by Kit Morgan
“Yes, I’ve heard talk in that direction,” the Professor answered as he watched Cecil speak with the women. “Don’t worry – Cecil will figure it out.”
“It doesn’t bother him that she’s a servant?”
The Professor’s brow puckered. “Why should it? In case you haven’t noticed, young man, this is not New York or Boston or Philadelphia. The woman has a job – so what if it’s cooking and cleaning for someone else? If she was a dressmaker, would there be any difference?”
“Only that she owned her own shop, which says she’s made something of herself.”
The Professor shook his head. “My dear boy, whether the woman is a dressmaker or a maid in the house of the town mayor, what difference does it make to a man’s heart?” The Professor leaned arms on the table. “Tell me, are you in want of a wife?”
Julian felt the heat of embarrassment creep into his cheeks. He’d just put his foot in his mouth, and the Professor knew it. “I’m … thinking about it.”
“Well,” said the Professor with a jerk of his head toward the women’s table. “There’s a fetching little prize sitting right there.”
“Yes… but… I’ve thought of going to Portland or Oregon City for a time to look for one.”
“Whatever for? Why don’t you get to know this one first?”
“Because …”
The bell over the door rang again, and Bernice Caulder and her mother entered. The Professor and Julian looked up at them and gave them nods in greeting. Bernice didn’t waste any time, going straight to their table. “Hello, Professor. Hello, Julian.”
“Hello, Bernice,” Julian said with a sigh.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Julian’s eyes flicked to Miss Sampson, who sat and watched him. He quickly looked away. “Came in for some pie and coffee.”
“We just came for coffee. It’s getting cold outside, so we decided to have a cup before we went to the mercantile.”
“Hello, Julian,” Eunice Caulder said cheerily as she stepped alongside her daughter. “Professor.”
“Mrs. Caulder, Miss Caulder,” the Professor replied. “Would you care to join us?”
Julian shot him a wary look, but the Professor ignored it, smiled, stood and offered Eunice his chair. Julian cringed. But, still the gentleman, he offered Bernice his own chair as the Professor went to fetch some extras.
Cecil took notice of what was going on and laughed. “Why, look,” he told Betsy. “It’s turning into a party. Let’s join them.”
Julian fought a groan as the two older men fetched another table and put it against theirs. Julian sat in a new chair next to Bernice as Cecil motioned Miss Sampson to take the one he’d placed on the other side of him. He was now sandwiched between the two women, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Cecil did it on purpose.
“Well, well,” the Professor remarked. “Now isn’t this a merry gathering of souls?”
“Yes,” Cecil agreed as he patted Betsy’s hand. “Isn’t it?”
Clara came out from the kitchen. “What’s this? A party?”
“Coffee for everyone!” called Cecil.
“It’s a-coming!” Clara called back. “I’m making a fresh pot!”
“Splendid!” the Professor said with a smile. “And who is this delightful young lady sitting across from me?” He looked at Julian, then at Miss Sampson.
Julian watched as she blushed. “Ellie Sampson, sir,” she answered.
“And what brings you to our fair town, Miss Sampson?” the Professor asked.
She glanced at Betsy nervously. “Work, sir.”
“So, Betsy,” the Professor said. “You have a protégé?”
“Something like that,” Betsy said with a wide grin. “At least now I’ve got some help around the place. And so does Mrs. Brock.”
“Mrs. Brock?” the Professor asked.
“I’m working for both Mrs. Vander and Mrs. Brock,” Ellie explained.
“I see,” the Professor said with a smile. “What do you think of Independence?”
Ellie hesitated for a moment, then realized he was talking about the town, not her freedom from Earl and his ilk. “I haven’t had much of a chance to see it yet. If I’m not at the Vanders’ working with Betsy, then I’m at the Brocks’, you see.”
“Well, when you have some free time you should make it a point to look around,” the Professor suggested. “I own the bookshop here in town. You must come peruse my stacks some time. In fact, perhaps Mr. Smythe here could act as a tour guide and show you the local sights.”
