by Kit Morgan
“Miss Brubauk. I should’ve known. And I suppose she also said that you’re going to marry Mr. Tindle?”
“But I am,” stated Bernice.
“And has Mr. Tindle told you as much?” Daisy asked.
Bernice fidgeted behind the counter. “Well … of course he has.”
Daisy was pretty sure the girl was lying. She certainly hoped so, or she was going to be baking and cooking all afternoon for nothing. “Do you have any cinnamon?”
Bernice’s mouth flopped open at the question. She was obviously expecting Daisy to say something else. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Aren’t you supposed to be helping out?”
“Oh, I’m not helping out. I work here.”
Now it was Daisy’s mouth that flopped open. “Work here?” What happened to her position in the mercantile? “And when did this come about?”
“Just this morning,” Bernice told her with a nervous smile. “If Morgan and I are going to be married, then of course I have to work here.”
“I see,” Daisy said, her jaw clenched. “Then find me some cinnamon, if you please.”
Thank Heaven Winnie came into the mercantile at that point. Daisy was so mad she wanted to march across the room and throttle the girl behind the counter. But this wasn’t Bernice’s fault – she was just another pawn in the Tindle family’s strange games.
“Where’s Morgan?” Winnie asked.
“Miss Caulder doesn’t seem to recall,” Daisy said dryly. “She has just informed me that she now works here.”
“What?” Winnie said as she glanced around the shop. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Tindle?”
Bernice shrugged. “I, I don’t know.”
“What do you know?” Daisy asked. “Where is Miss Brubauk?”
Bernice was getting more flustered by the second. “I’m … well … I’m not really sure …”
Daisy put a hand over her eyes. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Winnie, do you know where the Tindles keep the cinnamon? Otherwise, we could be here all day.”
Winnie gawked at Bernice. “You don’t know where the cinnamon is?”
Bernice shrugged again and gave her a blank look.
Winnie leaned toward Daisy. “What is going on?” she whispered.
“You tell me. And don’t bother asking Miss Caulder; she can’t tell you anything.”
“No, but I can,” spoke a familiar voice.
Daisy’s groan came out more like a growl. Miss Brubauk strolled into the store and glided behind the counter to stand next to Miss Caulder. “What do they need, child?”
“Cinnamon … I guess?” Bernice, now thoroughly outgunned, sounded for all the world like a daydreaming child who’d suddenly been called on by her teacher.
“Cinnamon. Yes, it’s right here.” Miss Brubauk might be a pill, but at least she knew where the cinnamon was. Daisy watched as she spooned some into a small container then stopped it with a cork. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.
Winnie approached the counter, pulling Daisy with her. “Yes, we’d like to speak with Mr. Tindle.”
Mr. Tindle is still indisposed,” Miss Brubauk said evenly.
“Not Mr. Tindle Senior,” Daisy informed her. “Mr. Tindle Junior.”
“He’s not here.”
“Where is he, then?” Daisy asked.
“His whereabouts are no concern of yours. Now, if you don’t need anything else, I shall kindly ask you to leave.”
Daisy’s eyes narrowed. She had no idea why the woman didn’t like her, but the feeling at this point was mutual. “Fine, then I’ll find him myself.” She turned to leave as Winnie reached into her reticule to pay for the cinnamon.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, young lady. In fact, you will stop harassing my nephew this instant. He’s going to marry Miss Caulder, whether you like it or not. And the sooner you get that into that empty head of yours the better.”
Daisy turned around, her nostrils flaring. “What did you just say to me?”
Winnie’s eyes rounded to the size of plates. “Come on, Daisy,” she quickly said. “I think we’d better be going –” She reached for Daisy’s arm.
Daisy shrugged it off. “No. I will not leave until this is settled. Just who is Mr. Tindle going to marry, you say?”
“He is marrying Miss Caulder on Thanksgiving, if you must know,” Miss Brubauk said with a smirk.
