Edith crossed her arms over her chest. “This is ridiculous, spending this kind of money on a woman who’s practically a stranger.”
“Mother, Uncle Caleb is showing Christian charity,” the boy said, sounding uncannily like Reverend Joshua. “No, beyond charity. Generosity. Why are you faulting him for that? It’s his own money, after all, to do with as he pleases.”
Edith huffed. “Since when do you take your uncle’s side? He’s barely acknowledged you for years.”
Ben flushed, but he squarely met his mother’s gaze. “That’s untrue, Mother, especially lately.”
“Enough, Ben,” Caleb said firmly. “Although I appreciate your defense, there’s no need to argue with your mother on my behalf.”
Ben squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I don’t agree, Uncle. Mother is being unjust.”
Edith made a small sound.
When Caleb turned to her, instead of the disdain he expected, he saw her eyes held a stricken look.
Edith placed a hand to her chest. “You sounded like your father.”
They looked at her in silence, both clearly unsure what to say.
She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.
Ben shifted his parcels, trying to free a hand. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to distress you.”
“No, son. The thought of your father distresses me because I miss him still.”
The smile she gave her son wavered, yet held more vulnerability than Caleb had seen from his sister for a long time. She’s the second person who’s been vulnerable today. Maggie must be working Gypsy magic, even from upstairs.
Edith touched Ben’s shoulder. “You do him proud, son. I only wish your father could see you. . .that he’d been by your side all this time.”
Ben leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “So do I.”
Caleb thought of the baby upstairs who would grow up without a father. By Maggie and Reverend Joshua’s accounts, Charlotte would be better off without the man. But what if fatherhood would have changed Oswald? Certainly experiencing Charlotte’s birth, bonding to the baby, has changed me. Maybe Oswald would have doted on his daughter and reformed as a man and a husband. Caleb had known of a case or two where this had happened.
He’d been assuaging his conscience by thinking Maggie and Charlotte would be better off without the man. But what if I’m wrong?
CHAPTER NINE
Ben snuck a sideways glance at his uncle. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different about him, but something was. Uncle Caleb looked the same, formal in his black suit and gray-and-black waistcoat, but his posture had changed. He’d always held himself with a certain rigidity that Ben had taken for granted, until now, when he saw his uncle seemed. . . . Relaxed was the best word he could come up with. Also, his expression seemed lighter.
He followed his uncle up the stairs, shifting the armful of parcels he carried for better balance. His mother climbed behind him. She didn’t say anything, but the feeling of her disapproval preceded her, making Ben’s back tighten.
Uncle Caleb turned right and into the open door of the blue guest room. The room had remained empty since the Bellaires’ abrupt departure, for a reason the adults had remained closemouthed about. Toward the end of their stay, Ben had taken to dropping by and playing chess with Andre Bellaire, who was recuperating from his heart attack.
He’d liked the older man, who didn’t talk down to him and was easy to converse with, especially about business—something he’d only become interested in since working at the hotel. The man’s stories about his company in New York made Ben determined to visit the city someday.
Uncle Caleb knocked on the bedroom door.
A female voice bade them come in.
Ben followed his uncle into the room and looked at the woman in the bed. He didn’t know what he’d expected—someone older perhaps—not someone young and pretty, with big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth. Her dark hair hung in a long braid. He winced at the cuts and bruises on her face. No wonder Uncle Caleb feels bad.
“We come bearing gifts, Mrs. Baxter,” Uncle Caleb said in a tone of hearty good cheer. “And here’s my nephew Ben, whom I’ve conscripted into the job of pack mule.”
Hearing the jovial note in the man’s voice, he shot his uncle a puzzled glance. If he believed in fairies, which he didn’t, Ben might have thought him a changeling—if the Fae ever took adults, that is, not just swapped babies.
The woman held an infant, and her joyful smile at his uncle made her bloom from merely pretty to exotically beautiful, even with her face marred by her injury.
Suspicions started to nag at Ben. Women did not smile at his uncle like that. Mostly, they were polite. Only those who set their caps at him acted simpering and coy, but this woman seemed open and natural in her good humor.
Still radiating displeasure, his mother silently entered the room. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stood next to Ben, smelling of rose scent.
