by Karen Kirst
“I can see that, but tools seem so…utilitarian.”
Henry laughed, a hearty sound without a trace of censure. “Forgive me. It’s just that men and tools go together like a baker and flour.”
For rugged men like Henry, perhaps. Her father wouldn’t dream of hefting a hammer and didn’t even own one, as far as she knew. He hired workmen for such tasks.
Just as he’d hired Jack and Henry to forge and install the iron work for the Royal Crowne Hotel. And then he’d disparaged Jack when Pauline had fallen in love with him as a no-account smithy with more brawn than brains.
How wrong her father had been. If he’d taken the time to get to know Jack and his family, he would have seen how hardworking they were and realized how clever Henry was, designing railings that elicited compliments from many, including her father himself.
She welcomed Henry’s insights. He’d suggested gifts sure to please Alex and Marcie. She would get her nephew a nice selection of carpentry tools, and when they got back to Philadelphia, she would have a workshop built for him.
“Tools it is, then. And now for Dot. She’s such a loving, nurturing child, doling out her hugs and kisses freely. I know she treasures that rag doll of hers, so I thought I’d get her a lovely porcelain doll like those my sister and I had when we were young.”
“She does love that doll. Pauline made it for her. I can still remember Dot’s squeal of delight when she saw it the first time.”
Henry’s faraway look and pensive expression gave Lavinia pause. “You don’t think she’d appreciate a new doll, do you?”
He returned his attention to her. “She might, but I wonder how such a fragile toy would hold up. As you’ve seen, the children can be a boisterous bunch. How did the dolls you and Pauline had fare?”
A memory surfaced. She and Pauline hadn’t been allowed to play with their dolls for fear they might break them. Their governess had forced Lavinia to sit in a chair whenever she held her doll, issuing a warning to be very careful. It had taken much of the fun away.
“You have a point. I’ll get her the cute wicker baby cradle I saw, instead.” It was small enough that Dot could keep it with her on board the ship. Gladys could make some dresses for the doll, too. Once they were back home, Lavinia would have a playhouse added to the nursery filled with child-sized furniture and a bed for Dot’s beloved doll.
Henry’s stomach rumbled. “Forgive me.”
“You’re hungry.” She glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice. “I didn’t realize what time it was. Shall we eat?”
He smiled. “I’d like that.” He rose, offered her his arm and led the way to the restaurant.
The meal was delicious, even if they had to settle for gâteau de pommes, or apple cake, instead of beignets. As good as the food was, the conversation was even better. Henry made a delightful companion. If it weren’t for the seemingly insurmountable obstacle between them, she might have been willing to think of him as a friend. When she penned him letters from Philadelphia with updates on the children, she would enjoy writing them and including anecdotes sure to make him smile as he was now.
Why was he smiling?
“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
She hadn’t. She’d been too busy thinking about him. Heat crept into her cheeks. She fanned her face. “Does it feel warm in here to you?”
He grinned. “I’ve enjoyed the time with you, too.”
Had she been that transparent? “I’m glad you suggested this place. Everything was delicious.”
“I should see to the bill so you can complete your shopping now that you’ve made your decisions.” He motioned for the waiter.
Henry’s generosity meant a great deal to her given that his funds were limited. “Thank you for treating me to such a wonderful meal.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed the company.” He winked at her.
They returned to the various shops, and she made her purchases. Henry carried the wicker cradle by the handles with two colorful puppets, a hammer and a small plane inside. She would see about getting the other items she wanted in Sutter Creek.
The return trip flew by with Henry recounting tales of his life out west. He was a wonderful storyteller and had her laughing many times. No wonder Pauline had spoken so highly of him in her letters.
He stopped the buggy in front of the house. “I’ll help you down, hide your gifts at my place and come back to see how Marcie did on her history recitation today. I shouldn’t be too long.”
Lavinia went inside and was welcomed with a warm hug and smack on her cheek from Dot. The older children arrived a short time later and gathered around Lavinia in the parlor where she sat on one end of the settee, Dot on the other. Marcie regaled them with an animated account of the school day.
When the exuberant girl wound down, Alex, who sat cross-legged on the rug, looked up at Lavinia. “Did you have a nice time with Uncle Henry today?”
“I did.” She smiled at the memory of a delightful outing. Although there had been a tense moment at the start when he’d questioned her decision to buy the children some clothes, their truce had enabled her to enjoy herself. He’d been supportive of her plans, which she appreciated. Perhaps he’d seen her willingness to accept his input as a good sign and was beginning to realize she wanted what was best for the children, too.
Marcie, seated beside her brother, did her best to feign disinterest by smoothing her skirts around her, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her. “Did the stores have what you were looking for, Aunt Livy?”
“If you mean, will there be presents for you on Christmas morning, the answer is yes.”
Dot squealed. “Goody!”
Alex stood. “I’m going up to my room.”
“Don’t be gone long,” Marcie said. “Uncle Henry will be back soon.”
