by Karen Kirst
How did women do that? Know just what to say? He should have realized Dot was grieving.
Lavinia picked up the handkerchief lying on the quilt and tenderly blotted Dot’s tear-streaked cheeks. “She was a wonderful mother and loved you very much.”
“How do you know? You never comed here before.”
“She told me in her letters.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
Lavinia blinked several times as though keeping her own tears at bay. “I wanted to, but it’s a long trip, and…” She heaved a sigh.
Henry waited, as eager to hear what she would say as Dot was.
“My father wouldn’t let me.” Although the admission hadn’t come easily, she’d been honest with Dot.
“But you’re a grown-up. Can’t you do whatever you want?”
“I wish I could, but I still live with my father, and he…doesn’t always let me do what I want to do.”
Dot frowned. “That’s not nice.” She brightened. “But you’re here now, and I’m glad.”
“I am, too. Things will be different, but we’re going to have a very special Christmas.”
“And we’ll do all the things mama did, right? That’s what will make it special.”
Henry couldn’t have said it better himself. If only Lavinia felt the same way.
“Yes, sweetie, we will, and we’ll have lots of fun together.” She’d agreed. Better yet, it sounded like she meant what she’d said. Could it be she was realizing the value of the simple celebration the children were anticipating?
The front door flew open. “Aunt Livy! Uncle Henry! We’re home.”
Lavinia’s lovely face lit up as though the older children’s return was the highlight of her day. “Let’s go, Dot. I have something fun planned.”
They trooped down the stairs to the entryway where Norma stood with little Bobby balanced on her hip. She smiled. “We’re back, as I’m sure you noticed.”
“So you are. I’m delighted to see you. I have a surprise for all of the children in the kitchen.”
The youngsters peppered her with questions. “A surprise? What sort of surprise? Is it something to eat?”
She laughed. “If you’ll take off your coats and hats and head into the kitchen, you’ll see what it is.”
They shed them in a hurry and gathered around the kitchen table, with Norma watching from a distance. Lavinia showed the children the gingerbread triangles and demonstrated the decorating process, her excitement as evident as theirs.
Each of the girls set to work adding ornaments to a tree. Alex stood off to the side with his mouth and shoulders drooping. Henry felt for the boy. Being surrounded by girls all the time couldn’t be easy.
Lavinia rested a hand on their nephew’s shoulder. “I need to take care of the gingerbread that’s ready to come out of the oven, so I could use a careful person to squeeze the frosting on the trees that have cooled. Would you do that for me?”
Alex’s glum expression evaporated. “Yes, Aunt Livy. I’ll do a good job. I promise.” She might say she didn’t understand boys, but she was doing a great job with their nephew.
The kitchen was filled with childish chatter and sprinkled with a hearty portion of laughter as the girls placed colorful bits of candied fruit on the frosting zigzagging across the trees.
A rap on the front door sent Lavinia hurrying into the entryway. She said something to a man, although Henry couldn’t make out the words. She closed the door after the brief exchange, but instead of returning to the kitchen, her footfalls headed in the direction of the parlor.
Norma cast a curious glance toward the entryway and shifted her gaze to Henry. “If you’d like, I could supervise here.”
“Thanks.” He set down the tray of cookies, tossed the dish towel on the sideboard and strode to the parlor.
Lavinia sat hunched over on one end of the settee, her face slack, staring at a sheet of paper in her lap. She saw him, straightened and produced a weak smile. “From the sounds of it, the children are having a good time.”
“They are. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She let out a forced laugh that belied her statement. “I got some news that wasn’t what I’d hoped for, that’s all, but I have other options.”
“Options for what?”
“A venue. Mr. Benedict had a change of plans, so I won’t be renting the hall after all.” She’d said the words as though she was talking about a minor inconvenience rather than a crushing blow.
“I can’t believe it.” Henry reined in the unexpected surge of anger and took a seat beside her. Her party wasn’t necessary, but he still didn’t like to see her hurting. “What did he say?”
“Here. You can see for yourself.”
He took the note and read the brief message.
December 19, 1860
Miss Crowne,
I regret to inform you that Mr. Benedict received a request from a business associate to rent his building here in Sutter Creek this coming weekend. The gentleman will be hosting his daughter’s wedding and will require the use of the entire building. Thus, the meeting hall won’t be available on Saturday after all. My apologies for any inconvenience this might cause you.
Sincerely,
Augustus Price, Attorney-at-Law
“Three days before your party, and Mr. Benedict does this?” Henry shook the paper. “That man has nerve. You told me you had an agreement in writing.”
“Only to the price. I neglected to ask for anything else. But things will work out, even if it means I have to make do with a smaller venue and hold two parties instead of one.” Determination shone in her eyes, currently as dark brown as Baker’s chocolate. She took the note he held out, wadded it into a ball and tossed it in the fire, watching wordlessly as the blaze devoured it.
“I’m sure they will.”
