Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  “Missy?”

  She swung around and smiled at Wash. “Thank you for waiting with me. I’ll be finished soon.”

  “No hurry. Someone’s at the back door asking for you. I didn’t let him in.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Never saw him before.”

  Her mind raced as she tried to think of who might seek her out. As far as she knew, Wash had never met Curt Saxon, Faith’s husband. If something happened to Faith, he’d be the only person she knew who’d expect to find her at the business after closing time.

  She snapped the ledger shut and rose. “Only one way to find out.”

  “The boss said to watch out for you.” Wash stepped closer. “I’ll stay right nearby.”

  “That’s a comfort. Thank you.”

  When they entered the kitchen, she hesitated a moment and then strode to the screen door.

  Light from the room shone on the visitor’s blond hair. Cassie stepped backward, her hand at her throat. “Mr. Fitzhugh.”

  He gave her an easy smile. “I went to your cabin first, then figured you might still be here. I told you I’d be back to court you properly.”

  “And I told you I wasn’t interested.”

  “Your mother sent you a gift.” He held out a small parcel. “May I at least deliver it to your hands?”

  From behind her, Wash made a noise like a growl. Judging by the expression on Mr. Fitzhugh’s face, she could imagine how imposing he looked. She pushed the door open partway and took the package.

  “Please give Mother my thanks.”

  He stepped into the opening, but remained in the alley, keeping part of his attention on Wash.

  “She enclosed a message. I realize it’s late. Since no doubt you’ll be at church tomorrow, I’ll wait until then for your reply.”

  Cassie huffed out a breath. The man was as persistent as a swarm of ticks. “Fine. You can take my response back with you when you leave.”

  He flashed the same easy smile. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  She closed the screen with more force than necessary, then slammed the inner door shut and sank onto a chair.

  “Should I have said you wasn’t here?” Wash leaned against the closed door.

  “No. I wouldn’t want you to lie.” She clutched her mother’s gift, wondering what had possessed her to use Mr. Fitzhugh as a courier. Upon further thought, she was sure she knew the answer.

  Cassie sat at the table in her cabin and untied the ribbon binding the paper-wrapped parcel, exposing two folded pillowslips. She smoothed her finger over the soft linen and then unfolded them. Each one displayed the initial C surrounded by flowers, done in her mother’s exquisite embroidery.

  Her heart warmed at the memory of sitting in their parlor at home watching her mother work colored floss into beautiful designs. Most of her handiwork had been lost during and after the war years. Cassie pressed a pillowslip against her chest, grateful that Mother was making an effort to return to former pastimes.

  An envelope remained in the package. Since her mother sent Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver the message, and he was expected to carry a reply back to Calusa, things apparently weren’t going as well as she hoped. She tensed as she removed the letter.

  9th July, 1868

  My dearest daughter,

  I hope this gift pleases you. I thought of your long-lost trousseau with every stitch, and pray you’ll set these pillowslips aside for a new beginning. Mr. Fitzhugh was most anxious to deliver them when I told him what I was working on. He is such a dear young man.

  She blinked. Trousseau? And Mother told Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver the package? She felt the jaws of a trap closing around her. Gripping the paper so hard it wrinkled, she read the remainder of the letter.

  What with the way that Mr. West keeps you busy with your job, you may have forgotten that my birthday is coming up on the 15th of this month. My friends here (few they may be) are planning a small celebration for me. Of all the gifts I could receive, a visit from you would be the finest. Thus the reason for asking Mr. Fitzhugh to deliver this message, rather than trusting to the post. I pray you’ll make every effort to be with me on my special day.

  I anxiously await his return with your reply.

  Your loving Mother

  Cassie dropped the letter on the table and paced the room. She had forgotten her mother’s birthday. Today was the eleventh. For her to travel to Calusa, she’d have to depart in four more days. Even if she only spent one night with Mother, that would leave Jacob with no one to bake pies while she was gone.

