Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4)

by Julianna Blake

  “Oh!” She was relieved—he must have just been getting the wagon unloaded quickly, so he wouldn’t have to leave the front door open any longer than possible. She was glad to see he was so quick and efficient. “Put the large sacks in the kitchen, on the floor behind the table, please. Everything else can go on the table. I’ll want to organize the pantry myself.”

  She was impressed with the strength the slim young man had, transferring all the items to the kitchen in scarcely more than a minute. He worked harder and faster than she herself had done when she worked in the Farnsworth scullery, and that impressed her.

  When he was gone, she worked fast to fill the pantry and clear off the table before the next delivery arrived. She was nearly done when the knock came on the door. Ten minutes later, just after the second delivery boy had left, another knock came, and by two o’clock, all the deliveries were received and she’d managed to put everything away.

  The crates from the dishes had been repurposed to hold the potatoes, carrots, and turnips on the pantry floor, alongside the empty fermentation crock intended for making sauerkraut. She’d have to ask Noah if he minded if she bought a small barrel for making vinegar. She’d purchased a corked bottle of vinegar from the mercantile, but she found that nothing could beat her own apple cider vinegar. It took months until it was ready and the flavor was just right, but it was worth it.

  Will I be here months from now? Or will Noah toss Nell and I into the streets?

  She shook her head, pushing away the negative thoughts. I must assume the best. Noah is a good man. If he can learn to love me, surely he can learn to love a beautiful, innocent child.

  Chapter 14

  As Noah opened the door to his home the smell of roasting beef filled his nostrils. He inhaled the aroma, so grateful that at last, he could come home to his own home—one that smelled of delicious meals, filled with furniture and decorations, and a wife—

  He looked around the empty parlor. Still no furniture.

  He sighed, his hopes dashed. Didn’t she bother to shop for our home? What has she been doing all day? Surely buying a few kitchen necessities doesn’t take all day.

  Mollie appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cotton towel. “You’re home! I’m so glad. Supper is not quite ready, but by the time you’ve had a chance to wash up and relax at the table a minute, it will be.”

  “That’s alright.” He glanced around, and saw that there were no window coverings, either. “Didn’t you go shopping today?” he asked ask he shrugged out of his coat.

  Mollie observed his expression, appearing disappointed in his reaction. “Of course I did. I got everything I needed for the kitchen, and the pantry is loaded.”

  He held out his coat to her, and she rushed to take it, hanging it on the coat rack beside him.

  “That’s good. But…the furniture…”

  She turned back to him, laughing, and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Noah Jamison, you didn’t think I’d get everything done in one day, did you? I could have gotten to most of it, I suppose, but then you’d have an empty plate tonight. I’ve been cooking all afternoon!”

  “Oh! Well, then, I suppose that makes sense. I just thought you’d get it all done at once.” He didn’t usually stand around watching his mother cook, but he didn’t think it took all afternoon to get a roast in the oven.

  “Selecting the proper cookware isn’t that easy. Or at least, it isn’t if you know what you’re doing. You don’t just grab the first thing you see—you need to examine your choices for quality, choose the proper size pans, and make sure you’re not buying a fancy kitchen tool just because the shopkeeper says it’s the latest thing. I tried to be practical in my purchases.”

  “I’m sure you chose perfectly. Forget I said anything. Supper smells delicious.” He kissed her on the cheek and strode into the kitchen, eager to see what was on the menu.

  “I hope you like it. It’s roasted beef with dilled potatoes and glazed carrots.”

  “Sounds like heaven.” Noah peeked into a small covered pan sitting on the far rear corner of the stove, containing the glazed carrots. “Mmm, can’t wait to try those.”

  “They were always a hit at the Farnsworth household. Mr. Farnsworth himself sent down word to congratulate the chef—but it was really my recipe.”

  “Well, if it’s good enough for Mr. Farnsworth, it’s good enough for me!” He winked, then slipped his arms around her waist. “And how has your first day been as Mrs. Noah Jamison?”

