Melanie waited for a further explanation, but he remained silent. He obviously didn’t want to discuss the matter further. Fine, let him have his own way . . . for now. That didn’t mean she would dismiss the note—or its ominous implications—but they had plenty of other things to discuss at the moment.
“If you’re not going to let me implement these ideas right away, at least tell me what I can do to help.”
Caleb sighed and glanced at the walnut mantel clock on the shelf along the wall behind the counter. “We don’t have much time, so pay attention.”
He led her to a small office next to the storeroom. Melanie took in the spare furnishings: a small table, a rolltop desk, and a pair of file cabinets.
“I keep all the records here,” he said. “Orders, shipment receipts, and customer accounts.” He swung around and walked back into the mercantile so quickly that Melanie had to scramble out of his way to avoid a collision. She aimed a glare at his back.
Just outside the office door, he stopped at the chair he had indicated to her earlier. Beside it stood a square table with a stack of books on top.
“This is where the catalogs are kept. I can’t carry everything, so this is where I help customers look to find items I don’t normally stock.”
“Like the baby things that young couple was looking for yesterday.”
“Exactly.” He patted the stack of catalogs. “Come to think of it, this might be the best place for you to begin. Why don’t you sit here and go through them all. It will give you a chance to familiarize yourself with what’s in them and the way they’re organized. That way you’ll be better equipped to assist customers when I think you’re ready to start helping out.”
And in the meantime, it keeps me out of your way. She understood his ploy perfectly. It was the same one she’d used to keep lively children from getting underfoot while making them feel they were doing something useful.
“And over here . . .” Caleb walked to the end of the counter and reached underneath it, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “Here’s a list of the inventory, along with the prices for each item. You’ll need to know all of those before you can write up orders. And here is where I keep track of any purchases made on credit. Later, those need to be entered in the journal in the office under each customer’s account.”
Melanie listened, trying to absorb everything he said as he went on talking about which customers could be trusted to pay bills and which ones he didn’t extend credit to. “That’s important to remember,” he emphasized.
She nodded, wondering if she would ever be able to retain it all. Was that the point? She narrowed her eyes and studied him closely. Maybe he was purposely trying to overwhelm her with the flood of information.
“Some customers require special handling,” he went on. “Ophelia Pike, for instance. She is the mayor’s wife, so make sure she’s treated well. I can’t afford to lose her business.”
“Speaking of our women customers,” Melanie interjected, “I wanted to talk to you about rearranging some of the merchandise a bit. For instance, if we—”
The mantel clock bonged the hour. “We’ll have to talk about that later,” Caleb told her, seeming relieved by the interruption. “It’s time to open, and I’m already running behind.” He reached inside the storeroom door and retrieved a broom.
Melanie snatched it out of his hand. “At least I can help you by sweeping.” She started toward the front door, but Caleb caught her by the elbow.
“You always start with the back stoop first.”
Melanie bristled. “You mean it’s one more way to keep me out of contact with the customers.”
Caleb chuckled, and a smile creased his cheeks in a way she could have found appealing if he weren’t so hard to get along with. “Not at all. It’s simply a matter of logic. If you start by sweeping out front, everyone who sees you assumes the store is ready to open. By doing the back first, it gives you a chance to take care of that chore before things get so busy you may not have time to do it at all.” His smile deepened. “This has nothing to do with you, really. It’s something Uncle Alvin taught me when I first came here.”
Melanie swept the back stoop as quickly as she could. By the time she put the broom away, Caleb had already tended to the boardwalk out front and was greeting their first customer of the day, a slender man dressed in a checkered shirt, denim pants, and tall-heeled boots.
“Good morning, Slim.”
The newcomer nodded but didn’t speak. He held his dusty hat in one hand and kept the other behind his back as he peered around the store.
Caleb frowned and raised his voice a bit. “Slim? Can I help you?”
The cowboy spotted Melanie just then, and his face lit up. He pulled his hand from behind his back, and she saw he held a nosegay of spring wild flowers. “Mornin’, ma’am. These are for you.”
“Now, just a minute,” Caleb sputtered.
“I’m Slim Applegate of the Diamond B. Some of the boys were talking about you last night, and I—”
“Out,” Caleb ordered.
The smile faded from Slim’s face, and he looked at Caleb with an expression that reminded Melanie of a sorrowful hound dog. “I’m not doin’ any harm. I just wanted to talk to—”
Caleb pointed at the door. “If you don’t intend to buy anything, you need to get yourself and your flowers out of my store pronto. And tell the rest of the Diamond B crew that goes for them, too.”
“Can’t I at least leave the flowers?”
Caleb took them from Slim’s outstretched hand and shoved them toward Melanie. “All right, you’ve left your flowers. Now go.”
Slim backed toward the door, holding his hat over his heart. “Just remember, ma’am. The name’s Applegate.”
Caleb shut the door behind him with a decisive click and turned toward Melanie.
She glanced down at the flowers in her hand, then back up at Caleb, catching his glare full on. “Don’t blame me for that. I have no idea why this is happening. These men don’t know me from Adam—or should I say, Eve—so why on earth would they want to come courting?”
