Legacy of Love

by Christine Johnson

  “Mr. Landers.” An elegantly dressed, willowy woman approached with a radiant smile. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. Gabe has told me so much—all good. May I take your coat?”

  “Pardon my manners,” said the pastor. “Brandon Landers, this is my wife, Felicity, the joy of my life.”

  The man’s tender smile made Brandon’s heart ache. His mother and father had once shared that tenderness, before Father let business consume his life.

  A baby’s wail sent Felicity upstairs with an apology. “Little Genie—that’s our daughter, Eugenia Louise—must be hungry.”

  That left Brandon alone with the minister and a lad of perhaps ten or eleven who watched solemnly from the sofa, a storybook on his lap. He was dressed in the finest boy’s suit New York could offer.

  “This is my son, Luke,” Gabe said. “Luke, meet Mr. Landers. He’s opening a bookstore in town.”

  The boy closed his book, carefully set it on the end table and stood to shake his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Brandon was charmed by Luke’s manners. Too many parents these days let their children run wild, without the slightest attempt to teach discipline and good behavior.

  The boy had his father’s dark curls but otherwise didn’t resemble either parent. The dark skin couldn’t have come from that porcelain-complexioned wife. And Pastor Gabe looked to be in his late twenties. His wife was even younger, too young to be the boy’s mother.

  “May I help Minnie set the table?” Luke asked his father.

  “Miss Fox,” Gabe corrected. “Yes, you may.”

  After Luke scurried away, Brandon inquired, “Miss Fox?”

  “She helps with the housekeeping and cooking on weekends,” Gabe said as they sat. “It took Felicity a long time to convince me to hire help, but I gave in when the doctor insisted she rest or risk losing the baby. A man can’t deny his wife anything when she’s carrying his child.”

  “I suppose not,” Brandon said, though he would never know the joys of marriage and family. “Obviously she’s good help, though, if she’s been with you so long.”

  Gabe’s brow creased. “Minnie only started here this past summer.”

  “But you said she’d begun before your son was born.”

  Gabe laughed. “No, no, my daughter. She was born last July. Luke is adopted. At least, we’re in the process of adopting and expect everything to be finalized soon now that his parents’ deaths have been verified.”

  That explained a lot. Except why no one else had yet arrived. The tantalizing aroma of roast turkey hung in the air, making Brandon’s mouth water.

  Gabe leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “While we have a moment alone, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Brandon held his breath, certain this was going to be a request for funding. Surely the man could have approached his parishioners first.

  “It’s about Anna.”

  The gravity on the preacher’s face made Brandon choke. “Anna?” That was the last thing he’d expected the man to say. “What’s wrong?”

  Gabe sighed and rubbed his chin. “This is tough to say, because I know she’d be angry if she knew I talked to you, but I feel I have to set things straight.” He looked Brandon in the eye. “Anna Simmons is surprisingly strong-willed.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  The corner of Gabe’s lips twitched. “She also has a lot of...pride.”

  That also hadn’t escaped his notice.

  Gabe continued, “It runs in the family. The Simmonses are givers. They’ll give anything you could possibly need, but they don’t receive so well.”

  Brandon recalled Anna’s resistance to his offer of the carriage-house apartment. “I can see that.”

  “My sister married Anna’s brother Hendrick. He manages the garage that I believe your father invested in.”

  Brandon nodded. It would be too complicated to explain the peculiar relationship his father had with the Simmons garage, that he owned it and inexplicably supported the business and the family for years. The children might not be good at taking, but apparently their parents had no such qualms.

  “Hendrick is also starting up an aeroplane-motor factory,” Gabe continued. “That requires a lot of capital, yet he won’t take a cent from my parents except as investment. That means he doesn’t have the money to support his mother.”

  Brandon was beginning to see where this was leading.

  “Anna quit her last job over hurt feelings,” the pastor said. “She can take offense at things the rest of us would brush aside.”

