“Jimmy?”
He stopped and turned toward her, his eyes wide.
“I’m Alice Ann’s aunt, and I want to talk to you.”
His face scrunched. “You’re her aunt? But you look like a boy!”
She swallowed a chuckle. Laughing would certainly limit the effectiveness of her threats.
“Listen, Jimmy, I heard that you’ve been saying some unkind things to Alice Ann.” She kept her voice firm. “I’ve come to warn you to stop. If you don’t, I’ll have to come back and speak to your parents.”
Fear flashed across Jimmy’s face, but it was quickly replaced with a quizzical tilt of the head. “You gonna wear that?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I don’t have a thing to worry about, ’cause my momma wouldn’t let you through the door.”
“In that case, I’ll wear my prettiest dress. So you think long and hard about what your momma would say if she knew you’d been mean to a girl.” She tapped the bill of his cap. “And remember, I’ll be watching you.”
Reese hated to disappoint Tessa—especially after yesterday.
He stood waiting for her at the Como Park streetcar station. She’d told him her aunt would need the motorcar this morning, so she’d be coming by streetcar. He could only imagine how the other passengers would react to her gardening clothes.
He glanced at the station’s fireplace, where only embers remained glowing. They’d probably needed the heat last night. By the time he arrived home from delivering Tessa to her aunt’s house, the air was ripe with a chill.
Tessa’s aunt’s house. Wow. What a home. It was dusk when he pulled up to the home on the corner of Chatsworth and Summit, and despite the diminishing sunlight, he could tell the place screamed money. The enormous brick mansion, set back from the street, sported at least six chimneys. He could only guess how many rooms it had. Even the wraparound porch, with its tiled floor and inviting wicker furniture, told him Tessa’s aunt surrounded herself with the finest things.
It was hard to believe that anyone who lived in a place like that wanted to spend her life digging in the dirt. But Tessa did. There were a lot of things about Tessa he was unsure of, but her desire to garden wasn’t one of them.
The streetcar bell clanged as the trolley came to a stop. Tessa descended the steps a minute later, wearing her overalls and straw hat. She spotted him, and a wide smile lit her face.
He sighed. Now he’d have to break the bad news.
“Good morning.” She tugged the brim of her hat down. “Ready to work? It’s planting time. You said we could put in the bushes today.”
“I have some bad news, Tessa.”
Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t work together.”
She paled. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” She was taking this all wrong. “Mr. Nussbaumer assigned me to a different task, and it’ll take a few days.”
“Oh.” Relief filled her voice. “Then I guess I can work on the garden alone, or I could help you.”
Reese rubbed his chin. “Mr. Nussbaumer did say I should ask my young apprentice to join me.”
“You have an apprentice?”
“He means you. I told him the boy working with me wants to learn about gardening.” He motioned her toward the exit. “But I don’t know. If we’re discovered, it could ruin everything.”
“We’ll have to be careful, but if I help you, it will go much more quickly. Then we can get back to planting the rest of our garden. What are we going to be working on?”
“I didn’t say yes yet.”
“You will. Resisting me is impossible.”
He chuckled. He should show that her wiles didn’t work on him, but then again, she had a point. So far she’d proven hard to resist more than once. “All right, you win. We’ll be planting the Gates Ajar according to Mr. Nussbaumer’s plans. It’ll be messy. We’ll have to apply a lot of mud to the walls, so you can take back your offer if you want.”
Tessa shook her head. “It’s going to be great fun.”
“Is everything entertaining to you?”
“Mostly.” She chuckled, then wrinkled her nose. “Scratch that. I don’t find lectures, quilting circles, or long train rides the least bit enjoyable. Everything else is pretty much fair game. Come on. Let’s hurry.” She skipped down the walk, leaving Reese to follow.
Good grief. What if someone saw her right now? From the way she walked, they’d know for certain she was a girl in boy’s clothing. He didn’t dare call out to her, so he had to hurry to catch up. He grabbed her arm. “Tessa, you’re a boy, remember?”
She tipped her face up to his with a coy smile. “Surely you realize by now I’m no boy.”
His neck warmed. Did she know what she was doing to him with that look? “Uh . . . of course I know that. I mean you need to act like a boy, not walk all bouncy like a girl. At least right now. Understand?”
