WOMEN OF SURPRISE 03: Making Over Maggie

by Tracey J. Lyons

  Taking hold of Maggie's hand, she replied, "I would expect nothing less from the two of you. Oh, and before I forget, we'll be having a meeting on Sunday after church to plan the upcoming box lunch social. And I expect you to attend, Maggie."

  Dipping her head, she planted a kiss on her aunt's cheek. "I'll be there. Good night, Aunt Margaret. Mr. Wagner."

  "I'll see you in the morning." Mr. Wagner wheeled the older woman out into the cool night.

  Sam nodded at her. Right now he and Miss Maggie needed to finish out the evening.

  "I'll see to tallying the revenue from the refreshments. You can say good night to our guests."

  Adjusting his cravat, he suppressed the urge to smile. Maggie was deliberately goading him by using the word guests instead of patrons, knowing full well how much the choice annoyed him.

  "I think we should auction off the boxes and no bid should be lower than two cents" Lydia had a pencil poised over a tablet of paper. Sticking the end of the pencil in her mouth, she nibbled on it while concentrating on her notes.

  Sitting on her aunt's verandah overlooking the town, Maggie was hardly contributing to the meeting. She still hadn't recovered from the grand opening of the dance hall. According to the receipts it had been a huge financial success, or so Mr. Clay had informed her.

  Of course, she was learning she shouldn't put much stock in the words coming from his mouth. She'd carefully avoided being alone with the wretched man since that night. It didn't matter at all how many compliments they'd received on the entertainment. And most of those came from the menfolk concerning the dance troupe. Maggie now thought of the four young women as "the vixens."

  "This should help out the school a great deal," Lydia added.

  "Maggie, you have barely said a word in the past hour. Is everything all right, dear?"

  "Yes, Aunt Margaret. Fine and dandy," she quipped.

  "Good. Then you won't mind making up a lunch for the picnic."

  "What?" Maggie's thoughts weren't on the picnic.

  "Food-cucumber sandwiches, peach pie, and the like." Lydia waved her hand in the air. "Honestly Maggie, whatever is wrong with you?"

  "Man trouble," Abigail whispered.

  "I am not having man trouble." Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. Maggie left the wicker chair, walking to stand beside a porch post.

  But her denial did not make Abigail's words any less true. For the first time in her life she was attracted to a man. And nothing was going the way she supposed it should. She'd done a fair job of avoiding Samuel for the past week, thinking that not seeing him would make her hurt feelings go away. But that hadn't been the case.

  She kept remembering how he'd promised her they would share in every decision concerning the business. She'd trusted him and he'd thrown that trust right back in her face.

  Stubborn pride was preventing her from speaking more than two civil words at a time to him. He'd apologized several times over and each time she shunned him. Now they worked together in uneasy silence.

  Confusion left her feeling as if her carefully planned life was out of control like a wild unbroken horse. Standing here on Aunt Margaret's porch Maggie knew she was going to have to fix what was wrong and soon, otherwise she was going to make herself crazy.

  Women in bright gingham dresses and men in their Sunday best milled around the yard behind the schoolhouse. The sun riding high in the cloudless sky dried the dew soaked grass, making for perfect picnic conditions.

  Samuel Clay tipped his hat to every lady and shook a few of the gentlemen's hands, though all the while his gaze searched the gathering for Maggie. The stubborn woman hadn't spoken to him since the grand opening. At first it had been a game, and he assumed once the dust settled, so to speak, she would forgive him.

  This had yet to happen.

  With the noon hour approaching, everyone began to gather at the foot of the steps leading to the schoolhouse entrance. Here a podium had been set up. Red, white, and blue bunting looped through the white handrails fluttering in the breeze. Baskets and boxes of all shapes and sizes filled the steps.

  "Mine is the one with the bright pink ribbon tied onto the handle," a woman behind him whispered to the man standing next to her.

  Wondering how and if Maggie had decorated her basket, he paid closer attention to the lunches. By his estimation there were close to fifty of them and after several frustrated minutes of searching, he couldn't decide which one might be hers.

