she sat up. “But it got your attention.” She grinned. “Did you even
see
the fireworks?”

“I liked the ones that changed from green to white best. What about you?”

“It was all beautiful,” May said. “The Penners preempted us in that spot on the river where we all planned to watch the river parade. They were waiting when we got there. Bert stuck by Junie all evening long, though. She was so happy, I thought she was going to soar right up into the sky. He even walked her back here to the Bee Hive. With April and me as chaperones, of course. But I think he’s finally beginning to notice that June has blossomed.”

“It’s about time.” Emilie looked down at the blank piece of paper before her. “I can’t seem to think what to write.”

June ducked into the tent. “You have to come quick. April and I stopped by the post office, and there was a letter from Elwood. April was so pleased—at first. And then she just went pale.” June gulped. “He’s broken their engagement.”

May blurted out, “In a letter?!” She hopped up and went to the tent flap and peered out. “Where is she?”

“She said she needed some time alone,” June said. “She’s gone home.”

“Should we tell Mama?”

May and Emilie both said no at the same time. “It’s not our news to tell,” May said.

“I agree with that, and I understand her wanting to be alone, but I hate the idea—”

“We should follow,” May said.

Emilie gathered up her papers. “I can finish my article at the dining-room table. And aren’t we glad that we aren’t on the program again until Monday?” She paused. “I’ll stop and leave a note for Noah at the hotel. If he comes looking for me and I’m not here, he might worry.”