  “I noticed.”

  Again Gabe’s lips twitched. “Then you understand their dire situation and why I propose you hire Anna at the bookstore.”

  Brandon steeled himself against the rush of emotion that idea generated. Working alongside Anna would be the worst possible situation. To make the bookstore succeed, he needed to concentrate, but he couldn’t think of anything rational when she was around.

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

  The pastor didn’t relent. “Her foster brother, Peter, agreed to help out with the carpentry. He’s excellent with his hands. Anna would be a superb clerk. She reads voraciously. She’s gone through almost every volume in the library. Moreover, she knows everyone in town. She’d be a real asset to the store.”

  The minister had squeezed him into a very tight spot and now looked at him with every expectation that after hearing such a logical plea, he’d agree to hire Anna. That simply couldn’t happen. Yet he also knew the man would never let him be without a promise to hire, and he desperately needed a carpenter. Perhaps he could satisfy the man with a different hire.

  “This boy Peter. Would he work for fifty cents an hour?”

  Gabe grinned. “You could probably get him for thirty.”

  “And he works fast?”

  “Very fast. He’ll have the work done in no time.”

  That’s exactly what Brandon needed. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Good, he’s coming to dinner today.” Gabe rose and extended a hand, as if sealing an agreement. “But understand, the two come as a team. If you hire Peter, you have to hire Anna. And under no means are you to tell her that I had anything to do with getting her the job.”

  Brandon stared at the hand. He’d been outmaneuvered again, but he needed that shelving built now. No one else would do the job at a rate he could afford. Yet, it meant taking on Anna. Hopefully, she’d refuse, like she’d initially refused to move into the carriage house.

  He shook Gabe’s hand. “The difficulty, Pastor, will be convincing her.”

  To Brandon’s surprise, Gabe agreed.

  * * *

  Anna tried to shake off the disappointment that she hadn’t seen Brandon in church that morning. After their time together last night, she’d hoped he would attend, but his motorcar never left the carriage house.

  “Maybe he’s not feeling well,” she mused over tea at the little table in the apartment.

  Anna, Ma and Hendrick squeezed around the tiny table, their elbows knocking whenever anyone picked up a teacup. Her brother Hendrick had stayed with them after church so he could bring Ma to the parsonage for dinner. He glanced out the window and then cast a knowing look at Ma, who shook her head.

  “What is it?” Anna said. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  Ma set down her teacup. “I think we should put the heavier drapes back up.” The thin white cotton curtains Ma had made from their old kitchen ones brightened the room but did little to keep the chill out.

  “I don’t care about curtains,” Anna said. “What’s wrong with Brandon?”

  Her mother sighed. “Absolutely nothing. He’s a kind, dear gentleman.”

  “Who doesn’t attend church,” Hendrick pointe
d out unnecessarily. He’d been peeved from the moment they’d arrived home. He’d never liked the idea of them living here.

  “Maybe he’s sick,” Anna suggested.

  Hendrick sat back smugly. “I don’t think so.”

  Anna started to protest, but then she heard the big carriage-house doors creak open. A minute later, Brandon’s Cadillac started. She hurried to the window and saw him drive away.

  “I’m sorry, dearest,” Ma said sympathetically. “I’m sure he has his reasons for not attending church.”

  Hendrick stood and stretched. “He’s like his father.”

  “You don’t know that.” Anna faced off against her brother. “You don’t know him at all.”

  “I know that Percy Landers betrayed us.”

  Ma scolded, “Hendrick, that’s not fair.”

  “He sold the house and garage out from under us,” he countered. “Didn’t even have the courtesy to let us know.”

  Anna bit her lip. She couldn’t explain that away.

  Ma could. “He was dying. We were the least of his concerns.”

  A shadow of remorse crossed Hendrick’s face, and he sat down heavily. “You’re right, Ma, but couldn’t Brandon have notified me? A gentleman wouldn’t spring this on two women.”