  "If I were you, I'd bid on the one with the yellow cloth lining."

  Sam turned to find Abigail's husband nodding to him.

  Nudging his arm, Cole added, "Second step, third one on the right side."

  "Thanks, I owe you one."

  Now that he knew what Maggie's lunch looked like, he walked over to the big shade tree and leaned against it, waiting for his turn to bid.

  John Wagner came out of the school and stepped up to the podium. Picking up the auc tioneer's gavel, he whacked it twice calling everyone to attention.

  "I'd like to welcome all of you fine citizens to the first annual box lunch social. The proceeds from today's event will go toward the purchase of school supplies for our children. So dig deep and bid high!"

  The bidding began and much to his dismay, Mr. Wagner started with the lunches closest to him. This meant Maggie's basket wouldn't come up to the auction block until near the end. Preparing for the wait, Sam loosened his neatly tied cravat and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

  Soon the yard and hillside were full of picnic goers enjoying their crisply cooked chicken, hard-boiled eggs, and in some cases, full three course meals. The sheriff and her husband took a spot behind the tree where Sam was waiting. Within minutes Lydia and Alexander joined them with their two children in tow.

  As the crowd thinned out, Sam began to wonder about the contents in Maggie's basket. He didn't even know if she could cook. He'd never seen her cook. For all he knew she might not even have the talent to do something as simple as butter a slice of bread.

  He saw her going up the stairs with her basket in hand. Unlike the other women who had dressed in their Sunday best, Maggie wore a black skirt and a long-sleeved, high-collared, white blouse. He smiled, shaking his head. Maggie wasn't going to give an inch. It was almost as if she'd known he was going to be the sole bidder and had dressed for the occasion.

  So be it. Sam was up to the challenge.

  Lifting the yellow cloth, John Wagner peered into the basket. "Ah, what have we here? I see a jar of pickled beets."

  Not one of Sam's favorite foods.

  "Two sandwiches-smells like ham to meand for dessert there are two big slices of apple pie."

  At least the ham and pie were to his liking.

  "Let's start the bidding at ten cents. Do I hear ten cents for Miss Maggie's basket?"

  An older gentleman whom Sam didn't recognize raised his hand. Catching Mr. Wagner's eye, Sam nodded.

  "I see we have ten cents and I believe Mr. Clay here would like to raise the bid?"

  Sam nodded again and held up two fingers.

  "Twenty cents. We have twenty cents, do I hear twenty-five?"

  The man raised up five fingers indicating a fifty cent bid. Sam didn't know who this fellow was, but there was no way he was going to outbid him. So raising his hand, he too held up five fingers.

  "Mr. Clay, we already have a bid of fifty cents."

  "My bid is for five dollars."

  A hush fell over the crowd. He didn't dare look at Maggie's face, but he heard her yelp.

  "Mr. Clay, are you certain you want to bid five dollars for this lunch? It is, after all, only two sandwiches, pie, and the pickled beets"

  "Well, you can toss out the beets. I don't care much for them anyway." Pushing away from the tree he made his way over to the podium to collect his winnings. Stepping out from the shade into the bright sunlight, he caught his first glimpse of his lunch companion's face.

  Looking madder than a wet hen,
she sailed down the steps. Sam passed her halfway up. After paying Mr. Wagner the five dollars, he went to find her. Standing off by the corner of the building, she waited with the basket in hand and a folded patchwork quilt lying over one arm.

  "Howdy, ma'am. Where would you like to sit?"

  Turning a cold back to him, she walked away, leaving him with no choice except to follow in her wake. So much for lighthearted conversation, he thought.

  She was spreading the quilt on the ground under a small tree. Dappled sunlight covered them. While she pulled things out of the basket, tossing them carelessly on the quilt, he stood in stunned silence observing her quiet temper tantrum.

  "You sure can carry a grudge, Maggie."

  Without batting an eyelash, she commanded, "Sit down."

