At each shop she followed laconic old Luke’s lead and ignored all the curious stares and whispers directed her way, presumably because she charged everything to Trey Garner’s accounts. They probably thought she was his housekeeper, unless the saying was true, that the two fastest forms of communication were telegraph and tell-a-woman, which meant that Sarah Perkins had been very busy.
Luke loaded her packages safely under the buggy seat, then drove them back to the Gilpin and Frick store. The sewing machine and a small table she’d purchased on Trey’s account were loaded in a wagon before the store, both items safely wrapped in burlap.
Luke held out the buggy reins to her. “You’re turn.”
When she hesitated, the old man winked. That was all the encouragement she needed. Chevonne took the reins and drove the buggy home, happy to discover that it was, indeed, as easy as Trey had implied, and that Luke was an excellent, if silent, teacher. The Gilpin and Frick wagon followed them with the two purchases strapped down on a bed of straw.
Once back at the ranch, Chevonne put away the kitchen provisions while Luke and the store delivery man brought in the table for the foyer that she’d purchased just because it was perfect for there.
When the men carried her treadle foot sewing machine with cabinet and table extension up to her room, she collected a chair from the kitchen table to use upstairs and went ahead of them to unlock the door. That earned her a raised eyebrow from Luke.
Luke escorted the delivery man back outside, shook the man’s hand in silent thanks, then drove the buggy to the barn. A quick wave was his answer to Chevonne’s thanks from the porch.
Her eyes fell on the colorful purple, yellow and pink wild flowers growing in front of the house. She didn’t recall seeing any vases on her tour of the house but she did recall seeing several mason jars in a kitchen cabinet, so on an impulse, she stepped down and began picking flowers.
What the place really needed was a big kitchen garden and an herb garden out back, and some roses before the house, she decided. Trey’s real wife would no doubt do all that one day. After he was gone.
In the kitchen, she filled a mason jar with water, arranged the flowers into a bouquet in it, and got a saucer to set under the jar to protect the wood from damage, then she set the whole thing on the new table in the foyer.
Taking a step back, she surveyed her handiwork. The makeshift vase and flowers weren’t expensive, but the homespun feeling fit the ranch perfectly and it made the empty house look a little more homey.
Wondering why she even cared what the house looked like, Chevonne hurried up to her room. With the long train trip to get to Oklahoma, she’d fallen behind in her goals for her project, which was suddenly, inexplicably, foremost in her thoughts.
She had a few hours before having to get ready to meet Trey’s family for supper. She’d better get busy and make good use of them if she ever hoped to put the wheels in motion that would fulfill her grandmother’s dream.
Chapter 6
Sherman’s Restaurant was nothing like the restaurants Chevonne had seen in Massachusetts. Back there, the tables were set with fine linen and silver, the waiters dressed formally and the decor was upscale. Apparently in Oklahoma things were a bit more ... utilitarian.
Sherman’s had a rustic ambiance. Instead of fancy wallpaper, the walls were rough-sawn timber. A long bar ran along the back wall and the middle of the room was dotted with round tables surrounded by simple chairs. The kerosene-fueled wall sconces cast a welcoming glow about the room. The smell of roasting meat, savory spices, fresh-baked bread and brewed coffee beckoned the diners inside.
The wooden floor creaked as Trey led Chevonne toward a table where two couples were seated. One of the couples was younger--about Chevonne and Trey’s ages. The woman had dark blonde hair and a friendly face. The man was thin and tall when he stood up to silently greet her with a nod. They were Trey’s sister, Celia, and her husband, Chevonne assumed.
The older man at the table bore a striking resemblance to Trey except he was a little softer around the edges and with graying hair. The woman beside him had dark hair with a streak of gray, which she wore piled on top of her head.
