by Kit Morgan
She almost tripped again. “I think you … might want to let me practice a little before I subject you to my baking.”
He shouldn’t have said anything – he didn’t want to leave the impression that she’d be staying in Nowhere for the long haul, not just yet – but it was too late now. There was nothing left to do but be polite about it. “I look forward to your next visit, then.”
“With or without a pie?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said with a grin. “I do like pie.”
“And I’m sure you don’t mind one being delivered by a pretty girl, either,” Summer said without looking back.
Now he glared at Summer, but then let his eyes drift back to Miss Caulder. A sudden vision of her held captive by a band of ruffians hit, and his protective instinct rose up again. Blast it! “No, as a matter of fact. Just be sure you don’t come through the orchard by yourself. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You mean like fall on my face?” she asked with a shy smile.
“That, or … other things. We do have a prowler about.”
Her eyes became apprehensive. “Prowler? I don’t remember you saying anything about a prowler.”
“He meant the skunk,” Summer explained.
“Oh, I see. You’re quite right – I wouldn’t want to run into him!”
They walked out of the orchard and into the barnyard. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure. Miss Caulder, thank you ever so much for being the burden-bearer and carrying the pie over. It was most enjoyable.”
“I hope mine turns out as well as Elle’s. But there’s no guarantee.”
“No, I suppose there isn’t. But one must try one’s best.”
“I’ll try, but I don’t know if it’ll come out as my best,” she said and blushed.
“Well, I’ll look forward to it nonetheless. Now, I must be getting back. I’m sure Grandpa needs help with whatever it is he’s doing.”
They said their goodbyes and he turned to leave. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed into the orchards again, and saw the women heading toward the front porch. Another random thought struck him as he turned again to the trees. What if there were men such as the ones that abducted Ms. Caulder lurking around Nowhere? It wasn’t too long ago that there had been – and Summer, most of all, knew what it was like to be taken by them.
He shuddered at the thought, shook it off and continued home.
* * *
“Well?” Elle asked with a gleeful look.
“Bernice and Summer came into the house, turning just in time to catch one last glimpse of Warren before he disappeared into the trees. “I think it went very well,” Summer said. “Don’t you, Bernice?”
Bernice felt herself blush. “He liked your pie.”
“Never mind about my pie!” Elle said. “How did the two of you get along?”
“All right,” she said with a shrug. Actually, she thought it went better than “all right,” but didn’t want to get her hopes up. She also didn’t want to start getting attached to the man – not if it wouldn’t be reciprocated.
Elle looked at Summer. “Did it?”
“I thought so. Of course, neither of us knows Warren as well as Spencer and Clayton do, but I could tell he found Bernice attractive.”
Bernice almost gasped. “He did? How could you tell?”
“By the way he looked at you. Didn’t you notice?”
“Um … well, no. Though I did notice how attracted he was to the pie.”
“Bernice! Do you mean to tell me you can’t see when a man fancies you?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’ve never really been around men who fancied me. Not that I know of, anyway. There were a few at this year’s Valentine’s dance, but that was only because I had a nice dress on.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure Warren gets to see you a lot more and at your very best,” Elle concluded with a firm nod of her head. “Right, Summer?”
“Absolutely. We’ll make sure Warren can’t take his eyes off you.”
Bernice glanced at herself in the small mirror that graced the hallway where they stood. “I think it takes more than just looks to attract a man.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Summer said as she tapped her chin with a finger. “We might have to call in an expert.”
“Expert?” Elle said with a chuckle. “What do we need an expert for? An expert in what?”
“I’m talking about flirting. You know, all the things a girl does to attract a man’s attention?”
“Oh. That.” Elle turned to Bernice. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at that sort of thing, but I can make your hair look nice.”
“Um … I tried flirting back in Independence,” Bernice confessed. “It didn’t go so well.”
“Maybe you weren’t doing it right,” Summer suggested. “But I know someone who was a master at it. And,” she added darkly, “rather owes me a favor.”
Elle spun to her and gasped. “No! You’re not talking about …”
“I am,” Summer said with an evil grin. “Who better?”
Bernice glanced nervously between the two. “Who?”
“Charlotte Quinn,” they said at once.
“Before she was married, she was the biggest flirt in town,” Summer continued. “And the men knew it, but they still fell under her spell. That is, until she did something that showed her true character.”
“This is just wrong,” Elle groaned.
“Was she really that bad?” Bernice asked. “I keep hearing little hints that indicate she wasn’t a very nice person.”
“She wasn’t,” Summer replied.
“But people change,” Elle pleaded. “And Charlotte certainly has, for the better. In fact, we quite enjoy her company now. Don’t do this.”
But Summer was firm. “She was the best at it. And for all she put me and Clayton through – not to mention you and Spencer – I think she owes us this.”
Elle rolled her eyes, but fell silent.
“Do you think she’ll do it?” Bernice asked. “Teach me how to flirt? More importantly, do you think it’ll work? After all, Mr. Johnson was quite firm yesterday about not wanting to get married.”
