by Reina Torres
“You mentioned menus.”
Imogene nodded and set her cup down and picked up a cookie from a plate. “Mr. Hix could print them in his shop.”
“Mr. Hix,” Brigid’s eyes narrowed just the littlest bit. “Is that where you were before we found you?”
Imogene tried to ignore the look that passed between Brigid and Gwen when she nodded. “I have always been fascinated by printing presses and moveable type.”
“Mmm hmm.” Brigid nibbled at her cookie as if she was struggling not to consume it in one whole bite. “And Mr. Hix, how did you find him?”
There was no mistaking the naked curiosity in Brigid’s tone.
“He was quite busy,” Imogene explained, and it was the truth. “I spent a few minutes enjoying the warmth by the stove before taking pity on him and leaving him to his work.”
“Mmhmm.” This time it was Gwen whose expression took on a girlish glee as she looked between her two friends. “He is a lovely man,” she explained. “We see him at services each Sunday.”
Brigid nodded and Imogene could only hope that the decided look of interest in Brigid’s eyes was no more than friendly humor.
The two seemed to take their own pity on Imogene as they went back to planning ways to brighten up the space around them and help Zhi in her plans.
Imogene enjoyed the conversation, but she also enjoyed the easy way that people in Bower seemed to offer their help to others, even those that most might consider outsiders, and she had no problem adding her own efforts to the endeavor.
It seemed, at least to her, that it would be impossible to remain in Bower and not be swept up in the feeling of community that seemed so prevalent in Bower.
Yes, she could make this her home… she just had to figure out how to make enough money to stay.
Chapter 4
Imogene had enjoyed herself at tea, perhaps a little too much. She’d found herself thinking of several jobs that Silas could do to add to his business.
Well, Mr. Hix could.
She’d taken a walk after the tea, taking stock of what businesses were established in town and what kinds of needs that they might have for printed materials.
And it wasn’t until the air had suddenly turned colder that she’d realized how long she’d stayed out.
Goodness, where had her mind gone?
Her mind had been exactly where it had been since she’d seen the advertisement for an employee at the print shop.
Silas Hix and his printer. Those delightful wooden cases full of tiny little metal letters.
As she half-walked, half-bustled up Hampton Road toward the house, she felt a chill shiver through her body and it wasn’t just because of the weather.
She felt something for Silas Hix beyond his printer and inks.
She admired the man and his spirit. Admired him and wanted to help however she could.
Stepping up onto the grass, she felt it crunch under the soles of her boots and hustled up the steps to the side door with her heart pounding in her chest.
She burst through the mudroom door a little short of breath. Cleaning the bottoms of her boots, she shed her coat and hung it up on a hook beside the door. “Sorry I’m late!”
She heard a soft laughing reply. “You’re not required to help me.”
Smiling. She set her hat over her coat on the hook and stripped off her gloves. “I know, I know, but I like keeping busy with my hands. You won’t want to see the damage I can do to my skirts if my hands are left to their own devices.”
When Imogene stepped into the kitchen, she saw Mrs. Hampton turn to look at her over her shoulder. “Then by all means, come and help.”
Imogene came to a stop beside her at the table in the middle of the kitchen. “What’s left to do.”
“I think we’ve got the supper cooked,” Mrs. Hampton looked over the table top with a satisfied smile. “Miles is setting the table, but if you could help me put out these plates, that would be wonderful.”
“That,” Imogene grinned, “I can do.” Taking hold of one plate in each hand she started out toward the dining room, backing up to the door to push it open.
Stepping into the dining room she met Mr. Hampton’s raised gaze.
“Did she draft you into helping?”
“I’m more than happy to.” Imogene smiled at his teasing. “I’m so glad that everyone here is like a family,” she mentioned as she set down the first platter on one side of the table. “I knew I was going to miss my sisters, but this is helping with the pangs of loneliness that I didn’t expect.” She set the other platter down.