Caleb started to speak, then shook his head. He picked up a keg holding an assortment of brooms and carried it out to the boardwalk, leaving Melanie alone with her bouquet.
She found a jar in the kitchen and filled it with water, then placed the flowers in her improvised vase and carried them out to the square table.
Caleb returned, accompanied by a square-shouldered man wearing a charcoal gray suit and bowler hat. The newcomer’s eyes lit on Melanie for a fleeting moment, then his gaze slid past her as if she held no more interest for him than the roll of brown wrapping paper above the counter.
Caleb brushed his hands off and turned to the other man. “What can I get for you today, Doc?”
“I need a new supply of Dr. Copp’s White Mountain Bitters. And some pipe tobacco.”
Caleb nodded. “That shipment with the bitters came in yesterday. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll go unpack the crate.”
Melanie studied their customer while Caleb hurried to the back room. His sturdy build was matched by a square face, but the bags under his blue eyes, the sagging cheeks, and drooping brown mustache added years to his appearance and made him look more like a tired night watchman than a medical man. She stepped out of his way when he walked past her to peruse the back shelves, and her nose crinkled at the sickly smell of stale alcohol that trailed along in his wake.
She moved to a spot near the front window and waited until he paid for his purchases and left the store before approaching Caleb. “That man is a doctor?”
He nodded. “From what I’ve heard, despite his appearance, he’s a fine physician . . . or he used to be, before his drinking started to take a toll on him.”
Melanie walked back to the table that held the catalogs, praying she wouldn’t need the doctor’s services anytime soon. Seating herself on the wooden chair, she pulled the top catalog from the stack and opened it. After examining a f
ew pages, her gaze drifted past the counter and out across the store. In her mind’s eye, she could see a bright, appealing space, filled with merchandise arranged to draw the interest of everyone who entered. And she could create such a space, she knew it.
If she were ever given the chance.
She watched Caleb straightening a stack of blankets and swallowed back her disappointment. Determination and tenacity were traits she admired, but refusing to even listen to her suggestions was carrying it too far. He talked about the worry of losing money invested unwisely, but her ideas would only improve the business. Why couldn’t he see that?
A slow smile curved her lips. That was what he needed to do—see the changes instead of arguing about them. She would reorganize the store on her own and present the new arrangement to him as a fait accompli. Once the transformation was already in place, he would have to agree it was for the best. After all, he didn’t spend every moment in the mercantile. He had to go home and sleep sometime.
And when he went home to sleep, she would still be in the store.
6
Shall I lock the door behind you?” Melanie smiled sweetly at Caleb as he hung up his storekeeper’s apron on its hook near the back door.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed, and Melanie caught her breath. Had she given him some reason to feel suspicious? His gaze darted from the Closed sign at the locked front door to the freshly swept floor and back to Melanie.
“I often stay on awhile after closing the store to go over the bookkeeping. Since I got sidetracked yesterday, I thought I’d spend the evening catching up on the accounts. But now . . .” He ran his fingers through his sandy hair as if frustrated by yet one more complication her presence brought with it.
Caleb pursed his lips and let out a long breath. “I guess now that you’re here, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be alone with you after hours. I’ll have to make time to take care of the bookkeeping during the day.”
Melanie kept her smile intact but said nothing, hoping her innocent demeanor concealed her eagerness to see him gone so she could get started on her project.
“Yes.” Caleb nodded slowly. “Go ahead and lock up. That’ll be fine.” He swept one more look around the store, as if reluctant to leave, then put his hand on Levi’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day, son. How would you like to eat at the café tonight instead of me fixing supper?”
When the little boy yipped with pleasure, Caleb gave a tired grin and ruffled his son’s hair. “Let’s go home and get washed up, then.” He gave Levi a second glance and added, “While you’re at it, you’d better change your shirt and slick that hair down a little. It’s standing up all over.”
Melanie followed them to the door and made sure it was locked before she let her smile broaden into a grin. Alone at last! Turning, she planted her hands on her hips and looked around the store, trying to decide where she should begin.
A yawn caught her by surprise, and a wave of weariness swept over her. Caleb was right. It had been a long day, trying to adjust to her new situation and learn as much as she could about the people of Cedar Ridge, the mercantile—and the man who ran it.
Caleb was undoubtedly attractive, with his strong, honest face and direct gaze. And after seeing him in action all day, she knew for a fact that he was a hard worker who cared about the store and its customers. Then she remembered the note she’d found that morning and drew her brows together. Try as she might, she couldn’t reconcile what she had seen of Caleb’s character with the underhanded nature required to write such a malicious message. But then again, she barely knew the man.
Pivoting on her heel, she headed into the small kitchen. A cup of tea would be just the thing to revitalize her before she started reorganizing their merchandise. As she filled the kettle, another yawn stretched her mouth wide.
Melanie shook herself and blinked her eyes rapidly. Despite her eagerness to carry out her plan for the evening, even tea would not be enough to banish the exhaustion that dragged at her. Setting the kettle down on the sideboard, she started up the stairs to her room. She would lie down for a few minutes, long enough to give her weary body a brief rest and clear her mind for the task ahead. After all—she grinned again—she had all evening.