“That’s because he hasn’t got a clue yet what he’s got,” Summer said.
“Er … perhaps he has,” Bernice said with a grimace. “This is all there is to me.”
“He’s only seen the outside. But he hasn’t seen the inside.”
“Yes, but that’s only if I stay long enough for him to do so.”
“You will,” Summer assured her. “Tomorrow we’ll go pay a visit to Charlotte and see what she has to say. Maybe she can teach us all a thing or two. Just because Elle and I are married doesn’t mean we should stop flirting with our husbands.”
Elle looked resigned to her sister-in-law’s scheme. “I suppose that’s true. All right, then – tomorrow morning we’ll pay Charlotte a visit.”
* * *
“You want me to do what?” Charlotte asked as her brows rose in shock. They were seated in the Quinns’ small parlor, a tea set on a table between them. Charlotte had poured everyone a cup, and now they were getting to the purpose of their visit. “Did I hear you right, Summer Riley? You want me to give this girl … flirting lessons?”
Summer and Elle exchanged a quick glance. “Neither one of us is any good at that sort of thing, Charlotte,” Summer told her.
Charlotte sat back in her chair. “In other words, you think I’m the best woman for the job because I was such … well, I suppose I was big flirt before I was married, wasn’t I?”
Elle declined to comment and instead asked, “Will you help?”
Charlotte looked at Bernice and began to study her with interest. “Miss Caulder … would you stand up for me, please?”
Bernice glanced at each in turn, set down her teacup and stood. “Now what?”
“Turn around. Slowly.”
Bernice turned a full circle. When she faced
Charlotte again she asked, “Well? What do you think?”
“You have nice eyes,” Charlotte told her. “We can capitalize on that. They’re big, brown and … innocent-looking.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Bernice asked.
“As far as Warren Johnson is concerned, it should be.” Charlotte took a sip of her tea.
Bernice held her arms out from her sides and looked at herself. “Anything else? I have a few other dresses I brought, but nothing else. I could only fit so much into my satchel.”
“It’s not the dress you wear, though that helps,” Charlotte said thoughtfully. “It’s how you wear it.”
“How you wear it? What does that mean?”
Charlotte had Summer and Elle’s attention at this point. “How you walk in it, how you turn. A pretty dress can only enhance or accent your natural … assets.” She looked at Bernice again. “And in your case, some enhancement could be useful.”
Bernice looked at herself again, specifically her chest. “Oh, yes. I suppose I don’t have much to work with, do I?”
“You have enough to work with; you just need to display it to your best advantage. Some dresses will help, but the main thing is the right attitude, Miss Caulder – then there’ll be no stopping you.”
“Attitude?” Bernice said.
“You have to walk into a room like you own it,” Charlotte told her. “Like you’re the queen of your domain and everyone in it. You have to have the attitude that you are the one that picks the man, and that you can have any man you want.”
“That’s a rather haughty way of looking at it, isn’t it?” Elle asked.
“Not at all,” Charlotte said. “It’s how it usually works in the animal kingdom – the females choose the males. I read it in one of Matthew’s old textbooks,” she added with a grin.
“All right,” Bernice conceded. “What do I do first?”
“First, show me that you’ve got what it takes.”
Bernice’s face took on a panicked look. “Got what? To take where?”
Charlotte put a hand to her temple, shook her head, then pressed her lips together in an obvious attempt not to laugh. “Dear me … we’re really starting from the beginning here. I am talking about your attitude, Miss Caulder. Right now, you come across like you’re nothing special, that anyone who shows you attention should be doing it out of pity or charity. That needs to change – starting now.” She pointed a finger at the floor for emphasis.
Elle was still skeptical. “What are you going to have her do, Charlotte – go to the kitchen, turn around and walk back into the parlor, then we all faint from her brilliance?”
“No, silly. I just want her to gain a good healthy sense of confidence.” She looked at Bernice again. “Because, Miss Caulder, I don’t know what happened to you before, or who beat you down, but right now you’ve got about as much confidence as a church mouse. And man or no man, that’s no way to live – take it from me!”
Eight
As Clayton drove her, Summer and Elle home, Bernice pondered everything Charlotte had said. Hadn’t Professor Hamilton and Mr. Winters told her some of the same things – that lovely clothes and a pretty face weren’t the only things a woman needed to win a man over? Obviously good manners helped – the Professor and Mr. Winters were adamant about that. And she now knew how to walk like a lady, talk like a lady (at least when she remembered to) and for the most part, act like one.
But the sort of confidence Charlotte was talking about was something new – not the kind that comes from knowing that you’re acting properly, but from knowing that you’re special. There was a big difference between the two. Charlotte wasn’t talking about physical beauty – she was talking about a woman’s heart.
And for Bernice, that was another story entirely.
“Did you ladies have a nice visit?” Clayton asked.
“Yes, we did,” Summer said. She sat next to Clayton as he drove, with Elle and Bernice in the back. She turned and looked over her shoulder at them. “Don’t you think so, Bernice?”
