A Stitch in Time

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said instead.

  “Turns out, there was someone else waiting in the wings, and his pocketbook was considerably more attractive.” Peter sat back in his chair and shook his head. “There’s a lot to be said for knowing the value of hard work and not living on your father’s dime. She couldn’t see that, though.”

  “And that just makes it all the better that she chose someone else. You wouldn’t want to be saddled with a woman who cared more about money than she did anything else, would you?” Toby asked.

  “At the same time, though, a wife deserves to be provided for. I wouldn’t want to marry unless I knew I could put a roof over her head and feed her.” Peter drained the rest of his lemonade, then turned back to Toby. “What about you? Are you still saving for that house you want to build?”

  “I’m saving, but it still seems a long ways off. I’m worried that someone will take my spot before I’m ready.”

  “Your spot? Have you called dibs on it?”

  Toby chuckled. “Not in any way that matters yet. It’s just felt like mine since the first time I saw it. The way the trees grow, the way the river bends—it creates the perfect picture, and I really can’t imagine myself living anywhere else.”

  “Have you talked to your parents about staying in Topeka? They want you back in Wichita, don’t they?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, they do.” Toby played with his fork, not sure how to explain his current relationship with his parents. “When Grandpa died and I came up here to help Grandma, my parents thought I’d only be gone a month or two. I get letters all the time asking when I’m coming back. But Topeka is where I grew up—they moved away, but my heart is still here.”

  “And they don’t understand that?”

  “No, and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve tried to explain. I’m still looking for work that allows me to use my education, but once that’s in place, I’ll have what I need to be happy and self-sufficient and everything they should want me to be. My mother’s struggling with that concept, though.”

  Peter chuckled. “She wants you to stay young forever?”

  “Or living right next door, perhaps with a gate connecting my yard to hers.” Toby stood up and put his plate on the sideboard. “My grandma’s just the opposite, though. She understands that children need to grow up and leave the nest. Maybe I should ask her to talk things over with my mother and give her some long-term perspective on the situation.”

  The back door opened, and Nola entered the kitchen. She hung her shawl on the hook by the door before turning and smiling. “Oh, hello, Peter. How are you?”

  “I’m doing well, Mrs. Johnson. And yourself?”

  “Quite well. I . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Peter’s plate, and then her gaze flew over to the counter. “Did . . . did you boys eat the chocolate cake?”

  “Yes,” Toby replied. “But not all of it. Is something wrong?”

  Nola sat down on one of the kitchen chairs with a thump. “You . . . ate the cake.”

  There was nearly always a cake or a pie or something available—what made this one different? “Were you saving it for something, Grandma?”

  “This was a special cake,” Nola replied. “I made it for . . . well, for a person.”

  Oh, no. Toby had spent the afternoon trying to correct one mistake only to turn around and make another. “What sort of person?” he asked, hoping she’d be a little more specific if he asked some leading questions.

  “It’s a surprise, and the cake was a surprise, and now there’s no cake!”

  “Is there still a surprise?”

  She looked exasperated. “I’m not even sure there should be one now! You two . . . go find something to do while I clean up the kitchen. I need a moment.”

  The kitchen already seemed spotless to Toby, but he knew that cleaning was his grandmother’s way of relieving her feelings. And Peter . . . well, he looked ready to remove himself from the situation altogether. They headed out the back door with no need to be told twice.

  Toby shook his head as they descended the porch steps. “Guess I shouldn’t have cut the cake.”

  “Probably shouldn’t have. Thanks for sharing it, though.” Peter clapped Toby on the shoulder. “I’d better get going. Hope you get things smoothed out with your grandmother.”

  “Oh, it’ll be fine. She’s a woman of infinite patience. And good luck with your little sister.”

  Peter thanked him and headed back across the lawn the way he’d come, his shovel balanced over his shoulder. Toby picked up his shovel, knocked the dirt off it, and put it back in the shed, wondering how long he should stay outside. He felt bad about ruining his grandmother’s offering for . . . whoever it was . . . but he’d had no way of knowing it wasn’t just one of the desserts she kept around on a regular basis. This person must be special if Nola was putting all this effort into impressing them.

  What . . . what if . . .

  Toby paused, his hand on the knob of the shed door. What if his grandmother had a new beau? What if some nice older gentleman had moved to town, and she’d made that cake for him? It had been a little while since Grandfather had died, and Toby knew she’d been lonely—that’s why he’d stayed. If she’d made a new friend, good for her!

  But who was this man? Was he really everything he claimed to be, or was he some sort of swindler who preyed on innocent widows and stole their life savings? Toby felt his hackles rise. He’d be keeping an eye on this situation for sure.

  “Jane, I just don’t know what to do with that boy!”

  Jane put the armful of yarn she was carrying on the counter and looked at her friend. Nola had just come bursting into the shop, which was odd because Nola wasn’t the sort to burst, and she looked genuinely upset.

  “What’s the matter, Nola?”