A mischievous look passed between the older children. Lavinia hoped they hadn’t concocted a plan to sneak up on Gladys and startle her as they’d done the day before. The poor woman had been so surprised she’d yelped, launching Alex and Marcie into fits of laughter.
No sooner had Alex’s footfalls faded than Henry’s could be heard on the porch steps.
“He’s here!” Marcie called out loudly. She jumped to her feet and rushed into the entryway.
Dot clambered off the settee and followed her sister. Giggling came from the top of the stairs.
Eager to make sure Gladys wasn’t about to be ambushed, Lavinia followed, reaching the entryway just as Henry stepped inside.
The children were nowhere to be seen. Odd.
He stood facing her, his gaze on the upper landing. “I saw the girls dash up the stairs. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I hope they’re not plotting mischief.”
His eyes, now focused on her, held amusement. “Our darling nieces and nephew plotting mischief? Whatever gave you that idea? It wouldn’t be their little stunt yesterday, would it?” He sobered. “I didn’t know they had it in them. Alex usually keeps Marcie in line.”
“True, but I had the feeling the idea might have been his, as surprising as that seems. He was certainly acting strangely this morning, whispering with Marcie at breakfast, which makes me wonder what’s going on.”
“I’ll have a word with him, man-to-man, and figure it out.”
“I’d appreci—”
“Uncle Henry! Aunt Livy!” the children cried in unison. “Look up!”
She did. Alex, Marcie and Dot knelt on the stairway, peering through the bannister, each wearing an ear-to-ear grin. Alex gripped a long stick with a sprig of mistletoe tied to the other end, which he held above her head.
So that’s what they’d been up to. She stepped to the left.
Alex moved the mistletoe with her, keeping it in position above her. “You c
an’t get away this time.”
She cast an apologetic glance at Henry, expecting to receive one in return. What she saw instead made her breath catch.
Henry was looking at her with unmistakable attraction glittering in his blue eyes. The sight sent a jolt of awareness through her.
“Kiss her,” Marcie called out.
Wonder of wonders, Henry wanted to. Or so it appeared.
His gaze remained fixed on her face, moving from her eyes to her mouth, where it lingered for several seconds before he lifted it again.
He stepped closer, causing her heart to pick up its pace, and whispered. “It appears we can’t escape this time. Do you trust me?”
The word trust, spoken with sincerity and his beautiful rolled R overcame her hesitation. She nodded.
He leaned toward her, coming so close his breath fanned her face.
Her eyes slid closed, as though of their own accord.
She waited, scarcely able to breathe, for the feel of his lips on hers.
CHAPTER NINE
Fully aware of the three pairs of eyes trained on him, Henry hovered a scant two inches from Lavinia’s upturned face. Her lips, soft and inviting, trembled, a movement so slight he might not have seen it if he hadn’t been studying her so intently. Did she want this, or had she agreed solely for the sake of the children? She had reached up as if to brush his hair back in place when they were in the buggy. Although she’d stopped herself, her gesture had shown that she was drawn to him.
He couldn’t take advantage of her or the situation, though. She deserved respect, and he would give it to her. He placed a kiss on her flushed cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the softness, inhale the rosy scent that would forever remind him of Lavinia and—hopefully—satisfy their eager audience. He drew back, bracing for her reaction.
She opened her eyes, blinked twice and averted her gaze. The corners of her mouth drooped momentarily, quickly replaced by a shy smile. If he didn’t know better, he might think she was disappointed.
He looked up at the children, who made no move to hide their disappointment.
Alex withdrew the stick with the mistletoe, his expression glum. “You were supposed to kiss her.”
“I did.”
“But you kissed her cheek,” Marcie countered. “That’s not a real kiss.”
Lavinia had turned away, as though unwilling to face him after what had transpired. “You’ve had your fun, children, so head into the kitchen for your snack, please.”
As if on cue, Gladys appeared in the dining room doorway. “I’ve got some soft gingerbread waiting, fresh from the oven. Who would like some?”
“Me!” the children hollered in unison. They raced down the stairs and followed Gladys into the kitchen.
Henry inhaled the spicy scents of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg that combined with the crisp pine from the evergreen boughs on the console table to create a festive atmosphere. He’d been too preoccupied earlier to notice anything but Lavinia. Although he’d spent the day with her, he’d rushed to get back to the house as quickly as possible after returning the buggy to the livery, eager to enjoy more of her company.
Arriving to discover that the children were up to more mistletoe mischief had come as a surprise. He ought to have been irritated or annoyed with them, but he wasn’t. Truth be told, he’d thought about their previous prank several times since, wondering what might have happened if Lavinia had welcomed his kiss instead of stepping out from under the mistletoe. Thanks to his nephew’s ingenuity, she hadn’t been able to escape this time.
Henry smiled. Although brushing his lips across her soft cheek wasn’t as exciting as a real kiss would have been, he’d enjoyed the experience nonetheless.
There could never be anything between Lavinia and him, but he couldn’t deny being attracted to her. After all, she was a beautiful woman. She was somewhat misguided when it came to what was best for the children, though, but she obviously loved them.
