“It was a lovely party,” Leah added. “Most everyone could come.”
“Everyone I invited came,” Geneva mentioned. “Who did you invite who didn’t?”
“Mr. Wang.”
Geneva had nothing to say on the subject of Leo Wang, and Leah counted the small blessing.
Wyatt fingered the brim of his hat. “Leo said to say happy birthday, Rosalure.”
“Oh, that was nice,” she replied.
Leah turned to Wyatt. “Leo told me how much your help at the restaurant has improved business.”
Hartzell set his cup down on the plant stand next to him. “Scudder put the claws into you to get that job, didn’t he?”
“I needed a job.”
“And he probably said he’d run you out of town if you didn’t have one,” Hartzell remarked wryly. “You can say a lot of things about Bean Scudder, not all of them kindly, in my opinion. Some men think that just because they’ve been appointed to a civic position, they can tell people what to do and run lives with the excuse that it’s for their own good. Scudder is too dumb to hold down any other job, so I guess it’s all our bad luck we have to put up with him.” Hartzell took out a pipe and a bag of tobacco. “Surely you’ve got other aspirations than being a dishwasher, Wyatt. What are they?”
Leah glanced nervously at Wyatt, waiting for him to reply, yet at the same time not blaming him if he didn’t. In a small way, Hartzell had insulted him. Maybe Wyatt liked being a dishwasher.
Wyatt sat straighter. Stiffer. He ran his palms down his denim-covered thighs, then cleared his throat. “Cattle. I’ve got my mind set on picking up a spread.”
“That’s a tall order. Takes a lot of money,” Hartzell countered while packing the tobacco in his pipe. “And sound investments are what make the money.”
“You could say I’ve already got an investment.”
Hartzell paused with a lit match in his hand. “Where?”
“Not far from here.”
“Whatever interest they’re paying you, our bank will offer the better return. I can guarantee you that.”
Hartzell puffed on his pipe, the smell an odor that did not offend Leah.
“I’d thought about mining,” Wyatt said slowly. “Though I’m no expert, your mountain land looked like it had some potential.”
Geneva, who had been quiet for the better part of three minutes, could be silent no longer. “Where is it you said you were from, Mr. Holloway?”
Wyatt was visibly disturbed by her sudden inquiry, but he supplied her with an answer—albeit a curt one. “Moab, Utah.” Then to Hartzell, he continued. “Have you ever had the land tested?”
“As I said, some fellows found gold up there.” Hartzell puffed thoughtfully. “That was back in eighty-eight, a year after this place started putting up tents. The country was overrun with miners back then. A group of them cut a shaft into Infinity Hill—right where that cross is, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t come up with a cache of big money. Wish it had been me with them, but I was just getting started and couldn’t afford to put up the collateral for the mining equipment. They came out richer than anyone would have ever expected. Sunk most of it into the city. Sheesley at the newspaper was one of them. He bought a whole city block. Beaumont at the Beaumont Hotel was another. Wright at the opera house got his start because of it. And three other men made out good. But they took their shares back east. One’s a broker now on the New York Stock Exchange.”
Leah thought she saw Wyatt’s face pale a shade. “How much did they come out with?”
“Newspaper never reported it. Sheesley didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Anything unusual about the find?” Wyatt smoothed his hair from his forehead. Leah followed the movement of his strong and slightly trembling hand.
“Nothing save that that was the only gold ever found in these hills. Others dug around after that, but nobody ever found anything.”
“Mr. Holloway, are you ill?” Geneva asked with real concern. “You don’t look well. Leah, get him a glass of water.”
Before Leah could get up, Wyatt stopped her. “I don’t need any water.”
He slumped back into the chair, his eyes distant. His expression was overtaken with grief and a misery she could actually feel. He looked as if he’d just found out someone close to him had passed away.
“Are you sure I can’t get you that water?” she pressed.
“I’m sure.”
“But you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Geneva observed, sitting forward on the cushion of the sofa.
At the mention of a ghost, Tug lifted his head. “Where’s a ghost?”