  She ran her fingers along the sides of her head, dislodging her braids. She hadn’t seen Jacob since he’d asked her to take care of the accounts. Mr. Fitzhugh expected a response tomorrow, and Jacob wouldn’t return to work until Monday.

  Stumbling past the wrapping paper and pillowslips strewn on the tabletop, she fell to her knees beside her bed. Lord, help me. I want to please you. I want to please Jacob. I want to please Mother. I ask you to show me what you want.

  On Sunday morning, Cassie walked to church along the alley rather than the boardwalk, hoping to avoid Mr. Fitzhugh until she was safely seated next to her friends. She’d talk to him afterward. She skirted around the cemetery at the rear of the churchyard and slipped inside just as the bells ceased pealing.

  When Rosemary saw her, she scooted closer to Elijah to make room on the pew. Cassie settled into the space with a grateful smile.

  “You’re late today,” Rosemary whispered.

  “I had trouble sleeping last night, so naturally I overslept this morning.”

  She darted a glance around the sanctuary and spotted Mr. Fitzhugh sitting near the front. He turned and nodded in her direction as if he sensed her gaze. She quickly tipped her head so her bonnet would hide the flush that warmed her face.

  After going through the motions of standing and singing, she listened to more about Deuteronomy from Reverend French. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or sorry when he didn’t return to the passage about a brother marrying a widow. She hadn’t paid attention the first time and wished she knew the reverend’s opinion of Mr. Fitzhugh’s interpretation.

  More than that, she wished she possessed the courage to talk to the reverend about her concerns. But as a newcomer to his congregation, she didn’t believe he’d want to spend time explaining something to her that she felt sure everyone else already knew. She sighed and scooted down in the pew.

  As the sermon continued, part of her mind circled the dilemma of her mother’s birthday. She’d had no lightning bolt of insight during the night. By the time the service dismissed, she still had no idea what message she’d send back to her mother.

  When she moved down the aisle, Mr. Fitzhugh elbowed in next to her. “You read your mother’s letter?”

  She nodded.

  “And your response?”

  Taking a deep breath, she blurted, “Tell her I’ll be there on her birthday.” Her heart hammered. Now she’d have to tell Jacob what she’d done.

  Mr. Fitzhugh gave her a benevolent smile. “I’m glad. Your presence will make her happy. The poor woman misses you.” He tucked his hand under her arm as they descended the steps. “I’m just sorry you’ll have to make the trip unescorted.”

  “I did it before and no harm came to me.” She twitched her arm free of his touch.

  He put out his hand and stopped her before she could reach the boardwalk. “I know we got off to a poor start last month, and I apologize. Can you overlook my rash comments and allow me to be your friend?”

  Put that way, how could she refuse? His expression reminded her of Garrett at his most appealing. Besides, his presence in Calusa helped her mother adjust to life without her. She extended her gloved hand. “Very well, Mr. Fitzhugh. We will be friends.”

  That afternoon, with Mr. Fitzhugh on his way to Calusa carrying the message to her mother, Cassie’s conscience pricked her. She’d spoken too soon. She should have asked Jacob before committing two days out of the mid
dle of the workweek. If they were to be together in the business, as well as in their personal lives, she couldn’t go dashing off on a whim.

  She’d have to call on him at his home.

  Today.

  After church, she’d slipped on a comfortable old cotton skirt and bodice, and hung her green taffeta dress up for next Sunday. Now, with a resigned sigh, she went to the bedroom and removed the dress from a hook. Then she paused. Because he missed their Independence Day engagement, Jacob hadn’t seen her in the rose chintz. He wouldn’t be pleased when he heard her request, so she ought to look her best when she called on him.

  Smiling to herself, she fastened matching rose-colored buttons on the fitted bodice, then smoothed the skirt over her cage crinoline. Her cheeks glowed pink when she checked her reflection in the mirror. Although the visit today was a necessary one, she had to admit she had more than the bakery on her mind. She missed Jacob.

