“Then you have nothing to worry about. A letter, first thing in the morning.” She tapped his shoulder, and then was gone.
Wendell remained on the bench for a moment, thinking about what that letter should say. Something romantic, he knew, and something that would appeal to their common interests. Hmm. Something he’d need to study out.
Chapter Seven
When Ariadne arrived out at the Circle C that evening, riding in the small buggy she’d rented from Otto, she was shocked and delighted to find Mr. Wells there also.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I ran into Mr. Wells while I was checking on a downed fence line this afternoon, and seein’ as how he’s new in town, I invited him for dinner,” Jake said, trying to look casual, but Ariadne knew from the look on his face that he knew very well what this meant to her.
“Of course I don’t mind,” she said, deciding that Jake was the best brother-in-law in the world. “How are you this evening, Mr. Wells?”
He came to his feet. “Hello, Miss Stoker. I was happily surprised to find that some of the land I’ll be buying borders the Circle C. This is the finest spot I’ve found so far.”
“Mr. Clark chose well and he keeps it up,” Jake replied. “And you’ll find him a good neighbor.”
Ariadne wanted to stay and listen to the men chat—not that she cared one whit about the ranch, but because she wanted to listen to Mr. Wells’ beautiful voice forever. She knew she was expected to help her sister, though, so she excused herself and went into the kitchen, where Regina was waiting for her with a huge grin on her face.
“I can’t believe he’s here!” she whispered, and Regina nodded.
“I asked Jake if he knew anything about the man and told him why, and the next thing I know, he’s bringing him home for dinner. It’s like it was meant to be.” Regina took Ariadne’s arm and pulled her farther into the kitchen, still whispering. “He has the best manners, and he’s so charming, and you’re right—he’s definitely handsome. If I weren’t madly in love with my husband, I’m sure I’d be swooning.”
“So, you like him?” Ariadne asked. Regina’s approval was so important to her.
“I like him quite a lot, but I do think you should be careful yet. Don’t give your heart away until you’re sure of his.”
“I’ll try, but it’s already half gone,” Ariadne replied. “Every time I think about him, I lose myself a bit more.”
Regina touched her arm. “Don’t lose yourself, Ariadne. He should make you more of yourself, not less.”
Ariadne nodded. She understood the importance of what her sister was saying, but it was certainly difficult to remain sensible when she could hear the warm tenor of Mr. Wells’ voice rumbling through the cabin.
She helped Regina get the rest of the meal on the table, and then the four sat. Mr. Wells was at her left elbow, and she found it easy to glance over at him at times when he was least likely to notice. He had the smallest scar on his chin, as though he’d had a tumble as a boy, and she was eager to ask him about it. She wanted to know everything about him, actually, and hoped she would get the chance.
Regina had prepared a very nice pot roast with rosemary potatoes, and then she brought out a Bakewell pudding.
Mr. Wells chuckled when he saw it. “Mrs. Honeycutt, you’re spoiling me. I haven’t had a Bakewell pudding since I left home.”
“I make it from time to time when I get a little homesick,” Regina said, handing around plates. “I hope you enjoy it.”
He took a bite, then rolled his eyes in pleasure. “The best I’ve ever had. My mother would love to hear your secrets, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I’d never presume to tell another cook how to bake,” Regina said. “I’m sure she does a fine job without any input from me.”
“She does, but nothing like this.” He finished his portion, and didn’t object when Regina gave him more. At last, he placed a hand on his perfectly flat stomach. “I fear I’ll lose a button if I eat anymore, but thank you, Mrs. Honeycutt. I haven’t been fed this well in quite some time.”
“Of course. I hope you’ll feel free to stop in often, especially if we become neighbors.”
He nodded. “I’m looking at a few different pieces of land and I’m not sure which I’ll use for my house, but this area certainly has a great deal to recommend it.”
Ariadne pressed her lips together, trying not to let her emotions show. If he chose to build out here, and if he proposed to her, she and her sister could be neighbors, and nothing in the whole world would be more perfect. But she had to be patient—she had to see how everything played out. Blurting out her feelings would only serve to make her look foolish, and that was the last thing she wanted in a relationship that might never progress beyond casual friendship.
After carrying some of the dishes into the kitchen, which was the kindest, most gentlemanly thing Ariadne had ever witnessed, Mr. Wells turned to her and asked if she’d like to go for a stroll. She glanced over at Regina, wondering how rude she would seem if she rushed off without helping with the dishes, but her sister waved her on, and she accepted. Finally, they were taking their walk after what seemed like a wait of a million eternities.
“So, your brother-in-law has been here on the ranch for some time then,” Mr. Wells asked as they meandered along through Regina’s flowerbeds. The sun was just high enough to allow them to find their way without stumbling, but it was low enough to cast purples and oranges along the ground. It was enchanting.
“He has. The Clarks have been very good to him.”
“The more I hear about this place, the more I’m inclined to think this is where I’ll build. Especially if sunsets like this are what I’m to expect.” He motioned toward the incredible light display to the west.
“They are fairly typical out here,” Ariadne assured him, her heart pounding rapidly. Everything was falling into place just how she’d imagined. “The mountains are positioned just right for it.”
