Oh, no.
Wincing, Evie braced herself. “He couldn’t find a buyer?”
“Oh, yes. He found buyers aplenty. So many they were trying to outbid each other right there on the pier in San Francisco. But when he opened the first barrel to give them a sample, the fish was spoiled.”
“Spoiled?”
David wrinkled his nose. “The stench was horrible. He insisted there must be something wrong with that barrel, and opened another.” He shook his head. “They were all the same.”
In an instant, Evie knew what happened. “The salt. I suspected he didn’t use enough, but he insisted he had everything in hand.” If Miles was unable to sell his salmon, then that meant he had no money. “Was he able to purchase any of my supplies?”
“A few.” He gave her a sorrowful look. “Not many, I’m afraid.”
Evie closed her eyes, the reality of her situation striking her like a fist. Customers she had aplenty, but with no supplies and no food to cook, how could she repay the bank loan? What would they do to her when she couldn’t make the payments? Send someone to take control of the restaurant? Arrest her and take her to prison, perhaps?
A gloved hand grasped hers, and she opened her eyes. To her surprise, Mrs. Coffinger had moved near and now gave her a comforting pat. “Don’t worry, Evangeline. We will get this straightened out one way or another.” She spoke to David. “And what of Miles? Did he choose the coward’s way and desert us in our time of need?”
A look of disgust settled on David’s face, which he quickly replaced with a politely blank expression. “No, ma’am, though to be honest I wish he had. It would have made this journey a lot more pleasant.” He scanned the ship’s deck, and then shouted in that direction. “Emory, would you go below and wake Mr. Coffinger?”
A member of the crew nodded and disappeared down a ladder.
“What of the minister?” Louisa searched David’s face. “Were you able to find one willing to come?”
“Not a minister, no.” Her face fell, but he hugged her. “Don’t worry, Sweetbriar. I found someone to perform the ceremony.”
A man’s head appeared from the ship’s berth. Evie recognized Miles’s shaggy gray hair and beard, though he looked far more disheveled than usual. He must have been sleeping deeply, and obviously emerged without taking the time to make himself presentable.
“There he is.”
Miles lurched through the opening in the deck as though shoved from below. His arms waved and legs danced for balance in the moment before he went sprawling. Emory appeared behind him and helped him to his feet.
“Take note, my dear,” said Mrs. Coffinger with a nod in that direction. “It is impossible to make a suitably grand entrance on a ladder. One needs a staircase.”
Evie couldn’t help smiling at the observation. Yes, a woman of Mrs. Coffinger’s temperament would insist on a grand entrance.
Louisa paid no attention to Miles. “But who will marry us if not a minister?”
“A justice of the peace.” David raised his voice to be heard. “Our town is now officially named Seattle, and the Oregon Territorial Legislature has appointed our first official.”
On the ship’s deck, Emory let go of Miles’s arm. He stumbled forward, straightened, and gave his waistcoat a tug. Half of his shirttail showed at his side and he appeared to have lost his cufflinks, for the cuffs on his wrinkled sleeves dangled open. He took a wavering step, nearly fell, and righted himself again.
Mrs. Coffinger spoke in a voice full of distaste. “How well I know that look. He’s drunk.”
Evie examined Miles more closely. His unsteady stance might certainly be that of a man far gone in his cups.
“And who has been appointed Seattle’s first justice of the peace?” asked Arthur. “Is it you, David?”
David shook his head. “I couldn’t perform my own wedding, could I?”
At that moment, Evie knew. Aghast, she followed David’s pointing finger toward the inebriated Miles. “There’s our new justice of the peace.”
Miles stumbled forward. While everyone watched in stunned silence, he managed to climb up on the gangway. At that moment, his gaze fell on Mrs. Coffinger. He wobbled, did a double take, and then shouted in a slurred voice, “Letitia, is that really you or am I having another of those horrid hallucinations?”
