by Gina Welborn
Now that he’d finally given up trying to be like his brother, he was just as wary of people’s motives as Isaak was. Oh, the irony.
Letty tugged on his sleeve. “Stop staring at them.” When Jakob didn’t comply, she wrapped her arm around his and tugged. “Come along, Mr. Jacobs.”
Jakob grudgingly fell into step with her. “You were uncharacteristically quiet back there,” he said after glancing over his shoulder to see that Hazel and Ada were following them.
“Was I?” Letty answered.
The brim of her hat blocked his view of her face. “Indeed you were.”
“Sometimes a girl just wants to trust a man to handle a situation.”
“Did I handle it the way you wanted?”
“You handled it the way I expected you would.”
“Is that a good thing?” His heart pounded against his chest as he waited—anticipated—her answer. She had to feel the same as he did for her. Had to.
Yet she said nothing as they waited until traffic lulled before crossing the street.
“Well?” he prodded once they reached the sidewalk.
“Once again I’ve said more than I should.” She stopped walking and released her hold on his arm. “Girls, look!” She pointed at the building ahead.
Hazel and Ada dashed forward, and Letty hurried after them. The trio stopped at the pink-painted confectionery’s window display.
Hazel pressed her palms and her nose against the glass. “They have ice cream!”
“We’d better buy her some,” Letty remarked, as Jakob drew up next to her, “or she’ll start licking the glass.”
“We can’t let that happen.” Jakob stopped at the propped-open door. “People will see, word will travel, and then someone will offer her employment at the Palace.”
Letty released his arm. “You sound jealous.”
Jakob shrugged. “It’s hard being a man with so many talents and so few people to recognize them. Did I tell you I can yodel?”
“I thought we were talking about your talents?” Her gaze was direct, and her expression of sincere confusion. And then she winked.
God help him, his heart lurched.
“Come along, Mr. Jacobs,” she continued as if there had been no break in the conversation. “Everyone knows the best way to enjoy a meal is to begin with dessert.” With a bright grin, she followed Hazel into the shop.
Jakob didn’t follow. Couldn’t. Every moment he’d thought he might be falling in love with her was a shadow compared to now. You are not a pawn. You are a knight. With each word, each smile, each generous action, Letty lured him to her. Unwittingly, of course. She was too sincere, too much of a lady to knowingly play games with any man’s heart. And yet just when something was about to happen between them, she drew back. Why?
Ada stepped up to Jakob, her head tilting back as she stared up at him. “You and Letty are so smitten with each other, it almost makes me too sick to eat ice cream. And that’s saying a lot because I love ice cream, Jane Austen, and the Brontë sisters. If there’s anything an author of romance has taught me, it’s that not everyone needs years of acquaintance to fall in love. Staying in love is another story.” She tapped her book on his chest. “I’m sure there’s a Mr. Darcy in there. Find him.”
“Who is Mr. Darcy?”
“Haven’t you ever read a Jane Austen novel?”
“No.”
“Pity.”
Unsure of how to respond to a fifteen-year-old’s lecture on courtship, Jakob followed Ada into the shop. The counters were piled high with candies in hundreds of colors and mixtures. Candied fruit and sweetmeats filled round boxes edged with frilled paper. As Letty and the girls perused what the confectionery had to offer, Jakob looked for somewhere to sit, but every chair around the small, marble-topped tables was filled with customers.
“What would you like?” The question drew him to the ice cream case. The shop girl held a scoop in one hand and bowl in the other.
He eyed the flavor options. The moment he opened his mouth to order the peach ice cream with what looked to be delicious chunks of fruit in it, all conversation in the shop ceased. The proprietor stopped wiping the counter. Letty, Hazel, and Ada looked over their shoulders. Jakob followed their gazes to the entrance. A stately woman in a crimson and white dress with a towering feathered hat stood just over the threshold; a girl that looked to be seven or eight held one of the woman’s white-gloved hands.
“We’re closed,” announced the proprietor.
The child looked confused. “There are people here.”
An awkward silence grew.
Jakob watched the play of emotions on the woman’s face. Then she dipped her head in polite acknowledgment of the proprietor’s words and strolled away, yet not without Jakob hearing “But, Mama?” and “Not now.”
The proprietor resumed wiping the counter.
Letty’s confused gaze met Jakob’s.
“Why wasn’t she allowed to come in?” Hazel asked the shop girl.
“She’s the mayor’s…special friend. We’re good folk,” the shop girl said as if that explained everything. She smiled. “Which flavor would you like?”
Hazel’s brow furrowed. “Um, I don’t know.”
Jakob watched as Ada and Letty’s joyful expressions grew as uncertain as Hazel’s. If the proprietor knew Ada and Hazel were former prostitutes, would they still be welcome in the shop? Pa used to receive complaints that he was too casual about brothel owners and prostitutes shopping at The Resale Company. When Jakob asked him about it, Pa said he was willing to post a sign that said No prostitutes allowed, but if he did that, it was only fair that he included no men who frequented prostitutes, as well as drunkards, adulterers, liars, thieves, gamblers, gossips, and gluttons. “Love others and let God deal with their sin” was Pa’s philosophy.
