The Artisan's Wife

by Judith Miller

  She nodded and smiled. “Agreed. I’ll prepare the changes and send it off to Mr. Harrington this afternoon.”

  Levi pushed up from his chair. “Thank you.”

  He leaned his body across the desk, kissed her cheek, and rushed from the room before she could speak. She stared after him, her fingers resting on the spot he’d kissed and her heart pounding a new beat.

  Ainslee sifted through the mail that lay stacked on her desk. Her heart quickened at the sight of Adaira’s handwriting. Levi’s deep dedication to his brother had struck a chord deep within and reminded her of the closeness she and Adaira had shared throughout the years. They’d been so attuned to one another, they usually knew what the other was thinking. Usually.

  The fact that it wasn’t always true had become painfully clear when Adaira ran off to marry. To this day, it caused her to wonder how the closeness they’d once shared could have been so easily altered by Chester Mulvane. Perhaps that’s what happened when one fell in love, for her own thoughts now centered on Levi rather than Adaira. The few letters that had passed between them in recent months had closed the chasm, but Ainslee didn’t feel the same connection they’d once shared. Possibly the distance had prevented the return of those deep feelings. Maybe that was yet another reason why Levi insisted upon living near his brother.

  She slid the letter opener beneath the seal and removed the cream-colored stationery from the envelope. She’d nearly finished reading when the office door opened and she looked up.

  “Aunt Margaret!” A burst of fear shot through her like an explosion of cannon fire. Why on earth was Aunt Margaret in Weston? Had something terrible happened to the family? Her thoughts raced. Ewan had mentioned Grandmother Woodfield had returned to Bartlett. Was she ill? Had Margaret arrived to tell her Grandmother Woodfield had died?

  The older woman closed the distance between them, her gaze flitting around the room like a bird searching for a nest. “Good morning, Ainslee. My, but you’ve grown into quite the young woman since I last set eyes on you.” Without invitation, she dropped into one of the chairs and absently pressed the folds of her traveling dress. “When I learned you were in charge of this operation, I wasn’t surprised. You were always much brighter than Adaira. She might have had a touch of artistic talent, but you—you were the smart one.”

  Unspoken questions jumbled in her mind as Ainslee continued to stare across the desk. “Has something happened to one of my family members?”

  Margaret folded her gloved hands in her lap. “Dear me, I don’t believe so. The last I heard, they were all perfectly fit. Laura’s mother has returned to Bartlett, but we seldom see one another. As for your brother and his family, I’ve had no contact with them since they left Bartlett. An unfortunate happenstance.”

  Margaret’s final three words jolted Ainslee. “An unfortunate happenstance caused by you and your unseemly behavior.”

  “You’re absolutely correct.”

  Her aunt’s agreement left Ainslee momentarily speechless. Mouth agape, Ainslee stared at this woman who had never before admitted to any of the wrongdoing she’d inflicted upon various members of the family, especially the McKays.

  “Do close your mouth, my dear. I wouldn’t want you to swallow a fly. Such a bothersome event when that occurs, don’t you think?”

  Ainslee offered a tight smile. “Yes, although I’ve never experienced such an unfortunate occurrence.” Margaret’s silly comment helped Ainslee regain her composure. “Please tell me—what brings you to Weston? I feel certain you’re here for something more than to pay me a visit.”

  Margaret fidgeted with the decorative piping that edged the flounce on her dress. “You know you were always a favorite with me, Ainslee. From the time you were a young girl with your hair in braids, I knew you were going to make your mark in this world.” She squinted her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. “I never held out much hope for Adaira. She was too flighty and selfish.”

  Ainslee wasn’t sure when or where Margaret had drawn her conclusions about Adaira—or her, for that matter. From the time she and Adaira had arrived in West Virginia from Ireland, Margaret had taken every opportunity either to put them to work cleaning her house or to shoo them from her sight. And now she sat across the desk showering her with praise. As usual, Aunt Margaret was up to something.

  “Thank you for your compliments, but you still haven’t told me why you’re here. Why don’t we set aside the pleasantries and get to the facts? I don’t want to appear rude, but I have a great deal of work to accomplish today.”

