The Thanksgiving Mail Order Bride (Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book Eight)

by Kit Morgan

  “Miss Brubauk! What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Caulder roared.

  Aunt Eunice swallowed hard, then straightened in her chair. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Caulder, Bernice,” she stammered, still wrestling with the turn of events. “But my nephew seems to have temporarily lost his mind – he is clearly not himself tonight. Perhaps we should concentrate on dinner alone and let this matter rest for now …”

  “My mental faculties are fine,” Morgan insisted, cutting her off. “Yesterday, I admit, I reacted badly to Miss Evers’ arrival. I have since apologized to her for that, and we have decided to see if we will suit.”

  Aunt Eunice was still trying to recover her lost ground. “But … but this …”

  Morgan ignored her, turning instead to Bernice. “I am sorry for this misunderstanding – I assure you I had nothing to do with it.” He pulled his napkin from his lap and set it gently on the table. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I believe I have some work to take care of downstairs. Please, enjoy your meal.” Without another word, he got up and left the dining room.

  * * *

  Morgan headed down to the first floor of the mercantile, his mood jubilant. He couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off – freeing himself from any obligation to Bernice, hoisting Aunt Eunice with her own petard and possibly turning the Caulders against her, all in one stroke! Ah, he thought to himself, that time in college with the drama society certainly paid off!

  Aunt Eunice had no one but herself to blame, of course. She’d gone too far – even farther than he’d anticipated – in not only speaking with the Caulders about marrying him off to Bernice, but putting it in their heads that he was agreeable to it. What gave her the right? And why hadn’t his mother and father put up any protest? Did she have them so firmly whipped and beaten with that sharp tongue of hers that they were too afraid to speak up?

  He heard raised voice coming from upstairs. Good. Let them turn on each other – and leave him out of it.

  But, he realized as he sobered, this might be just one skirmish in a long war. If his announcement about courting Daisy didn’t deter his aunt, then what would he do? Hopefully he’d be able to get away with just a day or two of parading around with Daisy in front of Aunt Eunice, then she’d head back to Portland. But he wasn’t so sure - not with the threat she’d just posed of staying in Independence for longer.

  Would she go through with it?

  Morgan went behind the counter of the darkened store, opened a jar of peppermints and popped one into his mouth. He shook his head. To think this whole mess started because his mother went behind his back and procured him a mail-order bride. He was still angry with her, even though he understood her motive. She still had no right to do it, just as his aunt had no right to speak with Bernice’s parents about his betrothal.

  He sighed and leaned against the counter. And poor Bernice was as much a pawn in this as he was, albeit more eager a participant. He was glad he’d be working with Daisy for a time – hopefully it would keep Bernice at bay and out of this hair, not to mention off his leg! What had that girl been thinking, doing something so obviously improper?

  Morgan stopped sucking the candy for a moment and listened. He no longer heard any activity overhead, and wondered if they were eating in silence at this point, too dumbstruck to speak, or were giving each other the silent treatment.

  “What a mess,” he mumbled. But perhaps he’d taken a step toward straightening it out – Aunt Eunice rebuffed, the Bernice blocked, Daisy with a job. When it was all over, Daisy would probably wind up married to either Garrett or Julian, Garrett most likely. Then Morgan wouldn’t have to worry about the woman – she’d have someone else to take care of her.

  Take care of her?

  Guilt came out of nowhere and hit him hard. He was the one supposed to be taking care of her, not Garrett! After all, he was the one she came all the way out here to marry. If he’d stepped up and told her he’d marry her in the first place, none of this would be happening. Aunt Eunice might – would – still put up a fuss, but there’d be little she could do about it once things were in motion.

  But she’d made a countermove, and quickly, the moment she’d heard he wanted nothing to do with Daisy. But why? Yes, she loved being smack in the middle of everyone else’s business – that seemed to be her goal in life. But was there another explanation?

