Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  Jacob doubted the knots in his throat would allow him to swallow, but he accepted one of the mugs. With his hands cupped around the warm surface, he repeated his question. “How much is his debt?”

  His former partner named a figure.

  Taken aback, he did a quick calculation of the sum he’d brought with him to Boston. Most of his savings. His hands tightened around his mug. “So you’re holding a promissory note?”

  “Aye.”

  “How about if I pay you the same amount, and half again. Would you sell the share to me?”

  Colin laced his fingers together over his paunch. “Why now? You could have offered to buy me out at any time.”

  “Two reasons. Keegan Byrne has made indirect threats to reveal my past if I don’t make larger payments than the ones you and I agreed upon. I believe since the ideas are mine, the profits belong to me.”

  “And the second reason?”

  “I hope to marry soon, if she’ll have me.” Heat crept up his neck that had nothing to do with the stuffy apartment. “When you and I were partners, I had no concerns about my history following me to Noble Springs, but with Byrne . . . He could destroy my future with a few well-placed words.”

  “You’ve lived in Noble Springs for eight years. People know you and respect you. I’d be willing to wager that folks won’t care what you did as a youth.”

  “Cassie would care.” Jacob hung his head as he mumbled the words. “She was raised to be a lady. She’d be scandalized if she knew my past.”

  Colin scooted forward and rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “Let Byrne do his worst. If your young lady loves you, she’ll understand that you’re a new man.”

  He swallowed disappointment. “Does that mean you won’t sell me the share?”

  33

  Cassie crimped the crust on the last of Wednesday’s orders. Five customers had requested her plum pies. Now all she needed was access to the ovens. She paced back and forth while she waited for Jenny’s pans of cornbread to finish baking.

  What the kitchen lacked was a second range, one that would be dedicated to the bakery. Becca could cook pie fillings without having to fit her work around the needs of the dining room. Pies could go into the oven as soon as they were ready, rather than sitting on the worktable with the crusts sagging in the summer heat.

  She stopped pacing and cupped her chin with one hand, studying the room’s arrangement. If they moved the shelves from her side of the room to Jenny’s, a small range would fit in the space across from her worktable. Cutting a flue hole in the ceiling ought to be a simple matter. She clasped her hands. What a perfect solution. She’d visit the mercantile on her free afternoon tomorrow to see if Faith would help her select the right model. That way when Jacob returned all he’d have to do was find a carpenter to cut through the roof—assuming he agreed with her plan, and she felt sure he would.

  After all, he’d told her that if she needed anything for the bakery, she had only to ask. Well, she needed a second range. Since he left her with his ledger in his absence, he obviously trusted her judgment.

  Her thoughts drifted from the kitchen to his prolonged absence. One week had become eleven days, and no word. She’d give anything to hear his deep voice rumble in her ear, to see his dark eyes glow when he looked at her.

  Hugging her arms to her waist, she blinked back tears. The last words she’d said to him were “Go away.” What if something happened, and those words were all he had to remember her by?

  “Oven’s ready,” Jenny called from across the room. “Want me to stick the pies in?”

  “Please.” She wiped her eyes, then turned around. Time to set out plates for the noon dinner. She took a stack from the shelf and carried them into the dining room. Busyness was the best cure for melancholy.

  Cassie sat at the small table in Jacob’s office that evening, entering the day’s receipts into the ledger. The business had fared well in his absence. She hoped the totals would make him smile.

  Next to the ledger, Timothy had left the current stock list she’d requested. She scanned the items, noticing with a ripple of dismay that sugar, flour, and lard were among the goods in short supply. Maybe Timothy knew where Jacob obtained his merchandise—she certainly didn’t.

  “Oh, Jacob. Come back,” she whispered. “I need you. We all need you.”

  She lifted her head when she heard soft footfalls behind her.

  “Missy?” Becca stood outside the lamp’s bright circle. Her shoulders drooped. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course you can. Come sit over here.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  Cassie closed the ledger and swiveled in her chair so she faced Becca. “What’s troubling you? I know we’ve been extra busy this week. Have I asked too much of you?”

  Becca shook her head. “It’s nothing you done. It’s Mr. West.” She rubbed her hands against her red calico skirt, then squeezed them together. “I’m hoping there might be something you can do.”

  “You’re having trouble with Mr. West?” Cassie’s voice rose to a squeak. Jacob was the last person she would have suspected of trifling with colored girls. She shoved her chair away from the table and stood. “I’m glad you told me now, before I—”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I know you set quite a store by him. He ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  Cassie tipped her head back until a wave of dizziness receded. “What, then?”

  “He let Wash move into a little room behind the kitchen in his house to be a watchman, like. Wash told me how nice everything is.” She took a step closer. “But now that he’s up there at night, I only get to see him for a few minutes after he’s done with his work. He walks me to where I’m living, then goes to Mr. West’s.”

  “He can’t spend some time with you before he goes . . . home?”

  “No, missy. He’s supposed to keep an eye on things, so he’s got to hurry on. He don’t want to leave me, but the boss has been so good to him. Wash is afraid to let him down.” She covered her mouth, but a sob escaped.