  “That’s my fault,” Anna admitted, settling back in her chair. “I took the letter. He wanted to give it to you.”

  “See? He’s the best of men,” Ma said. “He proved it last night when he called up Lily Mattheson to order a cake for today’s dinner.”

  Anna stared. “He did?”

  “It’s not plum duff, but it’ll be wonderful.”

  “What happened to the plum duff?” Hendrick asked. “Mariah got the fruit and nuts ready for you.”

  “I wrecked the first one,” Anna admitted.

  “But our Mr. Brandon helped her clean up and supplied another dessert.” Ma practically glowed, as if she knew how closely Anna and Brandon had worked last night.

  Anna ducked her head to hide a sudden rush of heat, which Hendrick didn’t fail to notice.

  “You and Brandon Landers? The man must be ten years older than you.”

  Anna bit back a retort. Of course he was older, but ten years did sound like a lot.

  “Ten years is nothing at all,” Ma said. “Why your Mariah is almost four years older than you.”

  “I still say it’s wrong,” he muttered. “Anna’s my little sister.”

  “I’m almost as old as Felicity was when she got married to Pastor Gabe, and no one thought a thing of it.” Anna rattled off more examples of girls who had married at her age and younger.

  “Of course you’re old enough.” Ma patted her hand. “Your brother is just being protective. It’s what older brothers do.”

  Anna crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t need it.”

  “Apparently you do,” Hendrick retorted. “Men like Brandon Landers can’t be trusted. Keep your distance, sis.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” She turned to Ma. “Can’t we leave yet?”

  “Pastor Gabe said not to arrive a minute before two-thirty. He was quite specific about that.”

  Anna wrinkled her nose. “Why would he say that? It’s not like Felicity is cooking. I know for a fact that she has her mother’s cook over for the day, and Minnie Fox is helping.” She gasped as realization struck. “Hendrick, is Peter still sweet on Minnie?” Maybe Gabe and Felicity wanted to give the two a little time together. “You said he already left for the parsonage.”

  Hendrick shrugged. “How would I know?”

  “You work with Peter. He lives with you. How can you not know?”

  Ma chuckled. “Men aren’t in tune with matters of the heart the way we are.” She squeezed Anna’s hand. “Rest assured we’ll be able to figure out if there’s anything between them during dinner. It’ll be great fun.”

  At least it would take Ma’s matchmaking efforts and Hendrick’s overprotectiveness away from her and Brandon for the afternoon.

  * * *

  When Hendrick wheeled Ma up to the parsonage’s front steps, Anna expected Pastor Gabe and Peter to come out to help. She didn’t expect Brandon to pick his way down the steps, Gabe close behind.

  “Take my arm, Mrs. Simmons.” Brandon bent down so she could more easily reach him.

  The gesture was kind. In fact, his every move demonstrated consideration. He treated Ma as if she was his own mother. What a fine son he must have been, and what a good father he would make. For a second, Anna allowed herself to imagine him with children of his own. He would ensure they treated their elders with respect. No sassing or going behind their parents’ backs.

  Anna bit her lip at the rush of memories. She’d gone against her parents’ wishes by letting false friends talk her into skipping school. Look what had happened. Papa died. She shook her head to dispel the memory.

  Brandon was staring at her. “Will you get the door, Miss Simmons?”

  From the way he said it, he’d apparently repeated it more than once. Embarrassed, she hurried ahead to open the door.

  Brandon and Gabe helped Ma inside and let her settle in the wingback chair at the head of the long dining-room table. Anna counted eleven place settings. Felicity’s entire family must be coming.

  Ma protested the seating arrangement. “This is your home, Pastor. You belong at the head of the table.”

  Gabe would hear none of it. “You’re our guest, and we insist.”

  When Felicity nodded in confirmation, Ma finally accepted the honor.

  “But please, stop hovering over me. I have everything I need. Anna, why don’t you and Mr. Brandon have a chat in the parlor? I’d like to talk to the pastor alone for a moment.”

