Authors: Judith Miller
“If that’s the way you want it, that’s fine with me. I’ll be wanting me train fare from Pittsburgh to Bartlett right now. I know you wouldn’t want someone as untrustworthy as me looking after Tessa any longer.” Her lips twisted in a cruel smile as she glanced at Rose. “You best be figuring out how you’re gonna attend those fancy parties with no one to watch after Tessa. Seems someone besides me is gonna miss all the fun.”
“Tessa’s care will present no problem to us, Beatrice,” Ewan said. “I do hope you will reflect upon all that has happened. I’ll be praying for you.”
She pushed up from the chair and extended her hand. “I don’t need your prayers, but I’ll take the money for me train fare and be on my way.”
Rose met her brother’s steady gaze. “I’ll go up with her.”
Beatrice chortled. “Aye. You best make sure I don’t make off with some of your belongings.”
As Rose followed Beatrice up the stairs, she recalled having invited the nanny to her graduation party, loaning her a gown, and introducing her to Joshua Harkness. Even then, Beatrice had been ungrateful. Still, Rose would not be sorry for extending kindness. She would not permit this mayhem to harden her heart.
She watched the young woman toss her things into a valise and spotted the fancy forest-green dress she’d returned home wearing only a few weeks ago. Like Joshua, Beatrice had an empty place in her life, and she’d been trying to fill it with all sorts of things. Would she ever realize only God could meet her needs?
Despite all the chaos of the evening, Rose smiled. God had met their needs tonight in a most amazing way. With contracts returned, they would soon be in the black, and they didn’t need to win the contest to save the pottery.
September 28, 1872
R
ose dressed with particular care for the awards luncheon. She was saving her pale blue silk for the dinner and dance this evening, but for the luncheon something more sedate yet exceptional was needed. At least that’s what Mrs. Woodfield had advised as she’d selected the tan and blue brocade polonaise with narrow ruffled trim from Rose’s wardrobe. Though Rose had worried it might be a bit elaborate, Laura and her mother had disagreed and declared it perfect for the luncheon.
“You look lovely, Rose. That dress was the correct choice. Neither overstated nor understated—win or lose, it is a flawless selection for the ceremony.” She lifted her index finger and motioned for Rose to turn. “I have a strong feeling you and Rylan are going to win today.” She glanced in the mirror and patted her hair. “Back when you and I encouraged Ewan to purchase the pottery, you promised me you could make it successful. I believe your promise is going to be fulfilled today.”
Rose forced a smile, but the knot in her stomach swelled to the size of a fist. “I hope so, but if we don’t win, I still believe the pottery will be a success. Now that we know we lost some of our biggest contracts because Joshua had access to our bids, I don’t think we’ll have to worry should we lose today.”
Mrs. Woodfield pursed her lips and
tsked
. “Of course we would have to worry, my dear. We need an immediate large contract. We can’t wait until company contracts expire and they call for new bids. That would take far too long.”
Rose rested her hand across her tightening midsection. She was glad she hadn’t known this last night. She and Rylan had submitted their entry with pride and confidence, but hearing Grandmother Woodfield verbalize her expectations today caused Rose’s assurance to melt like ice on a summer day. Fear continued to follow her out of the room and into the downstairs lobby, where contestants, pottery owners, and a multitude of guests mingled, many of them stepping as close as possible to the corded-off table displaying the urns and plates of the final contenders. Others eagerly waited near the entrance to the large ballroom, where the luncheon was to be hosted.
Mrs. Woodfield spotted Ewan waving at them. Holding fast to Rose’s hand, the older woman navigated the crowd like a fearless captain piloting a ship through rough waters. “Why are you waiting back here? With this crowd, we’ll be fortunate to find enough seats for all of us at one table.” Without taking a breath, she set her gaze upon Adaira. “Where’s Ainslee?”
Adaira pointed toward the ceiling. “Upstairs with Tessa. Beatrice has already departed.”
“Even if she were still here, I wouldn’t have left Tessa in her care,” Ewan said. “As for the seating, you need not worry. I understand there are designated tables for the contestants and their guests.”
“I do hope they’re near the front so we’ll be able to see everything.” Mrs. Woodfield gestured toward the ballroom. “Come along. It appears they’ve opened the doors. I can hardly contain my excitement.”