  Margaret winced. “You have become quite the businesswoman, haven’t you?” She unfastened her reticule and withdrew a piece of newsprint. “I’m certain you’ve seen this.” After unfolding the piece, she slid it across the desk to Ainslee.

  The clipping appeared to be the news release Mr. Harrington had sent to the newspapers. Ainslee scanned the article, then looked up at Margaret. “I hadn’t seen the article, but Mr. Harrington informed me it would be in several newspapers.”

  “Then I’m pleased I brought it with me. You may keep it if you like.” Margaret’s lips curved in a magnanimous smile.

  When Margaret didn’t continue, Ainslee tapped her fingers on the desk. “I doubt you came here merely to deliver this news clipping.”

  “I know you’ve said you’re busy, but this visit is proving difficult for me. I do hope you’ll bear with me. I don’t want to do or say anything that might jeopardize my proposal. Actually, an agreement, of sorts.”

  Proposal? Agreement? The words sent a prickling chill racing down Ainslee’s arms. Margaret Crothers was her deceased Uncle Hugh’s widow and had proved herself to be more cunning than most men—even Uncle Hugh. Though Uncle Hugh had changed his ways shortly before his death and had promised Ewan the brickyard in Bartlett, he’d had too little time to change his will and testament. Even though Margaret had known of the agreement, she refused to acknowledge or fulfill Hugh’s promise. All of the previous proposals and agreements between the two families had resulted in the McKays suffering heartache and financial disaster at the hands of the Crotherses. And now Aunt Margaret had come here with another business proposition. She must be daft.

  Ainslee frowned at the woman. “I can’t imagine any proposal you might have that would be of benefit or interest to the McKays.”

  “I know I wronged your brother when I forced him out of the brickworks, but I was a frightened widow, fearful that I’d be left with no means of support after Hugh died. Even though I knew the papers had been prepared for Hugh to sign the brickworks over to Ewan, I believed the business should be mine.”

  Ainslee sighed. Rather than fear, she believed Margaret had been motivated by greed. “You know Ewan is an honorable man. He would never have taken advantage of you. If you’d wanted for anything, he would have helped you. Yet, after all his years of hard work for you and Uncle Hugh, you were willing to leave the McKays with nothing.”

  “You’re right, and I’m willing to humble myself and beg his forgiveness, because I truly do need his help—and yours.” Margaret withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it between her fingers. “I am sure neither the McKays nor the Woodfields want to see the brickworks fail.”

  None of this was making any sense, and revisiting the past wasn’t going to change anything. “While the brickworks still holds a place in Laura’s heart, and Ewan’s as well, the McKays and Woodfields no longer have any control over what happens there.” She wished Margaret would get to the crux of why she’d unexpectedly appeared. “Please tell me why you’re here.”

  “I asked you to be patient, but since you’re in a hurry, I’ll oblige.” Her eyes were clouded with woe. “The truth of the matter is that Andrew Culligan has ruined the reputation of the brickworks, and if we don’t get a contract soon, which I know we won’t, we’ll be out of business. I’ve already had to let most of the men go, and Mr. Culligan has disappeared.” She hesitated a moment. “Do you remember Mr. Culligan?”r />
  “I never knew him, but I recall his name. He’s the one you brought into the brickworks after Uncle Hugh died. As I recall, you forced Ewan to teach him the contracting and how to manage the ledgers. Once Mr. Culligan was proficient in that portion of the business, you cut Ewan out. That’s about how it happened, isn’t it?”

  Margaret bowed her head. “Yes, that’s how it happened. And now I’m here to ask you to help me win a bid from Mr. Harrington.”

  Her words bit Ainslee’s ears like a cold winter frost.

  Chapter 22

  The office door opened and Levi pinned Ainslee with a surprised look. “What’s this about a bid and Mr. Harrington?” He shifted toward Margaret. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “This is Margaret Crothers, Levi. She is the widow of my Uncle Hugh.” Ainslee hurried to explain Hugh wasn’t truly her uncle, but a more distant relative.

  “So that makes you completely unrelated to the McKays?” Levi stepped beside Margaret’s chair.

  Margaret’s brow creased in a slight frown. “We’ve always considered ourselves related, even though there’s no true bloodline. Isn’t that true, Ainslee?”

