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

by Kit Morgan

  “Daisy!” Morgan shouted as he ran after her.

  Daisy ducked between two buildings and ran for the street. Once there, she looked right, then left, but still wasn’t sure where she was. She looked left again and noted the building that fronted the street, presumably the one she’d exited out the back of, was the Smythes’ funeral parlor. “Oh, good heavens!” she breathed. They were having dinner in the basement of a mortuary? No wonder Morgan wanted to keep the room dark! Who knew what – or who! - was down there with them! “Unbelievable,” she grumbled.

  “Daisy!” Morgan called again.

  She took off at a run. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore, didn’t want to see him. He was too much for her, too much of everything she’d ever wanted and knew she couldn’t have. She just couldn’t take it, even if it meant giving up the job at the mercantile – a job which at this point she didn’t have anyway. Working with him day in and day out … how could she ever endure such torture?

  Daisy noted her surroundings and stopped. She was so flustered, she wasn’t sure where she’d ended up. Then she spotted the mercantile, and knew she was heading in the right direction. She ducked into another narrow alley, stopped again to catch her breath and listened for any sound of pursuit from Morgan. There was none. He must have thought she’d gone some other way.

  How could she have ever let herself be pulled into this? Moreover, how could she have let herself fallen in love with Morgan Tindle? She’d realized it somewhere between the quail and the chocolate mousse, while they’d talked about nothing. But that nothing had turned into something, and now her heart was lost. Maybe it was because she imagined them having similar dinners over the years, intimate little affairs with just the two of them – no family, no friends, no children, just a private romantic dinner for two. It must’ve pushed her over the edge.

  She came away from the wall and pressed on. She was about to pass the mercantile when a thought occurred. If she went back to Luke and Winnie’s, would Morgan be there? After all, he was smart enough to know that’s where she’d most likely go. And she wasn’t ready to face him – in fact, she really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She felt embarrassed and heartbroken, a nasty combination no matter how she looked at it.

  “Is that you, Miss Evers?”

  Daisy looked up, and her shoulders slumped. As if the evening couldn’t get worse … there was Miss Brubauk on the threshold of the mercantile, staring down at her. “Yes,” she said dourly. “It’s me.”

  “Whatever are you doing out at this time of night?” asked Miss Brubauk. “It’s not safe, you know.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was anything in Independence to be afraid of,” Daisy said as she glanced around.

  “Maybe not, but people will talk about a single lady out by herself after dark. What are you doing here?”

  What should she tell her? “I was with Betsy, the Vanders’ maid. She made me chocolate mousse.”

  “Chocolate mousse?”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting home.”

  “Yes, you must,” Miss Brubauk agreed as Daisy began to pass. “And if you were a smart girl, you’d be on your way someplace else.”

  Daisy stopped, her anger ignited. She knew she should ignore the woman and move on. But, she realized, doing what she should do hadn’t been getting her anywhere lately. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You should leave with me and come to Portland. You’ll have a much better chance of finding a job there than here.”

  Daisy turned to look at her. “What did you say?”

  “I said you’d have a much better chance of procuring employment in a larger city than you would here in this nothing of a town.”

  Daisy wanted to snap at her, throw out some witty retort, but the woman was right. She would have a better chance of finding a job in a larger, more populated area than in Independence. And not only that, but she wouldn’t have to see Morgan anymore. “When are you leaving?”

  “I’m not, at least not for a time. But if you left now, you might have a job before I get back.”

  “If I left now? What are you talking about?” Though she suspected she already knew.

  Miss Brubauk came down the mercantile steps to the street. “I’m prepared to make you an offer, Miss Evers, one that I feel would be beneficial to us both.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know all about Morgan’s job offer. My sister told me. But we both know you could never work in the mercantile.”

  “And why is that?” Daisy asked, her back stiff.

  “Because, Miss Evers, you cannot read.”

  Daisy gasped and took a step back. “What?”

  “Come now, Miss Evers, don’t play coy with me. You stared at the same page of poetry the entire stage trip out here. I watched you.”

  Everything in Daisy deflated in that moment, and she felt about the size of a church mouse. Having Miss Brubauk standing there and staring at her like a hungry cat didn’t help. “Did you now?”

  “I taught school for many years, Miss Evers.”

  Daisy felt sorry for the pupils. “It’s not that I can’t read,” she said. “The words and letters get … all mixed up sometimes.”

  “A handicap, to be sure. And one I cannot see my nephew being saddled with. You would slow him down and be bad for business. You’d do much better in some other type of work, which I don’t see you finding here. I don’t expect you to go all the way back to wherever you came from – for one thing, you could never afford it. But you could find employment in Portland and make a life there.”

  “Why do you care?” Daisy asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I am not without compassion, child.”

  Could’ve fooled me, Daisy thought.

  “I’m willing to offer you the use of my home while you look for a job, until you earn enough money to find your own lodgings.”

  Daisy stared at her, dumbfounded. “What?”

  “I find I’m needed here and I plan to stay through the holidays. But I can’t leave my home empty and unattended for that long. I am offering you the use of my house for the next few months. I’ll even pay for the stage fare to get you there.”

