She probably should fortify herself for Florence’s reaction to her wearing the dress. Without a doubt, her adopted mother wouldn’t like the fact that she’d countermanded her own directions to Mrs. Murdock.
While Ingrid retrieved the gown from the wardrobe, she kept talking. “And how will you be wanting your hair styled? Should I put most of it up and form a few long curls to drape over your shoulder in front? If I wind the matching ribbon through your style and accent it with some beads, you’ll look like a princess.”
A princess? Wouldn’t it be interesting if she really were a princess? She shook her head. Not much chance of that. No one would give away a princess. Maybe she was the daughter of a pauper. Was that why Angus McKenna gave away his daughter? He was too poor to take care of her.
“That sounds like a good idea.” Maggie picked up a sandwich and took a bite while Ingrid collected her silk undergarments.
The first taste teased Maggie’s appetite, so she finished the piece and picked up another.
“Grandma will be pleased you decided to eat, for sure.” Ingrid arranged the hair ornaments on the dressing table beside the silver brush, comb, and mirror.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I really was until I took the first bite. Be sure to thank her for providing just what I needed . . . once again.” Maggie dropped into the chair beside the table so she could eat the rest of the delicious food. She hoped it would fortify her for the evening and all it would bring.
Why didn’t Florence notice what she needed? Maggie wasn’t really selfish or vain, was she? But shouldn’t a parent want what was best for their child, no matter how they acquired the infant? Had she only been a plaything that Florence tired of before she grew up? Her thoughts over the last days had proven torturous. But she saw no way to find out without actually asking her parents. And she wasn’t ready to do that.
Before Ingrid finished arranging Maggie’s hair, a quick knock on the door interrupted them. “Margaret, can I come in?” Her mother’s younger sister called through the door.
“Of course you can.” Maggie twisted on the dressing stool and watched Aunt Georgia enter and close the door. She loved her aunt. Having her in the house would serve as a buffer between Maggie and Florence. “When did you arrive?”
“Not very long ago.” Georgia wrapped her arms around Maggie and kissed her cheek. “I told Florence to let me surprise you after I cleaned up from traveling. The train was late leaving Portland, and I was afraid I’d miss your party altogether.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Maggie clung to her for another long moment before letting go, relishing the hug and the love it represented. But would Georgia feel differently when the truth came out?
Georgia moved to the side, so Ingrid could continue with her ministrations. “Are you all right, dear?”
Maggie stared at her aunt, noticing her sleek dark hair pulled into a figure-eight bun on her nape, so different from Maggie’s own wild, almost-untamable curls. “We’ve just been very busy getting ready for the party.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. They had been busy, but her words didn’t answer the question. Maybe Aunt Georgia wouldn’t notice.
Her aunt gave a quick nod, then sat on the edge of the bed. “So where did you get that dress? It’s not one you designed, is it?”
Should Maggie tell her? The truth couldn’t hurt. “I found it in the attic. I remembered you saying Mother had brought along some of the dresses your mother designed when she came west.” At least that was part of the truth. “When I saw the label, I knew it was one of them.” And one of the reasons she wanted to wear it to the party.
Aunt Georgia gazed up and down Maggie’s figure. “I’m surprised it fit you so well. I thought Florence was taller than you when she wore that.”
So more information had to come out. “I had Mrs. Murdock, our seamstress, hem it for me, but the rest of the dress fit just fine.”
“My sister was very thin when she was younger, which made her as small as you are, just taller.” Georgia watched Ingrid’s fingers as they fairly flew while she created the elaborate hairstyle. “My goodness, you are really good at that.”
Ingrid blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.” She didn’t slow down a bit, continuing to weave the ribbon and green beads through the curls and anchoring them with hairpins.
When she finally laid the three long curls beside Maggie’s slim neck, she stepped back to admire her own handiwork. “Does it look all right, Miss Maggie?”
After turning her head this way and that, so she could see every part of the style, Maggie smiled. “I believe this is the best you’ve ever done. Thank you, Ingrid.”
“You’d be the belle of the ball even if you weren’t the birthday girl.” Aunt Georgia came to stand behind her. “You’re very beautiful indeed.”
“But I don’t look a bit like you or Mother.” The soft words slipped out before Maggie could corral them.
She stared in the mirror at her aunt’s startled reflection. Maggie wondered if Florence would share that same startled expression when she walked down the stairs in the dress. Of course, she will. Maybe worse. Maggie’s lips pulled into a slight smile at that thought.
•••
Florence stood in the foyer of their home beside her husband, content with the knowledge that everything looked perfect, just the way she had intended for it to be. It wasn’t every day that a family could celebrate their daughter’s coming-of-age party.
“So glad you could join us.” She extended her gloved hand to Mayor Yesler and his wife, Sarah. She loved welcoming people into their home, especially important people. This was a far cry from their first home at the end of the long wagon trip west.