He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath. “Back in London, I never dreamed anything like this could exist. There’s so much freedom, so much wildness, so many possibilities. Do you ever get carried away with the idea of it all?”
She laughed. “No, not really, but then again, our idea of a grand change was opening a tea shop. We’re not as adventurous as you are.”
He laughed too, and they resumed walking. “We all have different ideas when it comes to taking risks. I suppose that becoming tenants in a strange land was quite a leap.”
“It certainly caused us a fair amount of stress, especially that first month when we weren’t sure how the people of Creede were going to take to a tea shop. The people there are miners or carpenters or gamblers, not really the sort who sit around nattering over a cuppa.”
He laughed again. “No, I wouldn’t think so. But you’ve kept afloat.”
“Surprisingly so. The ladies in town have been so good to us, and some of them drag their husbands or sweethearts along with them.” She felt her cheeks grow pink at the word “sweethearts.” He wouldn’t think she was dropping hints, would he?
“And you’ve gotten along well with your landlord?”
What an odd time to bring that up. “Yes, we have.”
“Excellent. You see, I’ve thought about renting out some properties myself once I’ve purchased them, but I’m worried about keeping my relationships with my tenants pleasant. I hope I only rent to people who are on time each month because I dislike confrontation so much, but I realize it’s not possible to know ahead of time who will deal with you honestly.”
Ah. He was asking about the rental climate, not about Mr. Thurgood in particular. That made more sense, but she suddenly felt a little awkward anyway, thinking about Mr. Thurgood in the middle of this very nice evening walk with a handsome English gentleman.
“It’s a gamble, and a leap of faith,” she told Mr. Wells. “Of course, what better place to gamble than Creede, with all our saloons?”
He chuckled
. “You’re a delight, Miss Stoker. I can’t tell you how glad I am to have found a friend so quickly.”
He thought of her as a friend? That was a good sign—the best romances grew from friendships, and it sounded as though he enjoyed her company. “I’m glad too. I hope you’ll call me Ariadne.”
He gave her a slight bow. “I’d be honored. And you must call me Thomas.”
He held out his arm, she took it, and they strolled back into the house. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so giddy. It almost seemed unnatural.
***
Wendell jotted off his letter without thinking about it too hard. If he agonized over it the way he had the last one, he’d be at his desk for hours, and he didn’t have time for that. It was all well and good to devote a portion of himself to the wooing of Miss Stoker, but if he wanted to be able to pay his bills, he had to get at least some work done.
He sent the note off by way of Willie Meeks, then turned to the stack of paperwork on his desk. When Mr. Wells came by, he was ready.
“Each of the properties you asked for have been purchased in my name and are waiting in trust for you for the next six months,” he said, handing the papers to his guest.
Mr. Wells looked at each, setting them on the desk when he was finished. “These look in order,” he replied. “My employer is very pleased with the work you’ve done for us and would like to hire you again the next time he needs something done.”
“If it’s something I can do, I’d be glad to help out,” Wendell replied. He’d been startled to see that he’d been given a ten-percent bonus for handling this land purchase, and of course he’d be glad to remain of service. It was rare to make that much profit in the space of just a few days.
“We’ll be in touch. Thank you, Mr. Thurgood.” Mr. Wells pulled the door closed behind him, and Wendell locked the deeds away before resuming his seat. It was so nice to get all that finalized. He’d been worried that perhaps he’d done something incorrectly and that Mr. Wells wouldn’t be satisfied, which would endanger his bonus, but no—everything seemed to be going well, and with that unexpected bit of money, he might even start to think about building a house. A house for his new bride.
He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to daydream. What sort of house would Ariadne like? He imagined clapboard rather than brick, but then again, he could be wrong. He didn’t know enough about her likes and dislikes to make a solid guess. What fun it would be to talk with her and learn everything there was to know about her.
He pulled himself together and glanced at the clock. It was time to meet with Bernard Newell about his next set of legal questions. After that, maybe he’d go over to Graham’s Grub and have some lunch. It seemed like the perfect sort of day to be out and about, and he smiled at his newfound energy. It was nice to have something to be hopeful about.
***
This time, when Willie handed Ariadne a letter, she had a moment to wrap him up a cake before he went on his way. She squeezed it tightly between her hands, not wanting to wrinkle it, but at the same time, trying to release the emotions that were coursing through her. She had to stay calm—she simply had to.
“I’ll handle the customers,” Regina said at her elbow. “Go read that before you explode or something equally as messy.”
Ariadne threw her sister a grateful smile and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She supposed she could have taken a seat at the table, but she wanted just a little more privacy this time. She closed the door, sat down on the chair in the corner, and opened the envelope with shaking hands.
I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed talking with you yesterday. You remind me of the strains of the sweetest melody. Might I call for you this evening at seven and take you out to a meadow I know? The last time I was out there, I encountered a large family of American Lady butterflies, and I would love to show them to you. The colors of their wings are like nothing I’ve seen elsewhere. Orange, black, blue, and even pink—if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to spot them all.
I look forward to this evening and sharing some of nature’s beauty with you.