One by one, Uncle Caleb set the parcels on the bed. “I bought you and Charlotte some necessities.”
Mrs. Baxter’s smiled faded.
Uncle Caleb held up a hand. “Don’t say it, Mrs. Baxter. I am responsible that you and the baby have so few possessions at your disposal. We’ve argued this point before, and we won’t do so again.”
Ben began placing the parcels on the foot of the bed.
Mrs. Baxter glanced at his mother, a hint of mischief in her big brown eyes. “Is he always so domineering?”
Ben froze, aghast that the woman dared speak about his uncle in a playful way—to his mother, of all people. He cringed, knowing the tart response the woman was about to receive and hoped good manners would at least keep his mother within the bounds of politeness. His arms tightened around the remaining parcels.
Mother’s lips quivered, then widened. She gestured to Uncle Caleb and chuckled. “You see what I have to live with? Brother or not, I never win against him.”
Ben almost fell over in surprise. Maybe fairies did exist, and they’ve also taken my mother.
Uncle Caleb glanced over at Mother, his dropped jaw making him look as astonished as Ben felt. Then he slipped Ben a wink. “The ladies are conspiring against me. You’d better take my side, for we men have to stick together.”
Ben couldn’t resist the chance to tease back. “Oh. . .I don’t know, Uncle Caleb. I might have to agree with Mrs. Baxter and my mother.” He tried to remain stone-faced but couldn’t hold back a grin.
“Betrayed by my own nephew,” Uncle Caleb said in a tone of mock despair, placing a dramatic hand on his chest.
Everyone laughed.
Ben couldn’t believe his uncle and mother were acting playful. Their rare by-play gave him a good feeling. Maybe Mrs. Baxter is a fairy godmother. He snuck another glance at her, noticing her eyes had a slight upward slant. She looks like she could be one of the Fae.
Uncle Caleb dropped a hand on Ben’s shoulder and glanced at Mrs. Baxter. “I’d like to properly introduce Charlotte to Ben.” He extended his arms. “May I hold the baby?”
Mrs. Baxter’s joyful smile was back. She lifted the child and held her up.
Uncle Caleb strode to the side of the bed and took the baby, settling her into the crook of his left arm in a smooth way that spoke of practice.
They are the reason for changes in my uncle! A sudden wave of jealousy made his chest tight. He wasn’t used to sharing his uncle’s attention, as little as it was.
Ben recognized the emotion from the past and didn’t like the way it made him feel now. I’m not a child anymore. I’m almost a man. Uncle Caleb said he was proud of me, and my mother told me my father would be proud. I’m too old for this. He took a deep breath, and the constriction in his chest loosened.
His uncle jiggled Charlotte, staring into the baby’s face. “Hello, Sweet Pea.” He tilted the infant so Ben could see her.
Charlotte looked like any other baby he’d seen. Maybe a
little smaller than most. He leaned forward to study her, the long feathered eyelashes, little nose, and the rosebud mouth. Maybe prettier.
Charlotte’s gaze fastened on Ben’s face.
The tightness in his chest warmed and loosened. “Hiya, baby.” Maybe there is something special about her to make my uncle act so fondly.
His uncle brought the baby back to his chest and rocked her. “I brought you a gift.”
“We brought more than a gift.” Ben had never dared tease his uncle before, even with the closer relationship they’d had since Christmas, but he liked doing so today. He set down the remainder of his parcels on the bed, next to his uncle’s pile.
Uncle Caleb didn’t look up. If anything his smile at the baby grew more fatuous. “A sweetie like you deserves plenty of presents.”
Dumbfounded, Ben stared at his uncle. He glanced over at his mother to see her reaction.
Edith, too, stared at her brother in apparent shock. One hand clenched and released, rising as if to reach out to him.
Ben expected his mother’s mouth to pinch and her brows to pull together, creasing her forehead. But instead her gaze looked soft and far away, and a smile played about her lips.
My world has turned upside down, and I don’t know which way is up. His gaze swung back and forth between the two adults. But I don’t think I mind one single bit.
