“You’re from New York?”
“Yes. Born and raised in the city. My parents sent me off to finishing school, but I got the acting bug. I don’t think they’ve ever quite forgiven me for choosing a life on the stage. They had something else planned for me.”
“Like what?”
She laughed. “Marriage to the perfect young man—respectable and from a good home.”
“Sounds like we have more in common than you know.” Lottie bit back a laugh.
“They would’ve had me married with babies by now.” Cornelia sighed. “And I must admit, there are times when I wonder how different my life might’ve been, had I chosen to go that route.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gil. “Maybe it’s not too late.”
“O–oh?”
Cornelia grabbed Lottie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe that’s why I traveled all the way to Colorado, to meet the man I’m supposed to marry. Do you think such a thing is really possible?”
If it had been any of the other women asking, Lottie would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But Cornelia? The very girl Gil had his eye on?
Choose your words carefully, Lottie.
She released a slow breath. “Cornelia, I do believe God could bring a person from one side of the country to the other to meet someone special. It’s possible. When you follow His lead”—she swallowed hard—“anything’s possible.”
“I feel the same way,” Cornelia whispered. “In my heart of hearts, I do.”
Lottie fell silent, unable—and unwilling—to add more to this conversation. She’d lost Gil once to Winifred. Would she now lose him to the beautiful young woman seated to her left? The one with the lovely clothes and refined big-city manners?
Fortunately, Cherry interrupted her thoughts. “What happens around here on Sunday?” she asked. “If we’re not going to start rehearsals until Monday, do we have a free day to do as we please?”
Lottie shrugged. “Most everyone goes to church. Would…well, would you like to join us?”
“I haven’t been to church in a month of Sundays.” Cherry laughed. “If I went, it might just be too much for the Lord to take.”
“He can handle it.” Lottie grinned. “I daresay He’ll meet you there. At least, that’s where I always feel the closest to Him.”
“Ooh, I don’t know how you could top this experience.” Cornelia gestured to the mountains. “This is the very spot where heaven and earth meet, and I’m standing here so close to God I can almost touch Him.”
Lottie looked around at the ladies, remembering Mrs. Parker’s words:
How good of the Lord to bring the world to me.
“Being here is blissful, isn’t it?” Lottie said. “But I’ll make you all a promise…if you go to church with me and don’t feel this same, exhilarating feeling that you had on this mountain today, I won’t expect you to come again. Deal?”
Cornelia shrugged. “If you say so. But I still say I’d rather worship right here.” She turned her gaze back to the mountain.
Lottie’s thoughts shifted to the days ahead. With so much to do, so much to accomplish, someone needed to stay focused. And she could tell, judging from the way Gil stared at Cornelia, it certainly wasn’t going to be him.
NINE
M
ENACE IN THE
M
OUNTAINS
Residents who auditioned for the upcoming melodrama at Parker Lodge are abuzz with excitement over the posting of the cast list, which will happen today at noon, just after morning service, at our local community church. Mum’s the word until then. We can share that the play has been completely revamped and the new script will be available at the first rehearsal on Monday evening. Our contest to rename the show is still in full swing. Phineas Craven has suggested
Menace in the Mountains
. Perhaps you have other thoughts. One thing is for sure—a full cast of quirky characters will cause the audience to laugh…and cry. Until then, what joy to share in a Sunday morning with our out-of-town guests. They are sure to love the welcome at Estes Park Community Church, where God’s love abounds and His grace extends to folks from all walks of life. —
Your friends at Parker Lodge
L
OTTIE AWOKE EARLY
on Sunday morning, so excited she could hardly stand it. She put on a dark blue dress and did her best to fuss with her unruly curls. For a moment she toyed with the idea of trimming them back a couple of inches but then remembered the way Gil gazed at Cornelia’s lovely long hair. With a sigh, she pulled her hair back with a green ribbon, one she carefully chose to match the color of her eyes.
She arrived at the church at nine fifteen and entered the little chapel, her heart aflutter. Several of the women—Flossie, Fanny, Cornelia, Grace, Hannah, Margaret, and Prudy—arrived minutes later, followed by the low-cut trio, who all appeared in brightly colored dresses that left little to the imagination. Sharla slipped into a pew and said something about feeling faint. No doubt because of the tight corset under her bright green gown, one with a particularly snug waistline. Patricia’s garish red dress was embellished with ruffles and bows. And Cherry had been a bit heavy-handed with the rouge, perhaps. Sharla too, for that matter.
