Maila opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Then her nose and cheeks turned red as tears formed in her beautiful hazel eyes. She left him standing in the narrow aisle without another word.
Morning came all too early. Maila rinsed her face with cold water, dabbing at her puffy eyelids. She descended the back stairs, promising herself to at least try to ease the tension with Burton. She’d have to deal with her mother later in the week when she checked in on Randa’s family. But one thing sank in from the discussion last night—she had to get through the month with some sort of decorum and courtesy.
“Burton?” She walked through the sitting room behind the sales area and looked around the small store then unlocked the front door and peered up and down the street. She wandered back down the aisle, puzzled. Then she picked up a paper that must have blown off the glass counter onto the wood floor.
Maila, gone to the farm. Please see the price list under the cash register to stock the shelves and assist customers. The ledger and customer cards are filed in the cabinet below it as well. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back before closing. Sincerely, Burton.
Oh dear. Maila scrunched her nose. Her mouth had run off with her senses again like a colt with no fence. The family wouldn’t survive without each member pulling their weight, and she hadn’t given Burton the chance to familiarize her with the store.
The bell jangled and a crisp breeze blew Maila’s brown woolen skirt around her ankles. She whispered a quick prayer for help and turned to greet the customer.
“How may I help you?”
“Where’s Mr. Rutherford?” the stout lady inquired.
“He’s assisting at the farm for the next little bit. I’m Maila Holmes, his…uh…” What was she now? Assistant? Clerk? She really didn’t have a title.
“Oh, the young lady I heard about.” She looked perplexed. “I’d heard Mr. Rutherford brought someone—in. Is your husband with you?”
Odd question, but if it helped the lady feel comfortable getting to know her, then Maila would oblige her with an answer. “No, ma’am. I’m not married.” She smiled as she thought of Benjamin. “But I hope to be soon.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
The woman seemed quite out of sorts. Probably another family stricken by the epidemic. Maila smiled, hoping to ease her stress. “Yes, I’ll be helping in the store for a few weeks before going back to Saint Paul.”
“Ah, I see. Yes, well…” She avoided Maila’s eyes. “Here’s my grocery list.” The lady looked around at the shelves. “Could you fill it for me while I run a few other errands?”
“My pleasure.” Maila’s belly twinged. How would she get the chore done? Half the shelves were empty.
She could see the distrust and dilemma in the customer’s eyes. “On second thought, I’m not sure.” She reached out to reclaim her list.
“Ma’am, please don’t worry. There’s plenty of stock in back yet. If you’ll give me a few extra minutes, I’ll do my very best for you.” At the woman’s hesitant nod, Maila asked, “Do you have an account?”
“Yes, please put it on the Wright account.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wright. I’ll do that.”
Once Mrs. Wright left, Maila rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension. She knew where to find the billing ledgers. Now to see what on the list could be filled from the visible supplies before tackling the challenge of unmarked crates.
By the end of the day, not only had Maila filled several orders and filed the account cards, she’d sorted through and found several items to restock the displays. She’d also come to the conclusion that Burton could be right. Working here would help her family, minimize arguments with her mother, and keep Burton’s business open. I can do this. She hummed the tune to “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain” as she faced peach cans from a stepstool.
“Haven’t you been busy today?”
Maila startled at Burton’s rich baritone, flipping cans out of the pouch she’d fashioned with her apron. They tumbled to the floor, rolling as fast as her blood pumped. She backed off the stepstool and took several deep breaths. Why did the sound of Burton’s voice unsettle her so?
“You’re really going to have to be more careful with the inventory. The dents can cause pinholes and ruin the product.”
And irritate her, too! Maila clamped her teeth together. I will not smart off. I will not smart off. “Oh, really? Perhaps you’d like to let a body know when you’ve entered the building.” Fine. I will not smart off tomorrow. “How did you sneak up on me, anyway?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. I came in the back so I wouldn’t track snow and mud through the store.” Burton wiggled stocking-covered toes at her. “I sweep the store each day, but there’s no need for extra mess. When I come from the fields, I leave my shoes and coat in the mudroom.”
Maila almost laughed at him standing in the middle of the shop with no shoes and a little toe peeping out of a small hole in his sock. “I see.” She arched a brow and pointedly looked at his feet. “Then do you parade around in front of customers without shoes?”
“Of course not. I accidently left my indoor shoes behind the counter when I had to hurry and close up to get you from the train the other day. I forgot to move them with all the, shall we say, hubbub?”
“Oh.” Brilliant conversation, Maila. Spit it out. Tell him you’re sorry. “I’m—”
“You have a letter.” Burton held out an envelope.
“A letter?” She took the letter and flipped it over to see the sender’s address. “Already?” Benjamin! Then she squealed and hugged it to her heart. The pretty stationery she’d picked up at Smith’s Books would come in handy tonight.
Burton snagged his clean shoes and sat on the bench near the front door to put them on. “That must be some news.”
