Chapter 31
Christina sank against the edge of the sturdy desk. Rose hovered close, patting her shoulder. Christina had never appreciated the woman’s presence more. Her mind whirled. “But I … I’ve come all the way from Brambleville for them. I sold my father’s watch …” Her babbling made no sense. The children’s home director would call for a doctor if she didn’t gain control of herself. Forcing a calm tone, she formed a question. “When will the children go to their new home?”
“As a matter of fact, the Dunnigans plan to arrive late this afternoon on the five o’clock train.”
So soon … Christina swallowed. “Could we at least have a little time with the twins so we might tell them good-bye?”
“Of course, Miss Willems.” Genuine sympathy showed in the director’s eyes. She touched Christina’s hand. “What if I excuse the children from their lessons this afternoon and allow them to spend those hours with you?”
Christina forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled, but she remained upright. She must be strong for Rose and for the twins. “Yes, please.”
“That’d be real fine,” Rose said. Tears glittered in the woman’s eyes. “We’re going to miss those golden-haired scamps. They were like grandchildren to Louisa and me. I sure hoped …” She covered her quivering lips with her fingers.
Miss Wallenstein addressed Judith. “Inform Mr. Rudd that Joseph and Florence will not be in classes this afternoon.” The woman gave a quick nod in reply and scurried off. Miss Wallenstein guided Christina and Rose to a bench in front of one of the windows. “Judith will be down shortly. You may wait here.”
Christina sat, but Rose stood, gazing out the window at the busy street. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and her downcast pose pierced Christina. How quickly the woman’s countenance had changed from this morning’s ebullience.
Miss Wallenstein turned toward the door from which she’d emerged earlier, but halfway across the floor she stopped and faced Christina again. “Miss Willems, I realize this is a shock for you, but aren’t you happy for Joseph and Florence? The Dunnigans are a wealthy couple who will give the children every advantage.”
Rose shot a sour look over her shoulder. “Wealth isn’t everything.”
“Of course it isn’t,” the director countered calmly. “In addition to possessing a fine home, they are Christian people who will be kind and loving parents.”
Rose faced the window again, heaving a sigh.
“I am very grateful they chose the twins.” Miss Wallenstein focused her attention on Christina. “So often people come to the children’s home seeking babies or toddlers. As a matter of fact, adopting a baby was the Dunnigans’ original intention. But Mrs. Dunnigan met Joseph and Florence right here in this foyer. They were battling over a rag doll, which, I was given to understand, Joseph intended to shoot from a slingshot onto the roof next door—”
Rose emitted a soft snort, and despite herself Christina couldn’t stifle a smile. The twins hadn’t changed a bit.
“And Mrs. Dunnigan intervened. Both she and her husband were quite taken with the mischievous pair, and after a brief exchange they decided to make them their own.” The director tipped her head, a hint of warning coloring her expression. “This truly is a fine opportunity for Joseph and Florence. As much as you will miss them, I trust you will express only enthusiasm about their new home and parents.”
Christina admitted a deep-seated joy for the children’s good fortune, yet it would pierce her to bid them a permanent good-bye. How she’d grown to love the children while they’d resided beneath her roof. She forced a bittersweet smile to her face. “Yes, Miss Wallenstein. Of course. Both Rose and I are delighted for the twins.”
Cora took a bite of the thick ham sandwich. A salty taste flooded her mouth. She couldn’t resist murmuring, “Mmmm …”
Ma Creeger smiled in reply, and Pa Creeger waggled his brows, chomping down on his sandwich. Cora hunched her shoulders and giggled, happier than she could ever remember being. Across the little table tucked in the corner of the storeroom, her employers—her friends—shared a short bench. They had to crunch so close together they might have been two peas in a pod, but it didn’t seem to bother them any.
She liked sitting here all together in the middle of the day. They always ate their evening meal together at the Creegers’ house on the other side of the alley behind the mercantile. But that was after the store closed. Usually for lunch they each ate alone, leaving the other two free to wait on customers. But today’d been quiet. Not one soul had come in all morning, so Ma Creeger had said, “Let’s have a picnic.” And that’s just exactly what they did. They spread a checked cloth on the table where they usually sorted deliveries, unwrapped the sandwiches Ma Creeger had made that morning, and commenced to eat the simple fare.
