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

by Kit Morgan

  “Trust me, it’s true. Just ask Garrett or Julian, they can tell you.”

  “I’m sure your friends could tell me quite a few things about you,” Daisy teased.

  Morgan suddenly looked worried. “You wouldn’t actually be planning on asking them, would you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said lightheartedly. “Perhaps I should. Then I could find out all your deep dark secrets.”

  Morgan let out a nervous chuckle. “There’s not much to tell …”

  Relief came in the form of Clara bringing a tray and setting it on the table. She served them their coffees, then set small containers of sugar and cream out as well. “Will there be anything else?” she asked with a smile – but it was for Morgan alone, not her other two customers.

  Daisy noticed, and as soon as Clara left the table, couldn’t resist a comment. “I see you have an admirer.”

  “Whomever do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Our waitress?”

  Winnie laughed. “You’ll find Mr. Tindle is not lacking admirers, including Clara. So what if she’s old enough to be his mother?”

  Morgan blushed at the compliment and hoped it didn’t show.

  It did. “Why, Mr. Tindle, you’re positively pink!” Daisy giggled.

  “Well … I … I mean, can I help it if she finds me … er, ah …”

  “Attractive?” Daisy finished for him. She looked away a moment, as if trying to collect her thoughts. “Well, I can’t say I blame her.”

  That got his attention. “Oh? And what about you? Did you have admirers back in New Orleans?”

  Daisy laughed. “Mr. Tindle, the only admirers I had before I came here were six-year-old boys wanting their lunch.”

  Morgan closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Evers. I forgot …” He opened his eyes and gazed into hers. “It must have been horrible, growing up in the orphanage? How long were you there?”

  “I’ve been in orphanages since I was five,” she answered, her face solemn now.

  “Five?” he said in astonishment and looked at Winnie. She nodded. “And no one ever wanted to… adopt you?”

  “Many of the people who came to the orphanage wanted boys so they could work them. Little girls weren’t of much use. And then the war … things were so unstable, no one was looking to adopt, and there were more orphans than anyone knew what to do with …”

  Morgan let out a low whistle. He’d heard of such things, read about them in the newspapers, but couldn’t imagine living through them. Who would adopt a child only to use them as slave labor? And how many children were there who’d been left parentless by the War Between the States? “I’m so sorry, Miss Evers. But … in a way, I’m glad you weren’t adopted.”

  She was about to take a sip of her coffee and froze. “I beg your pardon?”

  He realized he’d better explain himself, fast. “I just meant that … if you had been adopted, then you wouldn’t be … here. With me, right now.”

  She relaxed at the clarification, and even smiled. “No,” she said as she put down her cup. “I suppose I wouldn’t.” She exchanged a quick glance with Winnie. “And I never would have known about this lovely town. Who knows where I’d be now?”

  “Well, regardless of the past,” Morgan said, “I’m glad you’re here.” He looked into her eyes to let her know he meant every word. She really was pretty – he’d be a fool not to notice. He’d also be a fool to not see she was having an effect on him; there was an unfamiliar heat in his gut. “Would you like something to eat?” he whispered, never taking his eyes from hers.

  She gazed back. “No thank you,” she said in a small voice.

  “Perhaps you’d like to come to the parsonage for lunch, Morgan,” Winnie suggested. “My husband will be there.”

  With an effort, Morgan pulled his gaze from Daisy. “I would like that, thank you.” He looked back at the exquisite creature sitting across the table from him. “It will give us more time to get acquainted. Let’s finish our coffee and go to the bookshop, shall we?”

  Daisy nodded, and they sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes, just watching each other. Winnie watched them both in amusement.

  The peace was broken by the sound of the café door flying open so hard it banged into the wall. Morgan turned just as Daisy groaned. “Aunt Eunice,” he whispered under his breath. “Great.”

  “There you are!” his aunt huffed and pointed at him. ‘You’re needed back at the mercantile this instant!”

  Morgan fought the urge to roll his eyes, and gave an apologetic look to Daisy and Winnie instead. Daisy was staring at his aunt with a fire in her eyes that said if the older woman pushed her too far, there’d be trouble. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said as he steeled himself, then got up and went to his aunt. “What’s wrong?”

  “What are you doing here, philandering about with this … this …”

  “With the pastor’s wife and her houseguest?” he finished for her, in a tone that said he was ready to give as well as he got.

  His attitude stunned Aunt Eunice for a moment; she wasn’t used to people standing up to her. “Pastor’s wife?” she asked, confused, before righting herself. “Well, that’s all well and good, but you still need to come back to the mercantile with me. There’s work to be done!”

  “Did Bernice go home?” Winnie asked. “I thought she was helping you this morning.”

  “She still is,” Eunice replied.

  “Wait. Bernice Caulder is working at the mercantile?” Morgan asked in horror.

  “Yes, as you should be,” she told him. “Come along now, you’re through here.”

  He could feel his nostrils flaring. “I am through, Aunt Eunice, when I say I am. For that matter, I don’t recall ever hiring Bernice Caulder. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have left her alone in the mercantile by herself when she knows nothing about running the place.”