Julian stiffened in his chair. Was the Professor trying to play matchmaker?
Miss Sampson looked at him and gave him a weak smile. “If I have the time.”
“Independence is awful small,” Bernice commented. “There really isn’t much to see.”
“Maybe you could show Miss Sampson around, Bernice,” her mother suggested. “Julian shouldn’t be bothered with such a task.”
“Me? The girl is perfectly capable of seeing things on her own – aren’t you, Miss Sampson?”
Ellie leaned forward to look past Julian to Bernice. “When I get the time, I’m sure I’ll see all that Independence has to offer.”
Julian leaned toward her. “A diplomatic response,” he said in a low tone.
She smiled back but said nothing.
“Did everyone have a nice Christmas?” Cecil asked, changing the subject.
“Quite fine,” Mrs. Caulder replied. “Wasn’t, it Bernice?”
“I suppose,” she answered with a dramatic sigh.
Cecil ever so slightly shook his head in annoyance at her dramatics, then asked, “Does your town do anything festive for other holidays?”
“The next big to-do ain’t usually ‘til the Fourth of July celebration,” Betsy said.
“What?” Cecil said in shock. “You mean you don’t do anything for Valentine’s Day?”
“Ain’t never done anything in this town for Valentine’s,” commented Clara as she brought a tray of cups and set them on the table.
“Well, maybe it’s high time you did!” Cecil huffed.
“And what do you suggest?” the Professor asked.
“I don’t know. Most places have some sort of a dance and a dinner …”
“Why, Mr. Winters,” Mrs. Caulder said. “I do believe you’ve got an idea there.”
“It’s the same idea most folks have in another towns,” he said to no one in particular.
“Betsy,” Mrs. Caulder said, ignoring him. “Is Mrs. Vander at home?”
“She was when we left. We done come in here to have ourselves a little break before I pick up a few things at the mercantile. Why?”
“I must speak with her about this so we can form a committee.”
“What sort of a committee?” Betsy asked suspiciously.
“A Valentine’s dance committee, what else?”
“Mm-hmm. I gotcha.” She looked at Cecil. “Now see what you done started? A dance around here will mean more work for me, you know.”
Ellie smiled, then giggled. “How so?”
“Because all them committee meetings are going to be held at the Vanders’ house. There’ll have to be baking, cooking, cleaning and what all. Wait a minute … what am I saying?” She looked at Ellie with an evil grin. “You can do the baking and cleaning and serving!”
Ellie grimaced, then stared at her hands as she placed them on the table. “I can do that.”
“Do you and Betsy take breaks like this often?” Julian asked as he studied her hands.
“Oh, the Vanders don’t mind if I come to the café for a cup of coffee while I run my errands.” Betsy turned to Ellie again. “They won’t mind if you do the same.”
Julian took a sip of coffee. “Then perhaps I’ll see you sometime … around town, I mean.”
She gave him a shy look. “Perhaps.”
“I like to come to the café for coffee now and then,” Bernice added as she smiled at Julia
n. “I’m sure I’ll see you.”
Julian gave her a half-hearted smile out of politeness. “I’m sure you will.”
A silence rested over the table for a few seconds as everyone sipped their coffee at once. “Why, isn’t that amazing!” exclaimed the Professor.
“What?” Cecil asked.
“How we all took a drink of our coffee at the same time. Mathematically, the odds of that happening are astounding.”
Betsy laughed. “Leave it to you, Professor, to notice a thing like that.”
“I notice a lot of things,” he said and looked right at Julian. “For instance, I think that a Valentine’s dance and dinner in this town would be wonderful. What about you, Mr. Smythe? Don’t you think so?”
Julian swallowed hard. “Of course.” Just where was the Professor going with this?
“I think it’s a wonderful idea too!” blurted Bernice. “It will be great fun, won’t it, Julian?”
“Possibly,” Julian said, his jaw tight. He sensed a sudden predatory air about Bernice, and fought to keep from cringing.
