by Jenna Brandt
“You needn’t bother yourself checking on me. I am faring rather well.”
“Nevertheless, I would have liked to come see you. I find myself looking for reasons.”
Flattered, but equally uncomfortable with the confession, Amelie changed the subject by stating, “I had no idea Mr. Moore was taking on partners for the Willamette Falls locks project. He started it two years ago and everyone thought he was foolish trying to find a navigational route around the falls.”
“Mr. Moore is a true innovator. There has never been a multi-lift navigation locks system in America. The west end of the falls is the perfect location. He has made remarkable progress with the first phase, and the plans for the next one look promising.”
“Are you planning on financing the project?”
“It is one of the reasons William asked me to come along on his trip. He already convinced me to invest in the mill and ferry companies after telling me about their success. Once I verified the ledgers, I knew I wanted to be a part of all of Mr. Moore’s enterprises. He has a natural gift when it comes to business.”
“Does that mean you will be staying in West Linn for an extended stay?”
“Would it please you if I told you at least until the paperwork is finalized for my investments?”
Part of her was glad to hear he would be remaining in town. As quickly as the delight came; however, it was suddenly replaced by the recognition he would be leaving after his business concluded. How could she let herself develop feelings for a man who would be leaving town shortly? She would be reckless to open her heart to him knowing there would be no future for them together.
Pierre must have noticed the change in her demeanor because he asked, with a puzzled expression, “What is it? Is it something I said?”
Refusing to let him know how his leaving made her feel, Amelie changed the subject by saying, “I wanted to thank you again for your help the other day. I appreciate your intervention.”
“I am grateful I was able to arrive in time before he did anything further to you. I hate the fact he had the time to put his hands on you in the first place. If he had not gotten away, I would have…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence for Amelie to know what he meant. Pierre would have made sure the burglar regretted ever touching her in the first place.
“You arrived at just the right time. You saved me and I will never forget it.”
As they reached the front door, Pierre opened it for Amelie as he asked, “I was wondering, do you have an escort for the party?”
Amelie shook her head. “No, I was planning on attending with my sister.”
“Would you mind if I escorted the both of you?”
Her aunt had refused the invitation to go with them to the party, which meant she would not have to argue with her about the matter. She wanted to say yes, but part of her worried about the ruckus it would cause with Matthew. Did she dare to agree to his offer?
“Under the circumstances, I think it best if I decline your request.”
A very astute man, Pierre asked, “Is it because of Mr. McCoy? He is a grown man and I have made my intentions known to him.”
“And what exactly are your intentions?”
“I want to get to know you, Amelie. I think there is something between us and I think you feel it as well. You need to stop worrying about other people’s opinions and do something for yourself.”
“That is easy for you to say, Pierre, because you don’t live here under the scrutiny a small town provides. Every move I make, or don’t make, is known by everyone.”
“Amelie, I know you want me to take you to the party. Just say ‘yes’.”
He was right. It was time for her to consider what she wanted. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Amelie replied, “Alright, Pierre. You can escort us to the party Saturday night.”
Pierre was beaming when he walked back into the room where he had left Mr. Moore and William to continue discussing their business projects.
“Your mood has changed considerably since you left this room,” William praised.
“Miss Leclaire has agreed to allow me to escort her to the party on Saturday evening.”
William grinned as he patted Pierre on the back. “That certainly explains it. Your moods seem to revolve around the beguiling Miss Leclaire these days.”
Mr. Moore stared at Pierre with a firm look on his face as he said, “I hope your intentions are honorable with Miss Leclaire. She means a great deal to me and my wife. We would never want to see her get hurt.”
“Neither would I, which is why I want to swear to you, I will do my best to ensure her happiness.”
“Splendid. Then I give my approval, Mr. Girald.”
After they finished their business meeting, Pierre and William returned to the inn for their mid-day meal.
As they made their way into the lobby, William asked, “You have been rather silent on our walk back here. Are you thinking about the matter you have been dealing with over the past two days?”
Pierre nodded. “I am worried about Jackie.”
“And Margaret. You can keep from saying her name, but I know she is at the center of your thoughts.”
Pierre was indeed concerned. He knew he should not be, considering Margaret was married to Cortland Westcott now. It was her husband’s duty to keep her safe, but try as Pierre might, he could not seem to stop from worrying about her well-being.
“I sent word to her Mulchere had been killed and I believe the Duke of Witherton was behind it. I hope she gets the information before he finds her.”
“You have done all you can. It is her husband’s responsibility to protect her.”
Logically, Pierre knew William was right, but somehow, he could not convince his heart to completely let go of his old habits. When was he finally going to be able to completely let go of Margaret?
Chapter 8
The bakery had been busy causing Amelie to move at such a fast-pace she had forgotten to eat lunch. When a wave of dizziness took hold, she decided to take a small break and let Elise take over the front when she arrived after school.
