“Thank you, Mr. Glass,” Belle said. “I, for one, would like to see that.”
“I’m at your disposal at any time.”
Jean-Luc was back with the first course. At this restaurant there were no choices, only what the chef had prepared. That was fine with Belle. The cold mushroom bisque was superb. She promised herself that before she left town she’d sneak back for another serving. The thought made her smile. When she looked up, she found Mr. Harding gazing at her.
A loud pop sounded outside, followed by several more.
Belle flinched. Gunshots. Again?
The others startled and gasped. Katie, who had lifted her water glass, dropped the tumbler to the tabletop.
“What the devil?” Blake barked, pushing back his chair.
More gunshots. A lantern in the courtyard exploded into a shower of glass that hit the window with a clatter. The echo of galloping hoofbeats quickly faded away.
Deep-voiced French words, sounding like obscenities, could be heard coming from the kitchen, and Amorette stuck her head into the dining area and looked around, wide-eyed.
Blake excused himself and went outside. With her napkin, Emma helped Katie mop up the mess. Lavinia’s face had lost all color.
At ease, Mr. Glass lifted his wine and took a sip. “I’m sure that was nothing to be worried over.”
Belle placed a hand on her galloping heart. “Are random gunshots a regular event here? A bullet almost came through our hotel window earlier today.”
Emma’s eyes were as large as saucers. “It could have killed any one of us.”
Mr. Harding returned just in time to hear these comments as he settled back in his chair. “All’s quiet now,” he said. “Probably a cardsharp caught cheating at one of the saloons.”
“If he’s cheating, is he an outlaw?” Katie asked, shock giving way to curiosity. “Maybe he killed his opponent with those shots.”
“If that’s the case, Clint Dawson, the sheriff, will deal with him,” Mr. Glass assured them. “Our sheriff keeps a steady hand on the happenings in Eden. You won’t hear many guns. They’re few and far between.”
Emma spoke up. “We won’t if we don’t stay.” With a tipped eyebrow, she challenged her sisters. Her face was deathly white, and her hands shook as if she’d been out in a snowstorm.
The heart of the conversation had yet to be discussed. Emma’s comment wiped the smile from both men’s lips.
Having his daughters in partnership at the ranch was John’s dream, but not Blake’s. Things would be so much simpler for him if they decided to take the payout and go home, despite the financial hardship it would entail. He felt like a turncoat, but the words had come from Emma, not him. He couldn’t stay his curiosity any longer. “Is that your decision, then? To take the lump sum and return to Philadelphia? Six months is a long time.”
Henry shot him a dirty look.
“Our father’s wish is not our own,” Belle supplied, echoing Blake’s thoughts. “We have lives to live back in the city. We won’t give those up easily.”
Mavis arched her brow in Belle’s direction. “Not all of us, Belle. I look forward to the challenge of staying in Eden, and the change of pace. It’s almost as if my dream has been placed in my lap. I’ll not run away in fear.”
“No one is running,” Belle replied forcefully but kindly. “We’re being practical instead of romantic.” She reached out and touched Lavinia’s hand. “Isn’t that right?”
Lavinia hesitated. “I love our home, of course, but I also truly enjoyed our walk around Eden this morning. The view of those far-off mountains is breathtaking. Something I could get used to. And back in Philadelphia, we’ll have to find somewhere new to live.”
Belle almost looked like she was going to be sick. Blake glanced at Katie, his hope growing. “And you, Katie? How do you feel about the decision at hand?”
She shrugged. “I’m confused. Much like Lavinia, I want a little of both.”
Henry, the sly ol’ fox, smiled like he had an ace up his sleeve. “In that case, now’s the time to share a little surprise. This morning you all suffered a major shock, so were in no condition to hear any more.”
Mavis tipped her head. “And what surprise would that be, Mr. Glass?”