Ewan, Mrs. Woodfield, and Adaira took the lead, while Rose and Rylan followed behind. Rose squeezed his arm and nodded toward the older woman. “If we lose, I fear I’m going to have to run away from home.”
Rylan chuckled. “I think you may be exaggerating a wee bit.”
“I’m not so sure. Grandmother Woodfield has made it exceedingly clear she expects us to win. I was so foolish and naïve to think I could make the pottery into a profitable business with only my talent. I fear I’ll now pay the price for my pride as well as for my immature and inexperienced thinking.”
Rylan tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “You need to quit dwelling upon losing and enjoy these moments, Rose. Even if we lose—and I don’t think we will—this day is special. We can celebrate that the McKay Pottery is among the finalists.”
She forced a smile, but in her heart she didn’t agree. Making it this far would likely entitle them to a framed certificate, but without a contract, they wouldn’t have a pottery works in which to display the award.
Adaira’s eyes shone with excitement as the waiter led them to their table. “Can you believe it? We’re right up front.” She leaned close to her older sister. “This means you’ve won, for sure.”
Rose quietly explained that all of the finalists were seated at tables near the front of the room. “The person who wins the award will have easier access to the stage.”
The gleam in her sister’s eyes faded for a moment but quickly brightened as she pointed toward the steps leading onto the platform. “We’re closest to the steps, so that must mean something.”
Rose chuckled. “It means we have a good view of the stage. Nothing more.”
She scarcely touched the chicken in wine sauce, rice pilaf, or vegetables almandine. With the lump that remained settled in her stomach, eating would do more harm than good. When the waiter later delivered slices of white cake bedecked with an apple-cranberry topping, Rose pushed away the plate.
Adaira leaned toward her. “I’ll be happy to eat that if you’re not going to.”
Rose smiled and retrieved the plate. “Help yourself. I’ll do well to keep down the few bites of chicken I consumed.”
When at last the luncheon was over and the dishes had been cleared by the waiters, Rose managed a small sip from her water goblet. Win or lose, she wanted this agonizing meal to end so that she could hear the winner announced. She inhaled a deep breath as Mr. Caldwell stepped to the lectern in the middle of the stage.
“I have the distinct honor of announcing the winner of first prize in this prestigious contest, but before I make that announcement, I would ask all of you to join me in a round of applause for our host and the sponsor of this contest, Mr. Richard Franklin, owner of the Franklin Hotels.”
Mr. Franklin stood for a moment and waved to the applauding crowd. “Do get on with your announcement, Mr. Caldwell. I’m sure the contestants are eager to hear who has won.”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. Caldwell tugged at his collar before making a great show as he removed a slip of paper from an envelope. He cleared his throat and held the paper at arm’s length. He was making such a production of the announcement that Rose wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a drumroll. “The winner of first prize in the Franklin Hotels contest is the Thompson Pottery Company of East Liverpool, Ohio. Please come forward to accept your award.”
Rose hadn’t expected to gasp, but the sound escaped her lips without warning. She gripped Rylan’s hand. “We lost!” Though she’d contemplated the idea of losing, in her heart she had truly believed they would win. She ventured a quick look at Mrs. Woodfield. Although the older woman appeared utterly composed, Rose didn’t miss the sudden droop of her shoulders. Nor did she miss the look of disappointment stamped on Ewan’s face.
She forced a smile and stared at the stage, though she didn’t hear a word that was now being uttered. Even though she wanted to be happy for the winners, everyone knew the Thompson Company didn’t need another big contract. They were already prosperous. Surely the prize should have gone to a pottery that truly needed Mr. Franklin’s contract. She silently chided herself for the selfish thought. The contest had been open to all, not just to those who were in need of a contract. In addition to the contract, the prestige of winning this contest would provide years of benefit to the victor. She only wished the victor would have been McKay Pottery.
Rylan nudged her. “Are you listening?”
She shook herself away from thoughts of Thompson Pottery and back to the present. “I heard the announcement. Thompson Pottery won. What else is there to hear?”
Rylan tipped his head toward the stage. “Mr. Caldwell asked the representative from Thompson Pottery to have a seat on the stage while they continue the presentations.”
