by Diane Darcy
A girl stood behind the counter wearing a drab brown dress and an apron. Grace headed in her direction and noticed as she drew closer that the girl was around her own age and perhaps a bit on the homely side. Her hair was mouse-colored, and her cheeks round. Her eyes were her best feature, a pretty green color, surrounded by dark lashes. “Hello. I’m Grace Carmichael.”
The girl glanced up but quickly broke eye contact, her gaze skittering away. “I’m Pearl Thomas.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Thomas.”
The girl nodded.
“Have you worked here long?”
“My parents own the store.” Her voice was quiet and her gaze remained glued to the counter.
The girl was so shy, Grace felt sorry for her. Penny’s younger sister Jane had been cursed with shyness, and Grace had spent a lot of time drawing the girl out of her shell. She tried to think of a conversational gambit but came up blank. “The weather is very nice today.”
The girl nodded.
“This is a wonderful store. We don’t have anything like this in New York. That’s where I’m from. I’m working over in the pie shop with Minnie Foster while I’m here.”
Again, the other girl nodded.
Grace finally gave up. She handed Pearl a piece of paper. “This is the list Mrs. Phillips sent over. I’m hoping you can fill it?”
Pearl snatched the paper as if it was a lifeline. She immediately flitted about the store, placing items on the counter.
Grace turned away to study a display of beads so as to give Pearl the space she seemed to need. She remembered the young Carter girl from New York, so painfully shy her parents despaired of her ever making a match.
To distract herself, Grace moved to the back and, when she rounded an aisle, saw two paintings on display. She stopped short. “Oh, my goodness. These paintings are amazing!” One of them was of an orchard with flowers in bloom, and the other depicted a meadow with a lake in the background. The trees seemed larger-than-life, the flowers looked real. The colors were so vibrant! Grace had never seen anything quite like it. She leaned forward to get a closer look and realized there were a few pine needles stuck in the one landscape, some twigs in the other, permanently glued to the dried paint to enhance the trees. Truly remarkable.
Pearl moved to stand beside her.
“These paintings are incredible. Who is the artist?”
Heat rushed to the girl’s cheeks. “I am.”
Grace stared at the other girl in amazement. “I’ve never seen colors like this.”
“I put some additives in the paint. Some I made myself, and others I ordered from California, New York, and Paris.”
“How did you know to do that?”
The other girl shrugged, but her smile widened, and Grace realize she wasn’t homely at all. When she smiled, her face came to life and showed off pretty, straight white teeth. “I just came up with the idea, and thought I’d give it a try. When I thickened the paint, it gave the flowers much more of a three-dimensional curvature and I thought I’d add in some real nature as well. I like how they turned out.”
“I should say so.” Grace studied the picture again. She shook her head. “Simply beautiful. Are they for sale?”
Pearl nodded, eyes glowing.
“I’d like to buy one, but I don’t know which one to choose.” She studied both for a long moment. “I think the orchard, since this is Orchard City. I want a reminder when I go back home.”
Pearl was blushing now, and smiling. She truly had a wonderful smile.
“How much?”
They agreed on a price for the painting. “I believe I’m getting a bargain,” Grace admitted. “I can’t wait to hang it on my bedroom wall. Maybe I can get Mrs. Braxton to buy one for the pie shop.”
“I’ll have a boy bring it by later today, shall I?”
“Please do.”
After Grace left the store, she cast another look over her shoulder at Pearl.
Astonishing. You just never knew with people. First impressions weren’t always correct.
Chapter 8
Luke hadn’t been able to get Grace out of his mind all day. He might as well head over to the pie shop to see if she was there. Ten minutes later, he had the answer to his question. He found Grace, surrounded by a group of men and boys, reading a book as Minnie served pie and coffee.
Ardent bibliophiles? He didn’t think so.
After listening a moment, he realized she was reading Treasure Island, and couldn’t help but smile.
He found himself a seat in the back and settled in.
And there it all was again. He liked the way she looked, the way she spoke, and the dramatic way she told the story as she read. She was obviously enjoying this as much as her captivated audience.
Luke noticed that a small shelf had been installed on the wall, and three books resided between two bookends. His lips curled as he stretched his legs out in front of him, resting one booted foot on top of the other. It appeared Grace was starting her own library.
A young man scooted his chair closer to Grace. So near, in fact, his knees brushed the side of her leg. Luke didn’t recognize the man’s profile, could only see half of his face, but he didn’t like the ardent way he gazed at her.
Luke stood, moved around chairs, men, and boys, until he reached the young man. “I believe you’re sitting in my chair.”
Grace stopped reading, her expression adorably confused as she gaped at Luke. “I beg your pardon?”
Grace might be confused, but the young man was not. He glared at Luke and his face tightened with anger. “Truly? Is that a joke? Back off, Mister.”
“I’m not joking. Move it.”
The young man’s face was indecisive, and when he didn’t move fast enough, Luke grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him upright.
The young man shoved and when Luke let go, the younger man stumbled back. “Man alive! Why didn’t you just say she was your girl?”