  “Delightful,” she smiled, looking up at him with a shy expression.

  He marveled again at his fortune in finding Mollie. When he’d first considered a mail order bride, he’d hoped for a wife who could cook and clean half as good as his mother, and perhaps even become a treasured companion over time. So far, Mollie had exceeded his hopes. She was lovely, sweet, and if her meal tasted as good as it smelled, he was going to be one very happy man!

  He tried not to let it bother him that the house wasn’t completely ready. Perhaps he’d expected too much—she just stepped of the train the day before. She was probably exhausted, and she didn’t even have a single day to rest. Here he was, expecting her to make the house perfect in only one day!

  Mother would have had it perfect, a niggling voice chided in his head. He pushed the thought away. His mother had decades of experience in housekeeping and cooking. He shouldn’t compare his wife to her.

  A few minutes later he sat down to a steaming plate of beef and potatoes, with glazed carrots and a fresh roll slathered with melting butter. “This is amazing! I apologize for implying that you should have spent the whole day shopping—however long you spent on this, it was worth every minute.”

  “Thank you.” Mollie took a delicate bite, casting her eyes down as she smiled.

  He loved her smile. He hoped she would smile more. So far, he’d caught a sad expression on her face every time she thought he wasn’t looking, and she seemed preoccupied. She must be homesick. I should do something to cheer her up. “I was thinking…we should do something fun this Sunday after Mass. We didn’t get a proper honeymoon, so you should get something special. How about we drive around town? I can show you all of Helena, then we could go for a picnic—no, wait, it’s winter.” He frowned, thinking. “I supposed there isn’t much else to do, but go to a restaurant.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  He asked about her day, trying to keep her thoughts occupied, so she didn’t have to think about Boston or the family and friends she left behind. Then he shared the events of his own day, and how everyone who came into the shop congratulated him, and asked when they’d get to meet his wife. She smiled at each story he told, but he still had the feeling her mind was somewhere else.

  “I wish I had a bigger stomach,” he said, leaning back and patting his overfull belly. “I just want to keep eating, it’s all so good.”

  “Well, that would be difficult. I think you already ate it all!” she giggled. “Besides, I have a surprise for you. I made something special for dessert. It’s—”

  Mollie was cut off by a knock at the door.

  “I wonder who that could be?” Mollie started to rise.

  “No, I’ll get it. You shouldn’t answer the door after dark. Helena is quite safe, but you never know.”

  “It sounded like it was the back door.”

  Noah had no sooner rose from his chair when the back door opened, and his mother came through, holding a covered plate in her hand.

  “Ahh, perfect timing!” she exclaimed. “Sit, sit, I just brought you both some dessert.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Jamison, you shouldn’t have…”

  “Uh, uh, uh!” She wagged a finger at Mollie. “Remember, you call me Mother. Or Lettie. We’re family now.” She set the plate down on the table and lifted the cover. “It’s just a spice cake with vanilla icing. I saw how late you got back this afternoon, and I knew you’d barely have time to make dinner, much less dessert.”

&nb
sp; “I did make dessert.”

  “Did you? Hmm, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d left yourself enough time. And I know how much my Noah likes dessert.”

  Noah raised an eyebrow at Mollie. “I thought you were cooking all afternoon?”

  “I was!” Mollie blushed, looking perturbed. She glanced pointedly at his mother. “I was back by one o’clock when the deliveries started to arrive. I put them away quickly and got started on dinner. And I made a baked custard.”

  “Well, I’m already here, so we might as well eat the cake. I certainly can’t eat it all by my lonesome, now, can I? Just let me put up my coat.” She shuffled off into the parlor without another word.

  Mollie eyed the cake, her lips pressed together.

  “Look, Mollie, I’m sure your custard is wonderful,” Noah whispered, “but maybe we could have it tomorrow? Mother went to all this trouble, and it would hurt her feelings if we didn’t eat the cake. Besides, she must be lonely over there, and missing having me to fuss over.”