“It was very … educational,” she replied. “I really did learn a lot.”
Clayton chuckled. “Who’d have ever thought the day would come when Charlotte Davis would be giving advice on matters of the heart?” Summer and Elle giggled.
But Bernice was still deep in thought. How was she going to gain the type of confidence Charlotte was talking about? More importantly, how was she going to do it in the next few days? She figured that was about all the time she had before Warren made up his mind about her. For all she knew, there’d be train and stage fare waiting for her when they got back to the Riley farm.
And if so, then what? Go back to Independence with her tail tucked between her legs? No, that was out of the question – she’d never hear the end of it from her mother. For that matter, she’d never forgive herself. She had to do what she could to see this through. If it meant winning Warren Johnson over with a pretty dress and a mask of confidence, then by golly, she’d do it.
“Bernice?” Summer said. “Did you hear me?”
“What? I’m sorry – no, I didn’t.”
“You could bake Warren some cookies this afternoon and take them to him.”
“Yes, I suppose I could,” she said, then gulped.
“Of course you can,” Elle said with a smile. “He’ll love them, just as much as he did the pie. Only this time, it’ll be from you – you’ll do the baking. Have you made cookies before?”
“Yes … and sometimes I don’t burn them.”
“I’ll see to it that you don’t.”
“Thank you Elle, I appreciate it.”
“And I’ll fix your hair for you too. We’ll make sure that the cookies aren’t the only thing he can’t resist.”
Bernice gave her a tiny smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
Bernice smiled again, then gazed at the countryside. The road wound its way through orchards and was a beautiful sight. The air here was fresh, clean and sweet-smelling. She could get used to living in a place like this – and certainly hoped she’d get the chance.
When they got to the farm Clayton unhitched the wagon while the women prepared lunch. They ate quickly – Clayton because he had to get a lot of work done that afternoon, the women because they wanted to get the mending done before they started baking.
“Ouch!” Bernice said as she stabbed her finger with the needle … again. She wished they’d done the baking first, as she wasn’t good with a needle and thread and didn’t want to show up at the Johnson farm with her fingers wrapped in bandages.
But Elle and Summer were determined to teach her. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it with more practice,” Elle said.
“I used to poke myself all the time with a needle when I first learned to sew.” Summer confessed.
“When did you learn?” Bernice asked as she shook her finger.
“When I was nine. I made my first dress when I was 12.”
“Nine? Who taught you?”
“Mrs. Teeters at the orphanage. That woman could sew anything. Unfortunately, she was so busy running the place, she never had much time.”
“She taught me as well,” Elle said. “But I don’t sew as well as Summer does, though I’m getting better.”
“I’ve heard that if you do anything long enough, you get good at it,” Bernice commented. “I’ve just never spent much time on anything.”
“That’s true,” Summer said with a bright smile. “And with as much mending as you’ll have between Warren and his grandfather, you’ll have plenty of practice. I’m sure you’ll be sewing your own dresses in no time!”
“Bernice,” Elle said, her face somber. “Can I ask you something?”
Bernice nodded.
“What are some things that you know you’re good at?”
Bernice had never thought about it before. Was there anything? She didn’t cook or bake well, because her mother had seen no reason for her to
learn. She could read and write, but so could a lot of people. She obviously couldn’t sew all that well. She knew a few phrases in French but was hardly fluent. Her manners were decent, but far from impeccable … she swallowed hard and stared at the other two women. “I’m afraid I’m not much good at anything.”
“How can you say that?” Summer asked. “Everyone’s good at something.”
Bernice closed her eyes. “I’m afraid I’m not.” She looked at them. “But I can get good at something. I mean, all it takes is time, right?”
Summer and Elle glanced at each other, then back to Bernice. “Right,” Summer agreed.
“The problem is, I don’t think I have much time.”
“Of course you do,” Elle said. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m talking about Mr. Johnson … Warren … what if he wants to send me back tomorrow?”
“I think his grandfather will have something to say about that,” Elle countered.
“His grandfather can’t force him to marry me,” Bernice said. “That wouldn’t be right.”
“From what I saw yesterday, Old Man Johnson wants you around,” Summer said with a grin. “He really likes you.”
“Yes, I like him too,” Bernice said. “I just hope Warren feels the same.”
“Well, let’s see what cookies will do, shall we?” Elle asked.
“I’m more worried about what I’m going to do for him,” Bernice said.
“You leave that to us,” Elle told her. “Now let’s get this mending done and make some cookies, then see about getting you ready to deliver them.”
Bernice sighed. She hoped she’d be able to muster up some confidence between now and then. But she wasn’t at all sure.
* * *
Before she knew it, though, she was standing on the Johnsons’ front porch with a basket of cookies in her hand. Summer stood in the barnyard. They’d hoped to catch Warren coming in from the orchards before supper, but weren’t sure of the timing. Maybe he liked to work later than Clayton did. Or maybe he was already inside.
Or maybe not. Bernice knocked again, waited a few moments, then turned to Summer. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”