Daisy went cold. How could he? How dare he? And why didn’t he tell her? But then, did he even know? “Fine.” she declared, her tone indicating otherwise. “I hope they’ll be very happy.” She turned and marched out of the mercantile.
“The nerve of that man!” Daisy muttered as she reached the street. She expected Winnie to be right behind her, but she wasn’t. Of course – she still had to pay for the cinnamon and pick up some other items, several of which Daisy needed in order to make dinner that night. Well, she’d still make dinner, but it would be for Winnie and Pastor Luke. If Morgan Tindle had the effrontery to come over, he could eat straw with the horses as far as she was concerned!
How could he accept an invitation to dinner when he was going to marry Bernice Caulder? Of course, maybe he hadn’t even found out yet. “I wouldn’t doubt it in this lunatic asylum,” she grumbled as she crossed the street.
She looked around and, spying a bench against the wall of the sheriff’s office, she went to it and took a seat. She’d wait for Winnie, and hopefully be calm enough when they left to walk back to the house without biting anyone’s head off. Patience had never been her strong point. Thankfully, she had plenty of practice in keeping her anger in check, but this was taxing even her limits. Miss Brubauk couldn’t possibly be letting everyone who came into the mercantile know Morgan would marry Bernice, could she? “Oh, Mrs. Ridgley, why did you send me here?” she lamented aloud.
“Good morning,” a male voice said.
Daisy looked up into the face of Garrett Vander. “Good morning, Mr. Vander.”
He sat next to her and stared at the mercantile across the street. “Poor Morgan,” he said and shook his head.
“What do you mean, poor Morgan?” she asked, though she had a good guess.
“Trapped into marrying Bernice Caulder,” he said, and shuddered.
“Trapped? How did she trap him?”
Garrett looked at her and shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is they’re getting married come Thanksgiving.”
“Says who?”
Garrett glanced around. “Pretty much everybody.”
“Did Morgan say as much?”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
She straightened up, her back – and resolve – stiffening. “I’ll believe it when I hear it from him. Not a moment sooner.”
“When you do, may I say in advance that I’m sorry?”
“Sorry? For what?”
“For your getting jilted.”
She stared at him open-mouthed. What was he saying? Was it true? “He changed his mind?”
“If you believe what’s going around town, he did. I’m really sorry, Miss Evers. You seem like a nice girl, and you’re very pretty. Don’t worry, you’ll find another beau soon enough.”
She turned away, her eyes narrowed in anger. This had to be a lie! It just had to! But what if it wasn’t? Daisy got up from the bench and began to stride away.
“Where are you going?” Garrett asked.
She looked over her shoulder at him, not breaking stride. “Home.”
Twelve
Daisy, Winnie and Luke sat at the dining room table in silence. Daisy had worked all afternoon baking pies and preparing roast chicken with vegetables and potatoes for dinner. If they didn’t eat soon, the food would be overcooked. “If you don’t mind,” Daisy said in an even tone. “I’m going to serve us. Mr. Tindle is obviously not coming.”
“Couldn’t we give him a few more minutes?” Winnie asked.
“No, dearest,” Luke said. “Daisy’s right – if he was going to b
e here, he would’ve arrived by now. The rumors flying around town must be true. Though he could have at least been enough of a gentleman to let us know …” He trailed off and looked at Daisy. “I’m so sorry, Miss Evers.”
“So am I,” she said as she turned and headed for the kitchen. She took the chicken from the oven, got it out of its pan and put it on a serving platter, then spooned out the potatoes and vegetables around the bird. It was beautiful, the best she’d ever made. Pity the man she made it for hadn’t bothered to show up.
She bent her head and sniffed back angry tears. Sure, she’d agreed to play her part in their false courtship, but his absence stung all the same. Not only that, but she’d pegged him for more of a fighter, someone who wouldn’t give in to his aunt’s wiles so easily. Apparently she’d been wrong.
“Do you need any help?” Winnie asked as she came into the kitchen.
“No,” Daisy told her and wiped away a tear. “I have it all in hand. Please, go sit down. I made this dinner for you and Pastor Luke, and I’m going to serve it.”
