Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  “It broadsided him, that’s for sure. Knocked me for a loop, too,” Martha confessed. “But James has come around. Your son offerin’ to manage the hotel has taken a load off his mind too, Emilia. We’re mighty grateful for that.”

  Emilia was moved by her fellow matriarch’s appreciation. “I think William is going to do well at it, Martha; I really do. At the same time, I’m glad it’s just a three-month probation to start. I told him if things don’t go as well as he plans then don’t hold the business down – so to speak. He told me that he will definitely step aside if it turns out not to be a good fit.”

  “No worries, my dear,” Martha said sincerely. “I’m sure the boy is going to do fine. And if he don’t, that’s fine too. It ain’t gonna bust the bank. Lots of times youngsters got to test their mettle at different things before they find their calling in life. Our David was twenty-five before he got on to managing the ranch and it’s been gangbusters ever since. He’s done well and is happy in the work. Your boy is gonna find his calling one day.”

  “I hope so, Auntie,” Georgia said. “William seemed so bored in college after awhile. I think he’s the kind of boy – the kind of man who’s built to get out in the world and do things his way. That’s what inspires him.”

  “A confident young man y’all have got there. Godspeed to him,” Martha grinned. “I reckon he’s gonna find out right quick if hotelier is his line of work. The Sutton’s a big operation so it’ll be sink or swim from the get go.”

  “Ouch!” Georgia cried out as her needle pricked a finger.

  The women chuckled and Biddy asked wryly, “Been awhile since you’ve used a needle, girl?”

  “A very long time,” Georgia confessed with embarrassment. “Just call me the Boston seamstress who forgot how to sew.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it, dear,” her mother said gently. “If I can do it, then you certainly can.”

  “Show me a couple stitches please, Mama.”

  “I would be glad to; come join me for a minute.” Georgia took a chair, brought it over to her mother’s corner of the frame and sat down next to her. She watched as Emilia demonstrated a stitch on the pattern block. “See? It’s easy once you know how to do it.”

  “Why didn’t I ever come to any of the bees in Boston, Mama?”

  “I invited you, dear, but you were always so interested in the boys or your poetry that you never seemed to have any time for it.”

  Georgia looked at her mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. That was selfish of me.”

  “It’s all right, my girl. We’re sewing together now, aren’t we? That’s what matters. Here, why don’t you give this stitch a try?” Georgia took her mother’s needle and slowly looped the thread into the material a few times. “Well done! You’ve got it.”

  “Thanks, Mama.” She put her arm around Emilia and gave her a squeeze.

  “When we get to the square in the center of our block patterns,” Martha said, “we’ll write our signatures in the middle and then embroider them.”

  Georgia laughed, “At last something I remember. Even I can do simple embroidery.”

  “That’s a good gal,” Martha said kindly. “And starting tonight you’ll have a nice reminder sewn right into your quilt of all the womenfolk who was here for you and James’s weddin’. A souvenir keepsake of your friends and family. We’ll keep addin’ more blocks with blank squares in ‘em for when other gals embroider their names in the years to come too.”

  “Yes. It will be like a tapestry of your friends and family,” Biddy said.

  Georgia was moved by the unexpected and poignant gift. “That is so beautiful! Thank you for this fine gift, Auntie. I will treasure it forever.” She got up from the chair, went over to Martha and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, all of you.” The women smiled as they continued sewing around the quilt frame. Georgia could see tears welling in Emilia’s eyes. “I had no idea how meaningful these bees could be to a woman,” her daughter said.

  “Not only that,” said Biddy, “but Lord knows we all need lots of quilts around the house in the winter.” Everyone signaled their hearty agreement. West Texas and Boston winters alike could both be bitterly cold, often with only a single fireplace to heat a room – or a house.

  “How ‘bout a tea break, ladies?” Biddy asked.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Emilia said, “let me help you in the kitchen.”

  The two women went to prepare tea and left Georgia and Aunt Martha alone for a moment. “Thank you again, Auntie,” Georgia said, “this means so much to me.” She pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “How are you doing? We haven’t had a chance to talk much since Arthur’s passing.”

  Martha kept stitching. “Fair to middlin’, gal. It sure did hit me hard. I bounced both of them boys – Arthur and James – on my knee when they was babes. We always kept in touch with Arthur, cheered him on as he worked his way out of poverty and became a successful businessman. I was as proud of him as I am of James n’ David.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” the younger woman said. “The brothers always looked out for him too, didn’t they?”

  “Oh, yes. Especially after Arthur’s parents died. He had no family left in Texas.” Martha stopped sewing as she remembered those days. “We all kinda took him under our wing, helped out wherever we could. He was like another orphaned son to me.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Auntie.”