She stretched out on the coverlet and closed her eyes. Just a few minutes to relax, to let her mind drift. . . .
Something was smothering her, closing her nostrils, tightening her throat. Melanie sat bolt upright, trying to push the obstruction away. It took her a few seconds to wake up enough to recognize the acrid stench of smoke. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, then realized where she was—in her new room above the mercantile. And smoke meant there was a fire.
That’s right, a fire in the alley. The men were putting it out.
No, that had been the day before. This was something different.
Fully awake now, she shoved herself off the bed and ran to the door. She yanked it open long enough to see smoke filling the stairwell, then slammed it shut again.
There was no other way to get to the ground floor, no way of escape. She was trapped upstairs.
Panic choked her even more than the smoke that stung her nostrils as she raced across the room to the window overlooking the alley. Flinging it open, she stuck her head out. She took two gulps of the clear outside air, then screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! Fire!”
She heard a shout and poked her head out farther. Craning her neck, she saw Caleb and Levi running her way from the direction of the café. “Help!” she cried again, waving her arms to attract their attention.
Caleb skidded to a halt below her window. “What’s wrong?”
“Help me! There’s a fire down below, and I can’t get downstairs for the smoke.”
His face paled, and he ordered Levi back with a wave of his arm. “Let me see what’s going on. I’ll try to find a way to get to you.”
Melanie gripped the windowsill with both hands and cast a fearful glance back over her shoulder as smoke continued to seep under her door. “Be careful!”
Caleb nodded and leaped onto the back porch, where he was lost from view. Melanie could hear him fumble with the lock, then heard the door crash back on its hinges as he entered. She sent up a quick prayer for his safety while she strained her ears for any sound of impending rescue.
Moments later, footsteps pounded up the stairs. Caleb burst through her door, then slammed it shut behind him. He leaned back against it, gasping for air.
Melanie rushed to him and clutched his arm. “How are we to get down? Should I start knotting my sheets together?”
A brief smile curved his lips before he answered. “No need for that. The fire is out.” He held up his other hand, and Melanie saw the teakettle dangling from his fingers.
An icy hand clutched at her heart, and her hand flew to her throat. “You mean I started it? I know I was sleepy, but I’m sure I left the kettle on the sideboard.”
Caleb’s smile returned. “You did . . . leave the kettle on the sideboard, I mean. The fire was in the office. I used the water in the kettle to put it out.”
Relief turned Melanie’s knees to jelly. Then she frowned. “How could you put out a fire that created so much smoke with a kettleful of water?”
Caleb’s smile dimmed, and his face took on a grim expression. “I’ll show you once we’ve thrown the doors and windows open to air the place out.”
Ten minutes later, Caleb led her to the office and pointed to a sodden mass of rags in a metal bucket near the far wall. “It was more smoke than flame.”
Melanie stared, then shook her head. “I don’t understand. How did this get here?”
The floorboard creaked behind her, and she turned to see Levi gaping at the blackened remains. She whirled back around to face Caleb. “Or do I even need to ask?”
Caleb’s brow furrowed, then his eyes widened when he caught her meaning.
“I was here when you put out that fire in the alley, remember? And we both know who started that.”
Melanie choked back a sob. How many times had she heard young Clarence proclaim his innocence just as convincingly? “How do you expect me to believe that? I locked the door behind you both when you left. No one could have gotten inside.” She felt Caleb’s hand on her arm and turned to meet his eyes.
“I know it looks bad, but Levi couldn’t have done it. He and I were together when we went home and all through dinner at the café. This fire was started after we left.”
Melanie lifted her chin and faced him squarely, but she saw only truth in his steady expression. She drew in a shuddering breath. “But I locked the door. How could anyone have gotten inside?”
“They didn’t have to.” Caleb nodded across the room at the half-raised window. “All it took was prying the window open enough to lower the bucket inside and toss a match on top of those oily rags.”
Melanie’s lower lip trembled. “Why would anyone do that?”
Caleb avoided her gaze as he bent to lift the bucket. “A prank, maybe. Who knows? Nothing makes sense right now.”
Melanie watched him carry the bucket and its reeking contents outside, feeling the sting of his words. Though he hadn’t come right out and said so, she knew he’d been referring to her unexpected arrival. All the more reason to implement her ideas for bringing customers into the mercantile, thereby making herself indispensable. But not tonight—she’d had enough.
As soon as she gave the store a good scrubbing and made sure all the windows were locked, she went upstairs again.
7
Caleb pushed open the back door of the mercantile and listened. Surprised when he didn’t hear any bustle of activity, he nudged the door open farther and eased his way inside. In the days following the fire, his would-be business partner seemed to have lost her initial panic and set her focus on making herself more at home in the mercantile. But today no bright greeting or lively humming met his ears—none of the relentless flurry he had come to associate with Melanie Ross’s cheerful but inexorable takeover of his store.
Carol Cox Page 6