As she ate her baguette with her vegetable soup, she racked her brain, trying to come up with a way to earn some extra money before the bank took the bakery. What am I going to do?
After she finished eating, Amelie returned to the front. She asked Elise to restock the back pantry for the next morning while she handled the front again.
Hearing the clink of the front door, Amelie looked up and stiffened. Mr. Buckley, the owner of The Trail’s End, was making his way towards her. He presented a lewd grin as he approached. She hated the way he watched her, a little-too-close for her liking, with his beady eyes.
“How do you do, Miss Leclaire?”
“I am well, Mr. Buckley. How may I help you?”
“I was wondering if you made any of your raspberry tarts today? You know how I love to sample your goods, Miss Leclaire.”
Wearing an aloof expression on her face, she tried to abstain from sniping back at him. Instead, she forced herself to ignore his lecherous comment, and replied, “You are in luck, I happen to have two of them left.”
“I will take both then.”
As he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, Mr. Buckley commented, “I heard you were having some problems keeping up on the bills for this place.”
“And where might you have heard that, Mr. Buckley?”
“It’s a small town, Miss Leclaire. It’s impossible to keep secrets in it.”
“It isn’t a secret, but rather a personal matter, and one I plan to rectify shortly.”
“You know, if you are looking for a way to earn some extra money, we are in need of a cook at The Trail’s End. I have heard you are a good cook, in addition to your baking skills, and I would be happy to offer you some part-time employment.”
Amelie’s stomach churned with disgust. She hated the fact she had to pass by the saloon every day on her way home from work. She could hear the cacklin
g of the sordid women who worked there, along with the roars of the men who frequented the place. They would stumble out of the saloon, all hours of the day and night, and the sheriff responded to assaults and disputes at least two to three times a week. It was a haven for drunken, repugnant men, and Mr. Buckley capitalized on it while pretending it was a respectable establishment because it served food. She couldn’t ever imagine being desperate enough to have to work at such an awful place.
With disdain, she replied, “Mr. Buckley, I think you know my feelings about your establishment. Like the bulk of the town, I prefer to keep my distance. I will find another way to resolve my problem.”
As she reached out to hand him his tarts and take his money, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand. “You think you are too good to work for me, Miss Leclaire? I will have you know, many a woman has ended up serving me, despite their most bitter protests.”
She gasped from the shock of his hands upon her, as flashes from when the intruder attacked her only a few days ago came rushing into her mind. Mr. Buckley’s rough grip was hurting her delicate skin and she felt herself begin to alarm.
Apparently, Elise overheard her gasp and she shouted from the back of the bakery, “Amelie, is everything alright out there?”
Not wanting to involve her little sister in such a precarious situation, Amelie tried to even her voice before responding. “Everything is fine, Elise. Continue what you are doing.”
Whispering so only Mr. Buckley could hear her, Amelie stammered, “I need to be getting back to work. Will you kindly let me go?”
But instead of releasing his grip on her, Mr. Buckley tightened it. He pulled her forward, so her body was pressed against the edge of the counter. He bent in towards her, stopping only inches away from her face. “You need to learn how to be respectful in the presence of a man, Miss Leclaire. How should I teach you?”
“She does not need any lessons from the likes of you.” Amelie let out a sigh of relief as she recognized the familiar voice of Pierre. “I think you need to release the lady at once.”
Coolly, Mr. Buckley let go of Amelie. He turned to face Pierre, then ordered, “You needn’t involve yourself in this matter, Mr. Girald.”
“On the contrary, Miss Leclaire is my concern since she is under my protection. I would advise you to keep your hands to yourself when it comes to her.”
Mr. Buckley sneered at Pierre. “And I would advise you to know when not to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong. You are a visitor in this town, and should you overstay your welcome, you may find the hospitality will run out.”
After throwing the money on the counter and grabbing the bag of tarts, Mr. Buckley headed towards the door. He stopped at the edge and asked with sarcasm, “Will I be seeing you tonight at The Trail’s End, Mr. Girald? I’m certain Lulu will be glad to see you.”
Amelie’s eyes shot to Pierre, whose irritation with Mr. Buckley seemed to be rising by the moment. “No, I do not think so.”
Once Mr. Buckley had exited the bakery, Pierre turned his attention to Amelie. With two quick strides, he was standing across from her and reaching out to take her hand in his own. As he inspected it, he asked, “Did he harm you?”
Amelie shook her head. “You arrived just in time.”
“I told you I would be by this afternoon. I wanted to see you… and I was hoping you might have a few of those delicious beignets you make. Ever since I had one the first time I came in here, my mouth has watered in anticipation of another.”
“I’m glad you like them. Hold on a moment.”
Amelie made her way to the back room, where the final beignets of the afternoon were resting. She happened to have two left from the batch she made for the Wilcox family. She picked them up, dusted them with powdered sugar, and placed them inside a small paper bag. When she came back out, she handed them over the counter to Pierre.
“I happened to have two. Consider them my ‘thank you’ for your intercession with Mr. Buckley.”