Thankfully, she’d welcomed his suggestions for gifts more in keeping with what Jack and Pauline had given the children in years past. Instead of filling a livery wagon with packages, as he’d expected, her purchases hadn’t even filled the small storage space beneath the buggy’s seat.
Lavinia turned toward him, wearing a shy smile. Pink still tinged her cheeks. “I haven’t had a piece of gingerbread in ages. I’m going to have one. Would you care to join me?”
Her question drew him back to the present. “I would, but I have something for you first.” As much as he wished he didn’t have to make this delivery, he must. He reached in his jacket pocket and withdrew a letter. “Mr. Little was standing in front of the American House hotel as I walked by. He asked if I’d give this to you.”
She stared at the envelope he held, her features taut. “I received mail? When?”
“Mr. Little said it arrived this morning while we were down in Jackson.”
“I see.” Her hand trembled as she reached for the letter. She took it, slowly turned it over and heaved a sigh of relief.
“What is it?”
“I was afraid it had come by Pony Express.”
That could only mean one thing. She was afraid her father had written. But why? “The postmark is from San Francisco.”
He’d shoved the letter in his pocket before he could see anything more, but he hadn’t needed to read the sender’s name. He knew who it was from—Stuart Worthington, the young manager Paul Crowne had chosen to serve as Lavinia’s escort on the trip west. The man she planned to have accompany her, Gladys and the children on their way back to Philadelphia.
Well, Worthington had a surprise in store. He would not be traveling with the children. They were staying in Sutter Creek where they belonged, with him—their uncle and legal guardian.
Lavinia wandered over to the staircase and plopped down on the second step. She removed a hairpin, slit the envelope with one of the two tortoise shell prongs and jabbed the pin back into her mass of curls with haste. “I wonder what he wants,” she murmured.
“Why don’t you open it and find out?”
She started. “Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot you were there.”
“Would you like me to leave?”
“No. Please, stay.” She shifted to the side and patted the space next to her.
He debated the wisdom of sitting so close, but it appeared she dreaded finding out what Worthington had to say. If she wanted support, Henry would provide it.
He sat on the step, careful to leave as much room between them as possible.
Lavinia glanced his way, her soft, steady gaze conveying her gratitude. She squared her shoulders, pulled out the sheet of paper, unfolded it and began reading. Her mouth gaped at the start, but before long her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed. Troubling news, no doubt. He fought the urge to pull her to his side and offer what comfort he could.
As she continued reading, her lovely features relaxed, easing the knot that had formed in his stomach. She clutched the letter to her chest, lifted her gaze to the ceiling and smiled. “Thank you, Stuart.”
A burning sensation formed behind Henry’s breastbone. He worked to slow his rapid breathing as he struggled to make sense of Lavinia’s reaction. What was her relationship to this Worthington fellow anyhow? Was he more than just an escort?
Her smile fled almost as quickly as it had come, releasing the tension in Henry’s chest. She set the letter in her lap and turned to him, her eyes filled with so many emotions he couldn’t begin to sort through them. “It’s going to be all right.”
Even though she’d said the words to him, he got the impression she was out to convince herself. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She shook her head, causing several curls to break free from the hairpin she’d shoved in earlier. It came loose and clattered o
nto the step at Henry’s feet. He picked up the fancy thing and studied it. The silver crown at the top boasted several diamonds, accounting for the sparkle. A single pearl formed the point. He didn’t want to think about what a single pin cost, let alone the half dozen she wore.
He held out the hairpin. “Here you go.”
She took it, gathered the loose curls with one hand and inserted the pin with the other. Her attempt left several springy locks dangling over her right temple. She extended her lower lip and blew a breath out the corner, causing the curls to dance. “Oh, bother. I can’t do this without a looking glass.”
“Would you like me to try?” The words had rushed out before he could stop them, but he couldn’t very well take them back. He had no right to make such an offer and deserved the laughter sure to come.
But it didn’t. Instead, Lavinia pulled out the hairpin and handed it to him. “Please.” She glanced at the doorway to the dining room, as though assuring herself no one was privy to their conversation, and spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t tell anyone, but even with a looking glass, I have a hard time taming my mane. Gladys has offered to help, but I figure it’s high time I learn to do some things for myself. I’m happy to say I’ve made progress, but I won’t turn down your kind offer.”
He’d asked Pauline once, shortly after he’d arrived in California, what it was like not to have servants seeing to her every need. She’d admitted she missed the pampering but said the sense of independence she’d gained more than made up for it. It appeared Lavinia was experiencing a similar revelation. “You might regret accepting my help when you see my handiwork. Now, sit nice and still so I don’t poke you with this thing.”
He’d never helped a woman with her hair before. Why he’d offered to do so now was a mystery he’d unravel later. The task required him to focus.
Although Lavinia’s silky curls seemed determined to elude his clumsy fingers, he managed to corral them with one hand long enough to slide the hairpin in place with the other, careful not to graze her scalp.