  Daisy stood in shock. So the harpy knew her secret. But at this point, what did it matter? The woman was right – working in the mercantile would prove difficult, though certainly not impossible. But did she really want Morgan – or the rest of the town – to know? Come to think of it, if Miss Brubauk had known all this time and hadn’t said a word … didn’t that tell Daisy she had at least one redeeming quality?

  “Well, Miss Evers? Do we have a deal?”

  “I understand that you’re looking out for your nephew,” Daisy told her. “And I can understand how you and your sister only want the best for him. But even if I could read well, what would it matter? Your nephew isn’t interested in me – he never was. I’ll think about your offer, and give you an answer in a few days.” The thought of leaving Independence sent a chill up her spine, or was it just the autumn wind blowing down the street?

  “Very good, then,” Miss Brubauk said. “I shall await your answer and, should you wish to leave Independence, I will make the necessary arrangements. Of course, it might take me a few days to do so.”

  “That will be acceptable,” Daisy said.

  Miss Brubauk smiled in satisfaction. “Good night then, Miss Evers.

  “Good night, Miss Brubauk.” And they both went on their way.

  Fifteen

  “Daisy, why don’t you talk to him?”

  Daisy sat on her bed as Winnie joined her. “I see no reason to.”

  Winnie put an arm around her. “Morgan has come by asking for you every day since you had dinner. How long are you going to make the man wait?”

  Daisy sighed and looked at Winnie. “I’m ashamed to tell you.”

  Winnie sat up at her words. “What do you mean?”

  “Morgan is only coming by because I told him I
wasn’t going to take the job at the mercantile.”

  “But … why?” Winnie asked. “I thought it was all arranged.”

  “Yes, it was … until Bernice showed up.”

  “Well, the sooner they let her go, the better,” Winnie muttered. “She forgot three things off my last order, but still charged me for them.”

  “Yes, but in time she’ll learn. Much better than I could.” Daisy hung her head.

  “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”

  Daisy looked at her. “You might as well know everything, none of which you’re going to like.”

  Winnie took one of Daisy’s hands and gave it a light squeeze. “Tell me.”

  Daisy sucked in a deep breath. “Morgan and I agreed to pretend we were courting, so his aunt and parents would stop pestering him about Bernice.”

  “What? Do you mean to tell me that the last few times you were with Morgan were … nothing but an act?”

  Daisy nodded. “I’m afraid so. And the dinner we had a few nights ago was, I guess, just his way of apologizing for what happened when I first arrived. He must still feel really guilty about it to go to such lengths.”

  “Oh Daisy, you’re right – I didn’t want to hear this! I really thought you and Morgan were going to be married. I must say, he’s a very good actor.”

  “I guess I’m not so bad either, huh?”

  “No, you’re not … but then my guess is you weren’t acting. Were you?”

  Daisy closed her eyes and shook her head. “Not entirely, no. And that’s part of the problem. But what does it matter? Morgan doesn’t feel anything for me. So, I’ve decided to leave town.”

  “Leave town!” Winnie said as she let go of Daisy’s hand and stood. “You can’t leave!”

  “I have to,” Daisy said. “I don’t see any other way.”

  “Because of Morgan?”

  “And other things,” Daisy said, her voice trailing off.

  “What other things?”

  Daisy looked her in the eye. “For one … I can’t read.”

  Winnie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Wha … what? I don’t understand. You read Betsy’s apple pie recipe just fine.”

  “Yes, but it took me forever to do it. I can recognize signs and symbols in a recipe easier than other things. It’s not like reading a book.”

  “But you were reading, right? What’s the difference?”

  “Because when I try to read words and letters they get all mixed up, and I have to start over again, and it’s just so frustrating! I couldn’t work in the mercantile for long before they found out. I might be able to read somebody’s list when they gave it to me, along with the label of a box or a jar, but sometimes it can take me awhile. I have to memorize everything, and learn things that way.”

  “I’ve heard of this,” Winnie whispered. “I just can’t remember from where.” She sat on the bed again and took Daisy’s hand. “But you certainly don’t have to leave town because of it.”

  “Winnie, I can’t stand the thought of having to see Morgan. I just can’t do it. I love it here, I do, but I just don’t want to be anywhere near him right now.”

  “But what will you do? Where will you go? You don’t have any money yet,” Winnie pointed out.

  “Miss Brubauk offered me the use of her house in Portland for a few months,” Daisy told her as she stared at the floor.

  “Miss Brubauk!” Winnie groaned. “Well, of course she would offer to help you leave town!”

  “It’s more a trade, really,” Daisy said. “She needs somebody to look after her place while she’s here for the next couple of months, and I need to look for a job in a bigger town. I can do that in Portland. She even offered to pay my stage fare.”

  Winnie stared at her, unblinking, and shook her head. “What did you tell her?”

  “My stage leaves Friday.”

  Winnie’s lower lip trembled. “You’re really going, then? But isn’t there another way?”

  Tears formed in Daisy’s eyes. “I can’t stay in a town where the man I’m in love with doesn’t feel the same way about me. It hurts too much, Winnie. Besides, how am I going to find a job that doesn’t require me to read a lot?”

