Winnie Griggs (18 page)

“And a chair for it, as well,” Abigail added quickly.

With a nod, Everett scribbled the additions to their list.

He did, however, say no to the fine-woven rug his sister thought would add just the right decorative touch to the room.

As the two ladies headed out toward the mercantile, Everett slowly returned to his desk. The chaise lounge on the list had caught his eye, especially when his sister artlessly explained how Daisy had picked it out without any prompting from her.

He had a pretty good idea why his future bride had selected it for their bedchamber. And if that’s where she planned to spend her nights for the time being, then so be it. He’d told her he’d leave the sleeping arrangements to her discretion, and he was a man of his word.

If he was feeling a twinge of disappointment, then he would deal with it the way he dealt with every other disappointment in his life.

He would bury it and move on. Dwelling on disappointments and troubles only made one weak.

Chapter Nineteen

D
aisy found that she actually enjoyed having Abigail living on her side of the dividing wall. Not only was the girl’s chatter a welcome distraction from her own thoughts, but Abigail began to add touches of color and charm to the entire living space.

Cheery squares of fabric would appear as cloths to cover the crates she used as a table, and bits of bric-a-brac popped up in strategic locations.

“You don’t mind if I put this chair in here rather than in my room, do you?” she’d say. “The light in here is much better to read by than the light in my room.”

Another time it would be, “These curtains didn’t work out as well as I thought they would in my room, so I put them here in the sitting room.”

Abigail also began to treat the two living quarters like they were already one, going back and forth between them as if the invisible barrier Everett erected at the adjoining door didn’t exist.

And random pieces of furniture from Everett’s side began showing up in her place, as well. A footstool here, a wooden chair there—suddenly Daisy’s place was looking much more cozy.

But she wasn’t comfortable with Abigail’s cavalier kidnapping of furniture from Everett’s domain.

She finally put her foot down. “You need to stop bringing all these things over here.”

Abigail’s expression was one of wide-eyed ingenuousness. “All I’m doing is some simple rearranging of the furniture to make things more comfortable for the two of us. Don’t you like it?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. Your brother and I aren’t married yet, which means right now this is not part of his home, so you shouldn’t treat it as if it were.”

“It will be soon enough. I’m just getting a little head start.” She waved airily. “But if you want me to stop rearranging until after the wedding, I suppose I can wait.”

Daisy wasn’t fooled. The girl hadn’t offered to undo what she’d already done, just not do any additional encroaching.

Everett, however, seemed to either not notice or not care that pieces of his furniture were disappearing out from under him.

As observant as the man was, she suspected he was deliberately turning a blind eye to his sister’s redecorating efforts. He was quite good at these subtle ways of showing how much he cared for her. Why couldn’t he be more open about it? It would mean so much to Abigail.

And to Daisy, as well.

Chapter Twenty

O
n Sunday, as they strolled home from the gathering at the Barrs’ home, Abigail complimented Daisy on her Sunday dress. Daisy, aware that Abigail was wearing yet another gown that was making its first appearance in Turnabout, smiled and gave the girl the history of the dress.

“How wonderful. I can tell from your tone that you must have loved your mother very much.”

“I do. And I miss her very much, too.”

The girl’s expression turned wistful. “You’re lucky. I don’t remember my own mother much at all.” Then she smiled. “But having an older sister like you will be almost as nice.”

Daisy gave the girl’s arm a little squeeze. She’d grown to love Abigail, to feel like she really was a sister. It was comforting to know that it was mutual.

Then Abigail cut her a speculative look. “But speaking of dresses, have you given any thought to a wedding gown?”

It was obvious Abigail didn’t consider her current attire suitable.

But Daisy didn’t have any other options. She grabbed the side of her skirt and spread it wide. “Why, this one, of course.”

“Oh, but it’s your wedding. Surely that warrants a new gown.”

Daisy shrugged, trying not to let the words hurt. “I’m not much of a seamstress, and even if I were, there’s not much time before the wedding.”

“But isn’t there a dressmaker here in Turnabout? I’m sure she can take care of this for you. And if she’s too busy, I can work on it myself. Please, let me help you select a new dress. I’ve been told I have a very good sense of style.”

“I’m sure you do, but—”

“Please. It’ll be fun.”

“Better let her do it,” Everett added dryly. “My sister considers herself a great arbiter of fashion, and she does enjoy having a new subject to work with.”

Suddenly realizing that the garment she wore for her wedding would reflect not only on her, but on Everett and Abigail, as well, Daisy’s resolve weakened. “If you really think I should...”

Abigail jumped on Daisy’s capitulation. “Oh, this will be fun. We need to find just the right pattern to accentuate your lovely figure and height. I have some catalogs we can look at this afternoon.”

As Abigail quickened her steps, Everett turned to Daisy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a long afternoon of poring over pictures and discussing the advantages of one style over another.”

She smiled. “I don’t mind. And it was very sweet of her to offer to help.”