Jakob cleared his throat.
Hazel, Ada, and Letty looked his way.
“As delicious as this ice cream looks, my conscience has gotten the better of me. I’m too much my father’s son to indulge in dessert before the meal.” He held his hand out to Hazel and used his silliest voice. “Would you care for some soup, pretty lady?”
Her smile brightened her face. And then she grumbled, “Keep your soup, good sir. I want steak and potatoes.”
Clasping Hazel’s hand, Jakob stole a glance at Letty. She didn’t have to say thank you; he could see gratitude—and, he hoped, something more romantic—in her eyes.
Ada shoved his back. “Food. I need food!”
* * * *
Rice Park
Colette motioned for the girls to bring the bicycles over to the bench where she was sitting. The location gave her a prime view for watching the girls and for admiring the traffic circling the park: fringed-topped phaetons, elegant landaus with uniformed coachmen on high seats in front, dog carts, hired hacks, and even buggies with horses wearing elaborate fly nets and adorable caps on their ears. If St. Paul had a curfew like Denver did, then everyone must be trying to take advantage of the remaining minutes of daylight.
Or perhaps they enjoyed listening to the beautiful music floating from the nearby Windsor Hotel. Instead of driving around a park to enjoy music, wouldn’t it be easier to sit stationary and listen? Or bring it with you wherever you went. There’s an idea! But how?
Hazel said something to Mr. Bellamy, who then held onto the handlebars as she slid off the seat. Victoria and Ada, protectively clutching the second bicycle, hurried over to Colette.
“Can we go to the concert, Letty?” Victoria asked.
“Which concert?”
“The one at the other end of the park. Sebastian said there’s one every Friday and Saturday night during the summer.”
“Please,” Ada begged, and Victoria quickly echoed.
Hazel and Mr. Bellamy stopped in front of Colette’s bench
and joined in the “Please, Letty,” chorus.
After a soft shake of her head, she smiled then stood. “Lead the way, Mr. Pied Piper.”
The girls squealed.
As Mr. Bellamy escorted them to the flower-lined gravel path heading south, Colette strolled over to where Mr. Jacobs was still standing where she’d left him so she could have a better view of watching the girls ride the bicycles. “There’s a concert at the other end of the park. I agreed we could go listen.”
He nodded, and yet his gaze never moved from the cast iron fountain.
“Have you figured out what the sculpture means?” she asked.
“First, I thought the boy clutching the goose by the neck symbolized man hunting his dinner.” His head tilted left. “Then maybe the goose is golden and the boy symbolizes man’s greed.” His head tilted right. “Or the overall theme is reckless youth grasping for the first tantalizing thing he sees.”
“That’s likely it. I’ve tasted many a tantalizing goose.”
He nodded knowingly. And then he shrugged. “Sculpture probably means nothing at all. It’s just a boy and a goose.”
“It’s never just a boy and a goose, my dear friend.” She studied the sculpture. “Art speaks in many tongues and tells many tales. The secret is learning to listen to hear what it says to you. That you’ve been studying it for over an hour is proof it’s speaking to you.”
“What’s it saying?”
“Watch me.”
His gaze shifted to her. After a moment, his brow furrowed. “You aren’t doing anything.”
Colette chuckled. “The sculpture invites you to watch it, and so you do because it intrigues you. Intrigue can be displayed in the form of horror, desire, temptation, or even peace. Art isn’t about finding answers. It’s about asking questions. It’s about eliciting emotion.”
He looked back at the fountain. “How do you know so much about art?”
“I’m patron to a handful of local artists.” Colette started forward, and he fell into step, the gravel crunching under their feet. “After I return home, my parents are going to help me open an art museum and a studio to display works of local artists.”
“You plan on managing the museum on which days of the week that you aren’t managing your donkey and llama farms?”
“I have managers for my farms.” She sighed. “My mother insisted I sell them. She thinks owning them isn’t sensible. Father helped me hire managers because he recognized them as investments.”
A bell jingled.
Colette looked over her shoulder. Before she could move, Mr. Jacobs scooped her off the path and onto the lawn, giving the bicyclists room to pass by. And then she was back on her feet.
He continued on as if nothing had happened. “You must be close with your parents.”
“I, uh…” Colette breathed deep to slow the pounding in her chest as she gathered her wits. He’d lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He’d also lifted her as if she meant something. To him.
What had he asked about? Oh, her parents.
“We’re quite close. I have four older siblings, but they’re all married and have thirteen children between them.” Three days from now, she and Mr. Jacobs would go their separate ways. She probably shouldn’t say more. But to finally give words to how she felt… Knowing her mother loved her wasn’t the same as feeling loved. A simple note of I’m proud of you for doing this couldn’t undo Mother’s chastisements to be less loud, less silly, and less selfish. “I love my mother, but sometimes she can be overbearing and opinionated.”
“My brother is the same.”