  “Thank you, gal,” Martha exhaled deeply. They sat together in silence for a moment or two. “The older you get, the more folks you see pass on,” she said wistfully. “But it hurts the most when you see young folks in the prime of life get taken away like that. Arthur had so much left to give. I wish he never got all tangled up inside and lost his way.”

  “Me too, Auntie. I didn’t know him well but he meant so much to all of you. I’m saddened by his loss too.”

  Martha patted Georgia’s hand. “Thank you, girl, you’re a sweetheart. You’ve made this family whole again. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t let Arthur’s shenanigans make you think any different neither; he weren’t himself in the last days. The McCloud name is gonna carry on through you and James and I couldn’t be more happier about that. Soon your own youngsters will be scamperin’ over these hills and valleys,” she grinned, “and I bless God that I’m here to see it.”

  Georgia’s face lit up in response. She was glad to see Martha emerging from her sorrow with hope for the future – and the happiness it brought her to be able to see the beginning of those better days.

  “I’m glad I’m here too, Auntie.”

  “I want to give you another weddin’ gift, Georgia. My Mama passed this here quiltin’ frame on to me You’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a daughter and I want to pass it on to you.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Auntie.”

  “You don’t have to say nothin’. Just take it with my blessin’, gal. And if you and James have a little girl, maybe someday you’ll do the same thing and give it to her when she’s all growed up.”

  “I will, Martha. The tradition will continue with me, and I’ll be honored to pass it on.”

  The two women embraced fondly as Biddy and Emilia entered the room with trays of tea and baking.

  * * *

  With the celebration less than a week away, William called a staff meeting to introduce himself to everyone employed at the Sutton Hotel and organize the preparations for James and Georgia’s dinner. He decided that he wanted to hold their first meeting in a more intimate venue than the grand dining room with its lavish chandelier. So early in the morning everyone filed into the hotel’s tea room: chamber maids, kitchen staff, wait staff, and the Sutton’s longtime maitre d’, Jacques Lemiere.

  The head chef, Gaston Castonguay, was among the last to arrive. He strolled into the room dressed stylishly in a red French beret, the ends of his moustache waxed into sharp points, and wearing a black mourning band around the upper arm of a well-cut suit jacket in respect for his f
ormer boss. Gaston took a seat near the front of the assembly close to Jacques.

  The room grew quiet as William entered promptly at 8:00 a.m. dressed in a business suit with a mourning band in respect for the McCloud family’s loss. Every eye looked intently on him as he stood before them. Most had heard that the Sutton Hotel had been gifted by Arthur to his friend, Sheriff McCloud, and that James’s soon to be brother-in-law was the new general manager. None were prepared, however, for how young William looked. He seemed to have just stepped out of grade school.

  “Good morning, everyone!” he said brightly. “My name’s William Warton and I’m the new general manager.”

  Gaston leaned over and whispered into his co-worker’s ear. “He cannot be a day over sixteen, Jacque.”

  Lemiere smiled. “Still wet behind the ears, no doubt.” They both stared with great interest at William, taking his measure. It was not unusual in the west for young men to hold responsible jobs early in life. But their extremely youthful new boss tackling a large operation like the Sutton caused the men to assume that he would fail very quickly. This was obviously a case of nepotism gone too far. “I give him a month before he is gone,” Lemiere whispered.

  Gaston shook his head. “Ten dollars says two weeks and not a day more.”

  “You’re on,” Lemiere sniggered discreetly.

  27

  Unaware of the wagers that had been made about his departure date, William came to the close of his speech in the tea room.

  “I hope that together we can all carry on the tradition of great hospitality and food that the Sutton Hotel is famous for. Our first assignment before we open for regular business on Monday will be to cater a very important event this weekend: a wedding dinner. My sister Georgia is marrying the Sheriff of Sonora, James McCloud, on Saturday the twenty-seventh. We have the menu finalized and the guest list in hand so I will be meeting with the kitchen and wait staff later today to coordinate our efforts. Are there any questions?”

  A young woman near the back put up her hand. “Yes, Miss?” William asked.

  “How old are you, Mr. Warton?” she said innocently, causing a ripple of laughter to fill the room.

  “A very good observation, Miss,” William smiled, “I’m a young man, no doubt about that, but experienced in the hotel business as well. So I believe that together we will all succeed in operating the Sutton. Please stay afterward for a while, everyone. There’s food and refreshments. I’d like to meet you all.” With that the formal part of the meeting ended and William began shaking hands and introducing himself to the staff personally.

  When it came time to shake the head-chef’s hand he said, “I’m gonna take a wild guess that you’re Gaston Castonguay.”

  “Oui, Monsieur Warton, pleased to meet you,” Gaston said, clasping William’s hand firmly. “How do you recognize me?”