“About ten years ago”—he smiled at Mavis, the one already in his corner—“you would have been thirteen. John began thinking about the ranch house, which remains almost exactly as it was when your mother gave birth to you five. Investing in a larger house for just him and Blake felt foolish. Instead, he had plans drawn up for a structure befitting a prosperous ranch such as the Five Sisters, and his beautiful five daughters, in case you returned. And also a smaller structure attached, with a covered porch—for Blake. He wanted to be prepared, but not wasteful. The plans are ready, a building site with a view of the mountains chosen, and the ground prepared. The lumber list is at the mill. After the passage of five or six years, his hope began to fade, but he gave me the authority to begin the project as soon as you arrived and proclaimed you were staying, even for just the six months. He wanted you to be comfortable.”
“You mean after he died,” Katie choked out. “Isn’t that right? He knew we were never coming back.” Large tears rolled down her face, and Emma took her hand in comfort.
Mr. Glass nodded. “As soon as your decision is made and the verdict is to stay, I’ll give the go-ahead, and Blake will hire carpenters. With agreeable weather the new home would be finished within a month or two, if not sooner. The decorating will be up to you five.”
All the girls sat with stars in their eyes, thinking about a grand new house. Decorating. Parties. The same look Blake remembered Mavis and Belle, as small girls, wore the day their pa surprised them with a freshly constructed dollhouse made from wood off the ranch. Emma, who had been around three, scurried back and forth grabbing the small furniture and messing things up as Belle and Mavis tried to kindly intercede. After Celeste took the girls away, John stored the dollhouse in the barn loft for many years. One season, Blake discovered it was gone. He assumed John had finally given it away to some family or the orphanage.
Belle set her wine goblet on the table. “Are you trying to bribe us, Mr. Glass?” she asked, frowning.
Yes, Blake thought, but in solidarity with his friend, he said, “Henry wouldn’t bribe anyone, Miss Brinkman. Especially not John’s daughters. You’re free to go anytime you want.”
“Blake . . . ,” Mr. Glass said, low, shooting him a look of warning.
The chastising gaze Mavis sent to Belle almost made him smile. Clearly, more was going on at this supper than the players wanted the opposition to see.
“I’m not trying to sweeten the pot,” Henry said to Belle. “Your father’s done that for me. But I won’t beat around the bush. He wanted you to stay. Make Eden your home. That has been his ardent wish from the moment your mother left with all of you in tow. I wasn’t around back then, but Blake was. He’s attested to that fact many times.” He cut a look at Blake, a smile pulling the corners of his lips as if a fond memory had taken hold. “We’ve heard about you all for many, many years. It’s really nice to finally meet.”
Put in her place, if kindly, Belle’s face turned a pretty shade of pink. If it wouldn’t have been bad manners, he’d have happily pointed it out.
“Please, accept my sincerest apologies,” she said. “My comment was uncalled for. Whatever reasons I had, they were not enough to be rude to either of you. You’re just trying to do our father’s bidding.”
Henry chuckled. “John always said you were spirited, Belle. And I can see that he was right. Eden needs a woman like you.” He smiled around the table, nodding. “Like all of you. You would make a difference here. Just this last day, I’ve felt a hum in the streets. It’s because of your arrival. People are curious. They’re sitting back to see what you do. I honestly can say I hope you’ll stay. Don’t disappoint them.” He looked at Mr. Harding. “Or us.”
In a move that even surprised Blake,
Henry glanced at the ceiling of the restaurant as if he were looking up to heaven. “Or him. Your father, John Brinkman.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Belle sat up in bed, her quick breaths shallow in the dark room. Mindful of Mavis sleeping soundly next to her, she wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at the window, opened just an inch. The curtains stirred, and cool air caressed her heated skin. The night was quiet. No more gunshots.
Mavis fumbled with the sheets. “Belle? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you have a nightmare?” Mavis reached out and touched her arm. “Things will work out. No need for you to bring your worries to bed.”
Belle shook her head. “No, not a bad dream. Just thoughts of Father, and how he longed for our return. It’s a stone on my chest. All those years of waiting . . .”
