by Janice Hanna
“Is this why we were made to sign that ridiculous contract?” Flossie asked. “So we would stay long enough to end up falling for the men?”
Gilbert sighed. “Look, ladies, I can’t deny that the men felt they would need time to woo you. But you can clearly see that we primarily needed the time to put together a show. We’ve never done a show before, and—”
“Now I see why.” Flossie gave him a sour look then turned her attention to Lottie. “You were never meant to be a director, and those men were never meant to be actors.”
“You’re wrong. I wanted to help Parker Lodge from the very beginning.” Lottie dissolved into tears and Gilbert felt his heart grow as heavy as lead. She’d tried to tell him this was a bad idea and he hadn’t listened. Now he had to pay the piper. Er, pay a room full of women. But how could he go about paying them back when the fellas had invested very real money into the show? If these ladies skedaddled and the show fell apart, everything would unravel. The lodge would have to close its doors and he would end up owing the men their investments back.
With the eyes of the women boring a hole through him, Gilbert rose. He’d just started to say something brilliant—though he hadn’t quite figured out what—when his mother entered the room, her face ashen.
“G–Gil?”
He faced her, happy to be looking away from the women, though he had to wonder why she looked ill.
“Um, I think you’d better come with me.”
“Come with you? Where?”
She fussed with her apron strings, her hands trembling. “To the pie parlor. We, um, have an unexpected guest.”
From the expression on Mama’s face, they weren’t talking about a welcome guest. Gilbert went to her, and she leaned over to fill him in. “It’s Thaddeus Baker, the lawyer from Loveland.”
Perfect. Just what he needed to cap off the ideal morning.
EIGHTEEN
LOVESICK IN LOVELAND
What good is a theatrical without conflict? Good versus evil. Hero versus villain. A great melodrama must have all of the above. Of course, we would rather just get straight to the happily-ever-after part, but would that really leave the audience satisfied? Of course not! Patrons are looking for angst and lots of it! And do we deliver! Of course, this isn’t the first story chock-full of conflict. Between now and opening night, we would like to encourage our upcoming audience members to read the original good versus evil story, starting with the book of Genesis and going all the way through to the book of Revelation. You will find that it, too, has a large cast of likable—and unlikable—characters. —Your friends at Parker Lodge
Rushing out of the room on Gil’s heels seemed the only logical solution to Lottie. She’d rather face a den full of lions than ten angry actresses with their penetrating glares. As she ran, she heard a couple of them making comments that stung—almost as much as Flossie’s words about how she was never meant to be a director.
Only when she reached the pie parlor did she realize why Mrs. Parker had called Gilbert out. Thaddeus Baker. Althea Baker’s nephew. The attorney. Though she hadn’t seen the fella in years, she would recognize him anywhere. Same haughty expression. Same businesslike attire. No, nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had changed.
She looked on as Thad extended his hand in Gil’s direction.
“Gilbert Parker.” Thad offered a strained smile. “It’s been years.”
“Yes.” Gil shook his hand, but Lottie saw the tight expression.
“Is there a place we can sit and visit?” Thad asked. “I have some important things to discuss.”
“My office is, well…” Gilbert stumbled over the words and then paused. Lottie knew why, of course. Gil’s office was filled, top to bottom, with costumes for the show.
“Maybe we could find a place outside to sit and talk?” Thad said. “I noticed a table and chairs out by the river.”
“That would be fine.”
Lottie’s heart continued to race as she tagged along on the men’s heels. Mrs. Parker stayed put in the pie parlor to wait on customers but mouthed, “I’m praying!” as Lottie walked by. They needed those prayers right now. No doubt about it.
Thad paused at the river’s edge and turned to face them. “Now, you two know me. Or at least you did when we were children. You know I don’t really want to stir up more trouble.”
“Well, that’s good.” Gil looked relieved. He leaned against a tree. “Thought maybe you’d come searching for some.”
“No.” Thad released a breath. “But, as you’re probably aware, the Women’s League has called me here to discuss a matter of grave importance.”
A shiver ran down Lottie’s spine. “I’m sure if we just talk sensibly, we can get to the bottom of this. It’s all a huge misunderstanding, you see. There’s truly no reason to get folks any more riled up than they already are.”
“And they are, for sure.” Thad’s brow wrinkled. “Do you two realize that folks around here are convinced you are running a…well, a brothel? They think these women you’ve brought here are—”
“Some of the most precious women I’ve ever met.” Lottie offered a smile.
“Ah.” A smug look came over him. “Well, that may be, but the Women’s League doesn’t see it that way.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out an envelope with several legal-looking papers inside.
“I think I’d better sit down.” Lottie took a seat at the table and Thad took the spot to her left. Gil—heaven help him—sat on Thad’s left, looking as if he’d like to drown himself in the river sooner than face this head-on.
Thad lost Lottie somewhere between the words “morality issues” and “prostitution charges.” None of this made any sense. Had Mama and Althea Baker lost control of their senses, to take things this far? Why would they do such a thing?
Thad pressed the papers back inside his briefcase and closed it. He gazed at Gilbert then glanced Lottie’s way too. “These ladies have asked me to draft a petition to present to the local business owners, which I plan to do only if this meeting with you does not go as I had hoped.”