  And what if Daisy Evers never married? Would she grow old and become like his Aunt Eunice – cold, cranky, controlling, opinionated … dare he go on?

  Daisy’s face flashed before him, bringing a smile to his own. No, she had too much spunk and gumption to let the world turn her into such a miserable person. What Aunt Eunice lacked, Daisy seemed to have. She was witty, smart and had figured out a solution to her problem in short order. She’d make any man a very fine wife.

  Any man … one word, and Garrett would snatch her up, and that would be that.

  Morgan stared into the dim light of the store. What would he miss out on if he allowed that to happen? How much regret would he have? Would he be the one to turn into an Aunt Eunice – alone and bitter?

  “Son?”

  Morgan looked up to see his father come into the room. “I’m right here,” he said.

  “The Caulders are about to leave. Would you tell them goodbye?”

  “Of course – none of this was their fault, after all. Aunt Eunice …”

  “Say no more, son – I understand. Your mother and I are going to talk to her as soon as the Caulders leave. I’m putting my foot down – if she can’t behave herself and have a nice visit with your mother, she’s going to have to leave.”

  Morgan ran a hand through his hair and stared at his father in the semi-darkness. “What exactly did she tell the Caulders?”

  “I have to admit, I’m not really sure. I was as shocked as you were to hear about your so-called engagement, as was your mother.”

  “You mean, you two didn’t even know? For the love of … grrrr. What is that woman trying to do?”

  “Your aunt can be very forceful when she wants to, and she gets a little overzealous about a cause.”

  “A cause? What, am I her latest cause?”

  “It appears so. But I think once she’s convinced you want to marry Miss Evers …”

  “Father, I said we were courting to see if we’d suit. I’m giving Miss Evers and me a chance to get to know one another. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going to marry.”

  “But what will that poor girl do if you don’t?”

  “Well, to be honest, that’s one of the reasons I gave her a job in the mercantile.”

  “Oh,” said his father as he looked away. “Well. Good thinking.”

  Guilt tightened its grip, and Morgan found it hard to look at his father. He felt himself sink deeper into the hole he’d dug. Obviously, he wasn’t done digging it. He had to make a decision, and he had to do it now. “Father, I’m …”

  His father stepped behind the counter to stand next to him. “Go on.”

  Morgan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I will court Miss Evers, and should we suit, I will marry her. Well … provided she’ll have me after all this.”

  “Isn’t that what we’ve been discussing?”

  “Well, keep in mind, I was only let into that discussion yesterday.”

  His father stared at his shoes, clearly embarrassed.

  Morgan wasn’t letting him off the hook just yet. “So I had to make my own decision on the matter. And after a couple of false starts, I believe I have.”

  Mr. Tindle said nothing, instead patting him on the back. It was all Morgan could do not to sigh in relief that his father asked no more. He didn’t want to have to tell him that the only reason he was going to court Miss Evers was to get clear of Aunt Eunice, and Bernice. Nor did he want to mention the agreement between him and Miss Evers. It was much better to forge ahead, do the right thing, and truly court her to see if they really would suit, not just work together in the mercantile side-
by-side.

  He was surprised at how good the thought made him feel.

  Nine

  “Oh no!” gasped Mercy Vander. “And then what did she say?” Mercy, Martha and Maude were huddled around the mercantile counter like three clucking hens around a pile of corn kernels.

  “Well, then Eunice told Morgan that Bernice was already hired!” Martha continued. “Can you imagine that? Octavius and I were both speechless, we were in such a state!”

  “The nerve of your sister!” Maude declared. “Why do you allow her to stay?”

  “Because she is my sister. She hasn’t any friends –”

  “For obvious reasons,” Maude added.

  “– and I’m her only close relative.”

  “Poor Morgan,” Mercy said, shaking her head. “Whatever are we going to do?”

  “We?” Maude said. “What do you mean, we?”