Oregon City was very provincial, but just for a moment the memory of happy times there flitted through her mind. Even so, they couldn’t stay there where everyone knew her shame. That was why she talked Joshua into moving to Seattle. And even though they lost some of the more fun aspects of their life with the move, just look at the contacts they had made. They held an important place in the society of this lovely city.
“Thank you.” The mayor moved on to Joshua, and the men’s deep voices blended into the general hubbub. Probably talking about business, which was the way of most men.
Light laughter and murmuring rippled through her parlor, where the furniture had been moved aside to make room for the string quartet and dancing. As Florence turned toward the next people coming through the front door a scuffing sound drew her attention toward the top of the stairs. Georgia started down the steps. Her sister looked lovely in that particular shade of blue, and the cut of the dress really showed off her svelte figure. And then Margaret came to the top of the stairs.
Florence’s heart almost stopped beating. That wasn’t the dress she told Mrs. Murdock to make for Margaret. Instead, her daughter wore one of the dresses her mother had designed for Florence when she was younger. An off-the-shoulder style in a brilliant, emerald green silk. The brocade shimmered as Margaret descended the stairs, outlining every move her daughter made. She glanced around, and the eyes of every man in the room followed Margaret.
Florence remembered wearing the dress and never really feeling comfortable in it. Of course, it hadn’t looked as good on her as it did now on her daughter. What has been going on in my own home without my knowledge? After the party, she’d get to the bottom of this. However, no need to create a scene in front of all the people attending. She pasted a stiff smile on her face and accepted the hand of the next guest.
•••
Charles Stanton loved parties and had been looking forward to Maggie’s birthday celebration. Now his attention was immediately drawn to Maggie as she started down the curving staircase in the foyer. He’d always thought of her as pretty, but tonight she was more than that. The green dress showcased her womanly figure to perfection, and the color brought out her eyes. Even though he was standing a few feet away he could see every detail. The golden flecks in her eyes glittered in the light f
rom the gilded, crystal chandelier.
He hoped to catch her eye, but her attention was fastened on someone close to the door. He shifted, and through the crowd, he spied Mrs. Caine. The women acted as if no one else was in the room. For a moment, some unspoken communication passed between Margaret and her mother. Mrs. Caine’s lips thinned and her jaw clenched before a tight smile masked her reaction. Maggie slowed momentarily and swayed slightly, concern puckering her brow.
If only he knew what was going on with them. For the first time in his life, he actually wished he could read minds. Florence Caine had been nothing but kind to him. So had Maggie. What caused this evident animosity between them?
Quickly he made his way through the throng until he stood near the archway that led into the large parlor. He propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. His gaze followed Maggie as she greeted people in the crowd, always polite and friendly. Soon another woman, who looked like a younger, softer version of Florence, joined Maggie. They greeted each other with wide smiles. No animosity there.
What a beauty! Her golden hair was swept to the top of her head with tendrils caressing her cheeks. The blue silk dress emphasized her femininity and intensified the hue of her eyes. She looked like one of the china dolls for sale in the store, but she was very much alive. Now there was a woman he could be interested in. She had to be some relative, maybe Mrs. Caine’s younger sister. She couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was. He hoped he’d get a chance to meet her. Wonder if she lives in Seattle. If so, why had he not met her? He might have if he had gone to church more. He promised himself he’d remedy that this coming weekend.
The two women went to the refreshment table and put a few items on each of their plates. He couldn’t take his gaze from the new woman. Then he noticed something odd about Maggie. While she continued to visit with others at the party, she never took a single bite of the food on her plate. Her fork just nudged the morsels around.
Quickly he crossed the room. When he arrived near Maggie, the other fascinating woman stood beside her.
“Are you going to introduce me to you friend?” Even though Charles was talking to Maggie, he couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde beside her.
“You mean my aunt Georgia? But she is my friend as well.” Maggie’s words snatched his attention.
“Your aunt?” He had guessed right.
“Yes. Aunt Georgia, this is Charles Stanton. We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Since you were in pigtails.” When he laughed, Maggie didn’t join him. He wondered why. She used to like to be teased.
“You would bring that up.” The frown in her tone matched the one on her face. “Actually, sometimes Charles got me into trouble, but I have to admit that often he also got me out of trouble.”
The aunt lifted her hand. “I’m Georgia Long.”
He glanced at her ring finger. It was adorned by a dinner ring with lots of pearls, but no wedding band. Good. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the back. For a moment her eyes widened, and she looked flustered before she withdrew it. At that moment, he decided to claim a dance from her later in the evening.
Before long, the musicians began playing and people drifted into conversation groups. Then one of the other young men asked Maggie to dance. She gave her plate to one of the maids circulating through the room with trays.
Charles kept watching her as one after another of the young, and sometimes older, men claimed her. When they danced, she held herself away from them, although she danced smoothly with each one. They chatted, but she wasn’t as animated as he’d remembered her. She looked aloof and disconnected.
When no one asked Georgia to dance, Charles made his way through the throng and stopped in front of the chair where she sat beside her sister.
Florence was the first one to flash a smile up at him. She turned toward the lovely Georgia. “Have you met Joshua’s new partner?”