“My father is supportive. Even after giving me the worst lecture of my life, he apologized for hurting my feelings. My mother never apologizes after she does that. She says I have too tender a heart.”
Mr. Jacobs snorted a breath. “I have the opposite problem. My brother said I need to spend less time having fun and more time actually caring about people. I wanted to punch him for saying that.” He paused. “I thought I knew how to love others, but lately I’ve been wondering if I truly love anything other than myself.”
Colette touched her chest, right where his admission caused her heart to hurt. How many times had Mother accused Colette of not truly caring about anyone other than herself? Too many.
The gravel path ended at a lush lawn sprawling with people.
“Letty!”
Colette looked left. Hazel stood next to a brightly painted gazebo, the bicycles propped against it. She waved, pointed at the bicycles, and then dashed over to where Ada, Victoria, and Mr. Bellamy stood at the edge of crowd listening to the band tune their instruments.
“Shall we join them?” Mr. Jacobs asked.
“I think Hazel passed the baton of bicycle watching to us.”
“You only have yourself to blame for teaching her to be a generous soul.” He led her to the gazebo. The four pillars holding up the roof provided little privacy from curious onlookers.
Colette settled down on the bench.
Mr. Jacobs sat next to her. “I’ve never heard instruments tuned so splendidly.”
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
Colette shifted to face him. “I should hire an itinerant musician to follow me around so that I can enjoy music wherever I go.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” He smiled, and she felt herself smiling back.
How nice it was to finally have someone who understood her silliness and sensitivity. She turned back to the crowd. The girls and Mr. Bellamy were now sitting on a blanket with three other youths.
“Four months back, my brother eloped with the girl I was courting.”
Colette jerked her gaze to Mr. Jacobs. He’d made the announcement just as calmly as if he was commenting on the weather. Before she could speak, he did.
“I was hurt and angry. Why him? If I were a girl, I would easily choose me over him.” He held silent for a few moments, not looking at her, not focusing on anything really. The he said, “After Isaak and Zoe eloped, my parents gave me a stern lecture. It began with ‘You need to focus on the good days ahead because there will be good days ahead,’ and ended with ‘You aren’t always going to feel the way you do.’”
“Do you still love her?”
His gaze met hers. “Who?”
“The girl your brother married. Zoe.”
“I was never in love with her.” He snorted a laugh. “If that wasn’t enough to wound my pride, every girl I’ve attempted to court since then has rejected me.”
“I’ve never been in love.” Until now.
“We’re two of a kind,” he said softly. His hand rested atop hers. “Your mother loves you. I know it doesn’t feel like it when she orders you around and tells you how things should be done, but she loves you. I know this because I know Isaak loves me even though he eloped with my mail-order bride.”
Colette rested her head against his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Matthew Jacobs. Someday you’ll find a girl who won’t reject your courtship.”
He gave her fingers a little squeeze. “I’m counting on you being right.”
Chapter Ten
He then departed, to make himself still more interesting, in the midst of a heavy rain.
—JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility
St. Paul Union Depot
Sunday morning, September 9
Colette leaned against the observation room window and watched people mill about the loading platform. This trip had been more than she expected it would be because of Mr. Jacobs. She loved how he treated the girls with such tenderness, respect, and laughter. She loved how he found the good in every situation. And when he smiled—
She sighed. The man could probably charm a mouse into giving up its cheese. Keeping her heart protected would have been easier if Matthew Jacobs wasn’t such a good man
.
Colette brushed her fingers along her lips. He’d almost kissed her. She was sure of it.
As much as she wished he had, she was glad he hadn’t. Doing so would have complicated matters. They were friends, and that’s where their relationship would stay. She would return to Denver. He to…Wasn’t that strange? And a bit impressive, considering how many times she’d slipped up. In all the time they’d spent talking, he’d not once given a clue to where he was from. That he adhered faithfully to rule number one to keep their identities a secret from everyone was probably for the best. She should probably be more circumspect as well.
“Letty, did you forget to mark one of the trunks?” he asked.
Colette blinked herself out of her musing. She looked to where Mr. Jacobs stood, half in the observation room, half in the corridor. He wore denim waist overalls and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up in a manner she knew was more the real him. She liked how at ease he clearly felt.
His brow furrowed. “Did you hear me?”
She nodded. “Why do you ask about the trunks?”
“There’s a trunk and a hatbox missing.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I counted twice. It’s possible.”
Colette pushed off the window. “Let me check.”
He headed back down the corridor, and Colette followed him, glancing long enough to see Hazel and Ada sitting on the lower berth in the stateroom they shared. Colette passed by the closed door to the room she shared with Victoria. Considering how late Victoria had stayed up talking with Colette, Mr. Jacobs, and Mr. Bellamy in the hotel lobby, she wasn’t surprised Victoria wanted sleep. Colette wanted a nap, too. Once she reached the luggage room, Mr. Jacobs handed her the list of items the porter had delivered. Colette shifted through the hatboxes and the three—not four—trunks, comparing them to the items on the list.