Lorna Seilstad

by When Love Calls

  “If you see Han—”

  “She’s here,” Tessa called. “Finally. See you both tomorrow.”

  Shoes pounded against the hardwood in the parlor before Hannah burst into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry. I got in trouble and had to stay late at work.”

  “What happened? Did you look at your neighbor again?”

  “I drew something on my notepad.”

  “What was it? A heart?” She giggled. Like Hannah would ever do something like that.

  Hannah’s cheeks pinked, and Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “You did draw a heart? You were thinking of Lincoln?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t need to. Your face says it all.” She pointed to the table. “The boxes are packed and everything is ready, except you.”

  “Why are there two boxes for the social?”

  “Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Charlotte removed her apron and hung it on the hook. “Lincoln offered to help you chaperone, so I made you a box too. Since they’re being auctioned for the school’s library, I thought you’d want to do your part. I already told him yours will be tied with the dotted yellow ribbon.”

  “Lincoln’s coming? When?”

  “He’ll be here any time to pick you up.”

  Hannah held out her gored skirt. “Look at me, Charlotte! How will I ever get ready in time?”

  Charlotte tsked. “You are a sorry sight.” She picked up the yellow-decked box. “I guess I could give this box to Louisa Jane. I’m sure she’d be happy to share it with Lincoln.”

  “That flirt? Don’t you dare. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  “Better make it fifteen.” She giggled. “Or I might have to tell Lincoln exactly why you’re late.”

  George was late.

  Hannah glanced at Charlotte. She fiddled with the buttons on her dress, nervously watching the street in front of the high school. Decorated boxes lined a table the teachers had set up in the school yard, and young men stood before them doing their best to decide which to purchase. Lincoln walked over to survey the wares. Like Charlotte had done, a girl could give the young fellow she wanted to bid on her box a clue to its identity. Still, they’d have to win the bid in order to have the opportunity to eat with that young lady. If George didn’t hurry, he might miss the chance to purchase Charlotte’s box.

  Excusing herself, Charlotte said she wanted to see if she could spot George coming.

  Lincoln ambled back to Hannah’s side. “Any sign of him?”

  “Not yet. If he doesn’t show—”

  “He will.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Look, here comes Charlotte, and I’m guessing the fellow must be George.” He took Hannah’s hand in his. “Listen, before they get back, I want to ask you to join me for a show tomorrow.”

  Her body tingled at the thought. “I really need to go visit Walt. I haven’t seen him for days.”

  “Then we’ll go see him first, and if you don’t say yes, I may let one of these other young fellows buy your box.” Lincoln sucked in his cheeks to keep from laughing. “I think I saw that pimple-faced boy in the checkered shirt eyeing it.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Say yes, or I just might.”

  “Do you play this unfair in a courtroom?”

  “Me?” He pressed his hand to his heart, feigning innocence.

  She rolled her eyes. “All right then, yes.”

  Hannah caught sight of Charlotte leading George in their direction. As they approached, Hannah overheard the young man telling Charlotte she should be glad he was here and not pester him about why he was late.

  Her sister forced a smile when she joined them. “George, you remember my sister Hannah.”

  “Ma’am.” He dipped his head.

  “And this is Lincoln Cole. Mr. Cole, may I introduce George Donnelly.”

  “Sir.” He nodded.

  Hannah fought the urge to frown. Why didn’t he offer Lincoln his hand?

  The auctioneer stepped to the table and shouted for all the young men to circle around.

  Lincoln laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Come on, George. We’ve got some boxes to purchase.”

  As soon as Lincoln and George left, Hannah turned to her sister. Charlotte’s face, so joyful an hour ago, was now lined with concern.

  “Are you okay, Charlotte?”

  She gave a weak smile. “Yes. I’m just glad George is here.”

  “And soon you and he will be enjoying your delicious fare. Did you make your apple charlotte?”

  “Naturally.” Her smile returned. “I sure hope George likes it.”