“From my few encounters with the man, he seems to be quite obnoxious.”
Curious about Mr. Buckley’s earlier comment about Pierre visiting the saloon, Amelie asked in a pretend nonchalant tone, “Do you frequent The Trail’s End often?”
“Depends on your definition of frequent. I have been there once because William insisted and another time because of a business meeting.”
“Really? Lulu was part of a ‘business meeting’?” Amelie asked derisively.
Pierre chuckled. “No, Lulu wanted me to spend some time alone with her. I declined her proposition.” Looking at Amelie with a piercing gaze, he added, “I have found only one woman in this town who holds any interest for me. I daresay, I think she has ruined me for any other woman.”
Amelie inhaled sharply as the last statement penetrated her carefully constructed walls. She was beginning to think Pierre might have ruined her for any other man as well.
“Is there anything else I can offer you?”
Gazing at her lips, he stated, “Many things come to mind which would be tempting, but unfortunately, I will not be able to collect on any of them. I have pressing matters out at the mill I must attend.”
Her heart sank at the idea of not seeing him until the party at the Moore estate. What was happening to her? She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, or at least what her friends told her it felt like. Amelie had never felt anything for a boy or man beyond friendship until now. The feelings were so foreign; it made her feel out of control. She had no idea what to do about them.
“However, I should be done with my business by seven o’clock. Would you care to join me for dinner tonight? You could bring Elise with you if you like.”
“Elise is spending the night at a friend’s house.”
“I cannot say I mind having you all to myself.”
“I did, however, have plans with Debbey tonight. She was going to come over and stay with me. She doesn’t want me to be alone since the burglary.”
“Then how about all four of us go out to dinner. William would be more than glad to spend some additional time with your friend.”
“I think we can oblige your request.”
“How about we fetch you both at half past seven. How often do you get to visit Oregon City?”
“I haven’t been there since my parents died. I used to go with my father to pick up supplies. Currently, Mr. Moore has been kind enough to pick up my provisions when he goes over for his own.”
“I know the perfect place I want to take you. We happened upon it when we first arrived in the Oregon territory before making our way to West Linn.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Pierre.”
“As am I, Amelie.”
When Amelie stopped by the church to get Debbey, she told her of their sudden change in plans for the night. Immediately, Debbey began to fret over what she was going to wear. She insisted they stop by her house in order for her to grab an outfit more appropriate for an evening out.
As they made their way to the McCoy residence, Debbey’s fussing became more acute. “Do you think I should wear the sky-blue dress with the embroidered flowers along the color and sleeve, or the deep emerald green dress with the velvet edging?”
“I think the green one. It brings out the jade in your eyes and compliments your auburn hair.”
“You’re so lucky, Amelie. With your complexion and hair color, you can wear anything. I have to be so careful about the colors I choose.”
“Debbey, you have it completely backwards. Your unusual hair and coloring make you look unique. You’re very fortunate God blessed you with such a wonderful combination.”
Amelie watched as her friend’s demeanor relaxed. “Thank you, Amelie. You always know the right thing to say to calm me down.” Glancing at her friend, she asked, “What do you plan to wear?”
Truthfully, Amelie hadn’t thought about it. She had been so preoccupied cleaning up and getting Elise settled at her friend’s house, she didn’t have time to
think about what she was going to wear. But now, she felt her own anxiety rising. She had very few dresses nice enough to wear to a fancy restaurant in Oregon City.
“I’m not sure, Debbey. My selections are limited.”
“You could borrow one of my dresses.”
The offer was kind, but their looks didn’t just stop at complexion and hair color; their builds were completely different. Amelie was almost a half a foot taller than Debbey and had a willowy frame, while Debbey was more full-figured. She knew she would be unable to wear one of Debbey’s dresses and have it look flattering on her.
“You are so sweet Debbey, but we haven’t been able to share clothes since we were little girls.”
Debbey nodded. “What about your pale blue dress you wore on Sunday?”
“Pierre already saw me in that dress at the inn. I would prefer to wear a dress he hasn’t seen.”
Amelie had been needing some new clothes before her parents passed away. With all that was going on with the bakery, and then the added burglary at her home, she didn’t have any money to spare.
Then a thought came to mind. She did have her mother’s closet full of clothes. They were the same size, right down to their shoes.
Debbey must have been thinking the same thing, because she suggested, “You could always wear one of your mother’s dresses.”
“I could. I will take a look when I get home.”
After getting what Debbey needed from her place, they continued until they reached Amelie’s house. Once inside, Debbey went to get dressed in the room Amelie and Elise shared, while Amelie went into her parents’ bedroom down the hall.
After undressing down to her slip, Amelie went over to the closet. She stood there for several seconds, rooted to the spot, before she mustered the courage to reach out and touch the door handle. Gently, she opened it and looked at all the satin dresses, taffeta gowns, and velvet outfits lined in a perfect row.