  Ainslee wanted to disagree, but Margaret’s pleading eyes stopped her. The woman looked like a stray cat seeking a home. “Until Ewan married Laura, all of us lived with Uncle Hugh and Aunt Margaret.” She’d discussed bits and pieces of her life in Bartlett and Grafton with Levi but had never gone into great detail about Margaret and her harsh ways.

  Margaret turned her attention to Levi. “Am I correct in assuming you are the Levi Judson mentioned in the newspaper clipping I brought to Ainslee?”

  “I suppose I am, though I haven’t seen the article. I heard you mention Mr. Harrington when I was coming in the door. What was that about? Do you know him?”

  Margaret shook her head. “We’ve never met, although I’m most hopeful the C&M Brickworks will be granted a contract to supply bricks for the new museum he’s constructing. I’ve told Ainslee it will help the business tremendously if we could win that bid.”

  “So why is it you’re having trouble with your business, Mrs. Crothers? I thought the brickworks was a thriving business when Ewan left Bartlett and moved to Grafton.” Levi turned toward Ainslee rather than waiting for Margaret’s response. “Is that not right?”

  Ainslee nodded. “Yes, it was doing well.”

  Margaret’s lips tightened into a knot and she scooted back in her chair like a trapped animal. “I’ve explained my circumstances to Ainslee, so I doubt there’s any need to repeat all of my problems. Suffice it to say, the brickworks has suffered great losses due to the misdeeds of my manager, Mr. Culligan.”

  “And how did you think we could help you with your bid?” Levi dropped into a chair beside Margaret.

  “We? Are you a partner in the tile works? I thought it was owned by the McKays and Mrs. Woodfield.” The haughty tone Margaret had used in years past momentarily returned. “I came here to ask for Ainslee’s help.”

  “I am not a partner, Mrs. Crothers, but I have a personal stake in our association with Mr. Harrington and this project. I don’t want anything to occur that might jeopardize our relationship with him.” He rested his arm on the desk. “And I’m certain Ainslee feels the same.”

  “I do.” Ainslee returned her attention to Margaret. “Rather than coming to talk to me, I believe your first step is to make amends with Ewan and seek his help. He’s the one who can help remedy the problems at the brickworks. I don’t think you’ll be in a position to place a bid until you’ve overcome those difficulties. And if you’re producing inferior bricks, be assured that none of us would recommend you to Mr. Harrington.”

  Margaret looked miserable. “I suppose I may as well tell you everything.” She stared blankly across the room while she detailed how she’d trusted Mr. Culligan and given him free rein with the company. “At first, the company stayed about the same, but after a couple years, we started to lose contracts and I received some complaints about the quality of the bricks. I talked to Mr. Culligan, but he insisted the bricks were being made just as they’d always been. Since our income remained the same, it didn’t occur to me that he was using inferior products.”

  Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you check with any of the foremen or examine the books? You should have been able to uncover any problems by taking time to look for yourself.”

  “I trusted him. Besides, I didn’t know anything about the ledgers. Ewan had trained Mr. Culligan, but I’m not bright like Ainslee. Even if I’d looked at those books, they wouldn’t have told me anything.”

  Ainslee could hardly believe someone had been able to fool her aunt. “But what about the workers, Aunt Margaret? They would have known changes were being made and the bricks they were making were second-rate. Surely one of the relatives said something to you.”

  Margaret curled her lip in disgust. “There’s none of them working in the yard anymore. They were unhappy with their wages, and with Hugh gone, the lot of ’em quit. Ungrateful to the end they were, with not an ounce of loyalty to me.” As her anger mounted, a bit of the brogue she’d fought so hard to overcome returned. “They’re all working in the mines, even though I warned them of the danger. Wouldn’t surprise me if they all died an early death beneath the ground.”

  “And what of the foremen who worked there when Ewan was in charge? Have they all left?”

  “Aye. One by one, they quit and went to other brickyards, but I didn’t have any way of knowing. I didn’t go down to the yard, so I didn’t know who was working and who wasn’t, except for the relatives, who took pleasure in telling me they’d been hired in the mines for twice the wage they’d made in the brickyard.” Margaret straightened her shoulders. “None of this matters now. What’s done is done. What does matter is keeping the place up and running. I don’t think Laura or Ewan would want to see it go under. With your recommendation and a promise of quality bricks, I think Mr. Harrington would accept our bid.”