Uncle Caleb glanced from Mother to Mrs. Baxter. “Perhaps my first gift will help to sweeten the disposition of the ladies.” Shifting Charlotte into one arm, with his free hand, he searched through the parcels, squeezing a few until he came to one that seemed hard. “Ah.” He unwrapped the paper to reveal two gold foil boxes.
Ben recognized the expensive chocolate imported from Europe. Uncle Caleb always gave his mother a box at Christmas or on her birthday, and she allowed Ben some pieces. He loved the chocolate, but even though his allowance was bigger than any other child’s in Sweetwater Springs, he’d never bought a box of the chocolates because he preferred to have more candy for his money.
With a flourish, his uncle presented one to his mother. “Sister, dear.”
With eyebrows raised, she accepted the gift. A smile played on her lips. “How thoughtful of you, brother. Surprisingly thoughtful.”
Grateful his mother had taken the chocolate with seemingly good spirits, Ben turned to observe Mrs. Baxter, curious about her reaction. His uncle seemed to watch her with the same eagerness.
Mrs. Baxter tilted her head in puzzlement, then slit the seals of the box with her fingernails, and lifted the cover. She gazed at the squares inside for a long moment without a reaction.
The expectant look on his uncle’s face changed to a narrow-eyed expression of concern. “Maggie, is something wrong?”
Ben noted Uncle Caleb’s use of their guest’s first name. With a surreptitious glance at his mother, he saw by the tightening of the skin around her eyes and mouth that she had, as well.
Mrs. Baxter glanced up, an anxious look in her eyes. “I don’t know what this is.” Her tone sounded uncertain and small, almost as if she was afraid of causing offence.
Imagine not knowing about chocolate.
Pain flashed across Uncle Caleb’s face, followed by an angry tightening of his jaw.
Not knowing why the woman seemed afraid or his uncle upset, but wanting to lighten the tension, Ben leaned over as if to peer into the box, which was really too far away for him to see. He pretended to take a big sniff. “Guess Uncle Caleb could be giving you pressed turds, Mrs. Baxter.” He paused a beat for dramatic effect. “You’d smell it, though.”
“Benjamin Nathaniel Grayson!” exclaimed his mother.
“Rascal,” Uncle Caleb cuffed Ben’s shoulder, but he didn’t sound upset.
Mrs. Baxter’s mouth quivered and then bloomed into a wide smile. She chuckled. “Only fair, since I happen to know my daughter has given him that kind of gift before.”
“Yes, but then I handed Charlotte off to you,” his uncle quipped. “So you’re the one ending up with her presents.” He slanted a look and a slight nod of apparent approval Ben’s way.
His mother huffed but more in amusement than criticism. “Really, you two.” She slit the seals of her box, opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a piece, holding up the candy for Mrs. Baxter’s view. “Chocolate.”
“The finest chocolate you will find in Montana,” his uncle interjected with a grin.
Mrs. Baxter’s eyes widened. “I’ve eaten chocolate cake but never candy. My grandmother on my father’s side had an antipathy to sugar. She believed sweets weren’t good for us, and since my mother and I lived with my grandparents. . . .” She shrugged. “At lunch, my friends would sometimes share their cookies, though. And when I had a penny, I’d secretly buy a peppermint stick from the store.”
“I must warn you, Mrs. Baxter,” his mother said in a stern tone. “My brother is starting you off with the best-tasting chocolate.” As if shaking a finger, she waggled her piece of candy. “This comes from Europe. Caleb will spoil your palate for American chocolate.”
Ben could tell his mother wasn’t serious as she pretended to be.
His uncle rolled his eyes, and he gestured to Mrs. Baxter’s box. “Try one.”
Ben leaned over his mother’s arm to look at her candy. “May I?”
She waved encouragement and held the box closer to him.
Ben took one and held up the candy. “Mrs. Baxter,” he intoned. “I will prove to you the chocolate is safe to eat.” With a pretend studious expression, he took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, nodding as if in consideration, then looked down his nose, his expression haughty. “Satisfactory.” A glance told Ben his uncle took no offense at the mimicry.
Mrs. Baxter laughed. “If you say so.” She bit off half of her piece. Her eyes widened and eyebrows lifted. She sighed, and her mouth turned up at the same time.