  “He’d be a fool not to.” She linked her arm in Charlotte’s. “Come on. Let’s go see who gets stuck with Louisa Jane’s hard-as-a-brick biscuits.”

  The first boxes sold for a quarter each. Not a bad start, but Lincoln planned on bidding more for Hannah’s right from the start. He wasn’t taking any chances on someone else trying to steal the yellow beribboned box with its delicious, Charlotte-made contents. If Charlotte was half the cook Hannah claimed, they were in for a treat.

  A young man whooped after paying forty cents for his box. He scampered off to claim the box and the girl to go with it. She didn’t look half as pleased, but perhaps God had other plans for them. Lincoln had a greater appreciation for God’s timing than ever before.

  He glanced at George. The young man had his hand held out with a splattering of coins on his palm. Fifty-two cents total. What if Charlotte’s box went over that? With all the fanciful decorations she’d put on it, it might.

  Nudged by generosity, Lincoln leaned close to the boy’s ear. “If you need any extra money, I’ll be glad to give you some.”

  The young man glared at him. “I don’t take charity.”

  “It can be a loan—and only if Charlotte’s box goes over what you brought. She’s really looking forward to dinner with you tonight. I’d hate for her to be disappointed.” He glanced toward the two sisters and smiled at Hannah. Charlotte wasn’t the only one looking forward to dinner. He couldn’t wait to have a few minutes with Hannah all to himself.

  “If her box is more than this, she’ll be eating with someone else.” George jammed his fist back in his pocket.

  This young fellow had a lot to learn, but Lincoln tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. A lot of boys were taught not to accept charity, so he could offer to hire George for something if it seemed necessary when the time came.

  “Well, look here, fellows!” The auctioneer’s voice boomed as he held up Charlotte’s box. “Isn’t this about the prettiest package up here? We’d better start it at fifteen cents.”

  George let someone else have the first bid. Lincoln turned to see Charlotte with her knuckle pressed against her lips. Jumping into the action, George accepted the volley of bids. It appeared he won the box at fifty cents.

  “Going once. Going twice.”

  Another fellow raised his hand.

  George glanced at Charlotte and shrugged. Even from a distance, Lincoln could see she was crestfallen.

  “Don’t be a fool, George. Raise the bid.”

  “I told you—”

  “Going once.”

  Lincoln positioned himself so Charlotte couldn’t see her beau, grabbed George’s arm, and thrust it in the air.

  “Sixty cents.” The auctioneer grinned. “Going once. Going twice. Sold to the young man in the middle.”

  “You can work it off.” Lincoln handed him a dime and nudged him toward the picnic area. “And you can thank me later.”

  George stomped to the front and claimed the box. Charlotte threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

  Yep, the boy could thank him later.

  Hannah’s box, similar to Charlotte’s but bearing the dotted yellow ribbon, came up five boxes later. The auctioneer again started it at fifteen cents. However, Lincoln shot his hand into the air and offered three dollars. Girls gasped and some of the men chuckled, but no one bid against him.


  When he went to claim his dinner and his date, he had to grin. Hannah’s cheeks bloomed like the spring blossoms on the trees. He accepted his box and offered her his arm.

  She slipped her hand in place and waited to speak until he’d led them to a secluded spot. “We’re supposed to be chaperoning.”

  “Look who’s over there.” He nodded toward Charlotte and George. “Besides, I think it’s our duty to make sure no other young couples find this place, don’t you?”

  A smile reached her hazel eyes. “Hmm. Perhaps that is a good idea.”

  Every moment Hannah spent with Lincoln chipped away at her doubts and concerns.

  Lincoln removed his coat, spread it on the grass, and held out his hand. “For you, my lady.”

  Hannah took his hand, and his touch sent currents through her once again. Would she ever be able to be in this man’s presence without it undoing her? She allowed him to help her settle on the coat.

  He placed the box in front of her. “Will you do the honors?”