  “Oh, Becca, please sit.” Cassie slipped an arm around the young woman’s shoulders and led her to a chair.

  “I’m sorry for cryin’ like this. But things have been so hard all my life, and then I met Wash. He treats me like the boss treats you. You know—like he loves me.”

  Cassie’s heart warmed at Becca’s words. Jacob did treat her like he loved her. Her quick tongue had been her downfall yet again. She’d been wrong, so wrong, to be angry with him.

  She resumed her seat facing Becca. “What can I do to help?”

  “If me and Wash was married, I could live in the little room with him.”

  Cassie sat bolt upright. “You could! That’s a perfect solution. Has he asked you?”

  “We talked about it some. But we don’t know what Mr. West would say about me living there too. Could you . . . would you talk to him?”

  “I’ll be happy to talk to Mr. West for you.” She patted Becca’s arm. “I’m sure he wouldn’t object.”

  “There’s something else.” Becca picked at a spot on her skirt, then met Cassie’s gaze. “We got no colored preacher around here, neither. Who’d marry us? Sundays some of us do church on our own, but a colored man reading a Bible over Wash and me wouldn’t make us married—not legal-like. Now that we’re free, we want to act free.”

  Becca’s plight tore at her. Jacob’s approval was one thing—finding a preacher willing to perform the ceremony for them was quite another. Reverend French’s name sprang to Cassie’s mind, but she hesitated before speaking. She barely knew him. Still, if Wash and Becca wanted to marry, he was Noble Spring’s only preacher. Lord, please give me the courage to speak up for Becca.

  Cassie left the restaurant kitchen the following afternoon and headed for Lindberg’s Mercantile. Her head buzzed with ideas for a new range. She could bake four pies at a time in one wide oven, and a smaller size than the double-oven model Jenny used would fit nicely in the space now occupie
d by storage shelves. Her steps slowed as she approached the parsonage. She’d all but forgotten Becca’s dilemma in her excitement over her upcoming selection.

  She should stop and talk to Reverend French, but why would he listen to her? Her weekly tithe reflected her small salary, probably not enough to earn her any favors. She didn’t help with the Ladies’ Missionary Society or teach a Sunday school. He probably didn’t even know who she was.

  Another day. After she had time to gather her courage. Head high, she increased her pace, turning right on King’s Highway and covering the distance to the mercantile with brisk steps. The bell over the door jingled when she entered. To her dismay, Sheriff Cooper, rather than Faith, stood beside one of the counters. He tipped his head to acknowledge her presence.

  “Miss Haddon. Something you need?”

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff. Actually, I hoped to see Faith here today.”

  “She’s in the storeroom unpacking bolts of calico. Got a new shipment in, and you know how she is about that fabric display. Things got to be just so.”

  Cassie smiled. Even though Sheriff Cooper managed the store, Faith had kept the items for ladies under her control. The sheriff could sell shotguns and plows, but he didn’t know much about lace and buttons.

  “I’ll just go on back. Thank you.” She crossed the length of the building, remembering the first time she’d visited the mercantile. Then, a row of cookstoves lined the center of the room. Over time, they’d been sold and now had to be ordered individually. A bubble of excitement tickled her throat at the prospect of paging through a catalog to find the right one.

  Faith turned from her task when Cassie walked into the storeroom.

  “What a nice surprise!” She kissed Cassie’s cheek. “It’s been a long time since we had a chat.”

  “Too long.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Alexander?”

  “Curt’s watching him for a couple of hours. He had a free afternoon, so I took advantage of his willingness.”

  “Well, I’m happy to find you here. I need your help in selecting a new range.”

  “For your cabin? How perfect. You should have a proper place to prepare meals.”

  “My little stove is fine for the small amount of cooking I do at home. The range will go into the kitchen at West & Riley’s. I decided yesterday that the bake shop needs its own oven.”

  Faith clapped her hands together. “How splendid! Let me get Mr. Tyler’s catalog and show you what’s available.” She dashed out of the storeroom and returned a minute later with a thick book in her hand. She placed the volume on one of the shelves. “Now, tell me what kind of a range you need.”

  As Cassie explained her desire for a wide oven and warming shelves for pie fillings, Faith flipped pages until she came to an illustrated model that had everything Cassie wanted. She pointed to the drawing.

  “Like this?”

  “Yes. Exactly.” She bent over the page, admiring the design. She closed her eyes for a second and pictured the range in the restaurant’s kitchen. “If Jacob approves, how long before delivery?”

  “Tyler’s Stove Works is in Massachusetts. Your purchase would come by rail, so I expect you’d have to wait no longer than a week.”

  “And how much does this model cost?”

  Faith tipped her head and met Cassie’s gaze. “Twenty-five dollars.”

  Cassie pressed her hands to her lips. Jacob sold her pies for fifty cents each. At that price, her baking had already earned more than the cost of the range. “Jacob’s away right now, but we expect him to return any day. I’ll ask him as soon as he gets back.”

  After all, he did say she had only to ask if she needed anything.

  34

  Cassie dropped the flour scoop to the floor, where it landed with a clang. “What did you say?”

