Country Wishes

by RaeAnne Hadley

She finished restocking the grocery section shelves and started dusting further away from her aunt. The bell on the door dinged and she looked up to see who had entered. Not someone she recognized but he looked… interesting.

  He was tall with broad shoulders and dark hair that was a little too long. He scanned the store and caught her staring. His blue eyes lit up and he dipped his head in a nod.

  Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. No doubt she’d hear about her gawking from Aunt Esther.

  Her aunt stared at the newcomer. “May I help you with something in particular?”

  “Do you have books in stock?”

  Her aunt’s nose pointed in the air and her mouth puckered as if she’d just eaten a lemon. There was no doubt about her opinion of those who read books—especially men. “They’re near the corner on your right at the back of the store.” Her aunt strode to the front counter.

  Good. The books were near where Serena worked. She dusted closer to them.

  The newcomer ambled her way, appearing to scan the merchandise. Once at the books, he picked up a copy of Les Misérables but returned it to the shelf.

  She tapped her feather duster against a book. “We have the new Jules Verne book if you’re interested. Also the latest of Mark Twain’s work.”

  “Great.” He selected the Verne volume and opened to the title page. “I’ve read Tom Sawyer. Somehow I missed this copy of Verne’s The Mysterious Island.”

  “Nothing here is recently published. By the time we receive books they’ve been released for some time. In fact, you’ll see some are used copies we’ve purchased or traded with customers.”

  “At least you stock books while many places don’t or only have badly worn copies with missing pages or torn covers. I’ll be in town for a few weeks and need reading material to help pass the time.” He chose a copy of Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Maddening Crowd and kept The Mysterious Island.

  “Would you like for me to put those at the counter so you can look around the store unencumbered?”

  He handed the two tomes to her. “Thank you, that would help. I need a few more things. By the way, I’m Brent Adams.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Adams. I’m Serena Winters, niece of the owners.” She caught her aunt glaring and hurried to the store’s counter.

  Her aunt whispered, “No need to be so friendly to a strange man.”

  She laid the two books for her aunt to handle. Leaning forward, she whispered, “He’s not half as strange as Tom Lawson or Moses Riley.”

  She hurried back to her dusting before her aunt could chastise her. Of course she appreciated the fact that her aunt and uncle had taken in Mama and her when Mama got sick. Mama’s consumption had become too advanced eight years ago for them to live alone. Her aunt even helped her nurse Mama, who was her sister.

  If only her aunt could be a little more kind. Aunt Esther treated people as if she and Uncle Willard were doing customers a favor by letting them come into the store. Uncle Willard intended to be friendly, but he was not an outgoing person.

  Mr. Adams carried a stack of clothing to the counter. He waited patiently while her aunt totaled the amount and wrapped the merchandise. He nodded at Serena before he left.

  Her cheeks heated in a blush—caught staring again. From the direction he turned, perhaps he was staying at Mrs. McLain’s boardinghouse instead of the hotel. She wondered if he was passing through or staying in town.

  Aunt Esther’s voice cut through her woolgathering. “No need to speculate on that man, Serena Winters. You saw the clothes he bought. Probably a worthless prospector and you know my opinion of that sort.”

  “You may have mentioned your dislike a time or two.” Maybe a thousand times or more, but her aunt never gave up letting Serena know her opinion of Papa.

  Chapter Two

  Serena was glad when her aunt sent her to the bakery for bread and dessert for this evening. Sugar and Spice Baked Goods served coffee, hot tea, and hot chocolate as well as desserts. The glass counter held loaves of bread at one end and confections took up the rest. Four tables, each with four chairs, provided seating for those who wanted to eat there.

  She inhaled the tempting aromas of spices and yeast bread as she entered. The bakery always smelled wonderful. How anyone could resist buying a treat was beyond her.

  Millie Hardy called from behind the counter, “Hello, Serena. You’ve come at the perfect time to get a warm loaf of bread and fresh-baked apple pie.”