Mavis placed her pillow against the delicately carved wooden headboard and sat up, drawing the bedding up with her. “I know. When I begin to feel overwhelmed, I try to think of something else.”
“Like what?”
“Darvid. About happier times, when we first met.”
Belle didn’t have memories like that, though. Even thoughts of Lesley wouldn’t chase away the deep sorrow wedged inside like a sharp knife. This trip had not turned out the way she’d envisioned.
“I wonder if they have the makings for molasses cookies downstairs? A few dozen hot from the oven sounds good.”
Belle smiled. Sometimes the five of them got up in the middle of the night to bake some delicious creation. Lavinia would always eat a little too much and feel sick. Katie usually fell asleep on a chair nearby but never wanted to be left out. Thank God they had one another. Belle knew she wouldn’t be able to get through this without her sisters. A smidgeon of her distress evaporated. “I appreciate your effort to cheer me up. Do you know the time?” Belle lit the candle on her nightstand.
“My watch is across the room, on the dresser. Do you want me to get it? I can, if you want. Or get you some water?”
Mavis looked rested even though the moon was still bright in the window. Her lacy, high-necked nightgown ruffled under her chin, and her rumpled tresses framed her face in softness. No one would ever guess she was a twenty-three-year-old widow.
“No water, thank you. Having a drink will only make me need to use the chamber pot—and I’d rather not. Remember that yellow chamber pot we had as girls?” She gave a quiet laugh, feeling better with each moment that passed. “I was always fearful of falling in.”
“Yes, I do. And it was so large and always so cold. Velma would get so angry if we forgot to empty it.”
Belle shivered. “I’m just coming to grips with what they did to our family. If not for them, who knows what would have happened? Mother and Father may have reunited.” Hot tears suddenly threatened in the back of her throat, but she pushed them away. “We’ll never know. The Crowdaires need to be brought to justice. We can’t let them get away with what they stole from our family—and I don’t mean the money. For years, I’ve ached for a father’s love but hardened my heart thinking he was a monster. Vernon never let a day pass without besmirching his name, setting our minds against him. If only it were possible to do things over. If only . . .”
She felt more than saw Mavis nod. “I know. I worry about Emma, Lavinia, and Katie. They were too young to have any recollection of Father at all. At least you and I can remember a few things.”
Is that true? If Belle concentrated, she thought she could recall being picked up and held in their father’s arms. His scent. The deep, rumbling sensation of his laughter. She thought he might have liked to cup her cheek with a work-roughened palm, but she couldn’t be sure.
And Blake? Do I remember him? Or did I imagine the mysterious boy who liked to stay in the shadows unless dragged out by us girls?
“You’re lost in thought again,” Mavis said softly. “I think being here will spark more memories from our past, and of Father in particular. At least I hope so. I know on the trip here, everyone was in agreement that we’d come, listen to what our father’s lawyer had to say, visit his grave and the old homestead, and then return to Philadelphia and resume our lives. But Belle, think about all Eden has to offer.”
“Six months is too much to ask!”
“Not really. Not in the scheme of our whole lives. Why do you want to run home to your catering job? You dislike it, from all you’ve said. Have you changed your mind?”
“That’s not the reason, and you know it. I loathe restaurant work. It was just a way to supplement my stipend and pay some of the expenses that Vernon, the cheat, was always complaining about. I’ll not go back to spilling hot soup and scalding coffee everywhere. And I won’t have to—not with the money from Father. Mavis, you must reconsider.” Belle felt like she was being strangled. “Don’t forget my plans with Lesley.”
Mavis was gazing at her, questions in her eyes. “What plans, Belle? I don’t want to be cruel, but could your plans be hopeful thinking? He hasn’t asked you to marry him yet, and you’ve known him now for a year.”
“He’s been dropping hints. I wouldn’t exaggerate over something so important.”
“But do you love Lesley? Can you spend the rest of your life with him?”