  “The boss wants to see you in his office.” Timothy spoke with an air of importance. “As quickly as you can, he said.”

  “He’s back?”

  The boy grinned at her. “He was here when I came to work this morning.”

  “I didn’t see his horse in the alley.”

  Timothy shrugged as if to say “So?”

  “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No, miss, he didn’t.”

  Cassie’s heartbeat pounded in her throat. If she’d known Jacob planned to return today, she would have come in early to review the ledger and be sure her work was faultless.

  He’d left without saying good-bye, and returned unannounced two weeks later. Uncertainty tempered her excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. He may believe she’d deliberately deceived him and used his time away to decide how best to end their courtship. Why else would there be such a long silence? And why send Timothy to fetch her, when he could have stopped by the kitchen?

  Timothy waited by the door. “Shall I tell him you’re on the way?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She patted the sides of her head to be sure her hair looked tidy. From the burning in her face, she knew there was no need to pinch her cheeks to bring out their color. Shoulders straight, she sailed across the dining area and into the storeroom.

  A broad smile lit Jacob’s face when she entered. “I’m glad you could spare a couple of minutes. There are a few matters I’d like to discuss.”

  His business-like tone crushed her hopes that he’d forgiven her. “Did you find errors in my bookkeeping?”

  “Not at all.” He lifted Timothy’s list from the tabletop. “I see you’re running low on the supplies you need for the bakery. How long do you think the inventory will last?”

  “A week, maybe more.”

  He made a note on a scrap of paper. “Have you seen any increase in customers for the dining room?”

  She wondered why he asked the questions. The ledger had totals for every day. Still, if he persisted in treating her like a clerk, she’d respond in the same manner. “We have. Railroad workers are stopping in Noble Springs for the night before continuing west.”

  “Good.” He made another note, then leaned against the back of his chair with a relieved expression. “I wanted to share this news with you first. I made a large expenditure while I was away, and need to watch every penny for a month or so.”

  Cassie’s knees wobbled and she sank into a chair. “Watch . . . every penny?” Her dreams of a new range took wing and flew away. Light-headed, she bent forward and took a deep breath. Her mouth opened but no words emerged.

  “Cassie, what’s wrong?” His voice spiked with urgency. “Are you ill?”

  She stared at her lap until he gripped her hands.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Oh, Jacob. I’ve done something presumptuous. I should have waited until you got back.”

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb. “Why don’t you tell me, then we’ll see if it’s presumptuous or not.” The warmth in his gaze flowed over her like a balm.

  What a homecoming. She’d expected him to be happy with the store’s success in his absence and hoped that happiness would spill over into forgiveness of the way she’d spoken to him when they parted. She cast about for a way to gloss over what she’d done, but in her heart she knew truth was best served unadorned.

  “Between serving meals and filling orders for pies, we’re often tripping over one another in the kitchen when we juggle use of the range.” She swallowed, then blurted, “I went to Faith yesterday and picked out another range. Smaller, just what we need for the bakery. But she didn’t order it,” she added hastily.

  He gaped at her. After a few seconds, a corner of his mouth twitched. “You are full of surprises.” He pushed himself to his feet and held out his arms. “Come here,” he said in a husky whisper.

  Without a second thought, Cassie fell into his embrace. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, then bent his lips to meet hers. His arms tightened around her. After a long, tingling moment, she drew away.

  “You’re not upset?”

  He dropped a kiss on t
op of her head. “We are partners, after all.”

  “I was afraid you left because you were still angry with me.”

  He stroked her cheek with his forefinger. “I left for you, not because of you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Would you be willing to go on a buggy ride with me this evening to find out?”

  She snuggled back into his arms. “You know I would.”

  Cassie glanced out when Wash drove Jacob’s buggy past the screen door. She untied her apron and dropped the soiled garment into a basket for Timothy’s mother to launder. Within a minute or two, Jacob entered the kitchen, Wash a few steps behind him.

  Jacob’s mesmerizing gaze settled on her. “If you’re ready, Miss Haddon, I’ll see you home now.”

  “Thank you, Mr. West. I’m quite ready.”

  When she turned to say good night to Becca, she noticed that Wash had moved close and rested his hand on her shoulder. The pleading in the young woman’s eyes stopped the words in Cassie’s throat. She’d been so absorbed in her own happiness that she’d forgotten her promise.

  “I’ll ask him,” she mouthed in Becca’s direction before turning to join Jacob at the door.

  Twilight shadowed the alley. As soon as they were out of sight of the kitchen, Jacob drew her close to his side. “I thought today would never end.”

  “I felt the same way.” Warmth from his body radiated along her arm. She wished she’d had time to go home and change into her rose chintz dress. The blue calico she wore had been washed so many times the garment had faded to the color of smoke.

  The sorrel whinnied when he saw them coming. Jacob helped her into the buggy, then lit the lantern and untied the reins. Keeping the horse to a slow walk, he turned south when they reached the street. Fireflies danced beneath trees as they traveled through the quiet neighborhood. With each sway of the buggy, Jacob’s shoulder brushed hers, sending tingles over her.

  She wiggled a bit closer. “Where are we going?”