  “Millie, you know my mission. While I’m here I believe I’ll have a cup of cocoa and let me see… that peach tart while I wait for you to box up the pie.”

  “Have a seat and I’ll bring your order to you.” Millie bustled about behind the counter.

  Serena turned toward the tables and stopped. When she entered she hadn’t seen Mr. Adams eating a slice of pie. No reason she should feel awkward, but she did.

  He looked up and smiled. “Hello, again, Miss Winters.” He had one of the books with him at the table. He stood and gestured to a chair at his table. “Please join me.”

  Curiosity about the newcomer forced her to take the seat. “Have you converted the bakery into your private reading room?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “The boarding house is all right, but the lobby is noisy and my room is pretty confining. Mrs. Hardy said she didn’t mind me reading here for an hour or two since I bought food and there are empty tables.”

  “What brings you to Hopeful, Mr. Adams?”

  He hesitated for a few seconds and she regretted prying. “I’m waiting for funds to arrive. I expect they’ll be here in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, I’m stuck with nothing to do but read… and eat. At the rate I’m going, Mrs. Hardy will be doing a brisk business and I’ll end up outgrowing my clothes.”

  Millie delivered her cup of cocoa and tart. “I’ll leave the pie and bread at the counter. I see you two have met. You share a love of reading.”

  The store owner looked at Mr. Adams. “This woman has her nose in a book whenever her aunt lets her have time to relax.” Her tone made clear her disapproval of Aunt Esther.

  Serena grinned and cut a bite of the tart. “I’m what she would call ‘lollygagging’ now.”

  Millie sniffed. “In other words, she’ll gripe at you for taking so long.” She shook her finger at Serena. “You’d better take all the time you need, Serena Winters, or I’ll be the one griping at you.”

  “After living with Aunt Esther and Uncle Willard for the past eight years, I’m not as intimidated by my aunt as I was at first.”

  Millie huffed, “She never says anything nice to you—or anyone else that I’ve heard. I don’t know how you can stand living and working with her.”

  “Most of the time I’m content. Besides, it’s not as if there are a lot of jobs for women in Hopeful. You’re lucky you can work here with your husband.”

  “I have to agree with you there.” Millie went back to her post at the counter.

  Through the pass-through window on the wall, Serena saw Millie’s husband Reginald working on cleaning the kitchen. He looked up and waved. She returned the gesture.

  Mr. Adams—she thought of him as Brent—set down his coffee cup and closed the book he’d been reading.

  He smiled at her. “Do your parents live there also?”

  “My mother died in September. My father… well, he’s a prospector and I haven’t seen him since I was fourteen.”

  He gazed into the distance. “Winters? What’s his first name?”

  “Jesse.” She leaned forward. “Do you know him?”

  “You have any idea where he is?”

  She shook her head slowly. “He said when he had a strike he’d come for us. Since he hasn’t, my aunt doesn’t like prospectors and is hateful about Papa. She blames him for Mama’s illness and her dying, but Papa wasn’t to blame.”

  “If you don’t mind talking about her, what was wrong?”

  “I’m always happy to talk about my sweet mama. She came down with c
onsumption when I was about ten. We thought at first it was croup or bronchitis.”

  He pushed his book aside. “There’s no way your father could be responsible for consumption.”

  “I know that, of course, but my aunt insists Mama died of a broken heart because Papa deserted us. I know there’s a good reason he hasn’t come back for us. I hope he’s not ill or injured or dead.”

  “You’d probably have heard if he’d died.”

  “I prefer to think so and hearing you confirm that opinion is reassuring. Mama told me he keeps our name and address in his pocket in case something happens to him so authorities would know who to notify.”

  “A lot of miners do the same.”

  She laid a hand over her heart. “I know in here he’s alive. I hope to be reunited someday.”

  Tilting her head, she analyzed Brent’s appearance. His new shirt was blue wool the color of his eyes and his tan pants were sturdy twill. His boots were scuffed but still looked serviceable.

  She recalled her aunt’s comment. “Are you a prospector?”

