The Highest of Hopes

by Susan Anne Mason

  “What is he going to do now?” Emma whispered.

  Trudy plucked several spools of ribbon from the messy array of shelves behind her. “He’s looking for full-time work so he can save money and maybe reapply next term. In the meantime, he’s been doing odd jobs for people—handyman repairs, deliveries, gardening.”

  Gardening. Emma’s heart cinched at the memory of him happily tending Mrs. Teeter’s vegetables. The sunshine glinting off his dark hair, the streaks of dirt on his cheek.

  “That’s the main reason I wanted the shop to sell quickly. I thought if I could repay his tuition money, the university might be willing to make an exception and grant him late acceptance.” She moved to a long table and began to unfold a bolt of fabric. “None of that matters now since the one person interested has backed off.”

  “If you sell the shop, where will you go?” Emma glanced toward the rear staircase that led to the living quarters upstairs. Trudy had done such a good job of creating a cozy home for Jonathan and herself.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll stay with my cousin in London until I figure that out.”

  “London? But you hate the city.”

  She shrugged. “There’s a better chance to find work in the dress shops there.”

  Emma put an arm around the woman, who seemed much frailer than she remembered. “I’m sure God has a plan in mind. We just have to hold on to our faith.”

  “I’m trying, dear. I really am.” She straightened her spine. “But enough about my problems. What about you? Why aren’t you in Canada?”

  Heat bloomed in Emma’s cheeks. Perhaps it was a little too early to tell Trudy about her hopes concerning Jonathan. “My relationship with my father got rather unpleasant after Jonathan left. It made me realize that I had pinned all my hopes for the future on a man who doesn’t really want me in his life.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” She gave Emma a quick hug. “The man doesn’t deserve a daughter as wonderful as you.”

  “Maybe not.” Emma smiled, amazed that the sting of rejection had lessened now that there was an ocean between them.

  “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll make you a nice pot of tea.” Trudy headed toward the back stairs.

  Emma glanced at the clock on the wall, one her grandad had given Trudy as a gift. “Can we delay that for a bit? I have an errand I need to run before the shops close for the day.”

  An idea that had started to gnaw at her now pressed against her temples with an urgency that defied logic. She dropped a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” She paused, her hand fluttering to her throat. “Is Jonathan going to be here later?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s gone into the city for a few days on a job.”

  Emma pushed away a twinge of disappointment. But that might be better after all. She’d have time to see if her plan might work.

  “Guess it will just be us girls for dinner,” Trudy said with a smile. “We’ll make it a proper welcome home party.”

  Two hours later, Emma walked back through the streets of Wheatley, buoyed by how easily her idea had come to fruition. It had to have been divinely inspired for that to happen.

  Now if only she could convince everyone else of her plan’s merit.

  This time, when Emma entered the dress shop, a very different Trudy met her. Her eyes shone with excitement. “Emma, dear. You’ll never believe this. The bank manager just called to tell me that someone has made an offer on the shop. I have a buyer after all.”

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “And the best part is the new owner wants to take over right away. If we can get all the paperwork done, I might even have my money by tomorrow.” She clasped her hands together like a happy child. Then a sudden cloud came over her features. “In all the excitement, I forgot to ask how much time I’d have to vacate the place. It will take me a few days to pack everything. I suppose I’ll have to ship the furniture. . . .” She paused, staring around the room as though doing a mental inventory.

  “I don’t think the new owner will be too worried about that. In fact, I suspect you may not have to go anywhere.”

  “Well, of course I will. Even if he was willing to rent me the upstairs rooms, I would still have to find a job to support myself.”

  “What if the new owner wanted to hire you as the head seamstress of the dress shop?” Emma tilted her head, biting her lip to contain a smile.

  Aunt Trudy’s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. “What do you know about this, young lady?”

  Emma laughed out loud with pure glee. “You’re looking at the new owner of Trudy’s Dress Designs.”

  Instead of the delighted response Emma had anticipated, Trudy’s eyes filled with tears. “You bought my store?”

  “I did. Isn’t that wonderful?” Emma twirled around in the middle of the floor. “Now you can stay here and keep making your beautiful creations.”

  “But it won’t be mine anymore.” She slumped onto a stool behind the counter. “I don’t think I can stay on as an employee.”

  Emma’s heart sank to the toes of her shoes. She’d expected some resistance from Jonathan once he learned, but she’d never anticipated a negative reaction from Trudy. She approached the counter, ready to use all the arguments she’d given the bank manager. “We can make this work, Trudy. You’re not good with figures, but I am. I handled the books for Grandad and made sure he was never in the red. I’m good at following up with customers and collecting the money they owe. And I’ve got lots of ideas how we can improve the shop and bring in more business. All you’d have to worry about is the sewing. Together, we could form a partnership and turn this store into the success it was meant to be.”

  Trudy shook her head. “I don’t have the capital to become your partner.”

  Emma reached over the counter and took Trudy’s hands in hers. “But you will. As of tomorrow, you’ll have all the capital you need. You’ll be able to pay off your debts, with hopefully a fair bit to spare. If you want to use some of that money to invest as my partner, we can discuss that option. Or we can draw up an agreement that at any time you wish to buy me out, I will sell the shop back to you. For the same amount that I paid.”