Then he lost his precarious balance. With a sideways lurch he tumbled over the side of the ramp and landed with a splash in the cold waters of Elliott Bay.
Twenty
Miles, how could you?” Evie towered over the miserable man as he slumped at a table in the restaurant, his head drooping over his hands. “Ethel and Lucy and Sarah and I left everything to come here because we trusted you to be a man of your word.”
“I have kept my word.” His mumble, though far from clear, was at least understandable after his dunk in the bay, several hours’ sleep, and a gallon of spring water which Big Dog insisted would clear his mind more quickly than coffee. “You have your restaurant, don’t you?” He lifted his head and one bloodshot eye cracked open. “And it looks very nice. You’ve done a remarkable job in the short time I’ve been gone.”
“But I won’t be able to keep it. How can I, when you’ve spent all the money and we have none with which to repay the loan and still purchase food to cook?”
“Repay two loans,” added Mrs. Coffinger, who stood beside her, scowling. “The bank in Chattanooga was quite clear that our home is in danger of foreclosure if that loan is not paid soon.” Her tone became piercing. “A loan of which I knew nothing.”
Evie shook her head. “I don’t understand. Where did all your money go, since you certainly did not spend it on our venture?”
Mrs. Coffinger’s upper lip furled. “The bulk of our money was gone before you, Evangeline. The bank’s records are quite thorough. Miles’s poor investments have been taking their toll for years, apparently.”
Miles raised his head. “To say nothing of the extravagant lifestyle you lead, Letitia.”
Her bosom inflated with a hiss. “Had I but known, I could have taken measures to reduce our living expenses. Far better that than to have poverty forced upon me unawares.”
He waved a hand vaguely. “We can sell the furnishings.”
Mrs. Coffinger’s chest deflated, and for once her arrogance fled. “Miles, you don’t seem to understand.” She slid onto the bench opposite the table from him and held his eyes. “They’ve taken most of the furnishings already. What wasn’t repossessed I sold to finance my journey here. My jewelry, my china, it’s nearly all gone.”
An image of the big house in Chattanooga rose in Evie’s mind. All those beautiful furnishings, gone?
Sorrow filled his red-rimmed eyes, and he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry. Truly. I don’t know how I’ve managed to make such a mess of things.”
At the sound of a throat being cleared, Evie turned to find James standing in the doorway. Had he been eavesdropping?
“Evangeline, we need to talk.”
Irritated, she snapped. “Not now, James.”
“Yes, now.” He crossed the floor in three strides, a determined set to his jaw. “I will not be put off any longer.”
She opened her mouth to fire back a sharp retort, but when her gaze fell on Miles’s lowered head, the words died on her lips. He and Mrs. Coffinger needed time alone. Instead, she sighed and allowed James to lead her outside.
For once the glade surrounding the restaurant was empty. No doubt all the new arrivals were either up at the camp or busy exploring the area. Louisa and David had disappeared hand in hand into the woods from the boat dock, and Lucy and Ethel were still down at the landing site, taking inventory of the few supplies Miles managed to obtain. Evie followed James to the totem pole, where he stopped.
“This is quite the statue,” he commented, his head tilted back to see the top.
Evie was in no mood for small talk. “Please tell me whatever you have to say.”
One eyebrow
rose. “You’ve become testy since I last saw you.” When she folded her arms, he ducked his head. “Oh, all right. I’ve brought a letter for you.”
The last thing she expected to hear. “From whom?”
“See for yourself.”
He extracted a crinkled envelope from his pocket. The paper was worn, as though with much handling, but the wax seal remained intact. Her name was scrawled across the front in an unfamiliar hand. She broke the seal and opened the letter.
Dear Miss Evangeline Lawrence,
I regret to inform you that your uncle, Jeremy R. Blodgett, passed away of natural causes on the eighteenth of May, in the year of our Lord 1852.