A strange look crossed Mr. Hampton’s expression, but quickly disappeared. “We may have a few more diners than usual tonight,” he explained, “some of the men in town come here for their evening meal a few times a week.”
For some reason the image of Silas Hix appeared in her head, but she didn’t voice the question. Instead, she just smiled at Mr. Hampton and disappeared back into the kitchen. She saw Mrs. Hampton heft a platter of roast pork from the stove. “All the other dishes need to go out and then I’ll warm the rolls.”
Imogene stepped aside and let her friend and hostess pass. The scent of the pork wafted past her nose and made her mouth water.
Eager to get the rest of the table set so that she might have a taste of that amazing dish, Imogene picked up two platters and moved toward the door. “Coming out!” She called first to make sure that she and Mrs. Hampton wouldn’t bump into each other and with that, she backed through the swinging door and turned.
“Oh!” She stopped short when she saw someone standing before her. “Excuse me.”
“Here, let me help you with that.”
The voice startled her.
The man standing before her was the same man she’d bumped into in the middle of the street. He was still well dressed and now that she had spent some time with Mrs. Clement and Brigid, she wasn’t nearly as flustered seeing him again.
He was a man of quality as his clothing and his speech had revealed earlier, but it was this countenance that gave her pause.
He was handsome, there was no disputing that fact.
And yet… handsome didn’t seem to be a quality she could ascribe to his character. The way he looked at her was curious. His gaze was assessing, and not in a way that she necessarily welcomed. If she could see inside of his head she wondered if she would see a checklist.
He seemed to be cataloging her features as his hands tugged at the platters in her hands. “Miss?”
Swallowing against the odd sensation at the back of her throat, she tried to move around him. “I’m fine, thank you.”
And instead of letting go of the platters, he seemed to spin with her. “I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve seen of our town.”
“Yes, I have, please excuse me.”
Another try and still she was anchored in place.
“Mr. Winslet!” A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he let go of one platter.
Imogene saw Mr. Laughlin standing beside the newcomer and she gave him a thankful smile.
With his concentration broken, she was able to easily pull the second platter from the man’s grasp and she made her way to the table.
Mrs. Hampton came to her side. “Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m fine. Just…”
“Shocked?”
Imogene nodded and then lifted her glance to greet another of the boarders as he walked in. She felt Mrs. Hampton’s hand on her elbow and heard the other woman’s slightly raised voice.
“Come, Miss Wigg.” She addressed the room more than Imogene herself. “If everyone wants to eat on time, we should get all of the food out to the table.”
As she walked, Mrs. Hampton called over her shoulder. “Mr. Hampton, do be so kind as to assign places, please.”
“Yes, dear.”
Some of the men entering the room chuckled at the loving tone from the gentleman.
As they entered the kitchen again, Mrs. Hampton didn
’t stop until they were at the table. She gestured to the napkin-covered platter on the stove top. “Make sure the buns haven’t burned, please.”
Imogene continued on to the stove and picked up a cloth thick enough to protect her fingers before she lifted a corner of the cloth with her uncovered hand. She took in a deep breath. “They look and smell delicious!”
Mrs. Hampton basked in the compliment. “My mother’s own receipt for the buns, but really, you should know about Appleton Winslet.”
Nodding, Imogene gave her a wincing smile. “There’s something about him…”
“He’s a little pushy.”
“A little? I think you might be a bit too charitable.” Then Imogene blushed a bit. “Sorry, that sounds judgmental.”
“And yet, correct. He’s a very exacting person. And he is looking for a wife.” Mrs. Hampton lifted two platters and then gave Imogene a significant look. “An appropriate wife.”
Nodding slowly, Imogene lifted the platter of buns in one hand and approached the table to pick up another. “I had the oddest sensation as he looked at me, as if he was looking for a flaw on some kind of list in his head.”