“I don’t want to disappoint the guests.”
Interesting. Up until now, she’d said she was holding the party for the children’s benefit. Had Dot’s tearful plea shifted her focus?
She picked up the nearest sofa pillow and twisted the fringe around her finger so tightly that it turned bright red.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” He reached over, unwound the string and rubbed her finger.
She took his hand in hers, turning it this way and that. He resisted the urge to pull away. “I noticed the stains when we were doing the baking. What happened? It looks like you’ve been working at a forge.”
“I was.”
“I didn’t think you planned to do that anymore.”
He didn’t, but… “I was at the smithy with Dealy. An idea struck me, and I set to work.” The image had come to him with such clarity. It wasn’t until he’d finished the piece that he’d questioned his impulsiveness.
“Ideas can be like that.” She let go of his hand and rested hers in her lap. “I’m glad you could pursue yours without hindrance.”
The sadness in her voice caused his chest to tighten. Lavinia had such high hopes for her party, but she’d encountered one setback after another. “I wish there was something I could do help.”
“You’ve done so much already—teaching me to bake, arranging for your friend to provide the entertainment.” She pinned him with a probing gaze. “Why?”
He looked at Lavinia, staring at him so intently, and the answer came to him with startling clarity. He was helping her because he cared about her and didn’t want her to leave. If she stayed in Sutter Creek, she could have what her heart desired.
From what Gladys had said, Lavinia’s life was a lonely one, although she’d never admit that. All she had was a distant, controlling father and a group of friends who accepted her, provided she followed the rules they lived by. No wonder she’d blossomed over the past few weeks. He knew just how to ans
wer her question.
“I want your party to succeed because I want to see you happy.”
She stiffened. “I am happy.”
“Are you? Then why does taking the children to Philadelphia matter so much to you? You say it’s to give them advantages, but there’s little you can offer them there that they can’t get here.”
“What about an education? We have wonderful colleges.”
“We have them too, in Stockton, Santa Clara, San Jose, San Francisco and Benicia. That last one is even a girls’ school, so there will be opportunities for Marcie and Dot, too. The children could help shape this great state.”
“Perhaps, but it’s still rough and wild here.”
“Not for long. There’s been a rapid influx of culture. Your own father recognizes that. Why else would he have sent Mr. Worthington to scout out a location in San Francisco?”
She bristled. “Leave my father out of it!”
Things with her father must not be as great as she’d led him to believe. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just making an observation.”
Her hand flew to her chest, and she curled her upper body away from him. “I’m s-sorry.”
He shifted, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. “It’s all right.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, and a surge of protectiveness flowed through him—along with the realization of how much she’d come to mean to him. Her soft curls tickled his chin. He fought the urge to bury his face in the silky mass and breathe in the rosy scent he would forever associate with her.
The clomp of boots in the entryway caused her to jump aside, out of his embrace. She smoothed the collar of her dress.
Alex appeared in the doorway, looked from Lavinia to Henry and raised an eyebrow.
How much had the young fellow seen? “What do you need, Buddy?”
“We got all the cookies from the first batch decorated. Can we start on the other ones?”
“If they’re cool to the touch, yes,” Henry said.
“Good.” Alex gave them a lingering look, smiled and left.
An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock and the popping and crackling of the fire on the grate.
Lavinia spoke first, her voice soft. “I had no right to snap at you. I know you mean well, but you don’t know what I’m dealing with.”
He had a pretty good idea. “I would if you told me.”
She looked at the ceiling as though she was praying, gave a nod and fixed her gaze on a spot near the top button of his shirt, his cravat having been shed when he was helping the children with the cookies. “In order to make the trip out here, I had to promise my father I’d return with the children. I can’t—I won’t let him down.”
Her slip was telling. Evidently, Lavinia feared what her father would do if she showed up without them. Given Paul Crowne’s history of disowning his eldest daughter, Lavinia’s fierce determination not to disappoint him made sense.
If only she wasn’t being forced to choose between satisfying her father and remaining true to herself. It was high time the domineering man realized his daughter was no longer a child. She was a bright, capable, kindhearted woman of twenty-six who deserved to live her own life, make her own choices. Sadly, it seemed the only way for her to do that was to walk away as Pauline had done.
Lavinia was strong, but was she strong enough to break free? That would mean putting the children’s needs and her desires ahead of her father’s demands. Could she do it?
Lord, I care for Lavinia and don’t want to see her hurt, but I’m afraid that’s inevitable since the children are staying here with me.
Unless there is another way. If so, please show me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The woman Lavinia saw in the looking glass boasted cheeks almost as red as her dress, causing her to laugh at her reflection. She couldn’t be sure, but she might even be more excited about this party for the children’s classmates and their families than they were. And the youngsters had been talking about it all day, aside from the hour she and Henry had spent helping Alex and Marcie rehearse their carols one last time.
