“I’m counting on it.”
***
Grant had handled the situation badly. Still, Lorraine shouldn’t have gone so far. He’d better visit the people whose advertisements she had listed and smooth over things.
His success depended on the goodwill of local merchants. If they believed he—in the guise of Lorraine—had harassed or pushed them he might lose any support he’d built so far. He couldn’t let that happen.
In the butcher shop, Claus Horowitz was carving steaks from a beef carcass. “Welcome home, Grant. Ah, your helper, she is a delightful woman.”
The tension across his shoulders lessened. “You didn’t feel she pressured you?”
“Why would I? She had a great idea to help both of us.”
Surprised at the butcher’s reaction, Grant said, “I wanted to check and be sure everything was okay.”
Claus used the cleaver to point at him. “You were smart to hire that young woman. She’s smart, pleasant, and a hard worker. That young lady will make you money.”
Grant said his goodbye and ambled toward the mercantile. Claus’ reaction was opposite to what he’d feared. He’d see what Michael had to say. He opened the door and stepped inside.
Michael’s smile relieved Grant. “Hey, glad you’re back. I know you’ll have an article in the paper but is there anything you can share now?”
“Hard trip and the accommodations were less than comfortable. The actual trial was sad. I don’t understand men like those criminals. Say, I noticed you’d increased the size of your advertisement for the paper.”
Michael leaned on the counter. “You bet. Has your helper told you her great idea yet?”
“Um, no, she . . . um, she had to go back to Lydia’s this morning.”
“She asked me what I had too much of and what I made the most profit on. Then she said why not offer a small discount on the profitable when bought with my overstocked item. I’m already planning what to use for July.”
“You didn’t think she was too pushy?”
“Grant, you know me well enough to figure out that I’m far too stubborn to let a slip of a woman bully me into anything.” He glanced at Josephine stocking shelves and offered a sheepish grin. “Well, except for one woman in particular.”
Grant returned his friend’s smile. “Yeah, that’s different.” His gaze strayed to a stack of Frank Leslie’s Magazine and he ran a finger over the top one’s cover.
Michael nodded toward the magazines. “These came in on the last stage. That Trueharte has a story in this issue.”
Grant scanned the table of contents. “Great, I enjoy his writing. Guess I’ll take one and then get back to work.” He paid for the publication and walked across the street to his office.
Perhaps he’d misjudged Lorraine. Drat! What he knew about women he could put in his eye and it wouldn’t hurt. His mind whirred with confusion.
He was confident in his ability as a newspaperman. Maybe he wasn’t great at the other aspects of owning his own business. Inside the office, he sat at his desk pondering how to resolve the dilemma he’d created.
Adam came in and strode to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “Glad you’re back, although I enjoyed seeing Miss Stuart here.” He peered around. “She’s not here? Figured you’d keep her on.”
Grant looked up. “Adam, I’ve made a terrible mistake and created one heck of a mess.” He had the urge to beat his head against the top of his desk.
Adam speared him with a look. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”
***
Lorraine leaned near the mirror to see her reflection. “You worked wonders, Prudence. No one can tell I’ve been crying, can they?”
“You look lovely. Quit despairing over your appearance.”
She turned slowly to face her roommate. “If only you had a handy herbal remedy to work miracles on my self-respect, maybe even my heart. I feel such a fool for imagining I could win Grant Pettigrew with a few advertisements.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure he’ll soon see what an ass he’s been and apologize. If not I still may punch him for you.” Prudence made a fist and stood like a prizefighter.
Lorraine offered her friend a weak smile. “Please, save that honor for me.”
There was a rap on the door then Rachel peeked in. “Lorraine, you’re wanted in Lydia’s office.”
“What for, do you know?”
Instead of answering, Rachel said, “Don’t keep her waiting.”
Smoothing a hand over her now rumpled dress, Lorraine hurried downstairs. When she reached Lydia’s office, she rapped and entered. Lydia sat behind her desk but Grant sat in one of the chairs.
Lorraine looked from Lydia to Grant. She decided to ignore him and met her hostess’ gaze. “You wanted to see me, Lydia?”
Lydia stood and smiled. “This gentleman has a great deal to say to you and it involves eating a large serving of crow. I’ll turn the office over to you two.” She nodded and left.
Keeping her back to Grant, Lorraine clasped her hands at her waist. “You’ve said more than enough to make your feelings perfectly clear where I’m concerned.”
“No, no, I didn’t. Not at all. Lorr . . . Miss Stuart, please sit down and let me explain.”
Slowly, she pivoted to face him. His dark eyes pleaded so she gave in. Carrying the weight of her shattered dreams, she sat in the chair near him.
“What can you possibly say to excuse the way you behaved?”
He resumed sitting. “I’m sure you think I’m controlling and . . . .” He appeared to search for the right word.
She crossed her arms across her chest. “An absolute ass?”
The smile he attempted came off as half-hearted and sad. “I believe ‘inflexible’ is the term you used earlier. I overreacted badly and need to tell you why so maybe you won’t think so badly of me and can forgive me.”