Ben liked the way her wide smile brightened her face and made her bruises seem to disappear. He couldn’t help but grin back.
Uncle Caleb chuckled. “I believe Mrs. Baxter finds the chocolate satisfactory, too, Ben.”
“Such a treat.” Mrs. Baxter reverently closed the box and set it on the bed next to her.
Careful with Charlotte, Uncle Caleb leaned to the side to nudge Ben’s shoulder with his. “Why don’t you unwrap the big gift?” He wiggled an eyebrow to indicate the doll.
Ben huffed in a mock imitation of his mother. “Just don’t tell anyone I’m doing this.” He untied the string and tore off the brown paper, holding up the doll for Mrs. Baxter to view, expecting to see the woman’s joyful smile again.
But instead, Mrs. Baxter frowned and gave a small shake of her head. “Mr. Livingston, whatever are you about?” She glared. “A few necessities I can justify accepting, but that doll is plain extravagance.”
His uncle did not look at all abashed. “You’re absolutely right.” He made a playful face at the baby.
Charlotte cooed.
Mrs. Baxter’s expression relaxed. “So you’ll return the doll to the store?”
“No.” Uncle Caleb looked up from the baby to grin at Mrs. Baxter. “The doll is Charlotte’s. Down the road, if she wants me to return it to the store, I will.”
Mrs. Baxter rolled her eyes. “Mr. Livingston, I don’t think—”
“Save your breath, Mrs. Baxter,” his mother interrupted in a wry tone. “I know from many years of arguing with my brother that engaging with him is futile.”
Ben was sure he’d soon have a sore neck from whipping his head from side to side, watching as each of the adults responded in the oddest manner. Never in a million years would he have thought his mother would switch from disapproval to jesting with their guest—their poverty-stricken guest—and to taking her brother’s side.
The troubled expression didn’t leave Mrs. Baxter’s face. “Mrs. Grayson, surely you do not approve?”
“I didn’t until I came into this room.”
That’s the truth!
“
And I’m not sure whether I approve or not. But my brother is right. You have suffered, and he is partly to blame. If his conscience is appeased by generosity to you. . .spoiling your daughter. . . .” She shrugged. “Truth be told, seeing him with you and your baby brings back happy memories of when we were children.” Her smile looked sad. “We had far more. . .liveliness then, and I enjoy seeing him that way again.”
I do, too.
Mrs. Baxter gave his mother a look of disbelief. “So you are saying I should accept these gifts because doing so makes Mr. Livingston more lively?”
The image came to him of his uncle doing a jig, and Ben burst out laughing.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
Ben scrambled for something to say, for he didn’t think the jig image would go over well with his uncle. Then he remembered the text from Sunday’s sermon. “Well, Reverend Norton says that, ‘It’s more blessed to give than to receive.’ So you’re making sure he’s blessed, Mrs. Baxter.” He chortled at his own cleverness.
“I’m glad to provide you with amusement,” Mrs. Baxter said in a dry tone. She lifted her chin. “Nevertheless, I can’t accept the doll.”
Uncle Caleb skirted the argument by pointing to the unopened parcels. “Better see what else is in those. Just in case you want to make our squabble bigger.”
His mother harrumphed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you two.” She moved past him to the foot of the bed. “I’ll open these. If there’s anything I think needs to be returned, I’ll do so myself.”
Mrs. Baxter’s lips pressed into a stubborn line, but she didn’t object.
His mother made short shrift of untying the parcels and holding up the contents for Mrs. Baxter’s perusal. That is, until she opened the package of women’s undergarments. She shoved them back into the paper—as if Ben hadn’t seen them displayed in the store before—and made a shooing motion in his direction. “You, men, get out of here and give us privacy.”
“May I take the baby with me until you’re done?” His uncle directed his most charming smile at Mrs. Baxter.
Ben had seen his uncle give ladies that look before, but not with the warmth displayed now toward their guest. His early speculation returned. I think Uncle Caleb’s sweet on her. He glanced at his mother. In spite of the thaw in her usual glacial demeanor, he had no doubt that she wouldn’t approve of Mrs. Baxter as the wife of her beloved brother.
Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) Page 12