“My friend must have received my message.” Maila looked over at his cloudy face. What was bothering him? Then she doused her grin. Poor Burton. His wife must be weighing on his mind. “I’m sorry. You’re not likely up for this kind of thing yet.”
“I’m fine.”
Maila set the mail down. “I know you’re trying to help the family. I will work on being more courteous from now on.” There. That was a pretty good olive branch.
“Maila, I only want all of us to work together the best we can under the circumstances.”
“I know that now. I hope you’ll be more comfortable with me from here on out.”
Burton stifled a yawn. “We’ll be fine.”
Maila closed up the cash register’s storage cupboard. “We haven’t figured out who should do what around here.”
“Who should do what?”
The door jangled as Maila answered. “Housekeeping duties, dinner—”
Mrs. Anderson stood in the open doorway with a loaf of bread in her hands. “Maybe this will help you two.” She walked the few feet to Burton and handed over her gift. “I made bread today. This loaf is fresh. I thought I could maybe take a little bit off my account with barter?”
Burton accepted the bread. “This will do very nicely, Mrs. Anderson. We were just discussing what to do about dinner with the long day we’ve both had.”
She smiled, but her eyes darted between them. “I’m glad I could help. And thank you. My boy is recovering well.”
Burton stood from the bench and held the door for her to leave. “Your bread is the best I’ve ever eaten. We’ll enjoy it mightily.” Once he closed the door behind Mrs. Anderson, he reversed the sign, officially ending the day’s duties. The exhaustion showed in his slow movements. “How about I fix us a couple of eggs and a little of this bread for dinner?”
“How about we do that together?” Maila sent him a soft smile. “I can make delicious scrambled eggs.”
“Sounds like we’ve struck a deal.”
Chapter 3
Three weeks created a comfortable confidence. Maila knew where to find everything, and every item had an abundant supply. But business seemed to have dwindled
the past two weeks. Some of the women placed an order and then didn’t return to pick it up. Obviously, she didn’t have Rose’s way with people. Well, at least she could use the extra time to build up stock on the shelves before returning to Saint Paul. Burton would have to return to the store to regain his profitability. Although last night he talked of selling before he went under.
A woman stared into the shop as she walked past the window. Maila gave her a bright smile and wave, but the woman hustled past. Maila sighed. She wasn’t a good shop clerk, no matter how hard she tried to be friendly. The customers just hadn’t warmed up to her, even though she’d known some of them as a child. She needed to go back to what she was good at and back to the life she’d built. Away from this cold place where no one liked her.
The bells jarred Maila’s nerves in the peaceful quiet of the empty shop as Mama burst inside.
Mama started the stream of questions before the shop door swung shut behind her. A few eggs left in the nearly empty basket wobbled when she plunked it on the counter. “I come in to sell my eggs and cream and find my daughter is the talk each place I go. What has gotten into you that you would shame your family so?”
Maila’s elbow knocked over a tower of cans as she hurried from behind the counter. They cascaded over the edge, slamming onto the floor and rolling in all directions. Maila cringed at the clatter sounding like horse hooves kicking a stall door, but couldn’t catch even one. Burton would have a word or two to say again if he knew. She really needed to stock something light and soft for a change or she’d be as responsible for the store’s demise as the lack of customers lately.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maila’s brain raced to put the accusations together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Mrs. Johnson told me that Mrs. Keller and Mrs. Berndt said they’d had to cross the road to avoid your lovers’ spat.” Mama’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet. “A lovers’ spat? You’re supposed to be helping, not—och, what’s the word?”
“Mama, we aren’t—”
“Opp-or-tun-ist.” She pronounced the new word she’d learned in English. “They say you’re going to swoop in to dandy about with the poor widower’s emotions and then leave.”
Either she had lockjaw or the shock frazzled her mental facilities. She couldn’t think of a thing to say in her defense. The pounding of her eardrums ricocheted pain into her temples. Was that why the women refused to shop at Burton’s store? They thought she came from the city to take advantage of a man?
“Then Mrs. Anderson said the two of you acted like a married couple, coming in late together and talking housekeeping.”
But Mrs. Anderson still shopped here? “Surely she didn’t—”
“But the worst?” Mama shook her head and then sucked in a breath as if gaining courage. “Mrs. Wright said you even admitted it. She said she’d never step foot in here again.”
“Admitted what? I’ve done nothing but work here. I told her so—” Maila tapped a finger against her lip. She’d had to send the delivery boy with the Wright order when the lady hadn’t returned to pick it up.
“You must have done more than work. They’re calling you a brazen hussy!” Mama’s eyebrows drew together as they had all too often during Maila’s childhood. “I know what that word means even in English, Maila. These things don’t come out of the air.”
“Well, this did,” Maila groused. “I can’t believe you’d listen to gossip.” She picked the vegetable cans up off the floor and set them on the counter.
“Gossip?” Mama slapped her hands together. “It’s only gossip when it’s not true.” She crossed her arms. “But I know, don’t I? I have eyes in mine own head. Now it makes sense why he wants you here.”