“A petition?”
“Yes. They’re asking local merchants not to sell food or other supplies to you as long as the women remain at the lodge. I’m sure you understand.”
Gilbert rose, his face now beet-red. “I don’t understand. In fact, I will never understand. Why don’t you say what you came to say, Thad? Tell us about this lawsuit you plan to file if we don’t back down.”
“Well, now, let’s don’t get ahead of ourselves.” Thad set his briefcase on the ground next to him.
“Exactly. There won’t be a suit because the Women’s League has no case.”
“Oh?” Thad rose. “I would beg to differ. The women are starting a petition to avoid filing a morality suit.”
“Morality suit?”
“Yes. Allow me to cite Chamberlain vs. Maxwell, where the city of Pine Grove filed suit against a house of prostitution that was using a lodge as a cover.”
“But we’re not a—a…” Lottie couldn’t even get the words out. She wanted to punch this fellow right in the face. To give him what for. Why, oh, why, was she wearing a dress and good shoes? Her overalls would’ve come in handy right now. She could’ve easily taken down this smug lawyer in her overalls and cowboy boots.
Gilbert rose and raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it, as he so often did, in a messy state. “Ask the reverend. He’ll tell you what he thinks about their nonsense. Even the sheriff has told me that he thinks they’re behaving like a group of bullies.”
“I will be speaking to several key leaders in town when I leave here.” Thad reached for his briefcase.
Righteous indignation rose inside of Lottie. “For your information, we’re going to stand up to them, even if every merchant in town decides to close their doors to us. Even if they do file some sort of suit against us. Would you like to know why, Thad?”
The attorney remained silent, likely stunned by
her outburst.
“Because right always wins over might. In the end, anyway.”
“Yes,” Gil chimed in. “So draft your petition. Fill it with your legal mumbo jumbo. Threaten away. Frankly, I don’t care.”
“I can see that this conversation has come to an end.” Thad took off across the property then paused and glanced back at them. “You know, I had hoped to persuade you to end this melodrama nonsense and send those ladies packing. Now I can see that I have no choice but to draft that petition.” He took several more steps toward the building then stopped and sniffed the air. “Why are they baking all those pies in there, anyway?”
“Why do you want to know?” Gil crossed his arms. “Are you going to petition us to shut down our pie parlor too?”
“Of course not. There’s no law against baking.” Thad took a couple more steps then stopped and sniffed the air again. “What sort of pie is that I smell? Smells almost like—”
“Apple streusel,” Lottie said. “Fresh-picked apples, just the tiniest hint of cinnamon and nutmeg, with a laced crust better than Grandma could make.”
This stopped him cold. “Hmm. My favorite.” A couple more steps landed him at the door leading into the pie parlor. “I think I left my hat inside.”
He slipped inside the door and Lottie followed behind him. To her surprise she found Winifred helping Hannah and Mrs. Parker with the pies. Winnie’s face lit into a smile when she saw Thad. “Well, hello there. How can I help you this fine day?”
“Winnie Sanders.” He reached across the glass counter for her hand. “Don’t you remember me? Thaddeus Baker. We played together as kids when I came to stay with my aunt Althea.”
“Oh, well, my goodness, yes.” She grinned. “You’re that pesky boy who used to chase me around the playground and call me names.”
“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled. “And speaking of guilty as charged, do you know what a fine mess these two have stirred up?” He gestured to Lottie and Gilbert.
Winnie dismissed his concerns with the wave of a hand. “Oh, pooh on all that. People are making such a fuss.” She batted her eyelashes, which caused Thad to freeze in place. “Lottie has explained everything to me, and it’s clear there’s been a huge misunderstanding. You know how those women are—they make mountains out of molehills.”
“Enough mountains to cause a lot of trouble,” Lottie added.
Thad took a step back. “Still, they’re prepared to take action, and they’ve paid for my services, so I have no option but to—”
“Oh, Thaddeus…” Winnie offered up a girlish giggle. “This is just silly. Tell them to drop it.”
“I wish I could.”
“I see. Well, in the meantime, why don’t you try a slice of pie? I’m especially fond of the Sanders’ Strawberry.”
Lottie gasped. “Sanders’ Strawberry?”
“Sure.” Winnie gave her a wink. “Our family’s recipe.”
Thad’s gaze narrowed. “You’re telling me that your mother— the same woman who brought me here to represent her—has entered a pie in some contest Parker Lodge is running?”
“That pie was entered, and it won.” Mrs. Parker glanced up from her work on the other side of the case. “I got the recipe early this morning and baked the pie myself. It’s by far the best strawberry pie I’ve ever had, so I put it on the menu right away. Can’t wait to share the news.”
Winnie offered Thad a huge slice. He took the plate and stared at the gorgeous mound of whipped cream perched atop the bright red strawberries over a luscious graham-cracker crust.
“Well, now, this is problematic.”
“What’s problematic?” Winnie’s nose wrinkled. “Surely you don’t mean the pie.”
He grabbed the fork and took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed and the most satisfied expression came over him. “Oh, this is good. Really, really good.”
