What she didn’t understand was why.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning Chance was at his workbench when Eve stepped out of her bedchamber. Truth to tell, he’d been waiting for her to appear.
Her smile as they exchanged greetings definitely brightened his morning. “I’m sorry you had to give up your room.”
She waved a hand. “I volunteered it. And it’s really not a hardship.”
“But you don’t have a window.” He remembered that had bothered her last week.
“True, but that means there is no place for the cold air to seep in.”
He shook his head in mock dismay. “Always looking for the silver lining.”
She put a hand on her hip. “If one is going to look, then one should look for something good, don’t you think?”
He grinned at her teasing. She’d definitely come a long way from the prim, too-busy-to-have-fun miss who’d arrived here a few short weeks ago.
“Did you and your father have time to catch up with each other’s news yet?”
He shrugged, feeling some of his good mood slip away. “As much as I expected. Sharing the day-to-day minutiae is not something we indulge in very much.”
“Perhaps you should try it. You might be surprised by the results.”
He declined to respond to that, and apparently she took that as a sign to press harder.
“I’m sure he’d like to see your work. Why don’t you show him your washing machine project?”
“It’s not the sort of thing my father would be interested in.”
“What isn’t?”
They both turned at the sound of his father’s voice. He was at the top of the stairs, heading down.
“You’re up mighty early,” Chance said by way of greeting.
“And still you two are up ahead of me.”
Eve smiled. “I’m just going into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I’ll have the coffee ready shortly if you gentlemen want to join me in a few minutes.”
Once she’d left the room, his father turned back to him. “What isn’t the sort of thing I’d be interested in?” he repeated.
“Eve suggested I show you my current project.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“It’s out back in the work shed.”
“Then we’ll wait for the sun to come up. How does right after breakfast sound?”
Was his father really interested, or was he just trying to prove something? “Very well.”
Chance went back to examining the insides of the mechanical toy he’d just taken apart. To his surprise, his father began wandering around the workshop, examining various items as he went. He paused when he got to the shelf that held the nutcrackers.
“I see you collect these just as your mother did.”
“Actually, I made them.”
That definitely got his father’s attention. “You mean you painted them?”
“Yes. And carved them.”
His father picked one up and ran his thumb absently over the back. “I had no idea you were interested in becoming an artisan.”
“It’s just a hobby.”
His father examined the one he held more closely. “They’re a bit crude of course—not the style you’d find in your mother’s collection—but they do show promise.”
Leave it to his father to look for the black cloud rather than Eve’s silver lining. “As I said it’s just a hobby, not something I plan to build a business around.” He stood. “I think I’ll check to see if the coffee’s ready.”
A few minutes later they were both sitting at the table, sipping cups of coffee while the kitchen filled with the enticing scent of biscuits in the oven.
“So tell me about this project of yours,” his father prompted. “It must be something big if you were willing to mortgage everything you have for it.”
“Not big in the way you would define that term.”
“Chance is being too modest,” Eve said from her position at the stove. “It’s a wonderful idea, something that’s going to help many, many people.”
“I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
Chance wondered what his father was up to. As meticulous as the man was, he’d no doubt already researched everything to do with this project.
“Why don’t you go ahead and show him now?” Eve said. “It’s getting light outside and breakfast is still several minutes off.”
Her attempts to push him and his father together, while well meant, were getting tiresome.
But to his surprise, his father stood. “Lead the way.”
As soon as Chance pointed out the equipment he used to his father, he could see the doubt in his eyes. He looked around the entire work area, as if trying to find something worth praising.
Then Chance swept a hand toward the washing machine and engine. “Here it is.”
His father frowned. “It’s a washing machine.”
Had he really not known? “It is. What I’m doing is making improvements to it.”
“What kind of improvements?”
Chance patted the machine fondly. “I’m attempting to motorize it.”
His father grimaced. “What in the world made you decide to focus on this of all things?”
“Have you ever seen a washerwoman at work? It’s endless, exhausting labor. If I can work the kinks out of this, it will make people’s lives easier.”
“You’ve sunk a lot of money into this. Where did it all go?”
“That engine over there that I hope to make power this thing is the third one I had to buy. There were issues with the first two that made them unsuitable. And I’ve had to purchase an additional washing machine to obtain the extra parts and modify others to create the proper gear attachments.”
“Son, you need to think of your customer when you create a product. Do you honestly think a washerwoman would be able to afford such a costly device?”
“Of course not. But I’ve been in talks with a Mr. Clarence Braxton, who owns several large hotels, both here in Texas and up in Kansas. His business generates large loads of laundry every day. He’s very interested in something that will make his staff more efficient.”