  “Oh, I’d been told that the master chef is a Frenchman, so the red beret was a dead giveaway,” he smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Gaston. I look forward to working together.”

  “Merci, Monsieur Warton. And I with you.” The chef bowed slightly toward him.

  “So tell me, Gaston, what brings a master of French cuisine to a small cattle-town in west Texas? I’m intrigued,” William asked.

  “How does anyone end up anywhere, Monsieur Warton? I could easily ask how such a very young man from Boston became head of the finest hotel in west Texas. But in the west, we do not pry into such things. A man’s past is just that: his own. We prefer to know a person by who they are now – not who they may have been, monsieur.”

  William slapped Gaston on the back, startling him, and laughed good-naturedly. “I like your style, Monsieur Castonguay! Yes, sir, let’s get to know one another by who we are now and by what we can do now, not by our past. Well said. We’ll be meeting in here again at 10:30 to discuss the dinner preparations, and I look forward to your input.”

  He moved on to meet other staff members, leaving Gaston staring after him with raised eyebrows, wondering what type of boss William could be and if, in fact, he might lose the ten dollar bet with Jacques. He had haughtily tried to school the young man in western mores, to put him in his place. But the boy had met his challenge, danced around it with great skill, and issued his own invitation to prove themselves to one another in good faith. Despite being bested in their first encounter, Gaston was impressed.

  * * *

  “James McCloud, are you pulling my leg?” Georgia asked her husband-to-be as they sat on the veranda swing together on a warm September evening.

  “It ain’t too late to change the reception from the Sutton back to the ranch, is it?” he said, more of a plea than a question. It was three days before the wedding and she was surprised by his suggestion at so late a date.

  “But all the invitations are already sent out and received by now.”

  “I know, but the only reason we wanted to hold it at the Sutton was for Arthur’s sake anyway,” he implored her. “Now that he... can’t make it why don’t we bring it on home? We could have the square dance right over there in the barn.”

  “You’re serious?” she asked.

  “Sure, why not, darlin’? It ain’t like we’re changin’ the date again or nothin’. Any folks who don’t hear about the change just gotta scoot out here from town. We’ll leave a big notice-sign posted at the Sutton.”

  It was obvious that James was set on changing the location. And when she thought about it, Georgia could understand why. His best friend had been murdered in the hotel in his presence less than two weeks earlier. Even though he was a seasoned lawman, she knew that the event had had a profound effect on James. He was still grieving. As much as all the McClouds wanted to put a brave face on it, they were all still dealing with their grief, each in his or her own way. Georgia berated herself for not suggesting a change of venue earlier.

  Of course they don’t want to have the reception at the Sutton: it reminds them too much of Arthur. If we hold it here at the Golden Lane then it will be much better for everyone.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she said to him. “Of course we can change the venue. It must be such a strong reminder for all of you of what happened to Arthur. I should have thought of that sooner.”

  “That’s all right,” James replied with obvious relief. “I just didn’t think that far ahead neither. And now that the day is gettin’ so close...it just kinda snuck up on me and hit me in the chest. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do,” Georgia said gently, “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Thanks,” he said and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “I feel better already.”

  “You’re not getting cold feet on me are you, James?” she teased.

  “No, ma’am! A team of wild longhorns couldn’t keep me from marryin’ you on Saturday.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she said, snuggling closer to him, “because I feel that way about you too, James McCloud.” She put her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” Georgia exclaimed.

  James jumped in surprise, immediately alert for danger. “What is it? Did you see something?”

  “No. It’s just that I’d better tell William about the change. He needs to know as soon as possible.” She pecked him on the cheek. “I’m going to find him right now.” James smiled as she hurried away. He took his boots off, stretched out on the veranda swing, and put his Stetson over his eyes.

  * * *

  Georgia found her younger brother in the den playing chess with Charles. “Pumpkin,” her father said, “you look like a woman on a mission.”

  “I am, Daddy. I need to talk to William for a minute, please.”

  “Sure, my dear, he’s all yours. We just finished our match and I need a sandwich anyways. I’ll see you two later,” Charles smiled and left for the kitchen.

  “Heya, sis,” William greeted her, “have a seat.” She plopped down into one of the huge leather den-chairs. “Three days to go, eh? How are you feeli
ng?”

  “I’m good,” Georgia replied with a beatific smile.

  “I can tell. You look happier than I’ve seen you in years. I’m glad for you, sis. Glad you finally found your cowboy,” he grinned.

  “Thanks, Willy. Me too. I never would have met him if you didn’t give me that copy of Matrimonial News.”

  “Yeah,” he laughed, “no problem. I saw a stack of those papers sitting in the dime store one day and thought it was worth a shot. Truth is, I was desperate to get you out of Boston before old Bishop got his ring on your finger.”