  “We can’t let Morgan marry Bernice!” exclaimed Mercy. “She’s not ready to be a wife. Our only hope is to see that he marries Miss Evers. Maybe we ought to move her to my house for safekeeping.”

  “She’s fine with Pastor Luke and Winnie,” Martha said. “And I do believe she’s starting work here this afternoon. Morgan’s gone to tell her now.”

  “Well, that’s one way for them to get to know each other, working side-by-side,” Maude said.

  “But what about your sister?” Mercy asked. “What if she tries to break it up?”

  “We talked with her last night, and she said she’d stay out of it.” Martha didn’t sound confident.

  Mercy and Maude exchanged a quick glance. “You really think she will?” Maude asked skeptically.

  “She is my sister,” Martha said. “What else am I supposed to do?”

  “Oh dear – this is all so unbelievable.” Mercy pulled her handkerchief out of her reticule and dabbed her head and neck.

  “It’s not your son,” Martha pointed out.

  “No, but Maude and I both have sons of marriageable age, and we’re going to have to go through this, too. You’re like the trial run for us.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Martha said. “Once we get Morgan married off, then we can tackle Garrett and Julian.”

  “Yes, but who is Morgan going to marry?” Maude asked. “From the sounds of it, if your sister has her way, it’ll be Bernice!”

  “And poor Eunice Caulder,” Martha continued. “You know how we all love her.”

  “We do?” Mercy asked in shock, beating Maude to the punch.

  Martha ignored her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her last night that Morgan has absolutely no interest in Bernice.”

  “Well, she knows now,” Maude said. “Poor Bernice. Though she shouldn’t even be considering a husband right now, not with the shape she’s in.”

  “Some girls are just late bloomers,” Mercy argued. “Well, while I’m here, I suppose I do need to get a few things. Betsy gave me a list.”

  “Your maid sent you to the mercantile?” Maude asked with a laugh.

  “Somebody had to go,” Mercy explained.

  “For Heaven’s sake,” Maude groaned. “You’re the mayor’s wife! Your maid should be doing what you tell her, not the other way around!”

  “Well, if I’d have sent Betsy, she’d be listening to all of this, not me,” Mercy replied.

  “You have to admit, she does have a point,” Martha said after a moment.

  “This is giving me such a headache,” Maude said. “We must think of something to hurry this along, otherwise Mercy and I will never be able to get brides sent here for Garrett and Julian.”

  “She’s right,” added Mercy. “But what can we do to help Morgan and Miss Evers?”

  Martha sighed. “I’m sure Eunice is still determined to see Bernice married to him, I just know it. We’ll have to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t try anything, even if she did say she’d stay out of it.”

  “How could she do anything?” Mercy asked. “Morgan made it quite clear he’s not marrying Bernice.”

  “I know, but she still makes me nervous.”

  “She positively terrifies me,” Maude admitted.

  “What can we do to help?” Mercy asked.

  “Mercy, can you keep Bernice busy – you know, put her on a few committees for something big like the Christmas pageant or the Thanksgiving play? That way, she won’t have time to come into the mercantile.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Maude agreed.

  “Yes, I suppose I could,” Mercy said. “But I was hoping to ask Miss Evers to help out with some things, so she’d feel more comfortable and welcome. That, and it would give her a chance to get to know us.”

  “True,” Maude said. “But if you do that, make sure Bernice and Miss Evers aren’t on the same committee.”

  “So you two keep Bernice busy and help Miss Evers feel more at home in Independence,” Martha said. “And I’ll keep my eye on my sister and make sure she doesn’t get in the way. It’d be a shame if Miss Evers and Morgan didn’t get the chance to see how they get along.”

  “My, but this is confusing,” Mercy said. “But we’ll make it work!”

  “Right, then,” Maude said. “The sooner Morgan and Daisy are wed, the sooner we can marry off our own sons.” Mercy confirmed that with a single nod. “Let’s get started!”

  And with that, the three matrons went to work.