His father rubbed his jaw. “I see. Perhaps you did inherit a bit of the Dawson business sense after all.” He crossed his arms over his chest as a cold gust of wind swooshed by. “Are you close to getting this thing working properly?”
“I believe I am. There are still one or two issues to address, though.” Was his father actually seeing value in the project? Would that be enough to dissuade him from calling in the loan?
“And you’re trying to tackle the whole thing yourself.”
“It’s my project, and I enjoy trying to work it all out.”
“The smart businessman hires out the manual and expert labor part of the job. You could come back to Philadelphia and have access to some of the finest engineers and mechanics in the country. Under your direction they could solve your design problems in no time.”
So much for his father’s interest and support. He just saw it as another way to convince his son to return to Philadelphia. He’d almost let Eve convince him his father had changed. But the man still didn’t understand him. He probably never would.
Chance turned and headed back. “Eve will have breakfast on the table by now.”
He didn’t bother looking back to see if his father was following.
* * *
Eve took one look at Chance’s face when they returned and knew it hadn’t gone well. Leo and Dotty were in the kitchen with her now, however, so there was no time to ask questions.
A few minutes later Chance’s father returned as well and they sat down to breakfast. As they began passing the platters around, Chance’s father spoke up. “You know, I’ve been looking around this place of yours, and with just a bit of planning, I believe you could carve out a nice set of living quarters here.”
Eve quickly glanced Chance’s way. Did he realize that this meant his
father was perhaps thinking of Chance being here long term? But she saw only anger in his face.
“I’m quite comfortable with the place as it is now,” he said flatly.
His father’s lips pinched tight for a moment, then he focused on his food.
Eve caught Chance’s gaze and frowned meaningfully. He grimaced, then cleared his throat. “So tell me, Father, how are my brothers faring? I understand Miles and Rebecca are expecting a new addition to the family.”
His father’s expression lightened. “That’s true. My new grandchild should be here sometime in March.”
“Grandchildren are such a blessing,” Dotty said with a smile. “Will this be your first?”
“My third. Charles has one boy and my second son, Thomas, has a little girl.”
So, in addition to brothers, Chance had a niece and a nephew. Did he miss being a part of their lives?
Dotty and Mr. Dawson continued to carry most of the conversation, and for the rest of the meal they managed to avoid sensitive topics.
After breakfast, Leo headed off to school and Dotty turned to Chance’s father. “I have some shopping to do this morning. You’re welcome to join me and let me show you some of the town.”
Mr. Dawson gave a short bow. “It would be my pleasure.”
Once Eve and Chance were alone, she turned to him. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
She saw a slight tensing of his features. Should she leave it alone?
But he gave a short nod. “Of course not.”
“Don’t you miss being with your family? I mean, I understand that you’ve built a new life here and that you’re happy with it. But don’t you ever want to go back just for a visit?”
He shrugged. “Someday.”
Perhaps he wasn’t any closer to his brothers than he was to his father. Which seemed such a shame.
He took the chair beside her and leaned back. “My family and I have a rather unusual relationship.”
“In what way?” Was he going to trust her with his story?
“I told you once I have three older brothers. Miles, Thomas and Kevin are actually my half brothers—the sons of Father and his first wife. There’s roughly two years between each of them. My mother was Father’s second wife and I’m six years younger than my youngest half brother.”
“And did your brothers hold this against you?”
“Not at all. Other than treating me like the baby of the family, my brothers and I get along just fine.”
“There doesn’t seem to be anything unusual in that.”
“As boys my brothers were greatly admired—they were competitive, talented and ambitious. And when they grew up, they all lived up to their potential.”
She was still confused. “And haven’t you? I mean, there are so many things you’re good at—carving, mechanics, inventing.”
He gave her a you-don’t-understand look. “Miles, the oldest, is now a prominent physician. Thomas is a well-respected lawyer. And Kevin is a lieutenant in the army. The two oldest are married to wonderful women and, as my father mentioned at breakfast, have children of their own.”
She didn’t detect any resentment or jealousy in his tone. “It sounds like a family to be proud of.”
“Oh, yes. The Dawsons are a family that seems to have it all. With the very notable exception of the youngest son.”
“That’s not true.” She was outraged on his behalf.
He shrugged. “I’ve never been the ambitious sort. I like to take each day as it comes. I prefer to tinker with things and see what makes them work, and to seek out adventure rather than sit in an office and direct others.”
“But that doesn’t make you a lesser man. You’re a business owner, a skilled artisan and a person who is well liked by his neighbors and friends. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in that.”