Geneva smiled at him. “There is no ghost, darling. That was just Nanna talking figuratively.”
Tug returned his attention to the puppet, making noises and head strikes at the one Rosalure was operating. She stuck her tongue out at him, but he merely giggled at her.
During the exchange, Wyatt seemed to have collected himself. He rubbed his brow with his fingertips, his forehead furrowed in deep thought as he gazed at Hartzell. “How did they explain the apricot cans?”
“What apricot cans?” Hartzell tapped his pipe on the ashtray at his disposal.
Wyatt sat straighter, his brows pulled into a tight frown. “You mean they didn’t find gold coins?”
“Never saw gold that came out of the ground already minted into coins. Why would you think that?”
Shifting in the chair, Wyatt shrugged. “I heard rumors that miners in these parts stored their money in old tin cans before a bank hit a town. I just wondered if that’s what was found.”
“No, what they found was ore. Pockets of it. Took them weeks to pick it all out. Then the vein just died. Too much sandstone up there and not enough mineral rock. Not only that, too many landslides. That section where they found the gold must have slid twenty feet down toward town after all these years.”
To Leah’s total surprise, Wyatt laughed. Rich and deep. A relieved sound, and a little too loosely to be considered in good taste. Geneva sputtered at the outburst and Rosalure wanted to know what was so funny.
“Nothing.” He shook his head and planted his boots firmly on the floor beneath him as he tried to rein in his laughter. “I’m sorry.”
“Well I should say so,” Geneva remarked. “In our family, we don’t display such tasteless outbursts.”
“Perhaps we should,” Hartzell added, tapping out his pipe. “You’re a little too stiff, Geneva.”
Geneva glared at him, then settled her observant eyes back on Wyatt. “As I said, our family conducts itself with restrain.”
“Maybe his family doesn’t.”
“What kind of family do you have, Mr. Holloway?” Geneva inquired, using the change in subject to her advantage.
Wyatt’s smile dimmed, though his spirits didn’t darken too much when he admitted, “My family is gone.”
Geneva’s brow lifted. “Are they departed?”
“Yes.”
“Such a shame. I know how devastating that is. My Owen, Leah’s husband, left us. I grieve for him still. No one can replace him in the children’s lives. They would be better off with no father than a replacement. I can give little Owen what he needs, and Rosalure is my sweet girl. Leah doesn’t need another husband; she has Hartzell and me to take care of her.”
Hartzell stood. “Geneva, I think you’re beginning to overstep your bounds. It’s time for us to go.”
She went to her feet with a protest. “But I’m not ready to go home.”
Leah rose, and Wyatt did likewise. He held on to his hat, exchanging glances with her. She didn’t want him to leave yet. Not when they’d finally have an opportunity to sit and quietly talk. “Mr. Holloway, stay a moment and I’ll get some cake for you to take home.”
Geneva bustled, “Hartzell, I can’t leave. I have to help Leah clean up. There are lots of dishes to do. I’ll get that cake for Mr. Holloway so he can be on his way.” She attempted a beeline for the kitchen, but Leah
stood in her way.
“That’s not necessary, Geneva. I can manage the cake. And as for the dishes, I’m too tired to clean up tonight. I’ll get up first thing tomorrow and take care of them.”
Geneva was appalled. “You can honestly say you have no qualms about going to bed with dirty dishes in the kitchen?”
“No, I don’t. The dishes can wait until I’m in the mood to tackle them.”
“But I say never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”
Geneva’s attempt at assistance was transparent. Leah’s mother-in-law was against the idea of Wyatt staying in the house with her. Not only that, but Geneva was a hypocrite. She never did dishes. Posie, her housekeeper, did all the cleaning. Whenever Geneva did make the attempt, she complained that the dishwater gave her a rash. And as soon as her skin reddened, she would quit helping, to apply numerous lotions and vegetable glycerin. By then, her hands were too slick and she couldn’t hold a dish to dry it. So she ended up sitting on a kitchen stool directing Leah’s culinary conduct with advice that was more often than not critical.