Chevonne didn’t have to use her powers of deduction to know this was Trey’s mother--it was evident by the way her scowl tracked on Chevonne from the moment she had entered the place. Chevonne took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Trey must have sensed her unease. He put his hand over hers which was neatly tucked in the crook of his elbow. But his gesture caused even more nervous deep breathing.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”
Chevonne couldn’t help but laugh. Trey’s attempt to make her feel more at ease really did soothe her nerves and gave her a shot of self-confidence.
“Everyone, this is my wife, Chevonne.” Trey gestured toward each of his family members in turn as he made the introductions, “My sister Celia, her husband Gary, my mother Iona and my father Buck.”
Celia surprised Chevonne with a quick hug. “Welcome to the family! It’s gonna be so good to have a sister. Mama cursed me with four brothers.”
Brothers? Were more people coming? Chevonne realized she had never asked Trey about his family. If she really was a loving wife, she would have asked all about him.
“She’s heard all about Nate, Kane and Austin,” Trey covered for her. He turned to Chevonne and winked so only she saw it. “You’ll meet them when they come to visit from Texas.”
Chevonne smiled. “Yes, that’s right. I can’t wait to meet them, especially after the stories I’ve heard.” She exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Trey that lifted her spirits. This might be fun, after all.
“What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?” Celia asked.
Chevonne shook her head. “I’m an only child. My parents passed when I was young. My grandmother reared me. She passed just last year.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Celia’s eyes, the same shade of gray as Trey’s, turned misty. She pulled the chair beside her out and patted the seat. “Please, sit here next to me.”
Chevonne was more than happy to sit next to Celia because that meant she wouldn’t have to sit next to Trey’s mother. Trey held the back of the chair while she sat, then scooted the chair in for her. He sat in the seat beside her, with his mother on is other side.
“I can see the fashions must be a bit fancier back east.” Iona Garner’s lips puckered disapprovingly as she studied Chevonne’s dress.
The dresses worn by the other women in the restaurant were indeed quite plain, with no adornments or even fancy buttons. Why, these women must be starved for pretty clothing!
Once again, Chevonne congratulated herself for making the decision to come out west. This was the perfect place for her to enter into her new venture. There was clearly a dire need for the revolutionary garments her grandmother had designed.
Chevonne looked down at her own dress. She had to admit her taste did run towards the more intricate designs. She’d inherited her grandmother’s fondness for lace, but she liked to think her outfit was still tasteful, feminine but not overdone. The basic dress was a subtle floral pattern with the bodice, sleeves and apron of the dress outlined in lace.
She decided to ignore Iona’s obvious insult. Chevonne aimed a sweet smile at her. “Why, thank you, Iona. This isn’t really one of the fanciest styles, but I try to keep up with the times. I made it myself.”
Trey suppressed a chuckle at the subtle jab at his mother’s traditional clothing being out of step with the times.
Celia laughed out loud and squeezed Chevonne’s hand. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. And Mother,” Celia turned to Iona, “it seems like you may have met your match.”
Chevonne’s heart warmed toward Celia. She could picture the two of them becoming close friends. Maybe Celia could even help her with the venture once she got to know and trust her better. She would need another woman to try t
hings out on. A worry struck her. Could she keep Celia as a friend after the marriage-of-convenience ended?
“And I like your dress, Chevonne,” Celia continued. “We could use more fancy wear around here instead of these dowdy things they sell at the mercantile. Mother, maybe you could have Chevonne fix your reticule.”
Iona frowned. “I don’t really need ...”
“Sure you do, Mother. It’s your favorite one.” Celia reached over, grabbed a plain gray bag from the table and handed it to Chevonne. “The side seam in Mother’s reticule split right open this evening. I had to shove all her things into mine and it’s practically bursting. Do you think you could fix it? Trey told me you were a seamstress.”
As Chevonne looked the bag over, a devilish gleam came into her eyes. She could fix it and then some. She’d be happy to sew up the seam and maybe add a little frilly lace along the top while she was at it. “Certainly. I’d love to.”