“Sure. How’s this?” She walked in front of him and added a swagger to her step.
He watched from behind. Nope, still all girl—at least to him. He shook his head. He had to stop this. She’s a friend. A friend. A friend.
“Yeah, that’ll do.” His voice came out gruff, but she paid it no heed. She prattled on about the sun-drenched morning, the blooming tulips, and a play at the Metropolitan Opera House she hoped to see. He found himself half listening to her words and half watching the way her lips moved when she spoke. His lack of attention to walking nearly cost him a fall when his boot caught on a crack. Tessa laughed at the acrobatic feat it took to stay upright.
A genuine, warm laugh—not the kind girls made when they wanted to seem ladylike.
By the time they reached the hill east of the bronze Schiller Monument on which the floral sculpture would be displayed, he’d heard all about her niece’s troubles with a rotten kid named Jimmy, who’d teased the little girl about being adopted.
A bully. He’d never liked them. What would he do if he caught his son bullying someone?
His son? Where had that come from? He wasn’t married or even courting anyone. He glanced at Tessa and squared his shoulders. Until he proved himself to Mr. Nussbaumer, that was how it needed to remain.
As they approached the wood frames, Reese was pleased to see that wire netting had already been attached and vats of mud had been delivered by a couple of the workers. He walked around the structure, checking on the quality of the work. This showpiece was important, and the fact he’d been entrusted with it showed Mr. Nussbaumer’s faith in him.
Tessa sat down on the wood frame, which would later make up part of the floral carpeted staircase. “Tell me about the Gates Ajar.”
“Every year since 1894, Mr. Nussbaumer has planted the sculpture. It changes a little with different designs on the gate or different colors of flowers.” Reese tacked a piece of wire in place with a hammer, then turned to her. “Even he thinks it’s a bit showy. Have you seen the Gates before?”
“I have. I come to see it every year. I always wondered how he came up with the idea of an open gate with stairs leading up to it. It made me imagine all sorts of things, like what I would do if I saw a gate slightly ajar.”
He laughed. “Who are you kidding? Unless the gate was chained and padlocked, you’d go right on through it.”
“I would not.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, maybe you’re right.” She hopped up. “So, what design goes on this year’s gate?”
Reese picked up a trowel. “In the drawing Mr. Nussbaumer gave me, it almost looks like a snowflake.”
“Appropriate for Minnesota.” She moved to stand beside him. “What do we do first?”
He dipped the trowel in the bucket of mud, then held it up. “We have to put this into the holes in the frames. Then we smooth it and trace his pattern on the mud. The hardest part is that we have to keep the soil moist or it will crack on the frame. You can simply w
atch if you want.”
“Hey, I do my best cooking in mud pies.” Tessa grabbed the second trowel and loaded it with mud.
They worked hard most of the morning. Conversation between them came easily. He asked about Tessa’s parents, and she shared memories of her life on the farm—fishing with her dad and gardening with her mom. He could only imagine how difficult it had been on the three sisters to lose both their parents and their home. Thank goodness her sister Hannah had taken care of them.
When she asked about his parents, he figured he needed to respond in kind. He told her about his mother, who herself had loved to garden, and explained that he thought she actually loved flowers more than his father ever had. When she asked what kind of person his father was, he tried to put into words how his father was a strong but quiet man who was not given to emotional reactions. “He’s very calm on the outside but very passionate on the inside.”
She looked at him through the wire. “Who are you most like?”
“A little of each, I suspect.” He came around to her side, picked up the watering can, and watched the spray saturate the mud he’d applied.
Running his hand along the surface, he smiled. They’d done good work and accomplished a great deal already.
A chunk of mud landed squarely on his cheek.
Tessa giggled. “Oh, Reese, I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t seem a bit sorry.” He brushed it away with his finger and shook it off.
“I promise to be more careful.”
Seconds later, she tossed another handful in his direction, and it hit him on the chest. Apparently unable to suppress a bubble of laughter, Tessa released a telltale giggle.
He glanced from the watering can to the mud. Either would make good ammunition, but perhaps he should respond in kind. With mud clenched in his fist and a grin on his face, he approached her.
