“Savannah said there’s nothing wrong with helping your fellow woman, Sallie. Why should we expect the men in this town to be happy about it, can you tell me that? It’s a man’s world; laws are men’s laws; the government a man’s government. We’re merely set on changing that.”
Lydia felt sure Savannah would have been pleased to hear her parroting with such accuracy.
“Well, what about Dwight? And your father?”
“Oh, posh.” Lydia chewed the last of her iced fruitcake with renewed enthusiasm. “They can take a big old leap off Pearson’s dock for all I care.”
“But the quilting meeting is—”
“Hang Nora and her weekly quilting meeting! I need you to get past the men your uncle will undoubtedly have guarding the gate. Plus, he won’t curse too much with you in the room.” Lydia dipped her linen napkin in a finger bowl on the table and patted the cool cloth against her lips. She ignored the beads of perspiration rolling down her back. Insufferable summers. “After the historical society calamity last year, you
owe
me. How can you even consider refusing?”
“Why, I never,” Sallie sputtered with all the indignation of an affronted peacock.
Lydia drew a deep breath, testing the air to see if the roast she was cooking for dinner needed checking. “Savannah’s going to unpack the rest of her belongings today. Books, pamphlets, materials to make signs. Paint and paper, all the way from New York. She also has badges for us to wear. Red with the words Freedom Fighter in gold emblazed across it.”
“Gold?”
“If you help us with this, you’ll be a bona fide member of the Pilot Isle Ladies Freedom Fighters.”
“My....” Sallie sank back against the plump cushions, a wistful look entering her eyes.
Lydia released a pent-up sigh, less frightened than good sense should allow she knew. Savannah and the rally and the chance to live life for herself just this once was too rare an opportunity to let slip away. Besides, Zach Garrett wouldn’t let them dilly-dally for more than a day or two.
She needed to have her amusement now.
“I’ll do it,” Sallie surprised her by saying, quite clearly and without additional arm-twisting.
Lydia clapped her hands and giggled, giddy to the tips of her patent leather boots. “That is fine news. I’m thrilled and relieved. Gracious, now that that’s settled, I must tell you what else happened at the jail. I shouldn’t, but I simply must.”
Sallie vaulted to a rigid position, eager for gossip.
“I really shouldn’t say—”
“Oh no, please do! It’s been so dull around here since Noah Garrett ran off with that crazy Elle Beaumont.”
Too true
, Lydia thought. The entire town had hungrily monitored the antics of Zach’s youngest brother and Elle Beaumont, who, eccentric as she seemed to be, had snared the man she’d wanted since long before anyone could remember differently. It made her think of... well, today, at the jail, the way Zach had looked at Savannah, just for a hint of a moment when he thought no one was looking.
Not with interest, no, no,
no
. More as though he had been wound up like one of those new-fangled toys she’d seen in the window of Dillon’s Goods in Raleigh.
Agitated
was a good word for it. Which was all well and fine because women often roused men to a fever pitch.
Everyone knew that. It was just the way life operated.
Except it never seemed to operate like that for Zachariah Garrett. Even when his beloved wife was alive, he’d been calm and capable and strong. Why, if Lydia felt half a heart in love with him it was
because
she’d never witnessed anything but calm, capable, strong Constable Garrett.
She had never seen him agitated.
Never
.
Lydia wouldn’t have guessed he had it in him.
Maybe there was something to this independence craze if it made a man sit up and take notice.
“Of course, this cannot go any further than this parlor,” she finally said, tucking a wisp of damp hair beneath her bonnet. “And again, I shouldn’t say, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen such fire in Constable Garrett’s eyes as I did today.”
“
Fire
? Zach Garrett?” Sallie swallowed a bite of iced fruitcake too quickly and choked. “Are... are you sure? Why, he’s so
collected
.”
“Without a doubt. Fire,” Lydia assured her friend. “And Savannah Connor lit the match.”
* * * * * *