A Family Arrangement

by Gabrielle Meyer

  Instead of walk her to the restaurant, he veered her toward the hotel.

  “Aren’t we going to eat?” she asked.

  “Yes—as the first guests at the Northern Hotel. Richardson asked if I would dine there this evening.” He turned and winked at her. “He said to be sure to invite you, too.”

  They climbed the steps and Abram turned the knob of the large front door. It swung open freely and Charlotte stepped over the threshold into a beautifully decorated room.

  “I had no idea,” she whispered. White wainscoting circled the large lobby and ran down the long hallway to the back of the hotel. A matching counter filled the corner of the room to her right, while potted ferns sat in the opposite corner near a floral sofa. A magnificent set of steps lifted from the end of the lobby, directly across from the front door. “This was being built, right here?”

  “In the middle of the wilderness,” Abram added with a chuckle. “Wait until you see the ballroom.”

  Nathan entered the lobby from the long hallway, and when he saw them, his face lit with a grin. “Welcome to the Northern Hotel.”

  “Nathan!” Charlotte couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice. “You told me you walked all the way from a lumber camp. I assumed it was because you couldn’t afford the stagecoach fare—yet you managed to build this magnificent hotel.”

  “I couldn’t afford the fare! I had to save every last penny to put into my hotel.” He took Charlotte’s arm. “Come and see the rest.”

  Nathan led her down the hall, opened two large doors and then escorted Charlotte into the grand ballroom. Never had she imagined something so extravagant in Minnesota Territory. The high ceiling boasted three enormous chandeliers filled with candles waiting to be lit. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors graced the far wall and made the space feel bigger than it truly was. The walls, painted a creamy yellow, had large wall frames and several windows along Main Street, allowing the evening sunshine to enter.

  “I feel as if I’m in a ballroom back East,” Charlotte said.

  “Now you can see why I wanted to win that silly competition with Jude Allen.” Nathan crossed his arms with a satisfied grin. “This is where the balls should be held in this town.”

  Abram came up from behind Charlotte and spoke quietly. “And this is where I’ll dance with you next Friday evening.”

  Heat filled Charlotte’s cheeks.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nathan said, apparently still talking about Mr. Allen. “The first ball will be here and that’s all that matters.” He pointed toward the door. “Supper is ready whenever you are.”

  Abram offered his arm and they followed Nathan across the hall and into the dining room. It was another substantial room with more potted ferns and more windows, these facing Broadway. White-linen tablecloths covered the round tables, with candles set at the center of each. One candle flickered to life on a table near a window.

  Nathan led them to the table and pulled out a chair for Charlotte. “The cook has prepared roasted duck and baby red potatoes for supper.”

  Charlotte offered him an encouraging smile. “It sounds delicious.” After she was seated, and Nathan presented her with a linen napkin, she asked, “When will you open to the public?”

  “Tomorrow morning at six o’clock,” Nathan said. “And from that moment on, the front doors will never be locked again.”

  His enthusiasm matched that of Abram’s and every other man in Little Falls, and Charlotte couldn’t help but compare them to her father. She could imagine Father here in the midst of it all, his hopes and dreams pinned to one business venture after another. What would happen to Nathan Richardson? Would he give up on this hotel and move on to bigger and better things in time? When the hotel didn’t prove to make him money, or fulfill whatever longing it was in his heart, would he walk away from it, like her father had walked away from the dreams he had followed? How long would Nathan stay in Little Falls before his wandering eye called him farther west, like it had Thomas?

  “I’ll be back shortly.” Nathan left the dining room through a swinging door, leaving Charlotte and Abram alone.

  “I imagine this place will be filled with people tomorrow night,” Abram said, looking around the room. “Richardson outdid himself.” He shook his head. “It’s actually a little hard to believe.”

  “Is this town everything you’d hoped it would be?” Charlotte asked, drawing his attention back to her. “Or is it still lacking something?”

  He studied her for several moments before he answered. “It’s lacking a great many things, but in time, I imagine it will have all the amenities a town should have.”

  “So it’s not what you had hoped for?”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What are you getting at, Charlotte?”

  “Are you satisfied?”

  “No.”

  His simple answer twisted her heart. Her father had never been satisfied—wasn’t that why he could never settle down?

  “If I was satisfied,” Abram said, “I would never reach for more, and I believe God created us to long for more. That way, we never become stale and settle for good enough. Think of the great men and women in history. If our founding fathers had been satisfied, we would still be ruled by the king of England. If the Puritans had been satisfied, we might not be here at all. Right now, there are those who are not satisfied with slavery, and are working hard to abolish it.” He leaned forward. “There’s nothing wrong with longing for more, Charlotte. The trick is to be content. Satisfaction and contentment are two different things.”

  “How are they different?”