  He looked at his pie and cut another bite. “I was for quite a few years. Is that bad?”

  She grimaced at the thought of her aunt’s reaction to anyone who prospected for gold. “Only to my aunt. I apologize for prying.”

  “No need to apologize. Guess you could say that now I’m involved in mechanization. At least I will be as soon as my cash arrives.” He forked a bite of apple pie into his mouth.

  “I suppose then you’ll be leaving, is that right?”

  “Hopeful is a nice place, but my business is elsewhere.”

  Wouldn’t you know she finally met an interesting man and he was moving on soon? How silly that she hated to think of him going. She’d just met him today. With a sigh she supposed he wasn’t the man for whom she’d wished.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy yourself while you’re here. Even if you’re bored, you can probably use the rest.”

  “Ah, I’m never bored. I reckon I should be grateful for the rest but I’m impatient. As with any new project, I’m eager for things to progress.”

  She sipped her hot chocolate then set her cup on the table. “I can understand that. It must be exciting to start a new venture.”

  His blue eyes sparkled and his face was animated. “Very much so in this case.”

  How thrilling it must be to have that much enthusiasm for a project. She couldn’t remember feeling that way about anything.

  He leaned forward. “Miss Winters, will you accompany me to dinner tomorrow evening? I understand the Talk and Fork serves good food.”

  Her heart did a little flutter of joy. “That sounds lovely.”

  “Great. Shall I call for you at the Mercantile? I believe it closes at six.”

  “Correct. I’ll be expecting you at six tomorrow.”

  Reluctantly, she stood. “Now I had better get back to the store or my aunt will have the sheriff rounding up a posse to search for me.” She laughed at the thought.

  Brent adjusted his tie and straightened his waistcoat before donning his jacket. All day he’d looked forward to going to dinner with a beautiful woman. Not only did she appear hard working, but with a sense of humor and a love of reading. He recalled the way her blond hair waved back from her face before being arranged in a bun at her neck. Her bright green eyes lit up with humor when she spoke.

  Hmm, there had to be a catch there somewhere. Ah, the relatives. Was he ready for her aunt and uncle to interrogate him? Unless Miss Winters, who he thought of as Serena, was ready when he called, he was certain her kin would verbally attack him. He’d been debating how he’d answer their questions.

  He slid his arms into his sheepskin coat and pulled on his knit cap. Although it messed up his hair, the wool knit was far warmer than his hat. Too bad he’d left his scarf at the mine. He’d been in a hurry to leave before daylight or anyone around could have spotted his loaded-down mule behind his horse.

  Downstairs, he told Mrs. McClain he was leaving for dinner elsewhere and hurried outside. The sharp scent of smoke from fireplaces floated on the crisp evening air. Trudging along the boardwalk, he avoided the pitfalls. In places the snow had drifted and hadn’t been shoveled.

  He’d timed his appearance to precisely six o’clock. Serena turned the sign from Open to Closed and waved at him. She called over her shoulder and emerged donning her coat.

  She clutched the crook of his arm. “Let’s escape before my aunt and uncle come out to question you about things that are none of their business.”

  “I can understand why they’d be protective of you. Do they have children?”

  “None. They treat me as their daughter. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful for all they did for Mama when she was alive and all they’ve done for me. But, I do tire of my aunt… well, always trying to control me.”

  “Well, here we are. I hope you’re hungry.” He opened the door to the Talk and Fork. Tempting aromas teased his nostrils and created a rumbling in his stomach. Man, he hoped she hadn’t heard.

  She chuckled, letting him know she had. “I’m always hungry. You can ask Millie if you have any doubts.”

  He escorted Serena to the table indicated by the waitress then helped seat her. After they gave their orders, he leaned toward her.

  “I’m glad you say you don’t pick at your food because it’s no fun to eat with someone who does. I prefer people with a hearty appetite. I must say, though, that you don’t look as if you eat much.” Oops, he might have been too familiar and overstepped boundaries since he didn’t know her very well.