  "Not yet. We need to settle this argument once and for all. Look, Maggie, I told you I was sorry for bringing those girls here without telling you first"

  "No, you look, Mr. Clay. I didn't slave away in the kitchen for half the morning so this food could go to waste" Tossing the empty basket behind her, she busied herself by adjusting the ribbon holding back her blond locks.

  "You took that much time preparing lunch for me?"

  "Now how was I supposed to know you would be the one buying my basket?"

  "Lucky guess?" he winked at her.

  He thought he saw her thawing just a little bit.

  "Sit before you cause even more of a scene than you already have by bidding such a ridiculously high amount of money on what is probably the worst lunch here"

  Kneeling next to her, he picked up one of the sandwiches and pulled off the wrapper. Taking a big healthy bite, he savored the rich flavor of the slow cooked ham. "Mmm. This is good"

  "Of course it's good."

  "I hadn't added cooking to your list of skills."

  "Is that a compliment, Mr. Clay?"

  "Let's just say you certainly know how to satisfy a man's appetite." He'd leaned in close to her to whisper the words and was quite satisfied with the warm blush making its way along her neckline.

  He was definitely making headway.

  Pushing him away, Maggie bit into her sandwich. After chewing thoughtfully for a few minutes, she swallowed. Dabbing daintily at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, she said, "If you wish to make changes in the entertainment for our dance hall, I'd like you to consult me beforehand"

  Those were the first civil words she'd spoken to him in almost two weeks and Sam knew she was extending an olive branch to him. Not one to be foolish, he said, "I can do that"

  "I'd like to know why you didn't do it to begin with. You could have avoided all of this if you had."

  "I knew you'd never approve of my plan."

  "I wouldn't have"

  "So how is this going to change our arrangement?"

  Sighing, she looked at him. "I'll have to learn to compromise."

  Laughing, he said, "You don't need to make it sound like a death sentence."

  "In case you have failed to notice, Samuel, I don't like to compromise. I'm stubborn and set in my ways.

  "You're also warm-hearted and very pretty." He spoke softly, the words for her ears only.

  She fixed a clear blue-eyed gaze on him, leaving Sam mesmerized.

  "You didn't have to say that. I know that I'm not the most sought after woman in this town."

  His fingers touched hers. "I'm only telling you what I see. And right now I see a warm, intelligent, headstrong woman. One that I'm very glad to have as my business partner."

  "You know statements like that could get you thrown out of every saloon in a hundred mile radius."

  "I'm a progressive thinker."

  "You're confident, steadfast, and for the most part true to your word."

  "So what do you think about having the dance troupe here once each month?"

  "Do we have to decide on this today?"

  Knowing that their truce was tenuous, he conceded. "We can talk about it another time, but if the answer is yes, then I can get them booked before their schedule fills up"

  "Sam, I'm not sure the girls are right for us."

  Leaning back on his elbows, Sam looked out over the hillside. Blades of green grass bent to the wind and children ran around their parents laughing and playing. Miss Margaret was situated in the center of all the activity, ever the matriarch of the town.

  Maggie had to agree to his idea. He needed the money. There was no way he was going to return to the farm now. He would never turn his back on his family, but he wasn't a farmer. Sam was an entrepreneur and if not for sharing this venture with Maggie, he might never have realized his dreams.

  "Maggie, do you know how much money we made the other night?"

  "I think it was near two hundred dollars."

  Shaking his head, he replied, "It was more like three hundred! Those girls made people want to stay and have fun. If patrons are having fun then they are spending money."

  From the opposite end of town came the shrill sound of the train whistle as it pulled to a stop. More people coming to see if everything being said by the papers about the town was true, he supposed.

  "The whole point of this business was to provide a place for people to be able to go and forget about their troubles"

  "I understand this, Samuel, truly I do. It's just that you and I don't have the same idea about what will make us successful"

  He could see she was getting angrier. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Oh shoot, Maggie. Did you have any fun at all the other night?"

  He sensed her reluctance in answering. "Did you have fun, Maggie?" Rubbing his thumb on the tender underside of her wrist, he coaxed her response.