  Since suppertime was near, she prayed Wash would be at the restaurant collecting Jacob’s evening meal. She’d ask him to take her. If he’d already left . . .

  She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Once outside her door, afternoon humidity smothered the air in her lungs. Leaves on the oak tree next to her cabin drooped in the heat. Thankful she didn’t have far to walk, she unfurled her parasol and reached the entrance to the alley in fewer than five minutes.

  Jacob’s buggy wasn’t there. Hoping Wash hadn’t already come and gone, she hurried to the screen door. Jenny would know.

  When the door squeaked open, Cassie and the kitchen’s occupants stared at each other in mutual surprise.

  “Wash? Becca? Where’s Jenny?”

  Wash jumped to his feet with such haste his chair tipped over. “In the next room. Is there somethin’ you need? Want me to fetch her?”

  “No, thank you. You’re the person I came to see.”

  Becca grabbed a rag and headed for the basin, where dishes waited on the slanted drain board. “I was just resting my feet a minute, missy.”

  Clearly, she’d interrupted the two of them in a private moment. She hid a pleased smile at the realization that Wash and Becca had feelings for one another. After all they’d endured in their lives, they deserved happiness.

  “Please don’t apologize. No reason you shouldn’t rest if you’re tired.”

  Becca plunged her hands into the soapy water, but not before Cassie caught the relieved glance she sent in Wash’s direction.

  He bent and stood the fallen chair back on its legs. “What can I do for you, missy?”

  “I hoped you could take me to Mr. West, but I don’t see the buggy.”

  “Be happy to take you out there. The buggy’s down at the livery. Needed a wheel repaired.” He rested his hand on the screen door. “Should be done by now. I’ll go fetch it.”

  “Thank you.” When he left, she gazed across the room for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. Then she walked over to where Becca stood at the basin.

  “How about resting your feet again? I’d like to ask you something.”

  25

  Cassie’s heart rapped a couple of extra beats when she spotted Jacob sitting in the shade of his veranda. He looked even more handsome than she remembered. By the time Wash assisted her from the buggy and she reached the porch, Jacob had risen from his wicker chair.

  His crutches made a hollow sound on the floorboards as he met her at the top of the steps. “Cassie.” His smile lifted his lips, his moustache, and rose to the corners of his eyes. “How good of you to visit. This has been a lonely week.” He rested his fingers on her cheek. “You look pretty in that pink dress.”

  “I hoped you’d like it.” Oh dear. She should have said something less flirtatious, like “This old thing?” Too late now.

  “I mean, thank you.” Her face flushed. “I’m happy to see you too.”

  “Come, let’s sit in the shade while you tell me the reason for your visit.” He stepped back and allowed her to precede him to one of the two chairs on either side of a square table. A pitcher rested on a tray in the center, with a half-filled glass of lemonade at one side. Jacob moved forward to peer through the lattice. “Wash, would you please bring a glass for Miss Haddon?” He leaned his crutches against the wall and eased himself into his chair.

  “Right away.” Wash looped the horse’s reins through a hitching post and sprinted into the house.

  Cassie wished she didn’t have to spoil their time together by discussing her mother’s request. To postpone the moment, she glanced between Jacob and his crutches. “Has your leg recovered?”

  “I think resting has undone most of the damage. I’ll be back at work in the morning. Did you have any trouble with the receipts?”

  “None.” She related the amount of the past week’s business and how well Timothy had handled the grocery on his own.

  “Sounds to me like you’re the one who responded well to a challenge.” He reached across the table and patted her forearm. “We make a good team.”

  Butterflies danced in her stomach at the meaning behind his words. She placed her hand over his. “I think so too.”

  “’Scuse me.” Wash broke the spell by moving between them, lifting the pitcher, and filling a glass for her.

  She leaned back in her chair. There would never be a good time to broach the real reason for her visit, so she plunged ahead as soon as Wash left.