He gave a crooked smile. “I totally agree. But I’m giving you my father’s perspective so you’ll understand why things are the way they are between us. Most of my life he’s been after me to stop all my dillydallying, as he calls it, and pursue some career that would allow me to live up to the family name, the way my brothers did.”
She slowly nodded. “That must have been difficult for you.”
Again he shrugged.
She tried to give his father the benefit of the doubt. “Some folks just don’t understand that a person can’t become something he isn’t just by wishing it to be so. That which makes a person feel happy and fulfilled is not the same for everyone.”
Chance leaned forward and took her hand. “Well said. Only I didn’t tell you all of this to gain your sympathy. I’ve accepted that Father is never going to understand me or even accept that he can’t change me. I made peace with that a long time ago. I merely wanted you to understand so you would stop trying so hard. It’s a waste of time.”
He might believe he meant what he just said, but she knew that deep down he hadn’t made peace with any such thing. There was something in his eyes whenever he looked at his father, some hint of loss that made her ache for him. “I don’t believe in giving up on people. Perhaps, while he’s here, you can help him to see how much better this life is for you, that this is what makes you happy.”
“Eve, don’t—”
She didn’t let him finish. “But you won’t accomplish that if you keep shutting him out.”
That straightened his spine and slapped a frown on his face. “He’s the one who—”
Again she interrupted. “Look at this from his perspective. Ever since he arrived you’ve been examining everything he says, waiting for him to do or say something you can get your back up over. How do you think that makes him feel?”
* * *
Chance wasn’t quite certain what to say. Had he been guilty of doing as she said? Even if he had, his father had given him every reason to be on guard. Hadn’t he?
“Regardless of what your relationship was in Philadelphia,” she continued, “you have an opportunity to start fresh here. Give him the same grace you want from him. View the things he says as coming from a caring father, not an enemy. Really listen to the things he’s saying and try to understand why they are important to him.”
She withdrew her hand from beneath his and he immediately missed the warmth of her touch.
“Now, I have a batch of pecan chocolate drops to make for Henrietta Strickland’s eighth birthday party tomorrow.”
He sat where he was for several minutes after she’d returned to the stove. Was she right? Was he part of the reason he and his father couldn’t get past this constant locking of horns?
If that were true, what could he do about it? Did he even want to bother? Then he remembered the I-believe-in-you look on Eve’s face, and he was suddenly very certain that he did.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next morning as Leo left for school, a young man showed up carrying a telegram. “It’s for Mr. Dawson,” he announced.
“Which Mr. Dawson?” Chance’s father asked.
“Mr. Chance Dawson.”
Chance was busy at his worktable, so Eve, who was closest to the door, accepted it on his behalf. When she carried it over and attempted to hand it to him, however, he shook his head.
“I’m right in the middle of this and don’t want to stop. Why don’t you read it to me?”
Apparently he wasn’t concerned that it might be something of a personal nature. She opened the slip of paper and read it aloud.
“It’s from a Clarence Braxton.” She saw Chance’s head come up at that. “He says ‘I will be passing through Turnabout on the eighteenth of this month. Would be very interested in a demonstration of your motorized washing machine at that time. Sincerely, C. Braxton.’”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The eighteenth arrived all too quickly.
Chance woke feeling ready. He’d worked tirelessly since the telegram arrived a week earlier to make certain everything was the absolute best he knew how to make it. He’d run test after test unti
l finally last night he’d met with success—a complete run through of the entire process. If things went today as they had last night, Mr. Braxton should be quite impressed.
The only thing that had him worried was the sputtering that had started up at the very end of the wash load last night. When he’d shut down the machine and checked it out in minute detail, he hadn’t identified a likely culprit. And when he started it up again the noise had disappeared.
He was praying it had been just a fluke, and would not repeat today. The only thing he could do at this point was make one more pass through his checklist and then hope for the best.
All during the past week, Eve had been quietly supporting him, bringing him food when he was too busy to eat with the family, providing cups of coffee and hot cocoa when the chilly temperatures had numbed him from the inside out, holding a lamp for him when he worked past sunset. She never complained, never questioned his total focus on the project, always knew what he needed before he did.
She’d also served as his test subject, standing in for the typical lady of the house who washed clothes on a regular basis. Right now, she could run the machine almost as well as he could.
Chance took a deep breath. If he was going to pursue any kind of future with Eve, she had to know the truth. “You once asked me why I traveled all the way from Philadelphia to Texas and I never answered your question.”
She smiled. “It really wasn’t any of my business.”
“No, but I want to tell you now.”
“But you’re supposed to be—”
“It’ll wait.”
She folded her hands in her lap trustingly. “Very well. I’m listening.”
“Most of my life I’ve been what my father refers to as an irresponsible scapegrace, drifting from one mess to another.”
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