  She tugged the ribbon free and lifted the lid off the box. The scent of fried chicken and cinnamon blended in the air. Charlotte had outdone herself. Hannah withdrew the linen napkins and handed one to Lincoln. Within minutes, Lincoln had blessed the food and they were enjoying the crunch of Charlotte’s chicken and her flaky biscuits. Lincoln loved her mother’s crab apple jelly and said he hoped Hannah, too, had learned to make the concoction. She assured him she had, but hers never gelled quite as well as Charlotte’s or her mother’s.

  Hannah marveled at how easily conversation with Lincoln came. After hearing a few stories about his independent, fun-loving aunt, Hannah felt like she knew the woman. In turn, he pried information out of her about college. Soon they were sharing Drake stories, everything from difficult courses to influential professors to favorite locations on the campus. She learned they both enjoyed tennis, had served on the staff for the Quax yearbook, and had been in the Latin club. They’d also both fallen asleep in a few of their law lectures in Cole Hall.

  “If only we could have been fellows at the same time.” Lincoln accepted a plate of apple charlotte drenched in vanilla cream. “On second thought, my marks would have suffered horribly if you had been there to distract me.”

  “And the dean of women would have called me in.” Hannah sat up straight and folded her hands across her chest to appear more like the woman she remembered. “Dr. Mary Craig would have said, ‘Miss Gregory, you must put forth more effort. As women, we have much to offer the world, but no one will ever see it if we allow ourselves to be distracted.’”

  He took a bite of his dessert and moaned. “This is incredible. What is it?”

  “Apple charlotte.”

  “She named it after herself?”

  “No, silly.” Hannah forked her own bite. “That’s the recipe’s name, and Charlotte’s apple charlotte is the best.”

  Lincoln glanced at the other couple. “And it looks like George is about to get his first taste.”

  George said something as Charlotte handed him a piece of the dessert, and Charlotte didn’t look happy. What had he done to upset her sister now?

  Lincoln frowned. “Hannah, what’s wrong?”

  “Charlotte is near tears.”

  Repositioning himself, Lincoln studied the other couple. “How can you tell?”

  “We’re sisters. I can tell.” He probably wouldn’t understand, but it was the truth. “I can’t believe he upset her. I should march over there and—”

  “And what?” Lincoln took her hand in his, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

  “Are you comforting me or holding me back?”

  He grinned. “A little of both.”

  23

  “So what upset Charlotte earlier?” Lincoln offered Hannah his hand and helped her out of the Reo. “They seemed all right when we left the box social.”

  Even though he’d offered to give George and Charlotte a ride home too, the young man had insisted on walking Charlotte home himself. The more Lincoln thought about it, the more that fact bothered him.

  Hannah propped her hands on her hips. “George said for as much as he paid for her box, he thought he’d at least get a pie.”

  “You mean when Charlotte presented him with that delicious dessert bearing her name, he had the nerve to say it wasn’t what he wanted?”

  “Apparently.” She leaned against the automobile’s fender and removed the silk scarf he’d made sure was waiting for her.

  “The cad. No wonder she was upset.” He smiled when Hannah folded the scarf and slipped it in her pocket. Maybe she was simply distracted, but he’d take any headway he could get.

  “Charlotte said it was her fault, and she should’ve remembered apple pie is his favorite.” Hannah shrugged. “I don’t understand it. The Charlotte I know would have dumped that dessert on his head, not apologized. Why is she so different with him?”

  “I’ll be happy to speak to him for you. I can tell him you’d rather he not see her anymore.”

  “If someone told me that, I’d want to see him all the more.” Hannah smiled. “Thank you, but I can handle it. I’ll speak with Charlotte and voice my concerns.”

  “Then I’ll pray for you to find the right words.”

  “Is that what you do when you’re in the courtroom? Pray?”

  He nodded. “I do, and sometimes words and thoughts come that I’ve never considered before. That’s when I know I’m doing the job God wants me to do. I love helping people in trouble. Cases like Walt’s—the ones that look hopeless—are my favorite.”

  Hannah cocked her head to the side. “Then why do you want to go into politics?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Says who?”