“If we announce it right away,” Mrs. Caulder said, “everyone will have plenty of time to get ready. You’ll of course want to sew a new dress, won’t you, Bernice?”
“Oh yes, of course,” she agreed. “You’d like to see me in a new dress, wouldn’t you, Julian?”
Julian couldn’t believe it – he was actually beginning to sweat! He clenched his teeth and said nothing.
“We’ll be the handsomest couple there!” she said with a satisfied smile.
Julian blanched. “Couple?” he squeaked incredulously.
“Why, of course, couple. After all, who else am I going to go with? All the other young men are taken.”
“What about you, Miss Sampson?” the Professor asked as his eyes darted between her and Julian. “Will you be looking forward to the dance?”
Ellie looked around the table at everyone. “I can’t look forward to something when I don’t know if I’ll be able to attend. I might be working.”
“True enough,” the Professor said. “But I’m sure if the Vanders, not to mention the Brocks, are there, then they’ll want you to enjoy it as well. Isn’t that right, Betsy?”
“Mm-hmm. Sure enough is.”
The Professor looked at Julian again as he spoke to her. “A pretty girl like you should go to a dance. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”
Egads, Julian thought. Could the Professor be making his intentions any more obvious?
“I plan on having a wonderful time!” Bernice said, suddenly hooking an arm through Julian’s.
He jumped at the contact, and stared at her. “Miss Caulder, I…”
“You two will be the sensation of the dance!” said an excited Mrs. Caulder. “I can’t wait!”
“Yes,” the Professor drawled. “We can see that.”
“And after we’ve danced together all night,” Bernice continued, a dreamy look on her face, “who knows what could happen?”
Julian tried to pull his arm away but couldn’t. She’d locked herself onto him like a manacle. Good grief, how did this happen? More importantly, what was he going to do about it?
* * *
More coffee was served, as were their pie orders, and all too soon it was time for everyone to leave. Betsy and Ellie had to get their errands done, and Julian needed to get home as well. He paid for his coffee and pie along with Cecil’s and the Professor’s, and was about to depart when Bernice attached herself to him again. “I can’t wait until the dance, Julian. I’ll be thinking about it every day.”
Julian sighed. “Bernice, I may not even go.”
“What?! What do you mean, you won’t go to the dance?”
“We don’t know if there’s even going to be a dance. It hasn’t been decided yet.”
“Of course there’s going to be a dance! Why wouldn’t there be? It’s a wonderful idea.”
“And even if there is, I might decide not to go. Or I may go by myself.”
Her face fell. “But … you said we would go together ...”
“No, Bernice, I didn’t. You said we would.”
Her face twisted up on one side, then the other. “But why won’t you go with me? I’m the only girl in town to go with.”
Julian’s eyes flicked toward Ellie as she headed for the door with Betsy. “No, you’re not,” he said calmly.
Bernice glanced at the women as they went out the door. “Julian Smythe! You wouldn’t!”
He raised a single eyebrow at her. “Wouldn’t what?”
“Go to the dance with a … a maid!”
Julian stared at her. “Bernice, if there is a dance, then I will go with whom I choose. I will not have the choice made for me.”
Bernice’s jaw tightened. “Fine, then. Take whomever you wish.” She spun on her heel, stomped out of the café and slammed the door behind her, not even waiting for her mother.
Mrs. Caulder glared at Julian. “How dare you hurt my daughter’s feelings like that!”
Julian tried to keep his temper. “Mrs. Caulder, I did no such thing. Bernice put herself in that position by making assumptions.”
“She did no such thing! Of course you two would go together! You’re the only single …”
“I am not the only single young man in town, Mrs. Caulder.”
“Who else is there?” she spat.
“Bernard Rudshaw should be home any day, if he isn’t here already. Maybe he wants to ask Bernice to the dance.”
“Bernard Rudshaw? The blacksmith’s son? For all we know he’s coming home with a wife! Therefore you’re still the only young man of marriageable age for Bernice in town. Of course the two of you will go together.”