  “The café?” Winnie suggested.

  “Oh, sure, and I would see Morgan how many times a week if I worked there?”

  Winnie rubbed one temple and sighed. “I see your point, and I understand. Luke won’t be happy about this, I can tell you that.”

  “Luke doesn’t have to know until right before I leave, if then. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

  Winnie slowly nodded. “I promise. But in the meantime, I’m going to pray that you change your mind.”

  * * *

  Morgan paced back and forth behind the counter of the mercantile, his hands behind his back, a fierce scowl on his face.

  “If you keep going back and forth like that,” Garrett said, “you’re going to make a rut in the floor.”

  “I don’t understand what’s wrong with her,” Morgan said as he threw up his hands. “She won’t see me, she won’t talk to me. She hasn’t even sent a note!”

  “Maybe she’s upset because you had extra dinner guests that night,” Garrett said with a laugh and slapped the counter.

  “Not funny. Can I help it if Betsy decided to use Julian’s basement for our dinner date?” Morgan rolled his eyes. “I still can’t believe she did that! And to think, poor Mr. White was down there with us the whole time.”

  “I think he may have been your table,” Garrett added. “At least he was dressed for dinner. I’m sure if you had opened up that pine box of his, you’d have found him looking very dapper.”

  “Will you shut up?” Morgan barked. “I’m trying to think!”

  “You need to stop worrying about it and let Daisy have a few days to start missing you.”

  “Miss me?”

  “Sure, if she’s missing you half as much as you’re missing her, she’s gotta be miserable.”

  Morgan went to the end of the counter where Garrett stood. “You’re right. Maybe I just need to back off for a few more days and leave her alone. She’ll come around in time … won’t she?”

  Garrett waved a hand at him. “Of course she will. And when she does, you’ll be ready for her!”

  “Ready? How?”

  “With a proposal. What else?”

  “P-p-p-proposal?!”

  “You want to marry her, don’t you?” Garrett asked as he studied his fingernails.

  “Well … I …”

  “Do?” laughed Garrett. “You’d better start practicing those two little words. Along with another three, if my guess is right.”

  “Three? What are you talking about?”

  Garrett leaned across the counter. “Repeat after me: ‘I, Morgan Tindle, love Daisy Evers’.”

  Morgan’s mouth dropped open.

  “I thought so! I thought so!” Garrett was guffawing now. “You’re head over heels, I can tell. Wait a few days, then tell the girl you love her, but for crying out loud, propose! You’re driving me crazy!”

  Morgan snapped his mouth shut and shook himself. “Good Lord, it’s true! I do love her!”

  “Of course you do, you idiot! Now what are you going to do about it?”

  “Just as you said, I’ll wait a few days. And while I’m doing so, I can make some wedding arrangements.”

  “Now you’re talking! When should the big day be?”

  Morgan snapped his fingers and pointed at Garrett. “Thanksgiving; it’s perfect!”

  Garrett nodded. “Yeah, that would work. Your whole family will be there, and you’ll have a big dinner. Just be sure you invite Pastor Luke, so he can perform the ceremony.”

  “That’s a great idea! I will.” Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, this is going to work out. That is, if she’ll marry me.”

  “Don’t worry so much. I’m sure she’s head over heels for you. In fact, I can guarantee it. I’ve seen the way s
he’s looked at you, all moony-eyed. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Except my meddling mother and aunt,” pointed out Morgan.

  “What have they done lately?”

  Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t done anything in the last few days. Even Bernice had made herself scarce. Maybe things were turning around. “They’ve been quiet. What are things like at your house?”

  “My house? What about it?”

  “You know our mothers are best friends, and that they’re always talking about stuff together …”

  Garrett took a few seconds to think. “My mother’s been quiet as a mouse … and so has Julian’s. Odd.”

  “Yes, those three are never this quiet. You don’t think they’re cooking something up, do you?”

  “Good grief, I hope not.”

  Morgan sighed. “That makes two of us. Well, I’d better run upstairs.”

  “What for?”

  Morgan headed for the hallway that led to the back of the building. “To tell my folks I’m getting married Thanksgiving Day!”

  * * *

  Martha and Maude hurried up the front walk of the Vanders’ home, and rapped on the door. “Knock again, Maude,” urged Martha.

  “For Heaven’s sake, give Betsy a chance to answer!”

  Martha rapped on the door again. “What’s taking her so long?”

  “Calm down, will you?” Maude told her as the door opened.

  “Oh, Betsy, thank goodness!” Martha gasped with her hand to her chest. “I thought you’d never answer!”

  “Mm-hmm, and what has you two in such a dither? You having some sort of heart attack, Miss Martha?”

  Martha took her hand from her chest and shoved Maude into the foyer. “Where’s Mercy?”

  “Mrs. Vander is taking a bath.”

  “What! She can’t be taking a bath now!” Martha cried.

  “She can if it’s Friday,” Betsy drawled. “She’s been doing it for years.”

  Maude turned to Martha. “We’ll just have to wait.”

  “But this can’t wait!” Martha wailed.

  Betsy saw Martha’s frantic expression, and rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to deliver a message to Mrs. Vander?”