Nobody said much while they ate. Cora discovered that suited her, too. When Cora’s mother got all quiet, it was because she was too mad or too moody to talk. Those silences at home had always left Cora feeling fidgety and nervous inside. But being quiet with the Creegers was peaceful. Comfortable. Homey. This baby inside her sure would be lucky, growing up with people like Jay and Mary Ann Creeger.
As if in response to her thoughts, the child within her rolled and nudged—a stronger movement than ever before. Startled, Cora sat upright and dropped the remaining portion of her sandwich. It hit the edge of her tin plate, fell apart, and tumbled toward the floor. Cora tried to catch the ham, but she only managed to bat it. The pieces of bread landed beside her, but the piece of ham flew over by Pa Creeger’s foot.
Horrified, Cora jumped up. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to waste it! Honest, I didn’t!”
Ma Creeger bustled around the table and patted Cora’s shoulder while Pa Creeger bent to pick up the mess. Tears coursed down Cora’s face—embarrassed tears but also regretful tears. Food came dear. How could she have been so clumsy and wasteful? She sobbed so hard she barely heard Ma Creeger’s words.
“Cora … Cora!” Ma Creeger gave Cora’s arm a little shake, then cupped her cheeks and looked directly into her face. “Cora, calm yourself.”
She took several shuddering gulps that brought her crying under control.
Ma Creeger smiled, stroking Cora’s cheeks. “My, my, you’ve shed some tears of late.” She leaned close and whispered, “It’s just part of being female. Happens to me, too.”
Heat flooded Cora’s face. Ma Creeger knew? She knew?
The woman straightened and gave Cora’s face one more loving pat. “But all that crying over a little bit of bread and ham doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
The brass bell above the mercantile door clanged. “Finally a customer!” Pa Creeger dropped the remains of Cora’s sandwich into the waste bin and gave her an impish grin. “If you’re still hungry, go help yourself to a handful of peanuts.” Chuckling, he headed for the sales area.
Cora watched Ma Creeger return to her bench and reach for what was left of her sandwich. “It’s just part of being female.” Her heart boomed like the biggest drum in a marching band. Had the woman been letting Cora know she understood and wasn’t mad? “M-Ma Creeger?”
“Yes, Cora?”
Cora’s mouth went dry, and she licked her lips, seeking courage. “You … Did you …” Before she could make the question come out of her mouth, Pa Creeger let out a shout.
“Mary Ann!”
She’d never heard Pa Creeger use that tone before. Ma Creeger headed for the doorway, and Cora trailed close behind. He stood at the counter, the open cashbox in front of him and his hands on his hips. The customer stood on the other side of the counter, her eyes wide.
Ma Creeger hurried to her husband’s side. “What is it, Jay?”
“We need to summon the sheriff.” He gestured to the box, his brows forming a V. “I went to make change for Mrs. Fulton, and look what I found. Our cashbox is empty. Every penny from last week’s sales is gone, and so is that silver William Ellery watch I bought fr
om Miss Willems.”
Christina felt dowdy in her simple button-up, green muslin frock next to Mrs. Dunnigan’s peach silk walking suit. But the woman smiled warmly and enclosed Christina’s hand between the palms of her tight-fitting ivory gloves when Miss Wallenstein introduced her. “So you’re the Miss Willems that Joseph and Florence told us all about on our first visit. I’m so pleased we’ve had the opportunity to meet.”
Christina had specifically requested a private moment with the Dunnigans to give her an opportunity to question their motives in taking the twins. Too many people preyed upon orphaned children, using them as servants rather than loving them. She’d been prepared to distrust, even to dislike, the people who were stealing the children from her, yet such warmth and friendliness shone in the woman’s eyes Christina felt herself drawn to her. “Thank you.”