  * * *

  Daisy awoke the next morning more than a little troubled. Today was the day she’d begin her part in the ruse to keep Morgan away from the altar, and keep her in Independence. If everything worked out, they’d both get what they wanted – her, the means to make a living and afford a place of her own; Morgan, his bachelorhood intact.

  She planned on learning as much as she could in the next week or two and prove herself worthy of the job. The mercantile was to be her only focus now. Not for the first time, she wondered if she shouldn’t have pursued employment at the café and dressmaker’s shop. But if one or the other had already filled their positions, she’d need this third option anyway. Besides, the mercantile would be perfect.

  Except for one small detail … well, more than one. There was still Morgan’s battle-ax of an aunt to consider, and whatever machinations this Bernice Caulder person might attempt. But those weren’t the issues that had made her last night’s sleep so fitful.

  Daisy swallowed hard, took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. The café would’ve been nice, simply because she could take orders and her memory was good enough that she wouldn’t even have to write them down. The same with the dressmaker’s shop – she might have had to do a little writing there, but not much.

  The mercantile, however, was another matter entirely. There’d be lots of reading, writing, keeping track of items … and she didn’t know how long she could keep up before somebody figured out she wasn’t very good at those things. She’d spent a good portion of the dark hours wondering whatever had possessed her to agree to such a job, and kept coming back to the same answer: it was the only offer she’d gotten so far, so what choice had she?

  For years, she tried to hide her problems with the written word, and had done a fine job too – it was one of the reasons her memory was so good. She’d learned a long time ago that if she could memorize certain phrases and words, she could better understand them. But it was frustrating every time she looked at a word, looked away for any reason, then looked back, all the letters seemed to be backwards or mixed up. If she was reading and didn’t keep a finger right where she’d left off, she had trouble finding her place again. It had taken the entire trip from New Orleans to Independence to read three pages of her poetry book.

  Another deep breath. It was only a matter of time before Morgan found out, unless she worked there only long enough to establish herself in either the dress shop or café, if not both. But she didn’t think she could work three jobs at once, so she’d better figure out which one she wanted first, the café or the dress shop. Once she had one – and the loo
ming Aunt Eunice was out of the way – she could drop the mercantile and pursue the other …

  “Daisy?” Winnie called up the stairs. “Are you ready to go?”

  Daisy smoothed the skirt of her blue day dress and went downstairs. She’d sewn the dress as a Sunday frock before she left Winslow, but for whatever reason, she wanted to wear it today. Looking nice made her feel more confident, and right now she needed all the confidence she could get. “How do I look?”

  Winnie sucked in her breath. “You look beautiful. Did you make that?”

  Daisy blushed with pride. “Yes I did. Do you like it?”

  “I love it! Maybe we should drop by the dressmaker’s shop before we go to the mercantile. Mrs. Simpson might hire you on the spot once she sees this.”

  Daisy smiled at the compliment. “If you think we have time, then let’s.”

  “We will if we hurry,” Winnie said as she took her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The dressmaker’s shop wasn’t far, just a few buildings down the street from the church. When they entered, Mrs. Simpson was hanging up some dresses behind the counter and smoothing out the skirts.

  “Good morning, Therese,” Winnie said. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

  Therese Simpson turned and looked at them. She was an older woman, with bright blue eyes and black hair streaked with gray. She was probably Mrs. Tindle’s age, and Daisy wondered if she had children. “Hello, Winnie,” she replied with a touch of a French accent. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’d like you to meet Miss Daisy Evers. She’s new in town, and is looking for a job. She’s quite handy with a needle and thread, as you can see by what she’s wearing.”

  Mrs. Simpson looked Daisy up and down in appreciation. “Your dress, it is lovely. How long did it take you to make?”

  “Not long; about a week, give or take a day.”

  “That long?”

  “Well… I had other things going on at the time, such as teaching children.” Which was true – she often taught the younger orphans at Winslow to help out Mrs. Teeters.