  “I had a visitor last evening while I was finishing the accounts.”

  He jerked upright. “Who was it? Were you there alone? I told Wash to stay with you.”

  “He was there. You’ll be happy to know he didn’t let the man into the building.” When Jacob relaxed, she knotted her fingers together in her lap and continued. “Mr. Fitzhugh brought me a message from my mother.”

  “The postal service in Calusa broke down?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “Believe me, I was not glad to see him. However, Mother’s message concerns both of us. She reminded me her birthday is this Wednesday and asked that I come to see her. She sent Mr. Fitzhugh rather than trust the post due to the shortness of the time.”

  “So you’d like to go, I suppose.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I already told him I’d be there,” she whispered. When Jacob didn’t respond to her confession, Cassie peeked at him.

  His lips were stretched into a thin line. “I don’t know what to say to you. Your mother calls, off you run. Are you planning to be gone all week?”

  “Just Wednesday and Thursday. I’m so sorry! I know I should have asked you first. I responded to Mother’s request without thinking.”

  “In your haste, you apparently forgot about the bakery. How will we fill orders with you gone? Now that you’ve seen the ledger pages, you know what a large part those profits play in our success.”

  She took a quick breath. He had said our success. Swallowing, she forced herself to return to the subject at hand.

  “I did not forget about the bakery. Before coming out here, I asked Becca if she would make the pies while I was gone.”

  “Becca? She’s a kitchen maid.”

  “She’s been helping me on busy days. I’ve watched her handle the crust—I think she’d do well.”

  “The pies won’t be the same. No one makes piecrust as flaky as yours.”

  She wondered if he knew how much his praise meant to her. “You’re very kind, but I’ll only be gone two days. That’s not terribly long.”

  He leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin in his hand. A half smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “All right. For two days.”

  “Thank you.” Her mind jumped back to his previous statement. “A few moments ago, you said our success. Did you mean that the way it sounded?” She slapped her fingers to her lips. She had to learn to stop saying the first thing that popped into her mind. Her question was beyond forward.

  He nodded. “I did. I’ve thought about you all week.” He shifted to look directly into her eyes. “Wo
uld you allow me to court you—officially?”

  “Oh, Jacob, yes!”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “I was afraid you’d be angry about my visit to Calusa.”

  “I am. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He squeezed her fingers, then released them. “You have a responsibility to the bakery now. You can’t continue leaving on a whim. A birthday’s not that important.”

  Her mind reeled at the swift change from business to courtship, then back to business again. She frowned at him. “Birthdays are important to Mother. Wouldn’t you leave if your mother needed you?”

  “She died when I was thirteen. I don’t think she ever needed me—I was nothing but a burden.”

  “What . . . what about your father?”

  His face hardened. “I never knew him.”

  Kindly Jacob West, growing up on his own. She’d assumed his parents taught him his caring ways toward others. Questions perched at the tip of her tongue, but from the set of his jaw she knew they’d have to wait. She lifted her glass and took a sip to moisten her dry lips.

  “I had no idea.” Her voice shook. “I apologize for bringing up a painful subject.”

  “You need to know if I’m to court you. I’m not a fine gentleman like Mr. Fitzhugh.”

  “I like you just as you are.”

  He grabbed his crutches and raised himself out of the chair, moving so he could stand beside her. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I feel the same way about you.”

  Her heart soared. As soon as Mother’s birthday celebration ended, she’d come straight back. She didn’t want to be away from Jacob one minute longer than necessary.

  On Wednesday, Cassie stared out the window of the nearly empty passenger car as the train approached the Calusa station. The platform appeared deserted. Surely Mr. Fitzhugh had given Mother her message. At the very least, she’d expected her to be waiting.

  Cassie blew out an exasperated breath. Now she’d have to traipse across the street to the café to learn which of the houses belonged to Uncle Rand. Gus, the heavyset man who operated the restaurant, had said something about her uncle living in the fourth house from the west end. Or was it the second house?