There were some chuckles as the young man stomped out. Luke glanced around and realized he didn’t know several others in the crowd. His mouth pressed tight. He may be the one bringing the bad element to town, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
He took the newly vacated seat, and settled in comfortably. He just needed to remember that the ends justified the means. This town could put up with a little bit of inconvenience so Luke could get what he wanted.
Grace started to read again, her voice a little stilted at first, then relaxing as she became immersed in the story once more.
He shouldn’t be surprised men were showing up early. Many were drifters, curious about the tournament, hoping to get in on some action. Some actually had the funds to be in the tournament. Gambling had certainly picked up at the saloon, and the traffic about town had increased. Tents were starting to sprout up on the outskirts near the river. In the end, it would be worth it.
In the meantime, everyone would just have to put up with the riffraff.
About five minutes later, Grace carefully placed a bookmark within the pages and snapped the book shut. “I think that’s all for today, gentlemen. We’ll pick up again tomorrow afternoon. Same time, same place. How does that suit you?”
Everyone groaned. There were halfhearted protests. Elijah and his brother complained the loudest, but they all stood. Luke got several disgruntled looks as most of the men made their way out the door.
Grace shot him a hot glare.
Luke sighed and settled his hat on his head. Everyone was mad at him, so what else was new? “Good day, Miss Grace.”
For a moment it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer him. “Mr. Mayor.” She responded coolly.
He tried to think of something to say, and while he was thinking, she turned her back to him and went behind the counter. Luke sighed and headed for the door.
Some days he just couldn’t win.
Later in the evening, Grace ate dinner with Mrs. Braxton.
“I hope you are finding your st
ay here enjoyable?” Mrs. Braxton asked.
Was it Grace’s imagination, or did Mrs. Braxton shoot her a probing look. “Yes. Quite. Thank you.”
“And the pie shop? As you were gone the entire day, I assume you’re finding the place to your satisfaction?”
“Yes. I find it quite entertaining.”
“And are you finding many opportunities to disparage the gambling tournament?”
“The subject comes up quite frequently. I’m finding most men in the community are not able to afford the tournament fee and are thus already resentful.”
“Really?” A smile curved Mrs. Braxton’s lips as she straightened in her seat. “That’s good news, indeed. I hope the mayor is honoring my wishes and avoiding both the shop and your company?”
“Oh. Um …” Sudden guilt tightened Grace’s stomach as she remembered the early morning picnic, and the easy way Luke persuaded her to go. And then, of course, he’d come into the shop later. She didn’t think Mrs. Braxton would believe either of those activities was avoidance. Grace briefly considered admitting she’d attended the picnic. She could rationalize that she’d tried to tell Luke to stop the tournament. But she didn’t quite dare admit to her part in attending. Instead, she swallowed a bite of potato and changed the subject. “Did I tell you I purchased a new painting today?”
“A painting?”
“Yes, I went to the mercantile to pick up a few things for Mrs. Phillips. While I was there I saw a couple of paintings in the back of the store. I had the most difficult time choosing which one to purchase because they were so incredibly lovely. It turns out Miss Pearl Thomas painted both.”
“Pearl has art displayed in the mercantile? How odd. You know it seems her mother may have mentioned a time or two that she paints, but the girl has real talent?”
“Oh, yes. I was truly amazed by her ability. I’ve had the opportunity to study many paintings around the New York City area, both in private homes and in museums. Her abilities are truly astounding. I thought perhaps you might like to see the painting I didn’t purchase. I had a difficult time leaving it there, I can tell you that. I only chose the one I did because the orchard will always remind me of this city.”
Mrs. Braxton appeared interested. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.” The widow studied Grace. “So you didn’t see the mayor today?”
Grace felt another flash of guilt. Was it possible Mrs. Braxton already knew about the picnic? Was she trying to catch Grace in a lie? She swallowed. “He came into the store today. Just for a moment, mind you. I was reading to a group of men when he entered.”
Mrs. Braxton looked astounded. “Reading? Out loud?”
“Yes. I was reading Treasure Island when the mayor walked in. He … he sort of chased another man away who was sitting too close to me, then took his seat. But he was only there for a short while.”
Mrs. Braxton’s eyes lit. “That’s wonderful news.”
“It is?”
“Of course it is!”
“But I thought you didn’t want him there.”
“Oh no. I want him to want to be there. Tell a man he can’t have something, and he’ll move heaven and earth to get it.” She nodded once. “Especially a man like Luke Carrington.”
“It?”
“You.” At the look of cunning on Mrs. Braxton’s face, Grace’s stomach hollowed. “We must keep up the pressure! I shall call another meeting.”
So, once again, she was bait.
First bait for a murderer, now for a mayor.
Grace barely refrained from groaning. The last thing she wanted was for meetings between Mrs. Braxton and her cronies to turn into catch that man meetings. She’d sat through enough of those. In fact, Mrs. Carmichael, her two daughters, and all their friends loved nothing more than to host those very meetings. Dissecting men—their appearance, finances, and prospects—was a favorite pastime.