“I’m listening but this will have to be very good. I can’t think of anything that would excuse your actions unless you’re going to confess you were raised in a cave by wolves.”
“You know I grew up on a farm with two older brothers, although sometimes we did act wild. We weren’t poor but we didn’t have extra cash. My parents believed in saving for the future and never letting anything go to waste.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Sounds like a good way to live.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “In theory, but I never had anything of my own except for the socks my mom knitted me for Christmas and birthdays. By the time my two older brothers’ handed-down clothes reached me, they were patched and faded. Shoes never fit properly.”
“I can’t feel sorry for you when there are many who would love to have what you had.”
He held up a hand in protest. “I didn’t say I had a bad life. My parents loved us and we had plenty to eat because we had a large garden, two milk cows, and chickens.”
“I’d say you had everything you needed.”
“Except for those socks, nothing was mine. No privacy, sharing everything with my brothers. Larger families always have this problem and I suppose it doesn’t bother most people. But, as long as I can remember, I craved privacy and grew up wishing for something that was my very own.”
He leaned forward. “When I went to work for the newspaper, I lived at home. In Chicago, I lived in a boarding house. To save money, I shared a room with another reporter. When I came here I lived in the hotel. Not until I bought the house across the street from Zane did I have my own place. Even then it was furnished with things left by the previous owners.”
“You have your own home and a newspaper now. Sounds pretty good to me.”
He scooted forward until their knees almost touched. “Yes, I’ve had my own newspaper to run as only I saw fit. I see now that I made errors, but at least I was in control. The Tarnation Gazette was all mine.”
She searched his face and he appeared sincere. Still, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you insinuating I invaded your world? In case you’
ve forgotten, you invited me and I only did as you’d instructed.”
“You were right in what you did. I don’t know what came over me when I saw the stack of advertisements you’d lined up. I had no excuse for being so rude and unreasonable.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it was due to being so tired from that trip. I feared maybe you’d browbeaten customers. Or, more likely I was jealous you’d done so much better than I had.”
He took one of her hands in his. “Please say you’ll forgive me and come back and work at the newspaper.”
The warmth of his touch thrumming through her body distracted her. She had to focus to keep her eyes open and concentrate on his words. “Back as what? You want me to sweep up? You’ve made it clear you don’t need anyone else.”
“That’s what I believed.” He exhaled and his shoulders slumped. “I was wrong, very wrong. I do need someone—I need you.”
She pulled loose from his grasp. “How can I believe you now after the way you acted?”
“Because you’ve shown me that I’ve been focused on getting current news to the point that I’ve neglected the business side.”
She crossed her arms over her chest again. “Good business practice is the only way you’ll ever make a profit, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“I know, I know. What if I made you business manager or assistant editor? Would you agree then?”
She stared at him, assessing his sincerity. This was the man she had chosen to marry, but did she still want to be linked to Grant Pettigrew for life? Would he keep his word? Wait… working for him wasn’t being tied to the man forever.
“Assistant editor would be nice, but only if you mean it.” She pointed at him. “If you have any doubts, you’d better speak up right now.”
“I mean every word. With the increased revenue you’ve brought, I can pay your salary.”
Chapter Eight
Lorraine stared at Grant, as if daring him to say the wrong thing. He had hurt her deeply and crushed her enthusiasm, but he appeared genuinely repentant. Perhaps there was a chance for them after all.
He stood and guided her to her feet. “Please say you’ve forgiven me.”
They were only inches apart. Did her presence affect him as his did her? As if in answer to her thoughts, he clasped her arms gently.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to work with you, Mr. Pettigrew, so I suppose we should at least give this arrangement a try.”
A broad smile split his face and his brown eyes sparkled. “Thank you. Please, since we’ll be working together, will you call me Grant?”
Since that’s how she thought of him, his request was an easy one. “All right, Grant, and I suppose you should call me Lorraine.”
The anger she’d harbored had fled and with it, most of the hurt. Was she so inconsistent that one apology could completely change her attitude? Apparently she was—although he had groveled. She focused on the chain that secured his pocket watch when what she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck.
He released one of her arms to tip her face upward then gently brushed her lips with his. Instead of bristly as she’d expected, his mustache was soft. She should have resisted his advances but melted against him. His arms tightened around her.
He whispered against her hair, “Ah, Lorraine, I’ve dreamed of holding you like this since I met you.”
She nestled against his strong chest. “Have you? You acted as if you didn’t like me.”
“That was never my intention.” He backed away but took her hand in his. “Please understand that this kiss has nothing to do with whether or not you work with me. Will you come back to the office today?”
Should she? Here she was, vacillating again when he’d apologized and offered her a job and recognition.
“I suppose. I’ll tell Lydia and get my purse then I can go.” She slipped out the door Lydia had used, the one that led to the kitchen.
Lydia waited, smiling. “All cleared up now?”
Wondering if Lydia could tell she’d been kissed, Lorraine smiled and sensed the heat of a blush on her face. “He’s offered me a job as assistant editor. If you’ve no objection, I’ll go with him to the office.”
Mrs. Murphy handed her a bundle. “We expected as much. I’ve made you sandwiches since you’ll miss your dinner.”
