Too Rich for a Bride (19 page)

“Where does she live?” Ida asked.

“I had to leave her in California. Her name is Willow. Willow Grace.”

“What a beautiful name.” Ida pulled two envelopes out of her bag. “You’ve met Kat and Nell, but I have a third sister. Vivian is still in Portland, Maine with my aunt, finishing her schooling. My father lives in Paris.” She waved the envelopes she held. “Writing letters to them just isn’t the same as being with them.”

Tucker felt his shoulders tense. “I should return to Stockton.”

Ida’s brow furrowed. “Rushing to her would be my first instinct as well.”

“First instinct.”
It
was
his first instinct. But what was there to think about? Returning to Willow made perfect sense. She was starting to reconnect. She’d finally answered back. He couldn’t stay here. Not when she needed him.

“I could make a difference there. Here, I’m just cooling my heels. I’ve done all I can.” He’d failed at the bank, met with the attorney and then a broker. None seemed too encouraging, and without the proper funds, his hands were tied.

“I understand wanting to be with your sister.” Ida held his gaze. “But it sounds as if she’s getting better without you there.”

She was right. Perhaps his presence had been a hindrance rather than a help. Tucker slid the envelope into his coat pocket.

Ida looked down, color flushing her cheeks. “Oh my, that didn’t come out right. My sisters always tell me I need to spend more time thinking before I speak.” She fanned herself. “I meant to say that what you’re doing here is of great significance to your parents.”

“I’m delivering ice all week and eating shortbread cookies on Mondays at Miss Hattie’s. That’s about it.”

“Taking over your father’s business so he can receive the care he needs and have your mother with him is a noble task in and of itself.”

He wouldn’t call it
noble
, but the fact was his father hadn’t acknowledged him as a son for two years, and for months he’d been to the asylum every week and Willow hadn’t shown any improvement. And now that he was gone, she had.

His mouth went dry and his gut knotted. “You think not having me around is better for her?” The words came out in jerks and shudders, like wagon wheels trying to maneuver a rutted road.

“I didn’t say that.” Ida’s blue eyes narrowed. “But my father says missing someone you love can be like a burr in your union suit—a real motivator.”

Tucker chuckled. “Hadn’t thought of absence in quite that way.”

An endearing, nervous giggle escaped her perfectly formed lips as she apparently realized the intimate nature of her statement. “I best tend to my business here and let you go. I’m glad your sister … Willow is feeling better.”

“Thank you.”

“I was also glad to hear that things are more amiable between you and God.” Smiling, Ida stepped toward the center of the counter, where the postmaster sorted envelopes into various bins.

Tucker waved his hat in an awkward good-bye. Had she perceived his desire to try again for a cup of coffee with her?

Just as well she’d dismissed him. The attorney was clearly a better match for her intellect and ambition. And Tucker wasn’t looking for a social relationship.

Not the romantic kind anyway. His life was complicated enough.

NINETEEN

da stared at the dollar bills in her hands. She’d completed her first two weeks working for Mollie O’Bryan. When Ida took the job, her employer said Ida would earn a dollar a day. That seemed fair enough. She was, after all, new to the business. But the amount she held in her hand added to up to significantly more than a dollar per day.

Looking up from her desk, Ida watched Mollie pull her palatine off the coat tree. “Thank you. You were very generous.”

“You, Miss Ida Sinclair, are a peculiar mix of lofty ambition, dogged determination, and uncommon gratitude.”

The young business owner could’ve been describing herself as far as Ida was concerned.

She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her reticule. Her strong work ethic had obviously paid off. She held enough money in her hand to pay Hattie for the first month’s rent and incidentals and still have a sufficient amount to invest in some stock.

Mollie pointed a manicured finger at her. “Your hard work earned you a percentage of the profits because of your thorough notations.”

Ida knew better than to question good fortune, but she’d simply done as she’d been asked—to listen and share what she’d learned. The same thing she’d always done as Kat, Nell, and Vivian’s big sister—paid attention
and acted in the best interests of those she cared about. If that bothered Judson and Kat, then so be it. Worrying about what others thought was their problem, not hers.

So why did she suddenly wonder what the ice man who cared deeply for his ailing sister thought about her business involvements?

“We girls have to stick together. The others who’ve worked for me didn’t seem to understand that, but you do. I like to reward people who are loyal.” Mollie lifted Ida’s mantle off a hook and held it out to her. “Shall we? The stock exchange awaits us.”

“Today?”

Mollie nodded.

Feeling as if she were floating on air, Ida settled her cape over her shoulders. It wasn’t a silk palatine, but as she stepped out the door and onto the boardwalk, her wrap did feel a bit like a royal robe and she a princess.

As she walked up Bennett Avenue with Mollie at her side, she couldn’t stop smiling. She felt more like a colleague and friend to the wealthy young woman than merely a loyal employee. She didn’t know many other women, if any, who would encourage other women, let alone share their secrets to success with them, rather than treating them like competition. Mollie O’Bryan was a rare breed among businesswomen. And misjudged by many.