“Hartzell, I really can’t leave until I get the kitchen in order. I won’t sleep until every dish is put away.”
“I’ll help Leah with them.” Wyatt’s forthright offer surprised Leah, but none more than Geneva. Her mouth dropped open.
“You’ll help her? You’re a man.”
“If a woman can be a photographer, a man can wash the dishes in her home. It is what I do for a living.”
“Yes, but . . .”
For the first time Leah could remember, Geneva was speechless.
“There, not to worry,” Leah said, walking her in-laws toward the foyer.
“But you two will be alone in the house,” Geneva blurted.
Hartzell lay his hand at the small of Geneva’s back. “What do you call the children? Do you think our Leah would engage in hanky-panky in front of them?”
“I should hope not!”
“Then don’t worry.”
Hartzell took his hat from the hall table. Rosalure went to her grandfather and hugged him. “Thank you for the puppets, Poppa.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome, Rosie girl. Happy birthday.”
Then Rosalure embraced her grandmother. “I loved my cake, Nanna. Thank you for decorating it for me.”
“Any time, darling.” Geneva tied the wide sash of her hat beneath her chin, all the while staring hard at Wyatt. “No, this isn’t proper. Forget about the dishes, Leah. I’ll send Posie over in the morning. Mr. Holloway, you needn’t stay.”
“I haven’t given him his extra cake yet,” Leah replied, rather enjoying having the upper hand over Geneva for a change.
Hartzell kissed Leah on the cheek and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “If you need anything, you call on me.”
Leah nodded.
Geneva gave her a perfunctory hug. “I shouldn’t have made mention of it.”
“But you did.”
“Owen,” Geneva called. “Come give Nanna a kiss goodbye.”
Tug’s chin lifted and he hopped to his feet. His shirt had a red stain of punch down the buttoned front, and the corners of his mouth were sporting a mustache of the same color. He dutifully kissed his grandmother.
Geneva didn’t budge when Hartzell grasped the doorknob. She imposed an iron will and drew a deep breath. “You run along without me, Hartzell.”
“Geneva, I’ll do no such thing. I need a good night’s rest without you fiddling with the shower pipes after I’m in bed. Tomorrow is a workday for me and Sommercamp is coming by first thing in the morning to talk about a transfer.”
“But—”
“No buts. Let’s go.”
Hartzell opened the door and took Geneva with him down the steps. She turned once, glancing at Leah. Then Wyatt. Reluctantly, she faced forward and went down the walk with her husband as Leah closed the door.
Turning, Leah returned to the parlor. The children had abandoned the puppets and were engrossed in the Ouija board Pinkie Sommercamp had given Rosalure. Wyatt stood by the hearth with one hand lazily tucked inside his pocket. His hat had been casually tossed onto the chair. Ordinarily she was in complete command of herself when in the company of gentlemen, but Wyatt was handsome enough to make her go weak at the knees. She had the strongest urge to hug him.
Rather than give in to her whim, she said, “You were kind to save me, Wyatt, but you don’t have to wash the dishes.”
“Good, because I didn’t really want to. I just wanted to get her out of the house for you.”
Leah’s teasing laughter bubbled from her throat. “Do you dare come into the kitchen with me for that cake? Or will all those dirty dishes make you want to run?”
“They might,” he said in a low voice. “But if you’re in there, I’ll stick around and not look at anything but you.”
She grew giddy, like a young girl attending her first dance. She didn’t dare let him see how he was affecting her. Things were happening at a rapid pace all of a sudden. She didn’t know how best to handle her feelings. They were foreign and new. Leah Kirkland never flirted with men; she was too serious for that. But she found herself engaged in the fun of light banter with Wyatt and enjoying every minute of it.
Picking up the empty glasses, she walked into the kitchen, Wyatt behind her.
Even to her, the room was unpleasant with the stacks of plates, mounds of silverware in the sink, and dishes, cups, and dessert service taking up all the available counter space.