A soft burst of laughter left Mrs. Hampton’s mouth. “Odd, yes? But likely accurate from what I know of him.” With a sigh, Mrs. Hampton moved toward the door. “I had a strange feeling when he sent a messenger over for us to save him a place at the table. He must have heard that you were here in town and unattached.”
Imogene picked up a plate of roasted potatoes and frowned. “Is it so strange that I’ve come alone. Back home, we have no dearth of single woman.”
Mrs. Hampton paused a moment before the door and nodded. “And yet, here in the west, the opposite is true. You’ll find yourself the center of much of the curious attention of unmarried males here in Bower.” A sympathetic smile was next.
“Coming through!” Mrs. Hampton pushed through the door and held it open as Imogene followed her.
And, as if she needed a practical demonstration of Mrs. Hampton’s friendly warning, as soon as she stepped through the doorway, she saw the table, nearly full of diners. Most of them not boarders at Hampton House.
Mrs. Hampton leaned lightly against her shoulder. “We had quite a few messages today.” She continued on and set her platters down, spurring Imogene into motion. She moved forward and if she had any worries about the men moving out of the way to allow her to reach the table, they were gone a moment later.
Like parting the Red Sea, all she had to do was step forward toward the table and the men moved aside. After she set the platters down and stepped back, the men in her vicinity would smile and nod their heads.
“Miss Wigg.”
“Miss.”
“Miss Wigg.”
“Hello, Miss.”
Turning on her heel, she kept moving until all of the platters were gone and Mrs. Hampton grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She gestured to the chair between Mr. Laughlin and Mr. Hampton. “There you go.”
With a grateful smile, Imogene reached for her chair and found herself grasping air.
A young man had beaten Mr. Laughlin to his feet and held the chair out. “I’m Alan Ford, Miss Wigg.”
She nodded and tried to affix a smile on her lips. “Mr. Ford, thank you.”
She sat down with his assistance and took her napkin from the table and set it in her lap. Imogene looked over at Mr. Laughlin and saw his smile.
“Looks like you’re quite the attraction, Miss Wigg.”
She looked at him and hazarded a glance at the rest of the long table. Most of the heads were turned toward her side of the table.
“Goodness.”
Mrs. Hampton cleared her throat. “Who would like to offer grace this evening?”
Mr. Winslet got to his feet turning most heads in his direction. Folding his hands before him and bowing his head, he began to speak. “We thank the Lord for his gifts and our community here in Bower. And today we offer our thanks for the added beauty of our newest resident at the table. We hope that she will find a rewarding future here amongst us. Amen.”
“Amen.”
No one made a comment at the subject of his prayer of thanks. Imogene was certainly shocked into silence. No one had ever put her in their grace at table.
“Miss Wigg, Miss Wigg…”
Imogene turned to look down the table and found the excitable Mr. Ford calling her name. “We heard that you’re not a Mail Order Bride.”
Before she could speak, another man on the opposite side of the table added in. “Good news travels fast.” He gave her a wink. “Hal Orton, Miss Wigg. Nice to see you.”
Not nice to meet you, for surely they hadn’t met, but she guessed that it was true that he had seen her.
Still, she didn’t respond to Mr. Ford as he hadn’t really posed a question.
“And I’m sure,” Mr. Winslet reached out and picked up the platter of potatoes, “that if Miss Wigg considers anyone’s suit, she will pick only the finest of available gentlemen to consider.”
The man who called himself Hal Orton looked down at his clothes before lifting his gaze to Mr. Winslet. “What’s wrong with my suit?”
Mr. Laughlin beside her hid his laugh in a cough. “There’s nothing wrong with your suit, Hal. He was using the word ‘suit’ to talk about when a man courts a woman.”
Hal’s expression pinched around his nose and mouth. “Then why didn’t you just say so?” He shook his head and glared at the other man. “Can’t trust a lawyer to use regular words.”
Imogene almost dropped the platter of buns that Mr. Hampton set in her hand. Struggling to right it, she withdrew a bun and handed it on to Mr. Laughlin.