Iona snorted. “I suppose that would be okay. Wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” Chevonne reached over and patted Trey’s arm. “Why, I don’t have much to do all day long except take care of your son. And he bought me a beautiful new sewing machine today.”
Trey captured her hand in his, sending a tingle up her arm which made Chevonne feel warm all over. It must be all this acting heating me up, she thought as she reached for her glass of water with her free hand.
“And a fine job you’re doing too, dear.” Trey’s gray eyes gazed into hers.
Her heart hitched. She hadn’t realized what a good actor he was. He was really pulling out all the stops to impress his parents.
“You two seem to have hit it off rather quickly. I mean, seeing as you’ve only just met,” Iona observed, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“We exchanged many letters, so when we finally met in person, it was almost as if we’d known each other all our lives,” Chevonne exaggerated.
Trey’s father pronounced his succinct verdict on the new addition to the Garner family, “Looks like you done good, Trey.” Buck Garner smiled warmly at Chevonne. “Don’t worry about Mother. She had her heart set on Sarah Perkins as her daughter-in-law, but she’ll get over it soon enough. Now, let’s get on with eating. I’m starved.”
Dinner consisted of a vegetable soup, rolls still warm from the oven, and a choice of steak, boiled mutton or oyster stew. Chevonne and Trey both chose the steak. Chevonne hadn’t eaten since breakfast so she devoured hers quickly, except for the fat on the edges. She never ate the fat.
“Looks like you can put away a steak as good as my brother can,” Celia said.
“I’ve always been a good eater,” Chevonne replied.
Trey glanced at her plate. “Are you going to eat the fat?”
“No. I don’t like it. Do you want it?” Chevonne scraped it onto Trey’s plate, noticing that he had left a large chunk of the pinkest piece of steak on his.
“I don’t like it that pink,” Trey explained. “It’s always too rare in the middle. Do you want it?”
Chevonne nodded and smiled her thanks when Trey put the meat on her plate.
“Well, look at that. You two really are perfect for each other,” Buck teased. “No one likes to see good meat wasted and between the two of you you’ll be able to finish off any piece of steak you order.”
Chevonne knew that Buck was only joking about them being perfect for each other because of a steak. Still, it was odd that this was the second time that day she had noticed their food compatibility. The food was a silly thing, though. There were a lot more important things to consider in a relationship in order for two people to be perfect for each other. And besides, neither she nor Trey wanted a real relationship.
After a dessert of custard and stewed fruit, Buck tossed his napkin on the table and rubbed his belly. “Well, that certainly hit the spot.”
“Yes, it was delicious,” Chevonne said.
“Not as good as my cooking,” Iona snapped.
Buck patted Iona’s arm. “Of course not, but you need a rest from the kitchen every once in a while ... and I know you were dying to meet Trey’s new wife, even if you didn’t want to admit it.”
Iona pushed his hand away and said tartly, “I’m happy to cook anytime.”
Buck stood up. “I know that, dear. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like settle up and get home.”
Chevonne practically jumped up out of her chair with relief. The dinner actually hadn’t been as torturous as she’d expected. She’d even enjoyed herself for the most part. It had felt oddly natural to sit beside Trey and act like newlyweds. Then again, his handsome face and magnetic presence made it easy for her to pretend she was love-struck by him.
Celia latched onto Chevonne’s arm as they made their way through the restaurant. “Tomorrow I’m going to do some shopping here in town. There’s a new fabric and notions section at the mercantile and I need some things at the dry goods. I’d love to show you the best places to shop. I could pick you up in the buggy. Trey’s ranch is on my way into town.”
“I’d love that,” Chevonne said sincerely.
Not only did she feel an immediate friendship for Celia and want to spend more time with her, but she also wanted to see the fabric selection in town. She’d need to know the availability of the different fabrics if she wanted to pull off her grandmother’s designs. She suspected there was a much more limited supply here compared to Massachusetts and she might have to change the designs accordingly.
“It’s settled, then. I’ll pick you up mid-morning.”