  Nola sank into one of the chairs in the corner and fanned herself with her hand. “Thora and I went over to see Esther and to welcome Miriam home. I asked Toby to come, and he said no because he was working in my flowerbeds. That was quite perturbing, but I did want the manure situation resolved, so I left him to it. We went by ourselves, and I promised Miriam a chocolate cake I made this morning, but when I got back, I saw that Toby had cut right into it and left a huge hole behind! First the manure, now this—I need that boy married off, but if I can’t even get him to come with me to see Miriam . . . He’s going to live with me forever, isn’t he? Do I just need to accept this and find ways not to dwell on it?”

  Jane sat down next to her friend and patted her arm. “It will all work out, Nola. Miriam will be here for a while—it’s all right if he doesn’t see her today. Did you tell him about the welcome home party? He can see her then.”

  “I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want to have to explain who the party was for and ruin the surprise. But it’s ruined anyway . . . no chocolate cake . . .”

  Jane tried to hide her smile. Nola did have a tendency to make things seem rather larger and more important than they really were. “You have time to make another cake tonight, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I could, especially since we don’t start setting up for the party until eleven . . . That would give it time to cool overnight and I could frost it in the morning.”

  “Perfect. Why don’t you go home, tell Toby that he’s coming to the party, and have him help you make the cake? I bet that once he realizes the work that goes into baking something like that, he’ll have a healthier respect for it and won’t just gobble up everything he sees.”

  “Respect. I like that word. He’s very respectful of me personally, but other things . . . like cake . . . he could do better.” Nola gave a nod. “You’re always so logical—how do you manage it?”

  Jane was a little taken aback at the question. “Gracious, I don’t know. That’s just how my brain works, I suppose.”

  “Well, I wish mine would put in a little more effort. Some days, it feels like it’s just taking up space in my skull and I should be
charging it rent.” Nola hoisted herself to her feet. “Thank you, Jane. You’ve made me feel so much better about things.”

  “I don’t know how I did that, but you’re welcome.”

  The door closed behind Nola, and Jane went back to sorting her yarn. Poor Nola. Jane couldn’t help but feel that learning to understand Toby would be good for her friend, but it might be a bumpy road to get there.

  Chapter Four

  “Toby, you’re needed in the kitchen!”

  Toby put down his book and stood up. He didn’t mind the interruption—he hadn’t actually been reading anyway. His brain had been churning, trying to come up with ways to learn more about his grandmother’s mysterious beau. He didn’t want to ask her directly—if she hadn’t mentioned it to him, she must have a reason for keeping it a secret. He supposed he really ought to stay out of it, but how could he? She was so vulnerable, she could find herself in real trouble before she even knew what was happening.

  He’d decided that he ought to follow her for a day or two and see if he could spot her with this mystery man. Then he could pretend to run into them accidentally, and that would force an introduction, and he’d have the chance to make sure this beau was aware of his existence and that he wasn’t going to stand by and let his grandmother become a victim.

  With that decision made, he went downstairs to find his grandmother standing there, holding out an apron.

  “Put this on,” she commanded. “You’re going to help me make a new cake.”

  “I . . . I am?”

  “Yes, you are. We have just enough time to prepare it for tomorrow, but only if we hurry.”

  “All right.” Toby took the apron and tied it around his waist, feeling more than just a little silly, but he didn’t want to irritate his grandmother further by refusing to put it on. “So, tell me about tomorrow. What’s the cake for?”

  “There’s going to be a celebration of sorts, and someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Oh. Maybe Toby wouldn’t need to sneak around after all—it sounded like his grandmother was ready to make the introductions herself. But . . . a celebration? Like, an engagement party? She wouldn’t get engaged without saying anything first, would she?

  “So you need to be at Esther’s at one o’clock,” Nola was saying.

  “Esther’s at one,” he repeated.

  “That’s right. This is important, Toby. I need you there.”

  Toby nodded, even though his stomach was sinking. The urgency in her tone . . . She’d gotten engaged. He pulled in a deep breath. He’d pretend to be happy for her, but he would do whatever he could to investigate this man before the actual wedding took place. His grandmother wasn’t wealthy, but she did have savings laid by, enough to tempt a person of low moral character.

  Nola asked him to fetch eggs, butter, and milk, and she walked him through what to do step by step. He was certain she could have done all this much more quickly on her own, but he knew she was trying to teach him a lesson, and he’d do as he was asked. As silly as the apron made him feel, he was glad of it because the flour went everywhere, and he was sure he looked like a jar of paste before he was done.

  Once the cake was in the oven, Toby turned to Nola and put his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for teaching me how to do that, Grandma,” he said. “It was actually kind of fun, and I promise I won’t eat your special cakes anymore.”

  “Thank you, Toby,” she replied. “I appreciate that.”

  “I just wonder if we could put the special cakes in a different place so I know they’re special,” Toby went on.

  She paused. “I never did tell you that cake was being saved for something, did I?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Toby. I’ve just been in a frazzle lately.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll keep anything special on the top shelf of this cupboard, all right? And I’ll keep the regular desserts down here on the counter.”

  “Thank you, Grandma.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Now, how else can I help?”

  He wiped off the table and washed up the dishes they’d used, all the while thinking about the frazzle she’d been in. Wedding plans, perhaps? Why wouldn’t she just say it—why was she making him wait until the next day?