  She lowered her chin and looked up at him. “Now you’re being gallant. Apparently, I’m blessed by inheriting my mom’s thinness.”

  Relieved she wasn’t offended, he relaxed. “Do you munch on the sweets from the candy counter?”

  Her lovely green eyes widened. “My aunt would never let me hear the end of it if I did. She’s very strict with what we can and cannot use from the store.”

  His opinion of her aunt grew lower every time she mentioned the woman. Perhaps he should steer the conversation in another direction. “Do you plan to remain here in Hopeful?”

  “For a while. I get a small salary—really more like an allowance—but I’m saving to go elsewhere. I haven’t decided where or what I’ll do when I get there.”

  “Have you wished at the wishing well?”

  She blushed and he decided she had and didn’t want to admit doing so. “I suspect you’re teasing me, but sometimes wishes do come true. You should try. Of course, there has to be a full moon for the wishing well’s magic to work.”

  The arrival of their food cut short his probing. He hadn’t taken a woman out in a very long time. Serena was fun to be around and he enjoyed himself. He admitted he’d missed the companionship. Talking to other miners didn’t compare to dining with a beautiful woman.

  On the stroll back to the store, he slowed his steps to prolong their evening together. “Do you mind living with your aunt and uncle now that your mom has passed?”

  “I know they love me. I do hate when my aunt criticizes my father. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure there’s a plausible reason Papa hasn’t contacted me. He loved us and would never abandon Mama and me.”

  “Are you sure he hasn’t tried to contact you?”

  She sent him a puzzled glance. “How would I not know? I’ve been here every day. He couldn’t have missed me.”

  “I see.” He decided he had pursued that subject far enough for tonight.

  “Do you dislike the boarding house terribly?”

  “Actually, it’s a nice place. The informality suits me more than the Royal Hotel would. Still, I’m not used to being around so many people. Probably the change is good for me. I don’t want to become a hermit.”

  She glanced at him and smiled. “I can see you as a grizzled old man with a long white beard. There you are, seated on your cabin’s porch with a shotgun nearby to send people running. An old hound sleeps y
our feet and is your only company.” She laughed at the thought of this handsome man in that scene.

  He grinned at her. “Hey, that’s a sad picture. I hope I’m never that fond of my privacy.”

  “Even though I teased you, I’m sure you won’t be that kind of person. I suppose that’s something I miss—privacy. My aunt pries so. She’ll try and learn every word each of us said.”

  “Possibly she feels it her duty since she’s stepping in for your mother. Were the two of them close?”

  “Yes, in spite of the fact they each fell in love with Papa and he chose Mama. Aunt Esther soon married Uncle Willard, though, so things turned out all right.”

  He wondered if they really had. “Are your aunt and uncle happy with one another?”

  She tilted her head as if considering. “They seem to be. Once in a while they have a spat but nothing serious. She’s hard to please, you see. He doesn’t get upset easily.”

  “I suppose they’re doing something right. The store seems to be successful.” They’d reached the Mercantile’s door.

  “Uncle Willard inherited it from his uncle. Thank you for the lovely evening. I had a very nice time.”

  He gave a slight bow. “And, how could I not enjoy myself when I was in the company of such an exceptional woman?”

  Light from the streetlamp showed her blush prettily. “You are a flatterer.” She pointed upward and whispered, “Theirs is the front bedroom. I’d better go in before one of them comes down.”

  He took her gloved hand in his. “I hope you’ll go out with me again. Would you enjoy a sleigh ride?”

  “Oh, I’d love one. I haven’t ridden in a sleigh in years.”

  “I saw one at the livery. Can you get away tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I can. We’re not open on Sundays.”

  “I’ll get us a picnic basket and make sure we have enough blankets and heated bricks to keep warm. Will immediately after church be all right?”

  She pulled her hand from his and took her key from her purse. “Perfect and I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”

  “Not half as much as I will.” He touched his forehead to tip his hat and remembered he was wearing his stocking cap.