She pulled in a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. She had to regulate her heartbeat or she was sure to become lightheaded. She could think of absolutely nothing she’d like better than to hunt for butterflies with Mr. Wells—er, Thomas. She grinned, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told her goodnight. Jake had ridden alongside her to make sure she got home safely, and he’d teased her the whole way. She supposed that’s what a good brother did. Oh, how glad she was that she finally had something to be teased about!
She tucked the letter away carefully in her drawer next to the first one, then took a moment to tidy her hair. There was nothing wrong with it, but she wanted to look composed when she went back down to the shop. There was no reason for the customers to think anything was different about her. Regina would be told straightaway, though—and she’d have to be very careful not to giggle the whole rest of the day. Seven o’clock just couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Eight
Ariadne closed up the shop at five, washed the dishes, set everything to rights, and then raced up the stairs. What should she wear … She and Regina had brought several nice things from England, but they hadn’t been able to bring everything, and now she found herself wishing for her lavender gown, or her sky-blue one, or her buttercup yellow … But steamer trunks could only hold so much, and girls traveling around the world had to be choosy. She settled at last on her pink dress and her braided straw hat. She would look neat and composed, but not too fancy, as looking for butterflies in a meadow was likely not the daintiest task.
She wondered for a moment if it was proper to go out in a meadow without a chaperone, and grabbed up her parasol as an afterthought. Julianne Fontaine was often asked to repeat the story of how she’d fought off a mountain lion with her parasol, and if Julianne could protect herself from a wild animal, surely Ariadne could fight off an amorous man.
She probably wouldn’t object to a respectful kiss, though. With a giggle, she changed her dress, then played with the angle of her bonnet. The goal was to look sweet and approachable, but not too approachable, as she didn’t really want to attack anyone with her parasol.
At five minutes to seven, she went downstairs, purposely not looking out the front of the shop. She was not going to be one of those girls who hid herself behind the curtain when expecting a caller, ready to peek out at the slightest sound. She did have a bit more dignity than that.
Her heart did jump when she heard horse hooves a moment later, and when a tapping came at the door, she had to swallow a few times.
She opened it, and there in a nice suit, carrying a single daisy, was Wendell Thurgood.
He swept off his hat. “Good evening, Miss Stoker. Thank you for coming out with me this evening.”
She was utterly at a loss for words. “What a lovely flower,” she said after a long minute, unable to think of anything else to say. What was happening? Why was Mr. Thurgood looking so expectant, and where was Thomas?
“I hope it didn’t wilt on the way over,” Mr. Thurgood said, holding it toward her.
“No, it seems fresh. Please wait a moment while I put it in water.”
Taking care of the flower gave her a moment to step away and try to reason it through. The letter hadn’t been signed—she had no actual evidence that Thomas had sent it. She thought over its contents—it had mentioned speaking to her the day before, and yes, she had spoken with Mr. Thurgood. She closed her eyes and rested her hands on the counter. Oh, gracious. She’d gotten herself all worked up for no reason. Once again, she’d prepared for Thomas and gotten Mr. Thurgood instead. Why did that keep happening? What sort of silly joke was fate trying to play on her?
And once again, she realized that Mr. Thurgood didn’t deserve to be treated unkindly. It wasn’t his fault that she’d set her sights on someone else. He was making an honest effort, and she didn’t want to crush him. That di
dn’t mean that she was obligated to go on this outing, but as she thought about it, she realized that she would like to go. She’d been curious to see the butterflies after reading about them in the letter, and it sounded like a lovely way to spend an evening. She’d be careful, though, not to let Mr. Thurgood think that it meant anything romantic. She wouldn’t get his hopes up, now that she was finally beginning to understand what his hopes were.
And she felt foolish for not realizing it before.
“I’m ready,” she said with a bright smile, meeting him at the front door, where he’d been waiting patiently. “Tell me more about the butterflies. I’m mostly familiar with the varieties that live in England.”
He held her elbow while she climbed into the buggy, and then they were off. “I’ve studied butterflies and moths since I was a boy,” he said as he guided the buggy along the road. “I used to imagine that they were fairies with elaborate wings.”
“You did?” she asked, disarmed. It was difficult to think of him as ever having been a small boy, but she very much liked the fairy idea. “Were you disappointed to learn otherwise?”
“I might have been, if I believed it,” he said, turning to her with a smile. “I much prefer to keep thinking of them as fairies.”
She laughed. “And why not? It doesn’t do anyone any harm.”
“Exactly.” He turned down a secondary road, and she noticed the sound of cicadas out in the bushes. “If you look at one closely, you can see in what ways they might resemble a fairy. After all, we only know what fairies look like from storybooks, and the exact details might have gotten lost over the years.”
“I must say, Mr. Thurgood, how much you’re surprising me,” Ariadne said. “I would never have guessed that you have such an imagination.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. “Just ramblings, really.”
“I like your ramblings. I wonder if you’ve ever considered writing children’s stories.”
He shifted a little bit on the bench. “I did write a few several years ago, but I never showed them to anyone. They weren’t very good.”
Loving the Landlord Page 6