A breath caught in her throat and she wilted against the totem pole. Uncle Jeremy, dead? When her brain stopped buzzing with the news, she continued to read.
It is my understanding that he left no male heirs, nor did he settle his affairs before his passing. Therefore, as his only living relative, you are the beneficiary of his estate. At current reckoning, said estate consists of two hundred fifty undeveloped acres in Adair County, Kentucky, the house and property located at 27 Railroad Avenue in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and various accounts totaling approximately four hundred fifty dollars.
May I offer my services should you wish assistance in the management or disbursement of the above property? I shall await your reply.
With Regards,
Edward Farthington, Esq.
Chattanooga, Tennessee
She had to read the letter three times before she fully understood the meaning. Uncle Jeremy had passed away less than a week after her arrival in Seattle. And died without appointing an heir, which meant Grandfather’s house now belonged to her. And not only the house, but money and a substantial piece of property in Kentucky as well.
She became aware that James had extended his neck to its fullest and was attempting to glimpse her letter. Snatching it close to her chest, she caught him in a narrow-eyed stare.
“Do you know the contents of this letter?”
A hurt expression crossed his features. “I didn’t open it, if that’s what you’re asking. But I heard of your uncle’s death, and when your grandfather’s attorney came looking for you…” He shrugged. “Has he left you the house, then?”
“Yes.” She looked at the letter again, her thoughts caught in a whirlwind. “Yes, he has.”
“Well, this solves our problems.” He smiled broadly. “Sell the house, pay off the loan, and have enough left over to keep us comfortable for a long time.”
She allowed him to see her eyebrows rising. “Us?”
“Evangeline.” The smile softened, and he took her hand tenderly. Still numb over the news in the letter, Evie didn’t jerk away from his touch. “I know you were upset when I mentioned delaying our marriage. I was wrong. As soon as you left I realized my mistake. I should have married you long ago. I’m sorry.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss onto the soft skin of her wrist.
With a start, Evie realized the touch of his lips didn’t infuriate her, as it would certainly have done a few hours ago. In fact, it evoked no emotion at all, save a dim sense of sorrow. Once she might have rejoiced to hear those words from him. But no longer.
Gently she extracted her hand and gave him a smile without a trace of malice. “James, I meant what I said that night. I won’t marry you. I can’t.”
His gaze searched hers. “You’ve met someone else, haven’t you?”
She lowered her face so he wouldn’t see her tears.
With a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. “Don’t cry over me, Evangeline. In time I’ll get over you.” She would have corrected him, but he lifted his gaze to the treetops, a sense of adventure flickering in his eyes. “And since I’ve come all this way, I may decide to stay a while.”
Her tears fled in surprise. “In Seattle?”
“Why not? I have nothing in Tennessee. The railroad is taking over, and there’s less and less work on the river docks. But here…” His lips widened into a smile. “I’ve been listening to that Denny fellow talk about the lumber and the new mill they’ll build. The pitiful little dock they have won’t serve that kind of trade for long. They’ll need a proper pier, and experienced men to manage it.”
How incredibly awkward, to have her former fiancé living right here in Seattle where she might encounter him at any moment. A protest rose to Evie’s lips, but died unspoken. If anyone should leave Seattle, it should be her. What did she have to keep her here now? The home over which she had mourned was restored to her. She could live there for the rest of her life, surrounded by memories of Grandfather and Mama and Papa. If Mr. Farthington could sell Uncle Jeremy’s Kentucky property that would be enough to pay off the restaurant loan, as James suggested. She would happily leave the restaurant in Mrs. Coffinger’s care, and when it became profitable, perhaps her share would be enough to keep her in comfort back in Tennessee.
There was something she must do first. She must speak with Noah. When she left James behind, she hadn’t given him a second thought. But she didn’t love James. A lump clogged her throat. She did love Noah.
Maybe I can make him understand. I did not steal from anyone, as Sallie did. I would never steal from him.