By the expressions on their faces, some of the local women were a bit put off by their new guests. Maybe they would still provide a warm welcome in spite of first impressions. One could hope, anyway.
Instead of sitting with her parents, Lottie planted herself in the middle of the ladies. Might as well let folks know where she stood regarding their new guests. She received a few curious glances from the regulars, and Mama gave her a “What do you think you’re up to, Lottie-Lou?” look, but she focused on the hymnal.
The preacher’s sermon on turning from a life of sin had Sharla squirming in her seat. She actually muttered a few words when he reached the part about the woman caught in the act of adultery. Lottie’s mother, who was seated in the pew in front of them, turned and glared at her with narrowed eyes.
“What did I say?” Sharla whispered into Lottie’s ear. “That old bat glared at me like I was a sinner headed straight for the pit of hell.”
Lottie sighed and then whispered her response. “That old bat was—is—my mother.”
“Oops. Sorry.” Sharla let out a nervous giggle then faced front once more. Several times over the next few minutes she giggled again, her face turning red.
The service moved forward as usual, though several of the locals—mostly the men—seemed intent on the new women. Not that Sharla and Cherry seemed to mind. They even winked at a couple of the fellas. Unfortunately, one of them happened to be Mr. Herridge, the local butcher, whose wife looked as if she might take off the ladies’ heads at any moment.
By the time the final hymn was sung, Lottie felt as if they were all on display. And that feeling continued as the women convened in front of the church after service. Sharla and Cherry continued to giggle and say inappropriate things. Lottie squeezed her eyes shut and offered up a silent prayer that the local women would hold their peace.
Unfortunately, they did not. Mama pulled her aside for an earful.
Lottie listened for a few minutes but finally put her hand up. “Mama, wait. What are you saying? You think we were wrong to bring in actresses for the show? Is that it?”
“I never said that.” Mama’s lips pursed. “Though many have said far worse than that.” She clucked her tongue. “Trust me when I say that tongues are wagging, and not in a good way. People are unhappy with the idea of so many single, unattached women roaming about.”
“You make them sound like elk, Mama.”
“You know what I mean. Everywhere you turn, there’s another one. They’ve interrupted our quiet little town.”
“But that was the idea. Estes Park has always been open to folks coming in from the outside. That’s how most of our people make their living, catering to tourists and such.”
“These ladies aren’t tourists, Lottie.” The pitch of her mother’s voice elevated. “They’re not here to contribute to the welfare of our community. That, I can assure you.”
“Well, of course they are. They’ve come all this way just to make our little melodrama successful. That has to say something. And the ones I’ve taken the time to get to know are really great women, Mama. I think you would like them—especially some of the gals like Cornelia and Margaret—if you spent time talking to them.”
“I don’t believe I’ll be getting to know the sort of women you’ve brought here this morning,” her mother said. “And none of the other ladies in town are keen on the idea, either.”
“But Mama…” Lottie felt a lump rise in her throat, which made conversation difficult. “That’s—that’s just silly.”
“Not as silly as you think, Lottie. Folks are riled up.”
“Why?” Now she managed to speak in spite of the lump. “What reason do they give for making such a fuss? What in the world have these new ladies done to create such a stir, after all?”
Her mother gestured to Shayla. “For one thing, it’s how some of them dress. I’m all for finery, but the dress that one is wearing is entirely too revealing.”
“I did notice that, of course.” Lottie felt her face turn hot. “But, Mama, she knows no other way. She needs guidance.”
“Guidance, my eye. She needs a good swift kick in the backside.”
Before Lottie could respond, Althea Baker joined them, her face red.
“Did you see that one in the gray dress?” she whispered. She had the nerve to show her legs just now.”
“Prudy?” Lottie could hardly believe this. Truly, there could only be one logical explanation. “She stepped into a mud puddle during our excursion up the mountain yesterday,” she explained. “I’m sure she was just trying to share the story of how she got soaked in mud. That’s all. Trust me, she would be the last person to deliberately try to entice men.” Why, the very idea was preposterous.