Winnie looked into her eyes, closed the distance between them and hugged her. “I’m sorry he’s not coming. His aunt must be a very … persuasive woman.” She let go of Daisy and forced a smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. Luke and I talked about it – you can stay with us as for as long as you want. It’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Daisy bit her lower lip to keep from crying. What was wrong with her? She was furious, but her face kept reacting as if she was sad. “He could have at least sent a note to say he wasn’t coming!”
A knock sounded at the door.
Winnie looked back toward the hall, then at Daisy again. “Why don’t you bring dinner into the dining room and set it on the table? I’ll go see who’s there.”
Daisy nodded and turned. It wasn’t the first time somebody had come to the parsonage while she’d been there, or even the tenth. A pastor’s life was a busy one, and the townspeople sought him out at the oddest times. She took a deep breath, picked up the platter and carried it into the dining room. She didn’t even bother to look to see who was at the front door as she sped past.
Then she heard Winnie’s gasp of surprise and almost dropped the platter. “Morgan!”
Pastor Luke jumped up from his chair, reached out and grabbed the platter. “Here, let me help you,” he said as he guided her to the table and they set the food down. “It looks wonderful, Daisy, thank you.” He then turned toward the hall. “Winnie, who is it?”
She took a few steps backwards so that he could see her. “It’s Mr. Tindle.”
“Morgan?” asked Pastor Luke. “He’s here?”
Morgan stepped into the front hall. “I apologize for my tardiness. Did you think I wasn’t coming?”
Daisy’s knees gave out and she plopped into the chair that was thankfully right behind her. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“I came for dinner,” he said as he looked at each of them in turn. “Is something wrong?”
“What about Bernice?”
“What about her?” Morgan asked.
A pounding headache came out of nowhere, and Daisy had to shut her eyes against it. “Aren’t you and Bernice …?” She couldn’t finish.
She didn’t need to – clearly he’d heard the rumors too. “Good heavens, no!” he said with some force. “What gave you that idea?”
“But it’s all over town that –”
“Don’t listen to the gossips,” Morgan told her. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Daisy could only stare at him and kept on doing so, right up to the point where he sat across the table from her. “So, Bernice isn’t …”
“No, she definitely isn’t. I told you you’d be the one alongside me.”
Daisy closed her eyes against the pain in her head. What she wouldn’t give for a dose of laudanum right now. She heard it did wonders for pain. “Alongside you?”
“Of course. I don’t want to spend my days with Bernice. I’d much rather spend them with you.” He noticed the platter of food. “That looks wonderful. I can’t wait to try some.”
“Well, then,” Pastor Luke said as he patted his stomach. “That makes two of us.” He sat down along with Winnie, then folded his hands in front of him to say the blessing. “Oh, Lord, for what we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful.” He looked up. “Let’s eat.”
Winnie took the platter and pushed it toward her husband, who picked up a carving knife. As he began to slice the chicken, Daisy studied Morgan across the table. “What made you change your mind?”
“I never changed it in the first place. My aunt tried to do it for me, as is her way.” He concluded with a sigh of frustration.
Daisy was relieved to hear it. So he wasn’t happy with Miss Brubauk either? “How long is your aunt going to stay in town?”
“It’s already been too long, as far as I’m concerned,” he told her, “but I can’t very well throw her out. She’s my mother’s sister.”
“I couldn’t live with such a person,” Daisy said as she shook her head in disbelief. “To think there are people out there who do these sorts of things … how horrible!”
“Yes,” agreed Morgan, “especially when you’re the one they’re doing it to.”
She nodded in agreement, then stabbed at a piece of chicken when Luke offered her the platter. “I’m sorry she’s making your life so difficult right now.”
“And yours,” he added sympathetically. “I’m somewhat inured to it – she usually finds some way to irritate me with each visit. Though I have to admit, this time she’s doubling her efforts. May I have some of the potatoes?”
