"You know, I had three men interested in me," Alice giggled.
Elizabet found herself repeating the number and not believing it. "Three?"
Squealing with delight, Alice added, "Imagine, three men fighting to have me as their wife. When was the last time that happened to you?"
Thinking of her own life, Elizabet knew how hard it was to find one decent man in the city. Most of the eligible men she knew, were either too old, or married. The ones her own age had hightailed it out West to seek a fortune. "Nice dream all right-"
"And I'm not talking about some rough neck living in a dirt hut in the middle of nowhere. I'm talking about a banker, a store owner, even a doctor." Looking like the cat that had got the cream, Alice sat back and pointed to herself. "Imagine, three men fighting over me. Me? Heck, if I got three men with the way I look—can you imagine how many you'd have to fight off?”
"Stop that, you're a good-looking girl," Elizabet found herself arguing. Although a little on the plump side, Alice's attractive face and sweet nature would be welcomed by any man.
"My problem is too many of these," Alice said, holding another pastry in her hand and taking a bite. "I'm afraid me and food are too good of friends. Oh, you've got to try one of these Alice. I swear I'd marry the person that made it."
Picking up a pastry, Elizabet saluted her and laughed, "Here's to a happy marriage, Alice." Seeing her friend cough as she inhaled a crumb, she found the pair of them laugh until tears flowed from their eyes.
Taking a napkin and dabbing it to her eyes, Alice remarked, "Next time, warn me OK? You could have killed me with that wise crack."
"Thought that's the way you would have wanted to go out, killed by a pastry," Elizabet smiled and took a drink from her cup.
Giggling along and taking a drink of her own, Alice asked, "So, you never told me, why were you in such a hurry earlier?"
Hearing the question, Elizabet found herself taken back to her predicament and fell silent.
"What is, Bet?"
Worried about getting Alice involved, she shook her head. "It's nothing."
"I know you too well, Elizabet-"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're too proud to ask for help."
"Am not."
Smiling over her cup before taking a drink, Alice said, "You always have been. I know you too long."
Elizabet felt herself squirm knowing that Alice was right about her. She's been told enough times by her father on how it reminded him of her late mother. Thinking of her father, she was instantly brought back to the threat by Charles. Seeing the happiness on Alice's face, and not wanting anything bad to come to her, Elizabet bit her lip. This was one problem that wouldn't get better by being shared with others. "It's nothing, really. I just heard some bad news today, that's all."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure, thanks, Alice."
"I know what you need," Alice said, taking hold of the teapot on the table and making herself busy filling both their cups. "You need a man in your life-"
"Yeah right."
"Seriously. With your father gone, God bless his soul. But with your father gone, there's nothing to keep you here, other than the store. Why not sell up and head West? One sugar or two?" Alice asked, hovering a loaded sugar tongs over her cup.
"One please. I hadn't really thought of it-"
"Well, you're not getting any younger-"
Holding her hand to her chest and putting on a look of shock, Elizabet answered. "I beg your pardon; I'll have you know-"
"You're scared."
"What made you say that? I am not."
"You're scared of leaving this place and meeting the man of your dreams-"
"If he exists."
"I'll tell you what, give it a go," Alice said and took a card from her purse. Sliding it across the table, she added. "What's the harm? A few weeks from now, you could be far from this place and in the arms of a loving man. That is unless you're too proud to ask for help in the romance department."
Elizabet held the card and read the name. "Martha Williams."
"Sweet lady. I know you'll like her. Just let her do her magic and see what she happens. Heck, if she can find me a husband, you'd be a walk in the park. You eating that last pastry?"
Elizabet looked from the card to the smiling face that waved the last pastry at her and shook her head. Could it really be that easy, she wondered? Was becoming a mail-order bride her chance to get away from Charles and make a fresh start? Putting the small card in her purse, she decided she'd pay a call on Martha Williams the following day.
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Mail Order Bride: The Irish Runaway Page 8