“I-I think I do. I can’t see myself with anyone else.” Having to defend her feelings to Mavis stirred resentment. She knew Mavis had settled by marrying Darvid. He was a friend, but their marriage had turned out well, in spite of that. “What is love exactly, anyway?”
“I think the answer to that is different for each person,” Mavis answered thoughtfully. “The security and friendship Darvid provided is one kind of love, but I’m sure that might sound boring to you.”
Mavis was right about that. Belle would never settle for merely security and friendship. She’d rather remain a spinster. Love stirred the soul, making thoughts of anyone else impossible. Love flew you up to the stars on magical wings. Love made even the dreariest day look sunny and bright. At least that’s what Belle believed.
Lesley and I are almost there. We just need a little more time.
Mavis smiled kindly at her silence. “The party you keep speaking of . . . ,” she went on. “You believe it’s to be the announcement of your engagement?”
“I do,” she said with confidence. “Lesley’s parents have been planning it for weeks. I know they’d be very unhappy if I decided to delay my return.” Especially Mrs. Atkins. Belle pictured the woman’s cranky frown, an expression Belle had already seen more times than she could count.
“We’ll never have a chance like this again.”
Feeling obstinate, Belle frowned. “What chance is that?”
“To do something really extraordinary with our lives. If we take Father’s money now and turn the ranch—the thing he loved the most in the world—over to Mr. Harding, we’ll never know what we might have accomplished. To me, it feels like Father is here, alive, asking us one last time to come back to Eden. Making a hasty decision before we know all the facts doesn’t feel right.”
A warm gust of wind through the gap in the window made the candle flame dance and the shadows move across the wallpaper. Mavis pleaded with her eyes, a tactic she knew worked all too well on Belle. “It’s what Father wanted,” Mavis said. “A father who loved us dearly. It’s also the best option, monetarily speaking.”
Disgruntled, Belle sighed. “So Mr. Glass says.”
“No one can know the future, Belle. Not even you.”
“Maybe the ranch can’t withstand a payout of seventy-five thousand dollars, so they’re tricking us to stay.”
Mavis pushed back into her pillow. “You’re being cynical. We’re all still young. Handing the operation over feels like giving away a treasure that was meant for us. What if we really could be a benefit to the ranch? Or the town? Isn’t that a captivating thought?”
Belle scoffed. “Our father and Mr. Harding have been running the ranch for years. Do you believe you know better than them?”
/>
“Not better than them, but we could contribute something different. We’re Brinkmans. This is our destiny.”
Belle rolled to her elbow, suddenly warmed inside. Is that true? Does each person on earth have a predestined purpose? Something significant she’s given a chance to fulfill if she chooses to accept the challenge? For years, all she’d worried about was making a good match and being a wife. Back East, that was what women did—unless they wanted to go into service of some kind. But here, in Colorado, all kinds of possibilities existed. Her future was a blank slate. What she chose to write on it was up to her.
“Belle?”
“I’m thinking.”
Mavis softly laughed. “Good.”
“You’re making this very difficult, you know. It’s ironic that the tables have turned. You were the one who didn’t want to come, and I had to talk you into the trip. I just don’t know how Lesley will take the news.”
“You don’t think he’ll wait six months?”
Lesley was her best chance at a good marriage, a respectable life. A social standing in Philadelphia that no amount of money could buy. “I don’t know.” Her gaze strayed over to the darkness of the night outside the fluttering curtains.
“He will if he loves you. Better to find out now . . .”
“The others might not agree. Emma is set on returning. Tonight, she may have convinced them of her reasons. Katie was shaken by the gunshots. I may not be your only obstacle.”
Mavis laughed. “I can’t believe you said that. With both of us working together, the others don’t stand a chance. Remember the time we had fifty cents saved between us? You and I wanted to go for ice-cream sundaes, and they wanted to go to the zoo. You know how that turned out.” She winked. “Or all the decisions about what to see on our yearly theater excursion? When we stick together, we’re unstoppable. I’m confident that if we desire it, Father’s wish will come true.”
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