  Levi leaned forward and rested his forearms across his thighs. “Mrs. Crothers, you’ve already told us that your best workers have quit, you had a manager who was willing to produce poor quality bricks and has likely filled the ledger books with incorrect records, and you can’t do any of the duties yourself. How can you possibly ask Ainslee to speak on your behalf?”

  A tear formed and then slowly rolled down Margaret’s wrinkled cheek. Her shoulders slumped and she folded her arms across her waist. “I’ll beg if I need to.” A crimson blush colored the furrows that lined her face.

  Never had Ainslee seen Margaret shed a tear. Not even when Uncle Hugh died. Yet here she sat, with swollen eyes begging for help. Who was this woman? Where was the meanspirited woman who had castigated her own sister, Kathleen, when she’d become pregnant and then had reviled Ewan and Laura for adopting the child? Her actions today didn’t reflect the coldhearted tactics she’d used to dishearten and discourage any member of the family she could. Margaret had been the cause of untold misery—yet deep inside, Ainslee felt a need to help her.

  “Begging is not what’s needed, Aunt Margaret. I can’t recommend you to Mr. Harrington, but here’s what I’ll do.” Ainslee set forth a plan while Margaret and Levi listened. When she had finished, she spread her hands flat on the desk. “I have nothing more to offer, so I leave the decision to you. Before you answer, I think it would be best to wait and pray on the matter. You can give me your answer tomorrow.”

  Margaret tipped her head to the side. “Pray? It’s been some time since I’ve given much thought to God.”

  “Then perhaps it’s time you did, Aunt Margaret. I’m sure He’s given much thought to you.”

  Two days later, with Levi’s assurance that he could manage both his duties and the ledgers and after telegraphing Ewan to expect her arrival, Ainslee and Margaret boarded a train to Grafton. Her heart fluttered each time she recalled Levi’s sweet declaration that he would miss her.

  The train hadn’t been out of the s
tation for long when Margaret snapped open her reticule and withdrew a handkerchief. “I don’t know if this is a good plan, after all.” She twisted the linen square into a knot. “Did you tell Ewan I’d be with you?”

  “No.” Ainslee shook her head. “Had I told him, it would have raised too many questions in his mind. He would have worried until we arrived. It’s better if we surprise him.”

  “I hope his heart is strong. Otherwise, he may fall over in a heap when I step off this train beside you.” She unclipped her fan and snapped it open. “It’s certainly warm, isn’t it?”

  Ainslee scooted farther away, hoping to avoid the breeze. “Quite the contrary, I thought it rather cool. You’re worried. Sometimes being overanxious has that effect upon me. Why don’t you close your eyes and pray? Prayer settles the nerves, don’t you think?”

  Margaret gave her a sidelong glance. “You would be a better judge than me, but I suppose it won’t hurt.”

  Once Margaret had closed her eyes, Ainslee followed suit. She’d spent a great deal of the night in prayer and intended to continue until they arrived in Grafton. Though she’d attempted to allay Margaret’s fears, her aunt’s worries were well founded. Ewan had been mistreated by both Hugh and Margaret, and she doubted he’d forgotten even one of the many wrongs that had come his way. In truth, her unexpected appearance with the matriarch of the Crothers family might very well create more problems for Ainslee than for Margaret.

  Ainslee’s attempts at sleep proved futile. By the time the train hissed and clanged its way into the Grafton station, she was exhausted. Her heart pounded like a kettledrum when she caught sight of Ewan on the platform, but she pasted a smile onto her lips as she stepped into the aisle.

  “Come along, Aunt Margaret.” The woman stared straight ahead and remained as still as a stone. Ainslee leaned down and touched her arm. “We’re delaying the passengers who want to board the train. Do come on.”

  Margaret adjusted the ties of her cape, heaved a sigh, and scooted to the edge of the wooden seat. Her arms buckled as she attempted to push to standing. “I don’t know if I can manage. This is a mistake.”