  "Yes I did."

  "Tell me when you were the happiest."

  "When I was dancing with you."

  That wasn't the answer he expected to hear and he knew what it took for her to admit she'd enjoyed being in his arms.

  Quietly, he replied, "I'm glad I can make you feel happy" And he meant it.

  Gazing at him intently, Maggie frowned. "I've never met anyone like you, Samuel. One minute you have me feeling frustrated and angry while the next you make me laugh."

  He didn't know what to say. When he'd come to this town the last thing on his mind had been falling for a woman. And yet, here he was sitting next to this pretty young lady feeling the best he'd felt in months.

  Tugging her up from the blanket, he gathered her in his arms. "Dance with me, Maggie."

  "Here?"

  Ignoring her protest, Sam began waltzing with her around the edges of the blanket.

  "Samuel! Stop it this instant. People are staring at us" Playfully she swatted his arm.

  "I want you to have fun with me, Maggie. Say the words, tell me you're having fun."

  A few more spins around the blanket had them both laughing. "I am having fun!" Slowly they came to a stop and Sam couldn't resist dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  He heard her quick intake of breath and saw the brilliance of her gaze. "Sam, I ... think we.."

  He cut off her words with a kiss on those perfect lips, murmuring, "Don't think so much, Maggie."

  She stood on her tiptoes, tentatively returning his kiss. Pulling away from her was hard for him to do because he liked the feel of Maggie Monroe's soft lips on his. He enjoyed the taste of salt on her mouth. But considering they were standing in a very public place with many townsfolk as witnesses he decided it was for the best.

  Settling back on the blanket, they spent the next hour watching three-legged and sack races. They laughed at the antics of the youngsters, and howled at the clumsiness of the older folks. Offering Maggie his hand, he helped her up from the quilt. Together they packed the basket and folded the blanket.

  "Mr. Clay!" He turned at the sound of Mrs. Bartholomew's voice. "Mr. Clay, there's some people here to see you."

  Handing the blanket to Maggie, Sam looked around.

  "He's right over there by Maggie." Mrs. Sutherland was leading an older couple and
a young man to him.

  "Samuel! Samuel! I can't believe we've finally found you. At last!"

  Speechless, he could only stare open-mouthed at the people approaching him.

  Springing to her feet, Maggie brushed the dust from her skirt, noticing right away that Samuel hadn't moved forward to greet the newcomers. There was a look on his face she'd never seen before.

  Touching his arm, she said, "Samuel, do you know these people?" She felt the muscles in his upper arms tense beneath her touch.

  She didn't understand his reaction. The woman and gentleman didn't look like they meant any harm. And the young man walking beside them looked as if he wouldn't hurt a fly.

  "Samuel," she whispered.

  Hands stuffed into his pockets, he went to join the people. Sensing his reluctance to do so, Maggie followed a few steps behind, curiosity getting the best of her.

  When he didn't turn to introduce them, she made a movement as if to step into their circle. Sam held up his arm, stopping her. There were tears in the woman's eyes as she looked up at him. The man with his hand at her waist was equally emotional.

  "Maggie, these people are my family."

  "My goodness! It's my pleasure to finally meet you"

  Now she could see the similarities. The woman's eyes were the same color as Samuel's and the hair on the younger man was of a similar shade.

  "How did you find me?"

  The sound of his voice interrupted her musings. He wasn't happy to see them. Why? She wondered.

  "We saw a picture of you in this here paper. Show him the one, Walter."

  The young man, who Maggie realized couldn't be more than halfway through his teen years, took a dog-eared, wrinkled newspaper out of his coat pocket. Handing it to Samuel, he smiled shyly.

  Sam snapped the paper open with such force the page tore. She recognized the picture of them. It had been taken the day of the grand opening. She and Samuel were standing in front of the dance hall. Maggie hadn't imagined the picture would be publicized so much. The reporter from the Albany Times obviously thought the photograph would make his review of the opening better.