But oh, the betrayal in his eyes yesterday on the beach. How could he ever forgive her for withholding her past from him, when he had opened his to her?
The shadows that darkened the trail to the Indian camp seemed to change the mood of the forest. Evie walked quickly, her ears attuned to the sounds in the area, her gaze constantly scanning for signs of movement. Maybe she should have brought a pot and spoon from the restaurant.
Big Dog or Randall would have come with me if I’d asked.
But like a fool, she’d charged off without asking for help. Maybe she really was as bullheaded as Noah thought her. It would serve her right if she were eaten by a bear. And if she did find him safely, what would she say? Though she tried to outline her words, her mind remained a mass of whirling thoughts, none of them cohesive enough to structure into a firm plan. There was no plan, no list of words that had the power to convince a man to love a woman.
Maybe all that was left to say between them was goodbye.
She came upon the Duwamish camp with no warning. The women working around the first fire pit looked up from their tasks, clearly surprised to see a white woman stumble into their village alone.
One who looked familiar came toward her and asked a question in her own language. Surely everyone would be aware of the presence of a white man in the village.
Evie told her, “I’m looking for Noah.”
The woman’s expression cleared. She said something to her companions and then indicated that Evie should follow. That must mean he was still here. Relieved, Evie wound through the portable huts, drawing stares along the way.
When she reached the place where the big fire pit had been dug, Chief Seattle stood in the center of the clearing. She approached and stood in front of him. How had she ever thought his face impassive? All she had to do in order to know this man’s feelings was look into his eyes. When she did, her heart constricted at the depths of compassion she saw there.
He smiled then, a gentle curving of his lips, and gestured with his hand toward one of the huts. When she turned, she saw a man ducking out of the low opening.
Noah.
Her throat constricted and she stumbled toward him, nearly blinded by the rush of tears that filled her eyes. He did not move, and she stopped just short of throwing herself into his arms.
“Evie, what are you doing here?” He glanced around. “Did you come alone?”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
He let out a sigh. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
When she would have protested, she became aware of their surroundings. A good-sized crowd had gathered to watch, their expressions openly curious. Perhaps they didn’t understand English, but she didn’t relish being observed as she humbled herself. Nodding, s
he allowed him to escort her back through the camp in the direction she came.
He was silent as he led her through the trees, his shoulders stiff. Would he subject her to silence the whole way? With many hard swallows and deep gulps of air, she managed to get control of her tears by the time they stepped onto the wider trail that led to Seattle. At least then she could walk by his side and see his face instead of staring at his rigid back.
When she was certain she could speak, she blurted the words that were foremost on her mind. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about James. I was going to, right when the ship arrived. I promise.”
He walked on a few paces without answering. When he did, he didn’t look at her but kept his gaze fixed ahead. “Tell me now.”
Taking an unsteady breath, she told him of their engagement, of how she had come to realize that she didn’t love James and to suspect that he didn’t love her either. How when Noah’s letter arrived and she’d overheard Miles reading it aloud while she cleaned…
“Wait.” He glanced at her then, a quick flicker of the eyes that lasted only a moment. “You worked for Uncle Miles and Aunt Letitia?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I was their housemaid.”
A few more steps. “So you lied when you claimed to be his business partner?”
“No! I was his business partner. Am,” she corrected herself. She lowered her head, watching her feet walk down the trail. “I didn’t want you to discount me as a servant. I wanted you to respect me as a businesswoman.”
“I respect honesty.”
The word sliced into her misery, and she could only nod. The rest of the journey she spent desperately casting about for some way to convince him of her honesty. They arrived at the restaurant, her thoughts still in turmoil. When they stepped off the trail into the glade, Noah stopped.
Evie looked up at him. “Will you come inside? I have more to tell you.” The attorney’s letter and all its content entailed, burned like a coal in her pocket.
Staring up at the top of the totem pole, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve heard enough for one day.”
A Bride for Noah Page 24