Miss Wallenstein lifted a hand to garner attention. “The children are in the play yard with Miss Willems’s companion, Mrs. McLain. I’ll go retrieve them.”
Mr. Dunnigan stepped forward. In his brown tweed trousers and matching vest and jacket, he looked every bit the sophisticated businessman. Christina eyed him carefully. Would he be too stern and formal with Joe and Florie? But then he smiled, which lifted the corners of his neatly trimmed mustache and gave him a mischievous appearance. “We’re very eager to take the children home today.”
Mrs. Dunnigan released a light laugh. “We spent a delightful weekend equipping the children’s rooms with clothes and a mountain of toys and books.”
Mr. Dunnigan leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, his eyes twinkling. “I suspect young Joseph will be particularly enthralled by the tin windup train. It travels on an oval track and even makes a toot-toot sound. I found it quite entertaining.”
Mrs. Dunnigan gave her husband’s chin a teasing pinch. “We’ll have to secure a governess quickly to keep the children occupied, or you might give up work completely and wile away your day in the playroom with them!”
He waggled his brows in teasing reply.
Rose, holding the twins’ hands, rounded the corner. The pair released Rose and dashed to Christina. She bent down to receive their hugs as Rose turned a haughty look on the Dunnigans. “Did I hear you say you’re hiring a governess to see to the children’s care?”
“Why, yes.” Mr. Dunnigan smiled indulgently at the twins. “Parmelia and I are quite involved in philanthropic activities around the city, taking us out of the home frequently for evening events. Additionally, my business requires travel, which would leave Parmelia home alone with the children. Therefore it seems sensible to hire an individual who will be available when one or both of us must be away.”
“Not,” Mrs. Dunnigan inserted, “to take full responsibility for their upbringing, please understand. As their mother”—pride and joy flooded her features—“I fully intend to provide the majority of their care. But both Maxwell and I feel more comfortable knowing there will be a person of whom we approve seeing to the children’s well-being in our absence.”
Christina tucked her arms around the twins, savoring each moment with them as their separation neared. “So you haven’t yet hired someone?”
“Maxwell placed an advertisement in yesterday’s newspaper.” Mrs. Dunnigan gazed longingly at the children, who pressed their cheeks to Christina’s ribs. “We expect to find a suitable governess within a week or two.”
With the same exuberance she’d exhibited on their train ride, Rose stepped forward and flashed a bold smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Dunnigan, there’s no need to look any further for a governess. Hire me.”
Chapter 32
“Rose!” Christina could scarcely believe her ears. “Did you just—”
Rose whirled around to face her, a triumphant look on her face. “Yes I did. And doesn’t it make perfect sense?” She scooted close to Christina and placed a hand on Joe’s tousled head. “I know the children. They know me. I love them.” Tears filled her eyes as she gazed down first at Joe and then Florie. Without a word the pair separated themselves from Christina and burrowed against Rose’s full skirt. “And with all the troubles at the poor farm, it just might be I’ll need a different home soon.”
Rose’s comment pained Christina, but she had no real defense. She stood stupidly while Rose went on, oblivious to the incredulous stares of Maxwell and Parmelia Dunnigan.
“If I take the position as governess, I’ll get to be with Joe and Florie. They’ll feel more secure, having me close as they settle into their new home, and you’ll feel more secure, knowing they’re being cared for. And everyone will be happy.” She bent down and planted a kiss on each child’s head, then beamed at Christina.
Mr. Dunnigan cleared his throat. “Mrs. McLain …”
Rose gave a start and turned her attention to the man. “Yes?”
He slipped his thumbs into the little slanted pockets on his vest and set his feet wide. “Do you have previous experience as a governess?”
Rose blinked twice. “Well, I reckon not.”
“Do you have experience raising children?”
Rose’s skinny shoulders squared. “I certainly do. Raised two fine boys, Peter and Paul. But”—sadness crept across her features—“neither one came home after the War between the States.”
Christina placed a comforting hand on Rose’s shoulder.