“For all her faults, my sister is a very giving person.” He studied her carefully. “But don’t let that hold you hostage or make you feel you must give in if you disagree with her choices.”

This time Daisy’s smile was genuine. “Have you ever known me to not speak my mind?”

Daisy and Everett parted at Daisy’s front door. By the time she reached the second floor, Abigail was exiting her room with two catalogs cradled in her arms.

Daisy immediately rushed forward. “Here, let me take those. Your wrist is not quite healed yet.”

“You’re turning into as much of a fussbudget as my brother.” But Abigail handed the books over without arguing. “Why don’t we go over to the other side so we can spread these out on the dining room table?” Without waiting for Daisy’s response, she sashayed to the adjoining door, signaling for Kip to follow her.

Everett sat on the sofa, reading one of the papers he had mailed to him from various cities. He looked up and nodded a greeting, frowning at the dog before he went back to reading.

“I’d prefer not to have anything too fancy or froufrou,” Daisy warned.

“Oh, I agree.” Abigail opened the thicker of the two catalogs. “I think something with fairly simple lines would be best. That’s not to say it won’t be elegant, though. And it should have lace insets at the neckline and collar.” She pointed to one of the pictures. “Oh, here, what do you think of this one?”

Daisy looked at the picture Abigail pointed out and was immediately captivated. The gown was truly beautiful. It had a gently scalloped neckline inset with lace that formed a throat-hugging collar. The bodice was embellished with tone-on-tone embroidery and beadwork. The long, fitted sleeves ended with a tapering point at the wrist.

“Oh, Abigail, it’s beautiful, but it’s much too fancy. The embroidery work alone would take hours and hours.”

“True, but we can do a simpler version and still get the same effect. I’ll help the dressmaker if she hasn’t the time.” She turned the page. “We’ll keep looking to see if we find anything we like better, though. We have all afternoon.”

In the end, Daisy didn’t see anything she liked more than that first dress. She turned back to it and stared wistfully. Could she really have something this lovely?

Abigail had no such doubts. “You’re right—this is the one. Now let’s talk about colors. Of course we’ll have to work with whatever selection the seamstress has on hand—I don’t think she’ll have enough time to order anything. But I’m thinking a soft shade in the blue or green family would work best with your coloring.”

Daisy nodded. She was calculating costs in her head. If she used all of her laundry money and some of the earnings she’d managed to set aside from her work for Everett, she might just be able to cover it. She’d have to start saving all over again, but neither Everett nor Abigail would have cause to be embarrassed if she wore this dress.

As if reading her thoughts, Everett spoke up from across the room. “Sounds like you’ve made a decision. You can speak to Miss Andrews tomorrow. Tell her to bill me for her services.”

Daisy stiffened. She might not have much to bring with her into this marriage, but she could take care of her own wedding dress. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll handle this myself.”

He raised a brow at that. “Does it really matter whose money we pay with? Soon there won’t be any yours or mine—it’ll be ours.”

Did he really mean that? “Nevertheless, we aren’t married yet. I’d prefer to keep things separate until we do.”

He shrugged. “As you wish.”

Daisy eyed him suspiciously. He’d given in a bit too easily. But then Abigail reclaimed her attention with animated discussions of trim options, including types of lace, beads, embroidery and other embellishments.

Daisy realized she’d have her work cut out for her if she was to keep it simple.

* * *

The next morning, Abigail insisted on accompanying Daisy to the dressmaker’s shop. “I love to look at fabrics and patterns,” she said by way of explanation. But Daisy suspected she didn’t trust her to pick out the proper fabric by herself.

Hazel Andrews greeted them with reserved enthusiasm, but warmed considerably when she saw the picture of the dress they wanted her to make. “It’s been some time since I had a gown of this caliber to work on. Not since Mrs. Pierce quit ordering new dresses.” She studied Daisy with a critical eye, then nodded. “It has the perfect silhouette for you.”

“We were thinking something in blue or green would be best,” Abigail said.

“I agree. With an ivory trim perhaps.” The dressmaker’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and I have the perfect fabric for such a gown. I’ve stored it in the back for just such a special project as this. It’s a lovely blue-green shot silk that will complement your eyes and look quite elegant.”

Daisy quickly spoke up. “Please keep in mind that cost will be a factor. And that this dress will serve as my Sunday dress after the wedding. Perhaps we need to consider a more sensible fabric.”

Hazel and Abigail exchanged glances, then the seamstress gave Daisy a placating smile. “Let me fetch it for you to look at before you make up your mind.”

When the seamstress came out with the fabric, Daisy felt her resolve weaken. It truly was a lovely color, with a subtle sheen that made it seem almost fluid.

She touched it reverently, then pulled her hand back. “It looks mighty expensive. Perhaps you should show me something a little more practical.”

“Oh, but it’s your wedding dress,” Abigail argued. “You should forget practical. And this fabric is perfect—you know it is.”

Daisy cast a longing look at the fabric, then shook her head. “What else do you have that would be suitable?”