Lorraine took the package. “Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. And you, Lydia, for your kindness.”
Lydia hugged her. “I fetched your purse from your room just in case he pled his case well. Get going. I’ll let the others know where you are.”
Lorraine and Grant strolled to the office. Several of those on the road or who they met on the boardwalk called a greeting. Others waved from across the street. Grant was acquainted with everyone in town.
Between her attending church, the dances, and selling advertisements for the paper, she had met many of the townspeople. A town this size was like an extended family. How fortunate she was that Lydia had chosen her as one of the women to come here.
Back at the Tarnation Gazette office, Grant gestured to the stack of papers she’d left for him. “Will you explain these to me?”
“I made up a dummy page for the ads to make certain they fit together.” She pulled a newspaper-sized piece of paper from beneath the stack. “You can see I’ve drawn out the placement of the ads. I know you’ll change the way I laid them out but I wanted to be certain the page would be balanced.”
“Balanced? I see you’ve placed them much as I would have.”
His praise elevated her already improved mood. “At the top of the page, I hoped you would put a banner that announces the sale. June would be something about welcoming summer. Some of the advertisements use that theme, as you may have noted.”
She picked up Mr. Lyon’s small copy. “He doesn’t say anything about summer, but he has two spaces. For the bath house, he’s offered a discount on Mondays because that’s his slowest day. He’d like to have more customers for shaves in his barber shop. I suggested he offer a small discount on a haircut if the man buys a shave.”
“Good idea. One of Clinton Lyon’s shaves is a luxury that’s habit forming.”
Lorraine sent him a tentative smile and braced herself in case he declined. “You do realize you’ll have to let him shave you several times a week now, right?”
He grinned at her. “Using up my profit already, huh? Don’t worry, Lorraine. I already stop by for a shave at least three times a week. In fact, I make it a point to patronize each of the businesses in town at one time or another.”
“The mercantile ad is the largest. Smallest is Mr. Gallagher’s but he included Mr. Kozlov. Since Mr. Kozlov has sent for his fiancée and is saving every penny he can, Mr. Gallagher paid. Isn’t that nice of him?”
“He’s a nice man. He and Kozlov built this place and helped me in here with the counter and the shelves. I sure hope there’s enough work to keep both of them busy.” Her resumed scanning the dummy page. “Looks as if you have a wide range of participation.”
“Even Reverend McIntyre placed one for the church. He invited everyone to attend, but he wants to run it permanently. If there’s a social or something, he said he might add that.”
“I’ll tell him there’s no need. If there’s anything special planned, I’ll write a story about the event.” Grant caught her gaze. “Or, you could.”
She smiled, happy to have him catch some of her enthusiasm. “Having an article in the paper would be nice. I wondered if you could include a recipe each week from one of the town’s women?”
“I don’t know why not. Any plan on how to choose?”
“Mr. Horowitz’s advertisement includes beef tongue so I thought you might print his wife’s recipe. He said some people don’t like the tongue because they don’t cook it correctly. As far as I know I’ve never eaten any, and I definitely wouldn’t know how to prepare it.”
“Did he show you his smokehouses behind the shop?”
“No, but I wondered how he
keeps meat even in hot weather.”
“He has a large smokehouse for salted down beef and lamb. A smaller place is for pork. Since he and Aleida are Jewish they can’t eat pork or anything it has touched. He has a large pen for his chickens and kills them as needed.”
Lorraine didn’t like talking about killing animals so she changed the subject. “I realize this makes your paper larger and therefore more expensive to print. If the response to the campaign is good, your customers will continue to advertise and keep their revenue flowing to you.”
“That will be your job, Lorraine. I love the reporting but, frankly, I’ve never been happy with the selling required. Obviously, you’re creative and able to get advertisers involved.”
“Shall we have the sandwiches Mrs. Murphy prepared for us?”
“Great, I’m always hungry. Why don’t we use my desk as a table? Mom used to accuse me of having a twin somewhere who ate half of what I put away. She said no one boy could possibly eat so much and still be thin.”
She opened the napkin on his desk to reveal three sandwiches, cookies, and two apples. He pulled the chairs so they could share the repast. She set out two sandwiches for him and one for her.
“You’re not thin now.” Realizing how she sounded, Lorraine said, “I don’t mean you’re fat, but you look strong and muscular.”
He chuckled and reached for a sandwich. “Glad you made that clear. Mmm, roast beef. My favorite.” After taking a large bite, he stood and reached for tin cups from a shelf near the sink. “Water is all I have to offer.”
“I wondered if you’ve considered having coffee here to offer the sheriff and customers.”
“In the winter, I make coffee. This time of year the stove heats the office to unbearable.” He winked at her. “I suppose you want me to get an icebox and have Jo Jo Greenberg deliver ice.”
What must he think of her? She had no intention of changing his routine, only increasing his income. “I don’t want to create additional expense for you, Grant. I’m truly not trying to take over your world.”
“Says the woman who increased advertising revenue several times. And who has found a way to keep the business solvent even with her salary added.”
Lorraine Page 7