  Trudy covered her mouth. “That sounds very reasonable,” she whispered. Hope brimmed in her pale eyes.

  “There’s one aspect you may not agree with.” Emma hesitated, then plunged on. “I want to renovate the back rooms to include a living space for me.”

  Trudy just blinked.

  “I’ve taken out a small loan to do that and to update the interior as well. Make a true fresh start. What do you say, Trudy? Are you in this with me?”

  Trudy rose, a smile flickering over her face. “I’ll be able to pay Jonathan back.”

  Emma grinned. “Exactly. Maybe we could discuss an idea I have about that over dinner?”

  Trudy didn’t answer but walked out into the middle of the shop and slowly looked around. She ran her fingers over the fabric of one of the last bolts of material with a sigh.

  Emma’s palms grew itchy. What if she had misjudged the woman’s wishes? What if she simply wanted to leave it all behind? “You do still want to run the shop, don’t you?”

  Trudy turned around, tears glistening on her cheeks. “Oh, Emma. You’ve given me new hope for my old dreams. How can I ever thank you?” She moved in to clasp Emma in a tight embrace.

  Emma squeezed her back, her own eyes watering. “Just seeing you so happy is thanks enough for me.” She laughed out loud with sheer delight. “Although I do have one thing I could use your help with.”

  “You name it, dear. I think I could take on the whole world right now.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Jonathan couldn’t wait to have a hot bath. To soak his stiff muscles and rid himself of the city’s soot. As he entered his aunt’s shop through the rear door, though, the enticing aroma of fried meat, potatoes, and onions met his nose. His stomach grumbled, reminding him how many hours it had been since his last meal. May
be a quick wash-up would do until he’d eaten. After almost a week in London, he looked forward to a good home-cooked dinner.

  “I hope that’s your shepherd’s pie I smell,” he called as he climbed the stairs to their flat. “I’m hungry enough to eat the whole pan myself.” Grinning, he walked into the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt.

  The kitchen table was draped in his aunt’s best tablecloth, one usually reserved for Christmas and Easter, with two settings of her good china on top. A long taper candle glowed in the center beside a vase of wildflowers. He looked around the empty room. The kitchen was spotless, every dish washed, a covered pan sitting on the stovetop. In the adjoining living area, the furniture fairly gleamed, every blanket folded, every book in its place. His aunt must have been bit by the cleaning bug.

  Or had Jonathan forgotten a special occasion? He wracked his brain to think what it could be. His birthday wasn’t until next month. Trudy’s not until December.

  He removed his cap and jacket and hung them on the peg on the wall.

  “Aunt Trudy?” He crossed to the sink to wash his hands and face. “Why the good dishes? Are we celebrating something?”

  A movement from the hall flickered at the edge of his vision. But when he turned to greet his aunt, he froze, the words dying in his throat.

  “Hello, Jonathan. Welcome home.”

  Emma! His heart chugged to a painful halt in his chest. How could this be? Clearly, he must be hallucinating.

  He blinked, staring in disbelief. But the image didn’t change. She stood there in his kitchen, a vision in a silky blue dress, her hair piled on top of her head with a few long curls framing her face. For one ecstatic moment, a blast of pure joy soared through his system. His heart took off at a crazy speed, beating so fast he couldn’t seem to catch his breath or feel his limbs.

  Until reality came rushing in, dousing him with a delayed sense of self-preservation. This was the woman who had rejected him. Who’d chosen her father and a life in Canada over him. What made him think anything had changed?

  He took a breath and forced the walls back up around his heart. “Emmaline,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your hands are dripping.” She came forward to hand him a towel. “That’s a rather long story. One I’ll tell you while we eat.” She flashed him a bright smile, yet he could tell she was nervous by the way she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.

  “I hope you like the meal I made. Trudy gave me her recipe.” She lifted the lid of the pan on the stove, then reached for a serving spoon. “Please, sit down. You must be tired after your trip.”

  He dried his hands and face, then took a seat, his mind still reeling over her presence here. “Where is Aunt Trudy?”

  “She had a potluck at the church tonight.” Emma ladled the food onto a plate and set it in front of him.

  The familiar scent of her floral perfume wafted by him, taunting him.

  Seconds later, she fixed her own plate and sat down across from him. The table was so small, their knees brushed.

  The nerves in Jonathan’s stomach jumped. He scraped his chair back to avoid contact with her.

  Why was she here wearing fancy clothes and serving him food on good china? He couldn’t eat one bite until he knew what was going on.

  “What’s that scowl for?” Emma laid a napkin on her lap.

  “I want to know what you’re doing here.”

  “Can’t we just enjoy our meal first? I thought you were hungry.”

  “Not until I make sense of this. You said you were staying in Canada with your family. Now, three weeks later, here you are. What happened?”

  The candlelight flickered over her delicate features, creating a glow in her eyes. No, he could not relax and pretend this was just an ordinary meal, not without an explanation first.

  Her brows crashed together. “Fine, have it your way.” She jutted out her chin. “It became apparent that it was never going to work out with my father. So I decided to come home.”