The seamstress didn’t move. “This fabric is not as expensive as you might think. And for your wedding dress, I’m willing to give you a discount.”

Daisy tried not to get her hopes up. But when the seamstress named her figure, she was pleasantly surprised. It would take most, but not all, of her carefully hoarded funds, but she
could
afford it.

And since Everett was so opposed to her restaurant idea, there was really no rush in replacing her funds.

* * *

During lunch, Abigail chattered away about the dress. Daisy figured Everett must be bored, so she filled in the conversational gaps with questions about what kind of stories he was working on for the next paper. And her interest was genuine. Even though he pretended disdain for the kind of news Turnabout provided him with, he always managed to give them a fair and interesting treatment. She liked his way of reporting, the way he found the tidbits that spoke to him and focused the light on them.

When the meal was over, Abigail jumped up. “Sorry I can’t help with the cleanup, but I promised to meet Constance downstairs to work on our library as soon as lunch was over.” She turned to her brother. “You’ll help Daisy in my place, won’t you?”

Daisy quickly protested. “That’s not necessary, I—”

“Of course I will.”

His response caught her by surprise. She’d never seen him wash dishes. But she supposed he must have before she came along.

As he carried a stack of dirty dishes from the table to the counter, Everett cleared his throat. “Is there anyone you’d like to invite to the wedding, other than the locals, I mean?”

What a thoughtful question. “I can’t think of anyone.”

“Are you certain? I understand your not wanting your father around after the way the two of you parted but, even if this is to be merely a marriage of necessity, I thought you might want to have some of your other family or friends around.”

“That’s very considerate of you, but unnecessary. I don’t think my grandmother would be interested in coming. And Uncle Phillip and his wife are pretty much under her thumb. As for friends, my friends are all here. Traveling the way we did, I didn’t have much chance to make friends on the road.”

She spread her hands. “So there you have it. What about you?”

“Abigail is the only family I have that matters. As for friends outside of Turnabout, I’m not certain anyone I left behind in Philadelphia would travel over a thousand miles just to see me get married.”

She smiled. “Then it seems we have similar circumstances. But we have the friends we’ve made here to witness our marriage vows, and I’m quite satisfied with that.”

He nodded agreement, then cut her a sideways look. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you wish to maintain with your father, but if you decide you want him here to walk you down the aisle, then we can try to find him before the wedding.

Did
she want him here? She loved her father, but she didn’t like him very much these days. “It might be best if I just let him know about the wedding after the fact.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

She was touched by that statement, by the implied concern. “Thank you, but even if I wanted him here, I’m not sure I’d know where to look.”

Once Everett headed downstairs, Daisy’s thoughts turned back to the issue of her father. Ever since Abigail arrived, she’d been trying to help Everett see how very important family was, how he should cherish the time he spent with Abigail, despite any other irritations or concerns he might feel.

Was she willing to follow her own advice?

Feeling convicted, she headed downstairs to ask Everett for his help in sending a telegram—in fact, a series of them—to whichever towns her father would be most likely to be visiting right now. He might not get the news in time to attend her wedding, but he’d be passing back through here in a few months, and she didn’t want him to be surprised by her new status.

Halfway down the stairs, she paused as something else occurred to her. She should ask Everett for a sheet of paper, too. It was past time she wrote to her grandmother and at least attempted to mend fences there, as well.

* * *

Much to Abigail’s delight, the furniture they’d ordered arrived two days before the wedding. Daisy instructed the deliverymen to place the sewing machine in her sitting room and the laundry equipment in her storeroom. The bed that had been ordered for Abigail went into her room. Everything else was carted up to Everett’s living quarters.

Abigail dragged Daisy into Everett’s much-enlarged bedchamber to help with arranging the new furnishings in just the right places.

Daisy felt uncomfortable as she entered what, until now, had been Everett’s private domain. “I really think Everett should have some say in how the furnishings are placed.”

“Don’t be a goose. As if my brother gives a fig for such things. That’s the lady of the house’s responsibility.”

Daisy raised a brow. “At the moment, that’s still you.”

“Don’t be tiresome.” Abigail nudged her arm. “We both know I’m just a placeholder for you. Now let’s get to it. If we’re quick, we can get it done before Everett comes up for lunch. Believe me, he’ll be glad to have it all taken care of without having to be bothered with it himself.”

Daisy wasn’t so sure of that. She knew how organized Everett liked to be, how he liked his things arranged just so. But she supposed he could always rearrange things if he didn’t like what they came up with.

As they worked, Daisy was especially careful about the placement of the chaise lounge, situating it beneath the window of what was formally the spare room. That would give them enough space between their beds for some semblance of privacy, if that was what they wanted. She also placed a small trunk nearby that would be perfect for storing the bed linens when not in use.

The dressing table and other items of furniture she let Abigail have some say in, and the girl happily tried several arrangements before she pronounced herself pleased.

When it was finally arranged, Abigail stepped back with a pleased smile. “Won’t Everett be surprised when he sees what we’ve done?”