Daisy smiled as she scooped some up for him. “Certainly. I hope you like them.” She could feel herself blush, and bit her lip again to keep her emotions under control. She’d been right – his aunt was spreading a pack of lies around town. How shameful!
The four of them ate in silence a few moments, enjoying the meal. Daisy stole quick glances at Morgan to gauge what he thought of her cooking. But in the end, she didn’t need to. “This is the best chicken I’ve ever had!” he said effusively.
“Looks like you’ve got some competition in this house, my dear,” Pastor Luke said as he winked at Winnie. “That is, until Mr. Tindle takes her off our hands.”
Daisy’s eyes flicked to Morgan to see his reaction. He stopped chewing, stared at Pastor Luke, and swallowed hard. “In time,” he said.
But then, what else could he say? Daisy thought to herself. It’s not like they were really going to be married, but it was nice to think about. Daisy took the last bite of her potatoes and set her fork on her plate. “I’ll see to the dishes, then,” she announced.
“I’ll make the coffee,” Winnie added. “As soon as it’s done, we can have some of Daisy’s delicious Dutch apple pie.”
“You made Dutch apple pie, too?” Morgan asked in awe. “How did you know that was my favorite?”
Daisy froze, stunned. “I … I didn’t.”
Luke chuckled. “Yes, as the old saying goes, there’s no better way to have a man fall in love with you than to bake his favorite pie.”
Winnie eyed her husband skeptically. “I’ve never heard that saying before.”
“You have now.”
Winnie rolled her eyes, turned and left for the kitchen.
Daisy gathered up the dinner plates and followed her. She set the plates in the dry sink then watched as Winnie began to prepare the coffee. “What do you think?”
Winnie looked at her. “What do I think about what?”
“About Mr. Tindle and Bernice?”
Winnie sighed as she spooned coffee into the pot. “I don’t think there is a ‘Mr. Tindle and Bernice.’ I think it’s a dime-novel fiction cooked up by his gossipy aunt. He said you were the one he wanted to spend every day with, not Miss Caulder. That tells me you’re the one he wants to marry, no matter what some busybody says to the contrary.”
Daisy let her breath out slowly and stared at the pie on the worktable. “I said it once and I’ll say it again, it’ll be too soon before I see that Miss Brubauk again.” She looked at Winnie again. “What do you suppose makes her so … well …”
“Unhappy?” offered Winnie.
“It’s more than that,” Daisy argued. “It seems to me she takes great pleasure in making everyone else unhappy.”
“My mother was a lot like Miss Brubauk before she died,” Winnie explained. “But that was because she was sick. She knew she was dying and, for a time, hated the world and everyone in it.”
“What happened?”
“Eventually she accepted what was going to happen and changed. She wasn’t angry anymore, and stopped yelling at me or anyone else who came to see her. She made her peace with God.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Daisy said. “But I don’t think Miss Brubauk is going to be making peace with anyone any time soon.”
“I’m afraid I agree with you. But in the meantime, let’s do our best to avoid her, and see to it that you and Morgan have a chance to get to know one another, all right?”
Daisy smiled at the thought of spending more time with Morgan, even if it was to pretend they were courting. But maybe they shouldn’t spend too much time together, now that she thought about it. He was handsome and charming when he had the chance to be. If she was with him long enough, she might start having feelings for him, and then what? She’d have to be very careful … “I’ll take this into the dining room,” she said as she picked up the pie.
“There are dessert plates in the sideboard. I’ll bring the coffee as soon as it’s ready.”
Daisy nodded, got the plates and a knife, gathered up the pie and returned to the dining room.
When she got there, Pastor Luke and Morgan were having a discussion about some sort of ruckus that took place in Oregon City a week or two ago. “Mr. Brock said the sheriff in Oregon City locked the man up, but he refused to speak to anyone,” the pastor said.
“What sort of crime did he commit?” Morgan asked.
Luke shrugged. “I’m not really sure, other than he threatened Mr. Brock’s new son-in-law Finn. The lad told him about some sort of a written threat, something having to do with a shovel …”