Wyatt came alongside her at the sink. His sleeve barely brushed hers. But enough so that she shivered with warmth as he said, “Maybe we ought to do these.”
“Heavens, no.” Leah turned her eyes to his. “Geneva said she’d send Posie over in the morning. I intend to make her keep her word. She offered.”
“She only offered because she didn’t want me here with you.”
“It’s not you personally. She doesn’t want me to be with anyone other than her son. And that’s quite impossible.”
Wyatt reflected softly, “Sounds to me like she thinks you should have buried your heart with her son.”
Lowering her eyes, Leah gazed at the span of his chest, the soft billow of his shirt where the tails tucked into his trousers, the iridescent gleam of his buttons as they caught the light from the kitchen’s electrical fixture.
His large hand took her chin and gently lifted it. A familiar shiver raced through her. “You’re a good woman, Leah. Don’t let her hold you prisoner. Go on living.”
Leah’s heart thundered and she could barely think. Go on living. Such a natural statement, and one she’d adhered to. But that was before Wyatt brought complexity into the meaning. She hadn’t realized how little living she’d done until she met him. He’d showed her without words that creativity couldn’t revolve around the four walls of her studio. Seeing the beauty that he had found in the colors and sounds of the outdoors had given her a new perspective and dimension in a world that she’d viewed through her camera, yet hadn’t seen until she’d seen it through his eyes.
Needing a minute to gather her thoughts, Leah went to the sideboard where the leftover cake had been set out. An unsettling combination of emotions rocked her. She felt as if she was on the brink of falling in love, but she couldn’t let herself surrender. The timing was horrible. She was leaving Eternity. Wyatt was leaving Eternity. Each was headed down his own separate path of life.
“Where do you intend to ranch?” she asked with her back to him, forcing herself not to think about what could never be. She grasped a knife and reached for a clean plate.
“Montana. Wyoming. Wherever I can find the best land for the best price.”
Despite her resolve, her hand on the knife stilled. “Would you ever consider Eternity?”
Wyatt’s answer was delayed, then he replied in a voice that seemed to come from a long way, “I don’t think I could.”
Leah let out her breath, unaware that she’d been holding it.
“What about you?” He strode to the table. She liked the man-sound of heavy steps in her kitchen. They made her think of strength and the large man wearing the boots. “What happens if you win that contest?”
“Well, I’d win five thousand dollars for starters.”
“Jesus. Five thousand.”
“Yes. Mr. Stieglitz is very generous.”
“You mentioned him before.”
“He’s a genius.”
Wyatt leaned his hip against the sideboard’s edge. “I’ve never met a genius before.”
She sensed a hint of a smile in his tone, and she boldly met his eyes to defend her mentor. “Mr. Stieglitz really is a genius photographer. And if I win, I’ll be welcome in his New York gallery where I can study from the master himself. He can teach me what it takes to be famous.”
She didn’t mention that her Italy trip might interfere—provided she was accepted into the Veneto Academy. She’d return to the states immediately if she won. Nothing could keep her from the Little Galleries on Fifth Avenue if Mr. Stieglitz invited her there. Absolutely nothing.
“What about Tug and Rosalure?”
“They’d come with me.”
“To a big city?”
“Certainly. The city is full of culture and the arts.”
Wyatt folded his arms across his chest. “There wouldn’t be any place for Tug to go fishing.”
“I’d hire a carriage to take us into the country on the weekends.”
“But it wouldn’t be the same as having a river at your back door any time you wanted to see it rushing over rocks.”
“No . . .” Leah cut a big wedge of cake and covered the plate with an unused linen napkin. “But there would be other things for the children to do. Museums. The Metropolitan Opera house. Libraries.”
“Rosalure couldn’t collect flowers.”
They’d reached a point in the conversation where Leah didn’t want to continue. She’d thought of what Rosalure and Tug would be losing, but she’d also thought of what they’d be gaining. Broader experiences, wider knowledge, and opportunities that didn’t come along in a small town like Eternity.
She handed the plate to Wyatt. “This should take care of your sweet tooth.”
Portraits Page 16