Halfway to the imposing brick building that housed the stock exchange, a man walking toward them bent his considerable girth to talk in hushed tones to the petite woman beside him. The woman met Ida’s gaze and huffed. Her nose in the air, she moved farther away from Ida than was necessary as they passed.

Ida glanced over her shoulder. “What was that about?”

Mollie cupped Ida’s elbow, pressing her forward. “Being a schoolteacher, a writer, a nurse, even a cook running her own eatery is perfectly acceptable for a woman here.” Squaring her shoulders, Mollie stopped in front of the
Cripple Creek Mining Stock Exchange. “In the world of mines and investments, not only is a smart and prosperous woman intolerable, she’s seen as a heathen by many. A threat to their manhood by others. Charles Miller and Colin Wagner being exceptions to that rule.”

The minute Ida stepped inside the red brick building, she imagined she knew what a jolt of electricity might feel like. The room buzzed with an energy unlike any she’d ever experienced. Men in suits with pipes hanging from their mouths clustered in front of Charles Miller, Mollie’s business partner and friend. White chalk notes and symbols completely covered the blackboard. Every mining company she’d heard of and some other town businesses were listed, including the Raines Ice Company. Mr. Miller called out the bidding at an auctioneer’s pace. A tall man who looked like he’d blow away in a windstorm scratched numbers on the board and erased them just as quickly to make room for new bids. Tobacco smoke and chalk dust hung in the air, along with unbridled anticipation.

The word
exhilarating
sprang to Ida’s mind.

Mollie hooked her finger under Ida’s chin. “Best close your mouth before you cage a dragonfly in there.”

Ida spotted Boney Hughes off to one side, unshaven and wearing coveralls. Smiling, the old miner brushed the brim of his equally dressed-down canvas hat. She gave him a courteous nod, then returned her attention to the business at hand, though she was perplexed by his presence in such chic company.

A short gentleman approached Mollie. Removing a pipe from his mouth, he studied the two of them, his thick brow narrowing. “Not enough you’re in the club, Miss O’Bryan? You had to bring in reinforcements?”

“Mr. Eugene Updike, I’d like to introduce Miss Ida Sinclair. She works with me.” Mollie’s voice was soft, but her eyes were not. “You know Miss Sinclair’s brother-in-law, Dr. Morgan Cutshaw.”

He tucked the tip of his pipe into the corner of his mouth. “Is that so, Miss Sinclair?”

Ida nodded.

“Unfortunately, from the looks of things, it appears you won’t do any better job of minding your own business than Miss O’Bryan does.” His expression held no hint of an attempt at humor.

Ida felt herself become the big sister in the school yard reacting to the bully who’d just hassled one of her sisters. “Scoff if you must, Mr. Updike, but we’ll take your money just the same.” She held her hand out flat in front of the man.

Glaring at her, he crossed his arms. “Welcome to the snake pit, Miss Sinclair. Sounds to me like you’ll fit right in.”

As he turned and stomped to his seat, Ida’s insides recoiled. She’d hissed at a complete stranger. Never mind that he’d deserved it.

“Way to feed that old goat some crow.” Amusement danced in Mollie’s green eyes. “If I had any doubts that you could make it in this business, they just walked away on Updike’s back.”

The woman had a spitfire way with words, but Mollie was right. Ida couldn’t let sour men like that hold her back. She deserved to be here as much as he did, and she was here to stay.

Up in the loft, Tucker stuffed clean straw into one of the four bags he and Otis carried on the wagon. A snort and a stomp drew his gaze to the floor of the barn where Titan and Trojan chomped hay in adjacent stalls.

Tucker tossed the full sack over the edge, watching it land on the canvas over the back of the ice wagon. He grabbed another sack off a sheaf of straw
and continued the process. He and Otis had completed the ice deliveries by two o’clock that afternoon. Even after he’d stopped by the livery to order a hay drop and done some shopping at the Blue Front Grocery, he’d still been home by half past three.

If it had been Monday, he would’ve spent an extra hour on the last delivery, visiting with the warm and wise Miss Hattie and eating shortbread cookies. Yesterday’s conversation in the post office with Miss Ida Sinclair had shown him that Miss Hattie wasn’t the only woman who possessed a compelling blend of compassion and wisdom. And it was Ida Sinclair he most wanted to see.

“Rushing to her would be my first instinct as well.”

Ida had shown wisdom in questioning his initial yearning to rush to Willow’s side at the first sign of hope. She was right—perhaps his absence would be better for Willow. For both of them. Perhaps his presence had served to remind her of the tragedy that caused her ailment and helped keep her mired in the depths of melancholia.

“What you’re doing here is of great significance to your parents.”

Although delivering ice and talking to bankers, lawyers, and brokers didn’t seem of great significance, he was doing what he felt God would have him do. His being here, trying to build up the business, honored his father and mother.

But alone in the barn with only horses and mice for company, the urge hit him to go directly into the house, pack his bag, and march straight to the train station and buy a ticket to Stockton. For home.