Lottie’s mother fanned herself. “Say what you will, a proper woman doesn’t show her ankles in public, particularly in front of men. And I shudder to think of what went on up on the mountain yesterday, what with all those men and women traveling together unchaperoned.”
“Unchaperoned?” Lottie bit back a laugh. “Mama, there were sixteen of us altogether. We traveled in a group.”
“Humph.”
“Mama…” Lottie’s temper flared and she felt the heat set her ears aflame. “I have a difficult time understanding your treatment of these women. Aren’t you the one who’s always saying we should treat others the way we want to be treated?”
“Well, of course, but—”
“And as for the lipstick and such, plenty of women in Estes Park—you included—wear a bit of lipstick or rouge. I’ve never heard you complain about it before.”
“All things in moderation, Lottie.” Her mother continued to fan herself. “You can’t tell me that you believe the amount of rouge on that one woman’s face is acceptable. She’s—she’s painted herself so that the men will take notice. And they’re taking notice, all right.”
She spoke of Cherry, of course. No one could deny that the woman wore too much lipstick and rouge. But to point out such a thing right here on the church lawn? Why?
“I’m just saying, you’re always telling me you want me to dress like a lady,” Lottie said. “To put on dresses and such. I would think you’d be happy, Mama. I’m surrounded by fine ladies on every side. I’ve grown to care for them, and they for me.”
“These women are anything but fine. They are what the Bible refers to as worldly.”
“Worldly?” Lottie shook her head. “Now I’m really confused. Didn’t you send Winifred off to Denver to experience the world? Wasn’t that the sole purpose?”
“The Bible teaches us that there’s a difference between being in the world and of the world,” Mama said. “These women you brought to our fair town are
of
the world, not just in it.”
“But, Mama, that’s hardly a fair judgment call on your part. You don’t even know them. You haven’t given them a chance.”
“I know everything I need to know. Did you see that one woman with the red dress?”
“Patricia?”
“Heavens, I don’t know her name, and I don’t care to. She was sidling up next to the mayor before church, making herself at home. His wife told me all about it during the opening hymn, and she wasn’t smiling at the time, trust me. Women around here don’t like the idea that female strangers are encroaching on their men.”
“Encroaching? You make them sound like hunters.”
“If the shoe fits.” Her mother fussed with her belt. “Many are on the prowl even now.”
Lottie felt her face grow warm again. “Patricia dropped her fan, and he reached to pick it up for her. I saw the whole thing.”
“Likely she dropped the fan on purpose to get him to lean down and fetch it for her so that she could show off her—her…well, never mind all that. The whole thing was simply disgusting. Nelda Hennessey told me all about it. And what in the world was wrong with that one girl during the sermon? The one with the brown hair? I actually heard her crying. Crying. For everyone to hear.”
“She was moved by the sermon, Mama.”
“Moved? More likely she was coming under condemnation after hearing Reverend Brighton’s message. Anyone with the decency to come to church needs to behave appropriately. You don’t see me crying in church, do you?”
“No.” Lottie sighed.
Me either. Though, I’m about to, if you don’t stop this right now.
“Mama, I happen to know that Cornelia has been moved by the scenery on the mountain. God is using it to draw her to the faith she had as a child.”
“I find it shocking that she’s how old?—twenty-five, at least— and hasn’t been to church since she was a child. That just tells you what kind of people we’re dealing with here, Lottie.”
“You can’t blame them for that, Mama. Most of them weren’t raised in church. They have no idea how to behave.”
“What sort of person doesn’t know how to behave in the house of the Lord?” Her mother crossed her arms.
“I’ll tell you what kind.” Althea Baker said. “A heathen. That’s what you’ve brought to town for this theatrical of yours, Lottie. Heathen women.”
Another rush of anger swept over Lottie. “No.” She spoke with a trembling voice. “They’re just wonderful women—loved by God—who don’t understand the process of churchgoing.”
Off in the distance, several of the ladies began to sing
Amazing Grace
. Lottie found it ironic, at best. Thank goodness they had no idea they were currently the topic of conversation. Otherwise they might’ve chosen a different song.