Rose stared at him blankly. “They’re likely going to present awards for the runners-up, which will mean nothing more than a certificate.”
Mr. Caldwell gestured for quiet as he once again took command of the festivities. “Now, for the announcement we’ve all been waiting for: Mr. Franklin, will you please come forward and announce the winner of the grand prize?” He turned toward the hotel owner and sidestepped away from the lectern.
Rose’s heart hammered a new beat. “Grand prize? What’s he talking about? I thought first prize was the highest award. You mean we still have a chance?” She grasped Rylan’s hand in a death grip, afraid to let her hopes soar yet unable to suppress her excitement. “Do you think we may have won the contract?”
He grinned at her. “If you keep talking, we won’t be able to hear who has won.”
She pressed her lips together as the applause ceased and Mr. Franklin greeted the guests. “When we originally announced this contest, we had planned to award only one prize, but once we received so many excellent entries, I soon realized that I wanted to honor more than one entry, as I explained in the note you received upon your arrival.”
Rose leaned close to Rylan. “What note? Did you see a note?”
He shook his head. “Nay, but I didn’t go through all the papers. I thought you read them.”
“I completely forgot about them when all the questions arose about our entry.” Her heart continued to pound as she squeezed his hand. “This means we still have a chance.”
Mr. Franklin removed an envelope from his jacket pocket. After withdrawing the enclosed paper, he glanced about the audience. “The grand prize winner and pottery that will produce the china for my hotels is The McKay Pottery of Grafton, West Virginia.”
Tears gathered in Rose’s eyes as the audience erupted in applause. Rylan nodded toward the stage. “Go up there and accept your award.”
She rose from her chair, but before she stepped toward the stage, she extended her hand to Rylan. “Not without you.”
Rylan stood beside her, his mouth curved in a broad smile. He pressed his lips to her ear. “I hope you plan to repeat those words for the rest of our lives, Rose McKay, because there is nothing I want to do without you by my side.”
The color rose in her cheeks as she stepped onto the stage with Rylan. Winning this contest was what she’d set out to accomplish, but she’d gained so much more.
She held tight to his hand while joy filled her heart. Like the clay on a potter’s wheel, God had molded and shaped her. She’d believed only Rylan had trouble with change, but it turned out that she did, as well. For her, the change had been needed in her prideful heart.
“Congratulations.” Mr. Franklin handed Rose the trophy, then shook Rylan’s hand. “We have prepared a contract that awaits the signature of the McKay Pottery owner. Change is coming your way. I hope you’re both ready.”
Rylan glanced down at her and smiled. “We certainly are, Mr. Franklin.”
The changes came almost immediately. They were treated like royalty the rest of the afternoon and evening. Instead of being on the outside as she’d been during her years at design school, the other artists and potters seemed to seek out their company. Still, as the extended celebration of dining and dancing drew on, Rose longed for only one man’s companionship.
Rylan walked up behind her and rested his hands on her upper arms. He leaned close. “Come with me.” His breath against her neck made gooseflesh rise.
He let his hand slide down her arm until it touched her fingers and then gently pulled her toward a side door.
“Where are we going?” She’d not been down this maze of back hallways. Were they even supposed to be here?
“I want you to see something. Don’t you trust me?”
His husky voice made her heart lurch. “Of course I do.”
They exited the hallway into the main lobby of the hotel. Rylan directed her towards the sitting room she’d been so enthralled with when they first visited the hotel. He stopped outside the slightly ajar doors. “Close your eyes.”
She complied and he carefully ushered her inside, keeping his hand snaked about her waist. “You can open them now.”
The urn the two of them designed sat on an ornate walnut table in the center of the lobby. Gas lamplight glinted off the gilding. The images she’d imagined, mirrored in the tapestries, the massive furniture, and the Minton tile floor seemed to become one with the urn, pulling them all into place.
“I’ve never seen my work displayed.” Tears pricked her eyes.
“It’s perfect, Rose. Imagine what the girls back in art school would say now.”
Her heart squeezed. She hadn’t thought about them in months, partly because they’d been so busy, but mostly because the man beside her had made her forget the aloneness that had plagued her. “I apologize. I called this my work, but it’s our work.”