“Lämna mig ifred, Mama!” She stomped her foot. Her mother’s shocked face cooled the heat in Maila. Had she just told her mother to leave her alone? This whole mess was a comedy of errors. But it certainly wasn’t funny, especially if this caused Burton’s financial bind! She gentled her voice. “You know I’d never behave that way. How could you think that of me?”
“I know that, child, but you have been gone such a long time. You’re different now, ja? That big city has infected you with modern ideas. Taken modesty and good sense. Different.”
“What’s the ruckus?” Burton walked up the aisle from the rear rooms.
“You!” Mama pointed her finger. “It’s not enough to bury a wife and not mourn her properly before taking up with another. No, you must destroy the family in the process? You hate us so much?”
Burton’s eyes went wide. “Hate? I don’t hate you.”
Maila closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Mama must have cracked under the pressure of losing so many family members, trying to manage the farm’s dairy sales, and keeping her household running.
“Then how could you grieve me so much? First my niece I raise as mine own and now my daughter’s good name?”
Maila moved between them. “Mama, how could you think such a thing of him? Burton’s done nothing wrong.”
“Mama Holmes, I loved my wife and I respect your daughter. What can I do to prove this to you? I’ll do anything to prove I have only the best at heart for our family.”
“Anyt’ing?” Mama’s accent made the word sound like a chime tinkling in the breeze.
“Anything.”
Maila gulped and a wave of desperation washed over her heart. Emily Holmes held people to their word. “Mama, why are you listening to gossip? That’s just people with nothing better to do—”
“So you say, do you? But I know better. I saw the way you two acted in secret in mine own house!” She folded her arms.
“Secret!” Maila slapped her hands against her skirts. “We spoke in the hallway. That’s all!”
Mama’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Nej, you will not play me the fool. This has been going on since our pretty Rose was barely in her grave.”
Burton turned gray. “Mama Holmes, nothing is going on.”
She pinned him to the spot with her glare. “And what about all those letters Maila wrote about you?”
Maila’s thoughts reeled. “My letters home?” She shook her head. “What in the world do they have to do—”
“You ask me in letters how is Burton. Then you admit you write to him. Nej, there is more to this than consolation.”
Burton moved to stand between the women. “You’re reading more into this than—”
“And in English!” Mama spat out as if English were foul. “You write in English so I must have someone read to me.”
Nausea sloshed through Maila’s stomach. Someone else read her mail? “Read to you? My letters are private.”
“Ah, I see. So this is all a secret.”
“I wrote in English because I had to practice for my classes. Honestly, Mama, this is—”
“Clearly this isn’t getting us anywhere.” Burton put a hand on Maila’s shoulder.
She rolled her lips inward, trapping more angry words, and looked away from her mother.
“Mama Holmes, what do you need from me to stop the gossip? Let me do whatever I can.”
Mama studied Burton’s face for a moment. “This is what you two can do.” She flicked her hands away from her body. “Make it go away.”
Burton nodded. “I will. I promise.”
What could he do? Maila studied his earnest face right along with her mother’s stern expression. Every bit of Burton oozed honesty. Whatever he could do, this problem involved them both. “I will, too, then, whatever will help solve this problem.”
“Then it’s settled.”
They both nodded.
“Mama, I can move to the Grand Hotel for my last week.”
“That could get expensive, Maila,” Burton protested. “I’ll move out to the farm.”
“And how will you do what you need for the store that way?” Maila asked.
Mama’s arms folded tightly. “You will prove you have goot intentions toward my Maila and no
t ruin our name.”
“Yes, somehow I will. I’ll talk to the—”
“Nej, no somehow.” She picked up Maila’s hand and placed it in Burton’s. Then she held them together.
Maila stared at her mother and tried to yank her hand back.
But Mama would have none of it and held on fast. “You will marry.” One solid nod, as if she’d pronounced a law with a gavel.
“Marry?” both Burton and Maila said together.
Maila, positive she’d hit the highest note on the treble clef, couldn’t close her mouth.
Mama’s face turned to stone. “This is the way. You prove goot intentions.” She turned to Maila. “You prove you’re not opp-or—you’re not a bad woman.”
Burton broke in, “I believe we could solve this another way, Mama Holmes.”
She turned to Burton. “You say the words, but when I tell you what to do—” She let go of their hands and then crossed her arms again. “So you do not mean the words you say.”
“Mama! Burton is a man of integrity. He will do what he says. There’s no call for—” The doorbells cackled a cacophony.
A cold breeze whisked through the store, stirring Maila’s skirts as Mrs. Anderson walked in.
Burton looked from Mama to the startled customer and said, “Why, Mrs. Anderson, you’re the first to hear our happy news.”
Maila’s eyes widened and a flush rushed into her cheeks. No! He wouldn’t!
“We’ll be getting married.” He turned back to Maila and her mother. “Right, ladies?”
What could she say without making it worse? Maila bit her tongue. She could deal with this mess, but not with one of the gossips right there. It’d make the whole situation that much worse.
The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection Page 8