  “Grandma, are you all right?” he finally asked as he dried the mixing bowl. “Is anything bothering you?”

  She looked up from her recipe book with wide eyes. “Bothering me? No, I’m just getting ready to make supper. Why would anything be bothering me?”

  “No reason, I suppose. I just hope you know you can talk to me . . . if something is bothering you.”

  “No. Not at all. Everything’s fine.” She gave him an overly bright smile, and he nodded. Whatever it was, he’d find out the next day, and he needed to be calm and ready to handle it. She’d need him to be an anchor in the middle of her chaos, not an addition to the problem.

  Miriam heard rapid footsteps on the stairs and barely had time to open her bedroom door before Kitty Clark came barreling through. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Kitty caught Miriam up in a hug, nearly suffocating her.

  “Yes, I’m here,” Miriam said, laughing. “Now let me go so I can breathe.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kitty loosened her grip and stepped back. “I couldn’t believe it when Grandma told me you were coming. It was like Christmas and all my birthdays wrapped up at once.”

  “I would have written you directly, but there was too much to put in a letter, and I thought I’d rather tell you everything in person.” Miriam ushered her best friend from childhood into her room and closed the door. There were things she didn’t want her grandmother to know just yet. “It’s so good to see you too, Kit. There isn’t anyone like you in New York.”

  “I imagine there isn’t anyone like me in the whole world,” Kitty replied, taking a seat on the bed. “Now, come sit down and talk to me. I’m going to explode if I don’t hear what’s going on.”

  Miriam sat down, but paused, trying to decide where to begin. “I wrote you that I was seeing a man named Gerald.”

  “Yes, you did, but that was ages ago, and you never did say much.”

  “Well, he was a lawyer, and I’d gotten a job as a secretary in his office. At first, it was rather boring work, but then I was able to assist on a few cases, and it became more interesting. Gerald and I were spending a lot of time together at the office, and he eventually asked me to attend the opera with him.”

  “The opera.” Kitty sighed. “Oh, I’d love to go to the opera.”

  “I thought you’d like that part of my story.” Kitty had always been in love with music, and several times while Miriam had been gone, she’d thought about Kitty and wished she could share some of her cultural experiences with her friend. “After the opera, we started having dinner together, and it wasn’t long until he proposed.”

  “He proposed?” Kitty gasped. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “No, I never told anyone. I think I knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t going to work out, so I kept it a secret as long as I could.”

  Kitty nudged Miriam’s elbow. “I’m so sorry. Did you love him?”

  “That’s just it—I’m not entirely sure. He was handsome, and I was definitely attracted to him, but love? I don’t know. I was fond of him. Does that count?”

  Kitty shook her head. “Fondness is what you feel for your cousin. It has nothing to do with romance at all.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Miriam toyed with the fringe on one of her pillows. “It didn’t matter anyway because he met someone else, a socialite who was the daughter of one of his partners, and he decided she would be more advantageous to his career than a secretary.”

  “Did he say that?” Kitty was aghast.

  “Yes, he said that, and he treated me as though I’d set my sights too high. He told me that I should have realized he was far above my station, and that in the future, I shouldn’t ‘go after’ someone who was clearly meant for greater thi
ngs.” Miriam felt the bile in her stomach rise as she repeated the words.

  “I . . . I can’t believe he’d say something like that.” Kitty looked fit to wring a chicken’s neck. “How . . . Who . . .”

  Miriam lifted a hand. “It’s all in the past now, Kit. We broke it off, he announced his engagement to the other girl the very next day, and I packed my trunks for home. I couldn’t stay there and face the ridicule. Everyone in the office had seen how our relationship had come about, but once it was called off, they adopted his same attitude—that I’d tried to manipulate him into a marriage he didn’t want.”

  “That makes me so angry.” Kitty stood up and started pacing. “You’ve never chased after boys—you’ve never tried to get their attention or manipulate them into anything. They’ve been the ones chasing after you! And I remember when Toby—”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry,” she said after a moment. “I promised I’d never say that name, but I just said it.”

  “It’s all right.” Miriam had known she’d have to face it sooner or later—you can’t return to the place where your history was made without running into it around every corner. “That’s in the past too, and he’s in Wichita now, so it’s a moot point.”

  Kitty pressed her lips together. “Well, actually . . .”

  “What?”

  “He’s not in Wichita. He came back here.”

  “He . . . he did?” A random butterfly flitted through Miriam’s stomach, but she ignored it. “I heard that he’d moved.”

  “His family did, but when Nola’s husband died, Toby decided to give her a hand. He’s been here ever since.”

  “I didn’t know that part of it.” Miriam resumed playing with the fringe. That meant she could run into him anywhere. She’d just have to expect it, prepare for it, and deal with it the best way she could. They were both adults now—she imagined they could behave themselves.

  “Are you still angry with him?”

  Miriam sighed. “Oh, I don’t know that I’m angry—it was more of a feeling of betrayal. Maybe we should go back to talking about Gerald. That might be more comfortable.”