  Her eyes flashed up at him, fire burning within them. Then she clasped her hands on the table in front of her and shifted her gaze away. “Very well. I suppose I should be grateful for the help. I just wish she had asked first.”

  “I’m sure she will next time.”

  “All set!” his mother exclaimed as she came back into the kitchen. Then she frowned. “I thought you’d be slicing it already, Mollie. Never mind, never mind, I’ll do it.” She walked over to the sideboard. “Where do you keep your cake server?”

  “I didn’t get one. We can just use a knife. I’ll get it.” Mollie jumped up, pulling a narrow basket down from a shelf.

  “No cake server? Why, didn’t you look at my list at all? I know I had a cake server on that list.”

  “I did indeed, but I held off on some items until I was sure they’d be necessary. I stuck only to what I was sure we’d truly need.”

  “As if I’d put luxuries on the list,” his mother sniffed, returning to the table. “You may have kitchen experience, my dear, but I’ve run a home for thirty years. I may know a thing or two that you don’t.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. I just wanted to hold off until after we’d gotten everything we needed. I’m trying to be practical.” Mollie brought the knife to the table, along with dessert plates and forks, and began slicing the cake.

  “It’s not as if my Noah is a pauper,” continued his mother. “He’s quite successful in his business. He can afford a cake server. In fact, he can afford a new wardrobe for you, as well.” Mother flicked her gaze up and down Mollie’s worn dress, only partly covered by the new apron.

  Noah knew it was time to jump in and diffuse the situation. “That cake looks delicious, Mother. Mollie, you’ll love her spice cake. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “That’s why I made it,” his mother beamed.

  Mollie barely glanced up, flashing a tight smile. “I’m sure it’s perfect.” She handed Noah a plate with a moderate-sized slice of cake.

  “Is that a big enough slice for you, Noah?” his mother asked.

  “I can always have seconds,” he said quickly.

  When the cake was served, Mollie sat down to eat. Noah noticed that she’d hardly looked up since his mother had arrived. He could feel the tension in the room, and wasn’t sure how to respond to it. He’d never anticipated the possibility that there might be issues between his new wife and his mother. Everyone liked his mother. And she was just trying to help. Why would that bother Mollie so much?

  Perhaps she was feeling inadequate, knowing how well his mother kept house. Noah had mentioned how Mother was able to work half a day at the shop and still keep a pristine house and make all their meals to perfection. Maybe it was his fault—he should stop talking about how wonderful his mother’s cooking was. His mother was as good as they came, and those were some big shoes to fill for a new wife.

  He’d just keep his opinions about his mother to himself from now on. That should ease Mollie’s concerns.

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday, February 18, 1891

  Two long weeks had crawled by with only a few chances to search for Nell. It seemed like Lettie Jamison was watching her every move. The only time Mollie had—unwatched—was the mornings, while Lettie was at the shop with Noah. But there were so many things to procure for their new home, which Mollie was kept busy most mornings.

  Linens, curtains, mirrors, rugs, silver, a sewing machine, sewing notions, fabric, glassware, furniture, and various other household sundries—every day it seemed Lettie had more items she felt were absolute necessities. She wanted to argue, but how could she be the perfect wife Noah needed, if she didn’t get along with his mother?

  Then there was the clothing—two whole mornings spent at a dress shop, the milliner, a shoe store, and getting measured by a seamstress who Lettie insisted was the best corset-maker in town. Mollie had only gone to the seamstress in order to stop Lettie from making a fourth comment on the shape and condition of Mollie’s own corset, which Lettie claimed could be told through her clothing from “a mile away.”

  The woman grated on Mollie’s nerves more and more each day. But what else could she do? The only thing that made Lettie happy was to do things her way. Mollie was determined to be the best wife a man could want. It was the only way she could secure a place in Noah’s heart for herself and her daughter. But if she didn’t find Nell soon, she might lose her forever.