  Aunt Eunice was thoroughly flustered at this sudden turn of events. She had to take a moment to summon up her usual high dudgeon. “All the more reason for you to come back with me so that I can relieve her and … I mean… I can take care of your folks while you and Bernice run the mercantile.”

  That caught Morgan off guard. “My folks are ill?”

  “Yes, they are. Now hurry along. You’re needed.”

  Morgan turned back to the women at the table. Winnie looked at him. “Your aunt did mention your parents weren’t feeling well when we stopped by this morning to look for you.”

  “I see,” he said and turned back to his aunt. “I’ll be along momentarily. You go ahead.”

  His aunt glared at Miss Evers. “See that you do.” She spun on her heel and left the café.

  “My, she’s not a cheerful person, isn’t she?” Winnie asked.

  “To say the least,” Morgan agreed. “I’m afraid I’d better go check and see what’s the matter with my parents. They must not be feeling well at all for Aunt Eunice to pull in Bernice for help. She doesn’t know a thing!”

  “I’d say she knows quite a few things,” Daisy replied dryly.

  Morgan fought against a sigh. Yes, that was sarcasm, all right – clearly she was upset that he had to leave. Or was she? “Another time, perhaps?”

  “How about dinner tomorrow night at our house?” Winnie asked. “Maybe you can sample some of Daisy’s cooking that way.”

  That seemed to cheer Daisy up. “I would love to make something for you.”

  “You would?” he asked with a smile, the warm feeling in his gut building once more. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I think I’ll surprise you,” she said and winked.

  He grinned. “I look forward to that surprise, Miss Evers.”

  “Daisy,” she corrected.

  “All right … Daisy.” He leaned toward her a few inches. “Then of course you must call me Morgan.”

  “Of course,” she said with another smile.

  Morgan hesitated, and wished he didn’t have to go. He’d much rather s
pend more time with her – she was so unlike the women he’d known before, be it in Independence or at college. But duty called – who knew what kind of disaster was waiting for him at home with his parents ill, Aunt Eunice putting herself in charge, and Bernice allowed to run loose! “Until tomorrow night … Daisy,” he said as he turned to go.

  Eleven

  The next morning, Daisy sat at the kitchen table at Luke and Winnie’s house and cringed. Now she had to make him dinner – just how far was he going to take this farce of theirs? It was bad enough they were pretending to be courting, but this?

  “Have you thought about what you’d like to make tonight?” Winnie asked as she poured Daisy a cup of coffee.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  Winnie set the cup in front of her and sat down. “Really? I thought you’d be up all night thinking about it. I know if I were you, I would be – especially with a handsome man like Morgan Tindle coming to taste my cooking.”

  “Well, you’re not me. And I’m not very excited about it.”

  “Don’t tell me you can’t cook?”

  “I can cook,” she said a little defensively, then caught herself. “I mean, I may not be known for it except within the walls of an orphanage, but I can do it.”

  “Then why aren’t you excited? Have you changed your mind about getting married?”

  If only I had a choice, Daisy thought. The reason she was in this mess was because Morgan didn’t want to get married! She wanted to, but he didn’t, and he was adamant about it, regardless of the potential bride - her, the Caulder girl, anyone. At least it wasn’t just her – that gave her some comfort. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Winnie let out her breath. “I’m glad to hear it – I was beginning to get a little worried. I think you and Morgan would be good for each other, and I want to see you happy. Independence is a great place to have a family, to raise children …”

  Daisy felt a pang of regret: that she’d come all this way for nothing, to meet a man who wanted little to do with her. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I do still want to get married.” But her voice cracked on her last word.

  Winnie didn’t seem to notice. She got up, went to a sideboard and opened a drawer. “I have some lovely pie recipes that Betsy, the Vanders’ maid, gave me when I first came to town. Would you like to bake one?”

  “Let me see them,” Daisy said as she turned in her chair to face her. “About the only two pies one can make this time of year are apple and pumpkin.”

  “True, but I think there are several different recipes for both in this stack.” Daisy watched as Winnie pulled a pile of paper out of the drawer and brought them to the table. The recipes were written in a neat hand – but of course, that didn’t mean she’d be able to read them?

  “The Vanders have a maid?” she asked to distract herself from trying to decipher the recipes. “They must be wealthy indeed for such an extravagance.”

  Winnie laughed. “They are pretty well off. But Betsy is more like one of the family, though they call her a maid and she does wear a sort of uniform …”

  Daisy smiled. She liked that a servant in a household was treated like family. Coming from the South, that wasn’t always the case, even if slavery had now been outlawed. “I take it she’s a fine cook?”

  “Probably the best in town. She’s shown me a thing or two.”

  Daisy leafed through the recipes and thankfully could make out the names without too much difficulty. She found one for Dutch apple pie. “I think I’ll try this. Do you have everything it calls for?”

  Winnie took the paper from her and read it. “I’ll need more cinnamon.” She looked at Daisy and smiled. “Of course, this means we’ll have to go to the mercantile to get it.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Is that so? You know, you don’t have to enjoy this so much.”

  “Oh, but I can’t help it!” Winnie said and laughed. “In fact, if we’re going to the mercantile, I’d best make a list. Cinnamon isn’t the only thing I’m out of.”