  “You’re good at cross-examining, counselor.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ve been groomed to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

  “But is it what you want?”

  “Honestly? Until this moment, I’ve never considered it.” He whistled. “Do you realize the kind of stir I’d cause if I changed my mind?”

  Her eyes flashed with amusement. “Take it from someone who knows a lot about causing stirs—it’s not so bad.” She pulled her hands free. “Sorry, the prodigals are returning, and I don’t want to set a bad example.”

  Lincoln sighed. So much for his plan to kiss her good night.

  “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great. After all, you’re the second one in our class to advance. I bet Ginger was livid.” With her arm linked in Rosie’s, Hannah stepped off the telephone company’s elevator. “We’re here plenty early, so I’ll show you around, but your supervisor will give you a longer tour later and explain all the details.”

  “You can skip giving me the tour and tell me what’s been going on with you and Lincoln Cole. I saw him at your house on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Is there somewhere we can sneak away so you can fill me in?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather get settled?”

  “No, my friend. I need details. How can I live vicariously through your experiences if you don’t fess up?”

  Hannah giggled and pulled Rosie into the operators’ parlor. They secluded themselves in the library area, where Hannah proceeded to tell Rosie about the box social.

  “We went to Fosters Theater on Saturday, and afterward we went to visit Walt.” Hannah’s chest tightened. “Oh, Rosie, Walt’s spirits were so low.”

  “What are his chances at today’s hearing?”

  Hannah shook her head, and her stomach knotted. Lincoln had been honest with her again yesterday. He wanted her to be prepared for Walt to be handed over for trial. “I’m praying things go better than Lincoln thinks they will.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Rosie patted her arm. “Now, on to happier subjects. What show did you see? Did Lincoln hold your hand?”

  “Rosie!” Hannah covered her wide smile with her hand. “We saw Mary Mannering in Glorious Betsy. It’s a romantic comedy about Napoleon
’s brother Jérôme and a woman from America he falls in love with. It’s roughly based on a true story.”

  “Does it end happily ever after?”

  “In the play it does. Napoleon persuades Betsy that it’s in his brother’s best interest to return to France. He does, but then he goes back to America and chooses to stay with Betsy.”

  “And in real life?”

  “Elizabeth Patterson married Jérôme Bonaparte, but Napoleon refused to recognize the match. She was given sixty thousand francs a year, while her husband returned to France and married the woman Napoleon deemed a proper fit—of the right class and social standing.”

  “Hannah, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Emperor of France and attorney in Iowa are two very different things.”

  “But Lincoln wants to be in politics. How could I further his ambitions? I’m a Hello Girl. I didn’t even finish college. He needs a wife who can throw parties and impress male voters—not a wife who would rather argue with them about why a woman should have the right to vote.”

  A broad grin creased Rosie’s face.

  “What?”

  “You’re already thinking of marrying him.”

  Hannah stood up. “Of course not, but it’s prudent to consider the possibilities.”

  “Prudent, huh?” Rosie followed Hannah out of the parlor. “Just remember, there’s no Napoleon in Lincoln’s life. I believe he’s quite capable of making his own choices, and right now, that choice appears to be you.”

  In the central exchange, Hannah snuck a glance in Rosie’s direction. Her friend was assigned to station number ten, so her supervisor would be Miss Hathaway. Miss Frogge oversaw the operators at stations eleven to twenty, so at least Rosie would be spared some of the first day’s stress Hannah had endured.

  During the early morning, Miss Frogge took several opportunities to insert the plug of her headset into the special jack at the top of Hannah’s station. This allowed her supervisor to listen in on all of her calls. But why was Miss Frogge so focused on her today?

  The supervisor’s presence created so much tension, Hannah developed a crick in her neck. It throbbed through several calls, but Hannah dared not rub it. Finally, Miss Frogge withdrew her jack and stepped back. Footfalls on the tiled floor indicated she’d headed toward the stations on Hannah’s left. Hannah risked a glance to her right to see how Rosie was faring. The knot in her neck kinked, and she grabbed the spot.