  She’d only managed to get away twice to search for Nell, and each excursion was for naught. She’d scoured the neighborhood where she’d last seen Mr. Deming, but caught no sign of him. And with a cold spell moving in, and bitter winds and temperatures approaching zero degrees, there was never anyone but Mollie walking the streets, so she had no one to inquire with, to see if they’d heard of the Demings. She didn’t dare knock on doors and call any more attention to herself than necessary. Not yet—though her restraint was near its breaking point. She was desperate to find her baby.

  At last there was a break in the weather, coinciding with a lull in the endless shopping suggestions from Lettie. Today she had only to pick up a few spices that Lettie insisted must be a part of every wife’s pantry—even though Mollie knew she’d never use them—and then she was free for the rest of the morning. The laundry was done the day before, a soup simmered slowly at the back of the wood cookstove for the evening meal, the dough was rising for the supper rolls—the rest of her morning was cleared. All she had to do when she got home was throw together a cobbler, then bake the rolls.

  “Hello again!” Mrs. Sanders greeted Mollie as she walked into the mercantile. “I’m so happy to see you again. You’re becoming quite the regular, Mrs. Jamison.”

  “Well, every time I think my pantry is complete, someone suggests something that’s missing.” Lettie may force me into buying more supplies, Mollie thought, but she won’t make me go to Hawthorn’s Grocery. I hate that place.

  “Let me guess,” Mrs. Sanders lowered her voice to a whisper, “Lettie Jamison is the person with the suggestions.”

  “I never said that.” Mollie blushed. She hadn’t thought she’d implied anything about her mother-in-law, and didn’t want to get a reputation for being a gossip or a complainer.

  “Didn’t have to. Lettie’s a good woman, but she’s quite particular, and likes to share her opinion. A lot.”

  A giggle burst forth from Mollie’s lips before she could stop it—then she covered her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry! That was awful of me.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve known that woman for ten years. She won’t shop here anymore because I very politely thanked her for some often-repeated advice about the way I shelve my preserves, but told her I was happy the way they were. She wasn’t rude about it, but I could tell she was offended, and she hasn’t darkened by door since.”

  “I was wondering why she keeps trying to send me to Hawthorn’s. I don’t care to shop there, no matter how much she insists on it. Which is strange, cons
idering her aversion to dust—that place is as dusty as an attic.”

  Mrs. Sanders laughed. “I’ll make no comment on my competitors. But I’m grateful for your business. Especially this week.”

  They both laughed at that—Mollie had bought so much, it felt as if Mr. and Mrs. Sanders could afford to put an addition onto the back of the store, from her purchases alone!

  “Well, don’t let her worry you, my dear. If you think Lettie is…helpful…you should have met my mother-in-law. I couldn’t do a thing right in her eyes.” She glanced at her husband, who was helping a local farmer with his purchases, and lowered her voice even more. “I swear, it was bad enough that on more than one occasion, I wondered if I’d made a mistake marrying Mr. Sanders. There’s a difference between being opinionated and being downright mean. That woman was as mean as a rattlesnake.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I stood up for myself. She respected me a bit more after that, but she was never what I’d call nice. It was more of an uneasy truce. Fortunately, Mr. Sanders decided to move out west a few years after we married. I was the happiest woman in Pennsylvania! I swear, I’d have moved to the Far East if he’d asked, just to get away from that woman. God rest her soul.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Yes. But you don’t have to worry about that—Lettie’s a good woman. She’s not much of a churchgoer, but she helps out with local charity drives, and she’s always eager to help anyone in need. You could do a lot worse for a mother-in-law.”

  “Very true. She’s raised a fine son, that’s for sure.”

  “There isn’t anyone on Main Street who would disagree with that.”

  “Well, I should be going,” Mollie said, lifting her market basket from the counter. “I have to—” She stopped abruptly as she caught a flash of a passing figure in the mercantile’s multi-paned display window. Her heart raced. “Thank you Mrs. Sanders. You have a good day!” She nodded at the woman and hurried out the door, turning left to follow the tall man in the black coat.