When Lavinia had received that note from Mr. Price three days ago, the floor had shifted beneath her feet—or so it had seemed. She’d feared he was also subtly letting her know that he wouldn’t take her case. Although learning that Mr. Benedict wouldn’t rent her his meeting room was a setback, it was one she could overcome. Not being able to challenge Henry for guardianship of the children wasn’t.
Norma had offered her a solution for her venue dilemma. The levelheaded woman had suggested using the schoolhouse. Although the smaller building with its space limitations wasn’t an ideal solution, since it meant hosting separate parties for their school and church friends on different dates than originally planned, things had worked out thanks to the children’s understanding and generous teacher. Miss Reed had welcomed the opportunity to combine the children’s choral performance with a party for the students’ families afterward, agreeing with everything Lavinia had planned—with one exception.
The capable young schoolmistress insisted on using a five-foot Christmas tree set on a table and trimmed with the children’s handiwork instead of the twelve-foot one trimmed with store-bought ornaments Lavinia had envisioned. She’d accepted the stipulation graciously while vowing to herself that the children would have a tall tree at home. She could picture a beautiful one in the entryway, reaching all the way to the top of the staircase.
A visit to Mr. Price’s office to discuss her need for his services the day after his note about the meeting hall had arrived had given her reason to hope. The lawyer had listened intently as she outlined the ways in which she believed Henry had neglected his duties as executor. Mr. Price had agreed that the probate court might take issue with the way Henry had gone about the sale of the smithy, considering the mortgage on the house and his need for ready cash.
When Mr. Price had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to take her case, she’d managed to school her features. When he’d said he would do everything in his power to get the probate judge to set a court date in the upcoming week due to her urgent need to return east before the fighting broke out, her composure had failed her. She’d given the lawyer such a vigorous handshake that he’d chuckled.
The thought of returning to Philadelphia with Alex, Marcie and Dot lifted her spirits. Her father would be pleased that she’d carried out his wishes. Once he got to know the children and saw how wonderful they were, he would fall in love with them as she had. They would miss their lives here, but once they saw what awaited them, they would adjust.
Leaving Henry would be hard on them, though. She could understand. He was a wonderful man—bright, talented, hardworking and full of love for the children.
She wandered to her bedroom window and gazed at the oak tree where he’d come to her rescue. She’d developed feelings for him. If she didn’t guard her heart, she could fall in love with him, making leaving that much harder.
But what if Henry cared for her, too? He didn’t, of course, but the possibility put a smile on her face.
“Aunt Livy.” Marcie stood in the doorway to Lavinia’s room. “Are you ready? Everybody else is.”
“I am.”
Marcie twirled in a circle. “The party will be fun.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She had yet to meet Henry’s friend Quinn and was doing her best not to worry. Henry had assured her the ventriloquist would be there, and he had yet to let her down. He’d spent the past two days helping her with the baking, the gift wrapping and other tasks. She couldn’t have asked for a more supportive friend, even if the fanciful part of her wished they could be more.
“I can’t wait for you to see my ornaments,” Marcie said.
“I’m looking forward
to that.”
Her niece darted down the stairs. Lavinia paused at the upper landing as she had the day of Gladys and Mr. Staples’s wedding. Just as he had that morning, Henry looked up and saw her, sending her a smile so warm it melted her heart.
If only things were different. He’d come to mean more to her than she would have thought possible, considering their differences. She’d miss him greatly when it came time to leave, just as he would miss the children. Would he ever forgive her for taking them away from him?
She mustn’t think about that now. The families would be getting to the school soon, and she was eager to greet them.
After a brisk walk in the chilly night air, they arrived at the school to find things in order. Lavinia was relieved to finally meet Quinn. The ventriloquist had an engaging manner that put her fears to rest. A final check of the desks-turned-dessert-tables that had been shoved against the wall further calmed her nerves. The tempting treats remained hidden beneath dish towels for the time being. A large pot of hot cider sat on the stove, filling the air with the scents of cinnamon and cloves.
In a matter of minutes, the schoolhouse was full of excited children and their parents. Miss Reed helped her pupils find their places. Once the young singers were in position, their kindly teacher stepped to the front, facing rows of benches filled with parents and siblings too young to attend school. Henry sat on one side of Dot, Lavinia on the other. As she looked at other couples with children nestled between them, it struck her how much their trio resembled a family.
A longing she’d been keeping buried surfaced, bringing with it sadness. She dreamed of having a family, and yet she was already twenty-six, an age when an unmarried woman heard the word spinster whispered about her behind the fans of pitying matrons. What they didn’t know was that there had been several gentlemen interested in her, men her father had sent her way—after they’d received his approval, of course.
The potential suitors were bright and ambitious, although more interested in forming an alliance with her father than in getting to know her. A few of them, such as Stuart Worthington, were personable enough and would make good husbands for other women, but they hadn’t made her heart beat faster. Only one man had done that, and he was sharing the bench with her.