  Daisy watched as Winnie got up from the table and went to make her list. Going to the mercantile meant two things: she’d probably see Morgan … and she’d probably see his aunt. Would the trip be worth it? “Maybe I’ll stay here while you go. I could start peeling the apples.”

  “Nonsense – we have plenty of time to prepare the apples when we get back. Besides, you want to give that man a little something to think about the rest of the day, don’t you?”

  Daisy stared at her, confused. “Give him … something to …?”

  “Yes – you know, a warm smile, a kind word. Those are things that help a man get through his day … and remind him of what he can look forward to once it’s done.”

  Daisy’s eyes drifted to the tabletop. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “That’s because you’ve never been around a man. Sometimes a little thing can mean a lot to a person.” Winnie sat again. “Luke loves it when I do small things for him.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Well, for instance, I straighten his desk when he’s not looking. Or I leave pieces of candy in his drawer for him with a nice note. Just little things to let him know I love him.”

  “Is it hard being married?” Daisy asked, truly curious.

  “It’s as hard as you want to make it,” Winnie said. “Anytime you put two people together under the same roof, there’ll be conflict. The two of you are different – you don’t act or think the exact same way, and you’ll have differences of opinion about things. All of that’s okay and normal, I think. It’s when one person tries to overpower the other with their opinion or their wants or what they think should be done in a situation that you’ve got trouble.”

  “Selfishness,” Daisy whispered.

  “What was that?”

  Daisy looked at her. “Sounds like living in the orphanage. At Winslow, one of the biggest causes of strife was selfishness.”

  Winnie nodded. “It’s much the same way with marriage. Nothing will bring problems into a good marriage quicker than the selfishness of one or both people involved. I witnessed it when I first came to town, and almost saw it break a family apart.”

  “What happened?”

  “The person realized they were making a huge mistake and came back to rectify things.”

  “They left?” Daisy asked in shock.

  “Yes, this person abandoned their family for a short time. Luke and I were going out to the family’s home to help out until he came back.”

  “He? The husband left?”

  “Yes, but everything’s better now, and the family is doing fine. Now, what say we go get some cinnamon?” she asked with a wink.

  “You are enjoying this,” Daisy told her.

  “And I plan on enjoying it until the wedding,” Winnie said as she got up from the table. “And long afterward, I hope.”

  Daisy watched her disappear down the hall to get her reticule and sighed. “If only there was going to be one.” She got up from the table and went to wait for Winnie in the hall.

  They walked to the mercantile and were about to go inside when a middle-aged man stopped them. “Mrs. Adams!” he exclaimed, “How lovely to see you! Tell me, is your husband at the church?”

  “Yes, he is. Do you need to speak with him?”

  “Yes – word around town is he’s trying to put together a choir.”

  “That’s true. Are you interested?”

  “I think it’s a fine idea, and would love to help out.”

  “He’ll be happy to hear that. If you have time, run over to the church and see him. Oh, by the way,” she added, indicating Daisy with a wave of her hand, “this is Miss Evers. She arrived in town a few days ago.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Evers,” the man told her. “I’m Professor Hamilton – I own the bookshop down the street.”

  Daisy shook the offered hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “What brings you to
our fair little hamlet?” he asked.

  “Hamlet?” she said with a smile.

  “She came to get married,” Winnie interjected.

  “Married? Well now, that is news. Who’s the lucky groom?”

  Daisy tried not to grimace. This was going to get harder and harder to do. She thought pretending to court Morgan would be easy, but it wasn’t. She hoped Winnie would interrupt again and answer for her, but she didn’t. Finally she said, “Morgan Tindle.”

  “Morgan Tindle?” the professor said, confused. “But I just heard …”

  Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “You just heard what?”

  “Well … Mrs. Tindle’s sister is in town visiting, you know …”

  “Oh, we know,” Winnie said archly.

  “Then perhaps you can enlighten me. I was just inside the mercantile, and she told me Morgan was going to marry Bernice Caulder.”

  “Oh, that woman!” Winnie groaned.

  Daisy raised a hand and rubbed her temple. “Oh dear, here we go again.”

  “Are you a mail-order bride?” asked Professor Hamilton.

  “I … was,” Daisy admitted.

  “Morgan’s?” he prodded.

  Daisy nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, Professor Hamilton, I need to go speak with my intended.” She turned and went up the mercantile steps, crossed the boardwalk and went inside as the professor and Winnie stared after her.

  She slammed the door on purpose, and watched as Bernice Caulder jumped behind the counter. “Is Mr. Tindle here?”

  Bernice glanced around before she looked at Daisy. “No, he, uh … he seems to have left.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “How should I know? I don’t keep track of him.”

  Daisy wanted to make a fist and raise it in warning. That was a tactic that worked well with rambunctious boys in the orphanage, but it probably wouldn’t be appropriate or effective here. “Then perhaps he’ll come back while I’m doing my shopping.”

  Bernice gaped at her. “You’re shopping? Does this mean you’re staying?”

  “Whoever said I was going?”

  “Miss Brubauk said …”