She needed to divert that line of thinking. Mrs. Braxton needed the equivalent of a shiny new toy to distract her. Perhaps a new piece of gossip? Grace pushed food around her plate. “I heard something in town today.”
Mrs. Braxton was immediately pulled from her thoughts and her gaze focused sharply on Grace. “What’s that?”
“Apparently, there are ladies who have moved into rooms above the saloon.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ladies who are not ladies,” Grace said in a rush.
Mrs. Braxton sucked in a breath as she took Grace’s meaning. “Soiled doves?”
Feeling a fool, cheeks burning, Grace nodded.
Mrs. Braxton shot to her feet, her chair scraping the hardwood floor. “I knew this would happen! I warned those boys, didn’t I? I must call a meeting immediately!”
“Now?”
“Of course, now!”
Mrs. Braxton flung a shawl around her shoulders and was out the front door before Grace even stood.
Well, as a distraction it had worked famously.
The next day, Grace set pies to cool on the counter as Luke pulled a horse and wagon to a halt outside. Within minutes, he was standing across from her.
Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Grace sighed loudly and lifted a hand. “Don’t even ask. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Luke grinned. “Are you sure?”
“Mrs. Braxton would not approve. Anyway, I can’t leave Minnie alone again.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Minnie called out. “I’ll be fine if you want to go somewhere. Most of the pies are already made. I think I can handle it.”
Grace shot her a glare. “Stop helping me.” Minnie was finding this situation entirely too entertaining.
Luke jerked his thumb at the wagon behind him. “I promise you’ll enjoy this.”
She was sure she would. That was the problem. This was getting to be a habit, and it couldn’t possibly be a good one. “No, thank you.” She said firmly.
“All right. It’s just that I know how much you like books.” Luke studied the three works on her bookshelf. “And so I thought—”
“Books?”
“Yes, I was going to take you to look at some. I thought you’d be interested,” he shrugged. “But, apparently I was wrong.”
Drat that man. He knew exactly how to tempt her.
“Come on, you know you want to.” His eyes and tone teased.
She sighed. “You sound like the devil.” She untied her apron and walked around the counter. “I’m sure we won’t be long, Minnie.” How long could it take to look at some books?
“Take your time!”
Grace shot her friend an impatient glare before going through the door that Luke quickly held open. She glanced around, didn’t see anyone paying them any attention, and took Luke’s hand as he helped her onto the wagon bench.
A few minutes later she realized they were heading out of town again, this time in the opposite direction as the day before. If she kept taking these excursions with Luke, she was going to become quite familiar with the countryside, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted by Mrs. Braxton or her cronies. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
They drove for about twenty minutes and Luke kept the conversation light. He seemed almost amused by Grace’s lack of response as she kept her attention firmly on the scenery. When they pulled up in front of a small log cabin, she was surprised, unsure about what she’d been expecting. The location was pretty. There was a stream nearby, along with some aspen trees and a couple of pines.
Luke tied the horse to a post, helped Grace down and knocked on the door.
A short, grumpy-looking old man, obviously waiting for the knock, swung the door open. “Luke. What brings you out here?”
“Just in the neighborhood.”
The old man’s large nose twitched as if scenting the air. His white hair stuck out in all directions and an equally unruly beard sported food from a previous meal or two. His piercing blue eyes scanned Grace, and narrowed
suspiciously. “With female company, no less.”
“Miss Carmichael, let me introduce you to Mr. Cooper Stillwater. Coop, this is Miss Grace Carmichael, a guest of Mrs. Braxton. Miss Carmichael loves books and has been a bit disappointed by our lack of library in town. I thought I’d bring her out so she could see your collection.”
“How do you do, Mr. Stillwater? I’m pleased to meet you.”
The man’s brows rose as he studied Grace. “This ain’t no library. Those are my books and I don’t plan to share. That the only reason you’re here?” He looked expectantly at Luke.
“That,” Luke retrieved a jug from the back of the wagon. “And I thought we might have a little drink. Maybe chat for a while.”
“I guess we could play cards. Iffin’ you want to.”
“I don’t know. Grace might get bored with nothing to do.”
Mr. Stillwater threw the door wide and Grace followed Luke inside the one-room cabin. It was small, rough, and consisted of a stove, a bed, a table and a few chairs. A ladder led to a loft. The old man walked across the room to one wall with a wood-plank bookshelf and gestured with both hands to at least twenty books. “Go on then. You can look at ‘em.”
Grace slowly walked over to the tomes and studied the titles without touching. “I’ve read a couple of these. I see you have Les Misérables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I love both of those stories.”
“Who are your favorite characters?” His face scrunched in suspicion.
From the man’s tone, she was being tested. She smiled. “Eponine because she questions everything, and Quasimodo, for his good heart.”
“It was good how he saved the girl at the end.”
“He didn’t save her. But he did prove his love for her.”
The old man chuckled, then turned to Luke. “You want to play some poker?”
“I’m not sure we have time for that. Miss Carmichael might need to get back to town.”