  “Excellent idea,” Felicity seconded. “Let’s all go to the parlor.”

  Anna hesitated. Why would Ma need to talk to the minister alone? She wasn’t involved with any programs at church. She hadn’t attended the Ladies’ Aid Society meetings since her fall, and Pastor Gabe wouldn’t be the one to talk to about Society business anyway.

  A terrible thought crossed her mind. What if Ma was ill? The doctor hadn’t told Anna anything, but what if he’d found something that Ma hadn’t revealed yet? What if Ma was dying? She’d never regained her color. Anna’s throat pinched shut.

  “Go,” Ma said with a wave of her hand. “It’s just a little personal business.”

  That didn’t make Anna feel any better, but she obeyed. Clearly Ma wasn’t going to tell her anything in front of the family. Not to mention Brandon. Anna eyed the man. Why exactly had he been invited? He wasn’t family. He didn’t even attend their church.

  “We’ll have a nice little chat,” Felicity said as she led them into the parlor. Every inch of the room had been decorated for the holiday, including an enormous Christmas tree with crystal ornaments that reflected the light in little rainbows.

  The moment they arrived, Felicity doubled back. “I need to check on dinner preparations and make sure Minnie has everything she needs. Peter is going to sit with the children in the kitchen.”

  Anna lifted an eyebrow. That confirmed Felicity was trying to get Minnie and Peter together as much as possible, since Minnie would be in and out of the kitchen all afternoon.

  “Hendrick,” Felicity continued, “Mariah is upstairs getting the children ready. Will you make sure she has things under control? Anna, I’m expecting my parents and my brother’s family. Will you let them in when they arrive?”

  Though Hendrick gave Anna a warning glance, he did go upstairs to help his wife. Within seconds, Anna and Brandon found themselves alone in the room. At first, he said nothing, and she couldn’t seem to think of one shred of small talk. It was ridiculous to talk of the weather when they’d both just
traveled through it. Mentioning church would drive a wedge deeper than the Grand Canyon. Last night’s time together in the kitchen wasn’t quite appropriate chatter for a parsonage.

  “Um, what a big Christmas tree,” she finally said.

  He glanced at it but said nothing.

  She checked her fingernails. Ragged, as usual. She should stop chewing them. Mariah had mentioned it more than once. Ma had given up trying to get her to stop.

  Brandon motioned toward the elegant Chippendale-styled sofa. “Please have a seat.”

  Excitement skittered up and down her spine. Of all the seating in the room, he’d chosen the sofa. Did that mean he would sit next to her? To optimize that possibility, she sat to one end. Her hopes were dashed when he pulled a wingback chair opposite her.

  “Miss Simmons.” He leaned slightly forward, as if delivering bad news.

  She gulped.

  He cleared his throat, looked over her head out the window. “I understand you’re looking for employment.”

  “Employment?” That’s the last thing she’d expected him to say. Confusion muddled her thoughts until she realized what must be bothering him. “You said the housekeeping would only be two or three days a week. I can manage another job and still get the cleaning done. I’ll get up early and have it all done before you get out of bed, or I’ll clean the house in the evenings. You won’t notice a thing.”

  His gaze had settled back on her, those gray eyes dark. “Regardless of the impropriety of your suggestion, I’m not concerned about your ability to clean the house.”

  “Then what?”

  This time his gaze didn’t wander. “I want to offer you a job.”

  “A job?” She clapped her jaw shut but couldn’t stop staring. “What job?”

  “At my bookstore.”

  “Your bookstore.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Do you always repeat what’s said to you?”

  Despite the chill radiating from the front windows, perspiration dotted her face. She fanned herself with her hand. “I was surprised, is all.”

  His lips twitched just a little, enough to clue her in that he wasn’t as stern and solemn as he pretended to be. “It’ll be hard work at first. The place needs a good scrubbing.”