“Miss Wigg,” another new voice turned her head and she lowered her bun to her plate, wondering if she might actually have a chance to eat while the food was warm, “I’m Patrick Shannon, Miss.”
She nodded. “Mr. Shannon?”
“I was wondering if that was you that I saw walking through town today.”
An odd question, but at least it wasn’t too personal. “I believe so, Mr. Shannon. I was hoping to discover a little about the town my first few days here.”
“Discover?” Mr. Winslet had entered the conversation again. “That sounds like you were walking about with no destination in mind. You should be more careful, Miss Wigg.”
The tone of censure in his voice plucked at a nerve.
“I was quite careful, Mr. Winslet, as I always am and I have been taking care of myself for quite some time now.”
Mr. Laughlin turned slightly in his seat. “You’ve been away from home for some time, Miss?”
She shook her head and took the butter plate from him, using the little knife to draw a little butter for her plate. “Mrs. Wigg took in twenty-six of us, so the eldest of us did as much as we could to take care of ourselves and help with the youngest.”
“So,” Mr. Winslet again, “you’re used to being a motherly type?”
All other conversation at the table stopped after the end of his question.
“I’ve been a teacher and yes, I’ve helped to care for my sisters.”
The air around the table seemed to still and settle around them. And eyes darted left and right from one diner to another.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Hampton trudged into the midst of the odd sensations. “Did you stop in at any of our fine establishments?”
There seemed to be a collective exhale of relief as Imogene set her bun down on her plate. It was likely going to be a very long time before she ate much of anything. “I did stop in at the print shop.”
People around the table began to move. Some began to smile.
Mr. Laughlin set down his coffee cup and grinned at her. “Don’t let Silas’ silence bother you, miss. He’s a good man and when I needed new record pages printed for the depot, he had them done in no time at all.”
Imogene nodded at the praise of the gentleman that she’d met, but there was a strange twitch at the back of her neck. “H
is silence?”
From her seat beside her husband, Mrs. Hampton smiled at her as she directed Mr. Hampton to put some of the roast on Imogene’s plate. “Silas is as famous around Bower for his height as he is for his silence around others.”
Imogene felt the smooth skin between her brows furrow in confusion. “Mr. Silas Hix, you say?”
From his place down the table, Appleton Winslet couldn’t seem to stop himself from speaking. “It borders on insolence as he says he’s trying to run a shop. And shop owners should speak to their clients. I’ve often thought of taking my business elsewhere if he doesn’t find a way to be more genteel in his conversation.”
Another man gave a big guffaw and pounded a fist on the table. “Genteel is one thing. The man has to speak before he can try to be genteel.”
Mr. Hampton gave the man a look and got a quiet apology for the outburst at the table.
Mrs. Hampton passed a pitcher to her husband and he filled Imogene’s cup. “You still look confused, dear. Is something wrong?”
Imogene thanked Mr. Hampton with a small nod and a smile. “Nothing is wrong, Mrs. Hampton. I’m just confused. The man I met today said he was Silas Hix and he was ever so tall, but he was anything but silent. In fact, I had quite a lovely conversation with him while he worked on a print job.” She carefully left out the tidbit that she had helped him find an error in his work. It wasn’t a large error and it only meant something to her.
That alone stopped her thoughts.
It meant something to her.
She was lost in her thoughts until Mr. Laughlin leaned closer and cleared his throat. “Miss Wigg, are you quite all right?”
Imogene looked up at him, blinking her eyes to clear her thoughts. “Yes? Why?”
He smiled at her. “You stopped talking and seemed to forget the rest of us were here.”
Shocked at her own bad manners she sat up and looked at the table. Most of the diners were gone and Imogene felt her cheeks warm.
“Oh dear. I am so sorry, I-” she turned to the Hamptons and found only Mrs. Hampton sitting in her place. “I am so sorry.”
Hiding a chuckle behind her hand, Mrs. Hampton gestured to the platters between them. “This is your chance to eat something.”