Now Julian did roll his eyes, and knew where Bernice got her ideas from. “Mrs. Caulder, as I told your daughter, if there is a dance and I do decide to go, I’ll go with whom I choose. Not whom someone else does. And at this point I think I’d rather go alone – or skip the whole affair.”
“Well, I never!” She marched out the door in her daughter’s wake, slamming it just as hard if not harder.
The Professor and Cecil stood and gaped. “Well,” Cecil said. “That’s some kind of woman trouble you got there, son.”
“Trouble indeed,” the Professor said. “I’d stay clear of that Bernice if I were you.”
“If only I could,” Julian groaned. “Really, she’s not that bad, but she desperately needs to grow up – she’s been coddled by her parents for too long. I hope that one day she does find a nice young man to marry. I just know I’m not that man.”
“She’s nice enough when she comes into my bookshop,” the Professor added. “I hope for her sake that all you say comes to pass.”
“Poor thing,” Cecil agreed. “I understand what both of you are saying, but if someone doesn’t intervene and curb her current ways, she’ll never land a husband.”
“True enough, my friend,” the Professor said.
“Well, there’s nothing any of us can do about it,” concluded Julian. “Bernice will have to want to change. And personally, I hope she does. I’ve always liked her … she’s just not mature enough to be a suitable wife.”
“Too bad,” Cecil sighed. He looked at the Professor. “Well, it’s a fine day out, if a bit chilly. I think I’ll loiter in front of the bookshop for a while.”
“And wait for Betsy to come by after she’s done shopping at the mercantile?” the Professor teased.
“Yes. After all, she and Miss Sampson will need an escort back to the Vanders.”
“You sly old dog,” the Professor mused. He winked at Julian. “All right, have it your way. I’ll go dust my books in anticipation of the bevy of customers that will come in to buy them this afternoon.”
Julian laughed. If for some unexplained reason he never married, he hoped he’d enjoy as happy and carefree a life as these two men did. Though if his suspicions and the Professor’s were correct, Cecil Winters would be leaving the ranks of bachelo
rhood soon.
He glanced at the door and wondered if he shouldn’t stop by the mercantile on his way home.
Six
As it turned out, Julian never got to the mercantile – he ran into Bernard Rudshaw before he could so much as step off the boardwalk. “Bernard, good to see you! I heard you’d be back in town soon.”
Bernard was a large fellow with a thick head of brown hair, dark eyes and a barrel chest. “Got in a couple of days ago, actually. But I didn’t want folks to go makin’ a fuss about it, so I just stayed around the house and helped Pa out with a few things.”
“Are you glad to be back?”
“Don’t rightly know yet. Ain’t been back long enough to say.”
Same old Bernard, Julian thought – his family was from Missouri, and he was as cautious and country as you’d expect from a man born in the “Show-Me State.” “You are staying, aren’t you?”
Bernard shrugged. “We’ll see. Say, I heard Garrett and Morgan both got themselves hitched.”
Julian smiled, then sighed. “Yes, they did. Both to fine women.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You thinkin’ about it?”
“Everyone keeps asking me that. But … yes, I’m starting to.”
“Me too. Thought I’d found myself a nice girl, but her parents didn’t want her to have nothin’ to do with a lowly farm boy. When I told her pa I’d be comin’ back here to take over the blacksmith’s shop, he acted as if that was worse than farmin’!”
Julian cringed. Portland was a growing city, and had its social climbers just like everywhere else. “Sorry to hear that, Bernard.”
“Well, I ain’t gonna worry about it now. I gotta look after my ma and pa until they decide what to do. Pa’s back ain’t so good, ya know.”
“I know.”
“I hear Garrett’s ma got herself a right pretty little maid.”
Julian went stock still as a stone settled in the pit of his stomach.
“I might fancy a look at her. At least she ain’t got no parents to tell me I ain’t good enough for her.”