Rose sniffed, then lifted her chin. “But I helped with the children who showed up at the poor farm. Joe and Florie, of course, as well as Laura, Francis, and Tommy.” Her eyes narrowed in a challenging manner. “Do you need to know anything else?”
“May I ask”—he cleared his throat again, a hint of pink entering his cheeks—“your age?”
Rose pursed her lips. “I don’t consider it a gentlemanly question, but I’ll answer anyway just to set your mind at ease. I turned sixty-two this past December.” To Christina’s abject horror, Rose waggled a finger at the man as if he were a misbehaving boy. “But don’t think for a minute that makes me too old to be a governess. I’ve got more than enough vigor to keep up with these two scalawags.”
Christina quivered in embarrassment. She loved Rose, and often she’d found herself amused by the woman’s lack of inhibition. But in that moment she wished to clamp her hand over Rose’s mouth and prevent her from saying anything else that might offend Joe and Florie’s new parents.
But Mr. Dunnigan laughed—loudly, boisterously. His eyes twinkled merrily as he grinned at his wife. “Well, what do you think, Parmelia? Should we pursue hiring Mrs. McLain as the governess for our children?”
Mrs. Dunnigan tipped her head, the tiny diamond studs in her earlobes catching the light. “Employing an individual who is familiar with the children might hasten their settling in with us.”
Rose flashed a bright smile of success in Christina’s direction before fixing a businesslike look on Mr. Dunnigan. “I’d be pleased to consider the position. But of course it’d be nice to know where I’d be staying and how much it pays before I give my final answer.”
Mr. Dunnigan laughed again. “Then I suppose we should show you.” He slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “Parmelia, you stay here with the children while I visit a telegraph office. I shall alert the staff to ready a guest room for Mrs. McLain.”
He turned slightly toward the door, but Mrs. Dunnigan stopped him with a gloved hand on his chest. “Please have them ready two rooms, Maxwell. I think perhaps spending a few days with the children at our home would assure Miss Willems they’ll be well cared for.” Understanding sympathy shone in her eyes as she faced Christina. “Am I correct, Miss Willems?”
Cora chased dust off the shelves behind the counter with a feather duster and listened as Louisa visited with Pa Creeger. Since Monday’s awful discovery of the empty money box, Pa Creeger had sent Cora home with Ma Creeger each evening, and he’d stayed in her little room over the store. If the thief returned, he wanted to be ready. The whole town was abuzz about the theft, with people speculating on who could’ve done such a spiteful th
ing. Cora wanted to know, too. She kept her ears tuned for any clue that might help the Creegers solve the mystery.
“Seeing as how telegrams cost money, I can understand why Miss Willems would send such a short one.” Louisa sounded more dismayed than angry. “But I’d just like to know why she and Rose have been delayed.”
Ma Creeger arranged new button cards on a pegged rack. “How are you getting along over at the boardinghouse?”
“As well as can be expected, working for the likes of Imogene Beasley. Mercy, but that woman is a tyrant!”
Cora cringed as she flicked the stiff feathers between little boxes of medicinal cures. Tyrant, indeed! Louisa was probably counting the hours until Miss Willems returned and took over those duties again.
“But I told her,” Louisa went on, a hint of smug defiance in her tone, “a body can only move so fast, and her boarders won’t starve to death if supper lands on the table a few minutes past six. I told her if she wants things done just so, she can either lend a hand or do them herself. That took the wind out of her sails. She hasn’t pestered me nearly as much since.”
Cora and Ma Creeger exchanged a quick smile. Cora wished she could’ve been there to see Mrs. Beasley’s face when Louisa stood up to her. Ma Creeger said, “Did Christina’s telegram say when she and Rose would come back to Brambleville? Jay said several men intend to do some work at the poor farm Saturday. They don’t have enough lumber to do the walls since so much of it got battered by the ax, but they hope to protect the house in case we get more rain. I’m sure Christina would like to oversee their efforts.”
Cora finished dusting and tucked the duster beneath the counter next to the cashbox, which Pa Creeger now kept out of sight of customers. She moved to the end of the counter to help Ma Creeger.
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