  “Satisfaction comes from a job well done. If it’s not done, we are not satisfied. Contentment comes from a heart that is confident in God’s provision and plan. It’s being patient as we wait for God to move or act on our behalf. It’s being happy with where He has placed us, and what He has called us to do.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned even closer to her. “So if you’re asking if I’m content, the answer is yes. But if you’re asking if I’m satisfied with the job I’ve done here, the answer is no. There’s still much more to do.”

  His words, so heartfelt and confident, offered Charlotte a glimpse into his heart—and what she found made her second-guess everything she’d ever feared about him.

  A peal of thunder reverberated through the dining room, startling Abram and Charlotte.

  He pushed aside the lace curtain and glanced at the sky. “Where did that come from?”

  Charlotte also looked outside and saw a large wall cloud advancing from the west. “It looks menacing.”

  Nathan entered the dining room with two steaming plates of food. “I almost dropped your duck,” he laughed. “That thunder about scared me out of my shoes.”

  He set their plates before them and Charlotte inhaled the savory scent. “Thank you, Nathan.”

  “I don’t know if it’ll compare to your cooking, Miss Lee,” Nathan said. “But I hope you enjoy it.” He left the room as the cloud began to cover the sun and the room grew dark.

  Abram glanced outside again, his eyes filled with concern. “I don’t like the look of that cloud.”

  “Let’s eat and hurry home,” she said.

  Abram bowed his head and offered up a prayer, and then they tasted their food. The duck melted on her tongue and filled her mouth with a gamey flavor. The new potatoes were tender and sweet.

  The lone candle wavered, causing shadows to dance on the walls. It offered a warm light for their table alone, but the rest of the room faded away.

  “Mmm. This is good,” Abram said. “Maybe not as good as your food, but a close second.”

  “I think it’s wonderful.”

  They sat in companionable silence, each appreciating their meal.

  “I don’t know the last time I ate something I had
n’t prepared,” Charlotte mused. “I wish the boys were here to enjoy it with us.”

  Abram took a sip of water and nodded. “I do miss having them here. They would be quite impressed, I’m sure.”

  Charlotte set down her fork, the food suddenly unappetizing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  An ache clogged the back of her throat. “I’m going to miss those boys.”

  Abram set down his fork, as well. “So then you’ve decided not to marry Ben?”

  Charlotte’s gaze shot to Abram’s face, heat coursing up her neck. “He told you?”

  Abram shook his head. “I guessed.”

  Now that he knew, there was no point hiding the truth. “I can’t marry Ben. I wouldn’t do it for the right reasons.”

  “And what reasons are the right ones?”

  Her cheeks warmed at his question. “Love. Attraction. A desire to share one’s life with another person.”

  His blue eyes grew serious. “And you don’t feel any of those things toward Ben?”

  Charlotte looked down at the napkin in her lap. “No.”

  “Why didn’t you give him your answer right away?”

  “Because of the wrong reasons I was contemplating.”

  He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “I don’t think I want to know what those are.” He paused. “Or maybe I do.”

  “I had considered marrying him so I could stay, in case the boys need me...”

  His jaw tightened, just enough that she could sense his frustration. “Because you don’t trust me.”

  She studied him for a moment. “Because I didn’t trust you.” Hearing him speak of satisfaction and contentment had offered her hope. Maybe Abram was different than her father and Thomas. “But now...”

  He leaned forward. “Now what—”

  Another clap of thunder echoed in the dining room and a soft patter of rain hit the windows.

  Charlotte spoke gently. “Now I’m beginning to doubt my previous opinions about you.”

  Abram watched her for a few moments, the slightest smile forming in his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  More thunder filled the room and the rain began to pour from the sky.

  Abram glanced outside then back at Charlotte, warmth smoldering in his gaze. “We should finish our meal and then get home... We can continue our conversation there.”

  Charlotte swallowed a flutter of nerves and tried to eat the rest of her duck.

  Abram finished quickly and set his napkin on his plate. He looked out the window. “I think the worst is yet to come, but we should have no trouble getting home.”

  Charlotte dabbed her lips and set her napkin down.

  “Ready to leave?” Nathan asked, entering the dining room.

  “Yes, thank you. It was a wonderful meal,” Abram said. “I wish you great success.”

  A flash of lightning filled the room, followed by thunder.

  “We had better go before the storm gets worse,” Abram said.

  Nathan nodded and his good-natured smile followed them all the way to the front door.

  Rain pounded on the street, turning it to mud. “Here,” Abram said. He took off his suit coat and held it above Charlotte’s head. “Let’s make a run for it.”

  Charlotte lifted her hem and they followed Broadway all the way to Wood Street, and then turned left and raced down the hill to their door. The mud was slippery and Abram’s jacket did little to keep the rain off, but they made it home breathless.

  Charlotte pushed open the lean-to door and they hurried inside. She shook the water off her silk dress as best as she could, and ran her hands along her hair, pulling out pins that had come loose. Her hair fell down her back in a mass of curls.

  She felt Abram’s eyes on her and turned to find him standing just inside the door, his gaze riveted to her hair.

  “I had no idea how long it is.”