  He knew her well enough to recognize there was much more she wasn’t saying. “What brought about this sudden realization?”

  Her gaze slid to the table top. “Must we discuss all that unpleasantness now? After I spent hours cooking for you?”

  “Emma.” He pinned her with his fiercest stare.

  She huffed out a sigh. “All right. I’ll tell you the whole story. But first, why don’t you open your mail?”

  A diversionary tactic if ever he’d heard one. He glanced down at the envelope beside his fork and frowned at the sight of the Oxford emblem. “What is this?”

  “Open it and see.”

  Alarm bells blasted in his head. Her smile was a bit too smug for his liking and every instinct shouted that he was not going to like this, whatever it was.

  Reluctantly, he slit open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of stationery. He scanned the typed words, his frown becoming deeper by the moment. “This says that my tuition has been paid in full, and I’m to report for classes as soon as possible.” He raised his head. “Is this your doing?”

  “Indirectly.” Her eyes danced. “Isn’t it wonderful? Aunt Trudy sold her shop and was able to pay your tuition after all. She went down to the admissions office and apparently created quite a scene. Eventually, because she paid for the full year, they relented and allowed you back on the roster.”

  Suspicion buzzed through his brain. “A new buyer must have come up very suddenly. Before I left, negotiations for the sale weren’t going well. I hope Aunt Trudy didn’t lower the price too much.” His mind whirled, trying to fit the pieces together. “But how are you involved?”

  A grin spread over her face. “You’re looking at the new owner.”

  “What?” He couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly.

  “I bought Trudy’s shop.”

  He stared, his mouth falling open. Heat flooded his system, blasting up his neck. Then he shoved his chair back and surged to his feet. “Why on earth would you do such a thing? You no more want to sew dresses than I want to shovel manure.”

  Her smile faded, confusion clouding her features. “I thought it was a brilliant idea. A solution to everyone’s problems.”

  Jonathan stalked over to the living room, raking a hand through his hair. Having Emma here, not only in Wheatley but in the very place he lived, was not a solution to his problem at all. In fact, it would be intolerable.

  She came up behind him. “Why are you angry? I thought you’d be thrilled to finally have your dreams come true.” Hurt laced her words.

  When he looked at her, her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  Jonathan bit back a curse. Emma always had wonderful intentions, but she jumped into things without considering all the ramifications.

  “Trudy gets to keep her store and her home,” she said slowly. “You get Oxford, and I—”

  “What, Emma? What do you get, other than an empty pocketbook?”

  Emma recoiled. She’d never seen Jonathan so upset, never heard him speak so harshly. “I get my own business to run. I have lots of ideas how to increase sales by bringing in new designs and new customers. Plus, if you’d bothered to let me explain, I would have told you that Trudy can buy in as a partner if she wants. Or she can continue as the head seamstress and invest the rest of her money elsewhere. She’ll have options now, rather than going to live with a cousin she doesn’t get on with.” She allowed herself to look at him fully. “I thought you’d be happy about that.”

  She’d thought he’d be happy to see her too, but she’d obviously been wrong. She should have remembered that surprising people rarely turned out well.

  He shook his head. “I am glad that Aunt Trudy doesn’t have to move, but—”

  “But what?”

  He threw out his hands, his eyes almost panicked. “Where are you going to live? I can’t have you staying under my roof.”

  She crossed her arms and glared. “It’s my roof now. Or it will be once the paperwork is filed. But don’t
worry, I’ll only be in your space until I can build my own quarters at the back of the store.”

  His hands fisted at his side, and he uttered a coarse word.

  Could he really not stand the sight of her now?

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You hate that I own your home.” Or maybe he just hated her.

  “It’s more than that.” He blew out a breath. “But it’s my problem, not yours. As you pointed out, it’s your roof now. I’ll just have to learn to deal with the situation.”

  Emma held back any further attempts to convince him of her plan’s merit. She’d shocked him by showing up out of the blue and then surprising him with her purchase of the shop. One thing Jonathan was not and that was spontaneous. He always mulled a scenario over six ways to Sunday before he made a decision. Once he’d had time to digest the new turn of events, Emma was sure he’d see the benefit. Maybe then she could tell him how she felt about him.

  Tonight was obviously not the right time for that.

  Jonathan paced the braided rug in front of the fireplace and seemed to struggle to regain control of his emotions. He finally stopped and turned his intense brown eyes on her. “What really happened in Toronto that made you decide to come home?”

  She bit back a sigh. The last thing she wanted was to rehash that painful event. At least not yet. “Can we not save that conversation for another time?”

  “No, Emma. Something must have happened with your father to make you leave. I want to know what.”

  She hesitated, but realized from the stubborn set of his jaw there was no point in putting off the inevitable. “Fine. If it’s a confession you want, I’ll tell you the ugly truth.” She crossed the room to the window that looked over the street below and gathered her courage. She’d never really considered what Jonathan’s reaction might be to learning the real story about her birth. Only one way to find out. “It all fell apart the night of the rally. Against everyone’s wishes, I went to see my father debate the mayor. Wainwright showed up, and the night turned into a disaster.”