“I thought you said it was problematic.” Winnie giggled. “You lawyers. You make no sense to me at all.”
His eyes popped open. “I meant it’s problematic because one of the women in the Women’s League—your mother, no less—is apparently undermining their cause by cavorting with the opposition.”
“Ooh. Cavorting. I’ve always been fond of cavorting.” Winnie’s eyes grew large. “But I do see how it could be considered problematic. Would you like a scoop of ice cream to go with that pie?”
“On the house,” Mrs. Parker added and then smiled.
“I don’t suppose it would hurt anything to have a scoop of ice cream.”
“Perfect.” Winnie went to work, scooping up a big white mound of homemade vanilla. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll join you so we can catch up on old times.”
“Well, that would be nice.”
She came out from behind the counter, her skirt swishing as she sashayed across the room. “Let’s go outside. It’s such a pretty day.”
“Yes. Beautiful.” His gaze remained fixed on Winnie as she headed outside, chattering all the way.
“Well, that was a close one.”
Lottie turned to face Gil, who looked as if he might be sick.
“What did he have to say, son?” Mrs. Parker asked.
“He knows about the men fronting the money for the ladies to be here, and that seems to be the primary source of the problem.” Gil paced the room. “I’m so scared he’s going to find out about our primary investor.”
“Primary investor?” Lottie and Mrs. Parker spoke the words in unison.
Gil’s face turned red. “Yes. Look, I’m really not at liberty to say anything more. But you might as well know that a local investor has fronted most of the money for the set, costumes, handbills, and so on. What the fellas came up with went to food, as you know. That’s what has the ladies so riled up, thinking the men are paying for, well, services.”
“So, let me ask you a question,” Lottie said. “Will this primary investor be named in the lawsuit, if the Women’s League decides to sue?”
“I don’t know.” Judging from the wrinkled brow, Gil was just as worried about this as she was. “That would be really cruel. And not a very nice way to repay him for his kindness and generosity.”
“We just have to make sure those ladies don’t find out who he is,” Lottie said. She turned away, the sting of tears in her eyes, knowing full well who’d funded the show. And the sooner she could get home to thank him, the better.
* * * * *
GILBERT CONTINUED TO PACE the pie parlor, his stomach in his throat. The attorney’s threats had stirred up a hornet’s nest inside of him, to be sure. Why, oh, why had he taken any money from the men? And how could he convince folks that things weren’t what they looked like?
Lottie had tears in her eyes. “Gil, I’ve got to get back to the ladies and somehow convince them that things aren’t as bad as they seem. It’s bad enough having threats coming from outside. To have them coming from our cast is even worse. I’ve got to get back into their good graces. Even if they won’t speak to the men, I think I can get them to trust me again. I hope.”
“Well, maybe the men have misrepresented themselves to the ladies. I don’t know. But I do know that those ladies don’t even know how great those fellas are. No doubt Flossie thinks Phineas is just a simple farmer, based on the way he dresses. She has no way of knowing he’s got a thriving cattle farm and a big fancy house. And Jeb might not have much money, but he makes up for it with those cooking skills. A woman like Fanny—please pardon me for saying this—but a woman like Fanny would really benefit from a fella who loved to cook. And Chauncy…well, I’ve never met a kinder man. His woodworking shop is doing well, especially during tourist season.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m just saying that the ladies wouldn’t be getting the short end of the stick if they did end up marrying these fellas. I just hope their anger doesn’t prevent them from whatever romantic unions the Lord might’ve had in mind all along.”
“You’re saying the Lord brought them he
re?”
“Flossie said as much last night during that passionate speech of hers. Less than twenty-four hours ago she stood in front of us and claimed that the Lord brought all of the ladies to Estes Park. Now they’re ready to pack their bags and head back home. Either the Lord brought them here or He didn’t. There’s no gray area. No room for debate.”
“True.”
“The only thing that’s changed is that the women are now questioning the men’s motives. Other than that, everything is exactly as it was last night. We somehow need to convince the women that the men had their best interests at heart.”
Lottie approached, and he noticed the trembling in her hands.
“Gilbert, there’s one thing I have to know before I go back in there and try to patch things up with the ladies. It’s been bothering me for days.” She pulled him aside, away from his mother, and whispered, “Why did you kiss me the other morning?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she kept going.
“It’s clear you don’t care for me. The only logical conclusion I can draw is that you were trying to lead me on. I feel I deserve an honest answer. Has this whole thing been a ruse from the start?”
“A ruse?”
Tears filled Lottie’s eyes. “It felt very real,” she whispered. “But now I have to wonder if that kiss was part of some sort of scheme the fellas put you up to, to get me to go along with you about the melodrama. Am I right?”
“Well, I…” His words faltered. “Look, Lottie, maybe at first I wanted to win you over to my way of thinking. The fellas suggested I flatter you a little bit. Offer some manly charm to convince you.”
“Manly charm. Humph.” She snorted.
“I did want to win you over, sure, but somewhere along the way…” He paused, his heart in his throat. Somewhere along the way it stopped being a game and became real.
She balled up her fists and placed them on her hips. “You once told me that we needed women with staying power. Do you remember that conversation?”