Finally, the object of his attention turned toward him. “Yes, Maggie introduced us.” He couldn’t decipher the flash in her eyes, almost as if she were planning mischief. “Are you enjoying the party, Mr. Stanton?”
“I’d enjoy it more if you’d give me the pleasure of this dance.” When he extended his hand toward her, he almost expected her to decline.
After staring at him for a moment, she rose gracefully and placed her long, slender fingers in his. Without hesitating, he whirled her onto the dance floor, where they moved perfectly in concert with each other. Step matched step as Georgia swept her full skirt across the floor in a swaying waltz. Enjoying the feel of her in his arms, Charles almost forgot to engage her in conversation.
“Well, Aunt Georgia, why have I never seen you before? I’ve known the Caines for a long time.” Smoothly, he guided her through the twirling dancers.
She smiled up at him. “It could be because I live in Portland.”
Charles remembered Maggie saying something about her and her mother visiting an aunt in Portland at the time of his grandfather’s death. That must have been Georgia Long.
“How long will you be here in Seattle?” He clasped her fingers more tightly in his.
“I’m not sure.” She wiggled her fingers and he released some of the pressure.
“I hope we’ll see each other again. Maybe get better acquainted.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze roamed around the room, never coming to rest on his face. What is that all about? He wondered if he’d offended her.
He gave another whirl and realized that Georgia was watching Maggie with some intensity. And he could see why. This was Maggie’s party, so she should be having a good time. But evidently, she wasn’t.
The music stopped and he led his partner back to the chair where she had been sitting. After she slid onto the cushioned seat, he bowed and thanked her for the dance.
Charles made his way back to the spot where he could watch Maggie. Something was going on with her. She didn’t smile and laugh as she always had before. Pain and uncertainty bruised the depths of her eyes. She seemed to be hiding a secret from everyone else. One that was painful.
His protectiveness rose up inside him. He wanted to shield her from whatever caused this situation. He wondered who or what had brought this sadness to Maggie. The atmosphere in the Caines’ house had been welcoming and comfortable. Some outside force had to be at work here.
Finally Charles saw his chance. Her dancing partner had left for another girl, and Maggie stood by herself.
“May I have this dance, young lady?” He smiled at his old friend.
“Charles.” Her eyes lit up while her lips tilted. “I haven’t noticed you dancing.”
“I’ve been watching everyone else, except when I danced with your aunt.”
“Then why ask me?” She dipped her head slightly and studied him from under her long eyelashes.
She probably didn’t realize how provocative that looked, not a good thing if she looked at other men that way. He didn’t want any man to take liberties with his good friend.
“I thought you might like to sit out one number. You’ve been dancing a lot and would welcome a respite. We could get some food and find a quiet corner for a visit.”
“What a good idea.” She tucked her arm through his. “I know just where we can go so it’ll be quiet enough to enjoy conversation.”
After they chose their food, she led the way to the library. With the door wide open, they were still part of the festivities, but they could hear each other without having to raise their voices over the general hubbub.
Maggie sat in one plush wing-back chair and placed her plate on the table that sat to one side. She turned up the wick on the lamp beside her plate. “My feet will welcome the rest.” She took a bite of chicken and slowly chewed.
Charles chose the chair on the other side of the small table. “Quite a nice party, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s wonderful.” Although she showed interest in talking to him, shadows still hau
nted her eyes. “How is the new merger working out?”
“Just fine. I think of it as a blessing from God. I believe God was looking out for me in my loss.” He bit into the sandwich he’d made with his bread and roast beef.
“Do you think He always looks out for us?”
Her question held a note of urgency he didn’t understand. He wondered just what could be bothering her. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”
She stared into the fireplace where logs blazed, spreading a comforting warmth throughout the room. “Sometimes things happen that might not be for the best.”
He shrugged. “We don’t always understand why something happens, but the Bible tells us God’s plans for us are good.”
She quickly turned her attention toward him. He felt her probing gaze. “Are they always? Can’t some things happen to mess up those plans?”
He shook his head. “Since God gave us a free will, we can make choices that aren’t according to His best plan for us. But there is a verse in the Bible that says God can make all things work together for our good if we love Him. And He does, even if we make wrong choices from time to time.” He knew that had been true in his own life.
Once again she seemed to find the fire fascinating. “I hope that’s really true.” She shook her pretty curls as if trying to shake troubling thoughts from her head and glanced back toward him.
More interested in finding out what was wrong with Maggie than eating, he set his plate down. “I’m sure it is. Why would you think it wasn’t?”
“I do have eyes and ears, and I know that things go on in the world that aren’t good.” Her earnest expression emphasized her quandary.
“Very pretty eyes and ears.” He tried to lighten the mood. She was far too intense right now.
Maggie reached both hands toward the sides of her head.
“Please don’t hide them.”
Becoming color crept into her cheeks. “Mr. Stanton, you are being impertinent.”
“I didn’t mean to, Margaret. Will you forgive me?” This repartee felt as though they were children again.
Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) Page 6