They exited onto the walkway, Gary’s boot making odd flopping sounds behind them.
Celia turned to her husband. “I thought you got that thing fixed.” She pointed at his boot.
He lifted his foot up revealing the sole separated from the bottom of his boot. “I just wish there was something that could stick these two things together for good. The cobbler fixed it but come a rain or two and it’s broke again.”
“As long as you don’t try to use one of those thick India rubber bands they use for the mail to fix it, like you did last time,” Celia said. “Darn thing melted all over my kitchen floor.”
Trey frowned down at Gary’s boot. “There should be an easier solution, but...” His voice drifted off.
Everyone looked at him quizzically.
Finally Iona asked, “But what?”
“What?” Trey looked at them as if returning from far away. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.”
“I can see your new bride has you all muddled.” Buck grinned and took Iona by the elbow. “We best be going, dear, and let these two get home as quick as jack rabbits.” Buck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Chevonne’s cheeks flamed but Trey seemed unaffected by the innuendo. He simply bid his family good night, took her arm and helped her step down to the street.
“I thought that went pretty well,” Chevonne said once they were out of earshot.
Trey patted her hand, which was nestled in the crook of his arm. “Yes, it did. Thank you very much.”
Chevonne glanced up at him. He looked like he was miles away as they crossed the busy street, weaving between wagons, buggies and a throng of pedestrians.
She realized that walking across the street like this, they probably looked like any other couple. There was nothing on the outside that would give away their farce. In the short time they’d been together, it seemed that she and Trey had become quite adept at pretending to be a loving couple. It even felt like the most natural thing in the world to be walking across the street on his arm.
She was vaguely aware of the chatter and bustle of the other people on Main Street as her mind sorted through the details of her new pretend marriage. Suddenly she was acutely aware of Trey’s presence next to her. Her hand was still tucked into the crook of his elbow so she could feel the solid muscles of his bicep. His long legs strolled leisurely across the street while she had to quicken her pace to keep up.
&
nbsp; Chevonne breathed in his sensually masculine scent. What was it? Spicy. Cinnamon? And a hint of roses? It smelled just like the Jockey Club Bouquet toilet water she’d mixed up once from a recipe in Mrs. Gillette’s White House book, one of her household bibles.
Their marriage-of-convenience was going much better than she had expected. She genuinely liked Trey. She could easily see them becoming close friends, but she doubted they could ever have a real marriage. She couldn’t let anything distract her and she doubted if Trey would want a wife as independent as she intended to be. Besides, he’d made it perfectly clear he had no desire for a real marriage.
It was for the best, she thought, as she looked up into the wide sky. It was dusk now and she could already see hundreds of stars twinkling brightly above. There hadn’t been that many stars to see in Lawrence. She supposed the closeness of the buildings and the gas lamps on every street corner had blotted them out. But here, there were no street lights, just braziers and torches, and the light coming from the buildings. There was so much vast space that the sky looked like an open prairie of magical, twinkling lights.
She strolled along, arm in arm with Trey in an almost dreamlike state, vaguely aware of a man’s monotonous droning that raised above the din of the crowd. She felt Trey stiffen.
He muttered two words under his breath that made her blood grow cold, “Phinneas Gulch.”
Chevonne gasped. Phinneas Gulch was one of the men who had stolen her grandmother’s comfortable corset designs over two decades ago. She was certain of it. Those men he’d sold it to had beaten Gram out on the production of the corsets. But that hadn’t stopped Gram—she’d had other, even better ideas. Like the one Chevonne was planning on implementing.
She looked up quickly at Trey’s face. His stormy gray eyes were fixed on something on the sidewalk. She craned her neck to see what it was.
The crowd parted and she saw a man on top of a crate hawking a bottle of some sort of elixir in his hand. She’d seen these types of men before selling their potions that claimed miraculous cures of various diseases. Her grandmother was always leery of these people.
Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46) Page 4