  Charlotte quickly gathered it in her hands, taking a step toward the door. “I’ll go put it up.”

  “Do you have to?”

  It felt far too intimate to keep her hair down in his presence, but something held her in the kitchen.

  Abram slowly crossed the dark room and Charlotte stayed rooted to her spot.

  He stopped in front of her then reached around her to grab the box of matches on the cupboard. “I’ll light a lantern,” he said softly, near her ear.

  She swallowed and forced herself to take several breaths to steady her pulse as she let go of her hair and allowed it to fall freely over her shoulders.

  “Ben must have stayed at the Hubbards’,” Charlotte said, her voice a bit shaky.

  “I thought something was different about the place,” Abram teased as he struck the match and set the flame to the wick. The lantern flared to life. He blew out the match and then set the chimney on top.

  His movements were steady and smooth, and when he turned back to Charlotte, she could see something in his eyes that she’d denied for a long time.

  Attraction.

  The room suddenly felt too small and too warm. “I think I’ll go watch the storm over the river.” She quickly moved out of the kitchen and entered the main room, which was even darker than the kitchen had been.

  Charlotte stood near the window, her arms wrapped about her waist, watching the rain pound across the surface of the river. Sheet after sheet of water poured from the sky, until the river became almost hidden and the world felt as if it was growing smaller—and more intimate—by the minute.

  Abram entered the main room and silently went to the fireplace, where he laid a fire. The dry wood crackled to life and offered a pleasant glow.

  Thunder rolled outside and lightning filled the dark sky. The rain came harder and soon hail hit the roof and the side of the house, filling the yard with pellets of ice.

  But Charlotte wasn’t focused on the storm outside. It was the storm inside that frightened her the most. Even as her attraction to Abram grew, her mind offered all the reasons she couldn’t have feelings for him—yet the desire to let go and allow herself to explore these wonderful emotions was so strong, she was tempted to throw everything aside and give in—come what may.

  “Charlotte.” Abram was suddenly behind her and she closed her eyes, reveling in the sound of her name on his lips.

  His hands rested on her shoulders and she thought she would collapse from the pleasure of his touch.

  Ever so gently, he turned her to face him.

  His hands remained on her shoulders and he gazed at her with a longing kindled deep within his beautiful blue eyes—but he hesitated, and she sensed he was seeking her permission.

  Oh, but she wanted to grant it! She ached to explore the height and the depth of these feelings swirling inside. She suspected that if he kissed her, it would be but a taste of all that was available to them.

  Yet one kiss would send her beyond the abyss and she could never return to common sense and rationality. Was she willing to walk the path her mother and sister had followed? What if Abram did prove to be like her father and Thomas? Was the risk worth the reward? Was she enough for him? She hadn’t been for Thomas.

  His gaze drifted over her face and he lifted his hand from her shoulder to graze her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. It’s hard to believe—”

  A loud crack split the air, followed by grinding and a deep rumble beneath their feet.

  Abram tore his gaze from her and looked out the window. “What was that?”

  Charlotte also looked outside, but the rain was coming down so thick, it was impossible to see beyond the front yard.

  Abram flung open the door and the horrible sounds increased.

  For what seemed like a lifetime, he stood staring.

  Suddenly, realization dawned on his face. “No!” A
bram raced out of the house and was soon swallowed up in the rain.

  Charlotte ran to the open door. The rain blew against her warm face as she searched for a sign of Abram and the cause of his abrupt departure.

  A sense of foreboding shivered up her spine as she wrapped her arms around her body and prayed for his safety.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abram sat on the soggy riverbank the next morning, his head in his hands, as the sun crested the eastern sky, revealing a world that looked much different today than yesterday. All around him, destruction and defeat taunted. Over forty thousand dollars’ worth of logs, washed away by one mighty sweep of fate.

  “God?” Abram looked up into the clear sky where twelve hours ago a storm had raged. “Why now? Why when everything was going as I had hoped and planned?” He wanted to rail at God, just as he had when Susanne had died, yet what was the point? God had acted and, like before, He wasn’t required to give a reason. It was the hardest part of Abram’s faith.

  Last night, when Abram had run out of the house during the storm, he had already known what was happening in the river. The dam had given way under the rush of water, and it had broken up the millpond. The logs had let loose and crashed against the brand-new gristmill and the sawmill, causing more damage. By the time he’d reached the riverbank, and seen through the storm, the logs were already floating down the raging Mississippi, with no way to retrieve them, carrying pieces of the mills and the dam along with it.

  “Abram.” Charlotte’s gentle voice broke through his sleepless fog as she appeared next to him and handed him a cup of steaming coffee. “Why don’t you come inside?”

  He accepted the mug and rested it between his two hands as he continued to stare at the mess. “I can’t.” He had watched his dreams die in the swirling storm. The least he could do was hold vigil.

  “Everyone will be rousing soon,” Charlotte said. “I imagine most of the laborers will be here today to help clean and make repairs.”