She backed away. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh?”
“Reese, you can’t!” She spun and raced away from him toward a grove of trees.
He followed and caught her about the waist. He pulled her to the ground but was careful not to let her hit too hard. Her chest rose and fell beneath his arms. She laughed as she fought his grasp and pleaded with him to let her go. He held up his mud-fisted hand.
“You’re not—”
“But I am.”
She stilled and looked at him with a strange wonderment. Dressed as a boy, she lay there and let him draw four muddy fingers down her silky cheek—and she’d never looked more beautiful.
He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. Lord help him. He was a goner.
Try as he might to keep it closed, the gate to his heart was certainly ajar.
12
Lifting her carnation-pink ball gown, Tessa descended the grand staircase. Aunt Sam and her escort for the evening both waited for her at the bottom.
Heat pooled in her stomach as she imagined Reese—not Edward Ferrell—waiting to take her to the Chattingworths’ dinner party. But the truth was Reese hadn’t kissed her. When the perfect moment had come, he’d jumped away like he’d been stung by a bee, and worse, he’d hardly said two words to her the rest of the afternoon.
In that moment on the grass, perhaps Reese had thought of her differently, but his further actions showed he did not plan to act on any attraction between them. No fairy dust here—but she wasn’t imagining things. There had been an undeniable pull between them. She’d seen it in his eyes and felt it in every pore, but he’d resisted the attraction. He’d resisted her.
She sighed. She had to bury her hopes and refocus on her goals. Even if they were designed to encourage suitors, social events like tonight’s birthday dinner party for Catherine Chattingworth were the best way she could garner support for Mr. Nussbaumer’s conservatory. She should be thankful for Edward’s invitation. She and Catherine had been friends in high school, but not close ones. When Edward had called and invited her, he’d said he was a family friend.
She placed her gloved hand on the newel post and took the final step down.
“You look lovely.” Aunt Sam kissed her cheek, now washed clean of the mud.
She forced a smile. Water had washed the dirt off, but it hadn’t dimmed the memory of Reese’s caress.
Stop it, Tessa. It didn’t mean anything to him.
Not-a-hair-out-of-place Edward flashed her a broad smile, his crisp white shirt accenting his perfect teeth. “Your aunt is right, Tessa. You do look lovely.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for taking so long to get ready. Shall we go?”
He offered her his arm, and she placed her hand in its crook. A sickening feeling of falsehood washed over her, and she pressed a hand to her midsection.
She could do this. She was an actress.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and slipped into the role everyone expected her to play—Samantha Phillips’s wealthy niece.
And tonight she’d play the role with aplomb. She had to.
Tessa slipped the last bite of her chicken in brandy and cream sauce between her lips and stared at the centerpiece on the table. Only the final course, the birthday cake, remained, and like most of the young women at the table, she’d nibble on dessert and declare she was simply too full to eat another bite.
Did any of the five other young women present or their escorts know the dinner table was massed with Jacqueminot roses? More importantly, did anyone else care?
Beside her, Edward was having a conversation with jade-eyed Susan Frazier, who was seated on his right, about her father’s political ambitions. On Tessa’s left, nasally William Riley seemed enthralled with his dinner companion, Elizabeth Periot. However, Tessa didn’t think the flaxen-haired maiden shared his enthusiasm.
The frosted birthday cake was set on the table, resplendent with candles. Catherine blew out the candles in one full breath, and the guests followed with a chorus of “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”
Slices of the lemon sponge cake were served on china dessert plates bearing tiny roses whose color matched that of the centerpiece.
“Miss Gregory.” Mrs. Chattingworth, the hostess for the evening, set down her fork. “We expected your aunt to host a coming-out for you this last season. We were surprised when she didn’t.”
I didn’t want to be put on the market. Tessa smiled politely. “You are probably aware that my aunt is a little unorthodox, so when I said I’d rather attend college than spend the season attending parties and balls, she supported my wishes.”
“I see. Are you studying art or music?”
“Neither, ma’am. I’m studying horticulture.”
“Flowers?” Elizabeth Periot nearly choked on her cake. “And dirt?”
Tessa slid a piece of dessert onto her fork. “I study vegetables too, and trees. My favorite courses, however, include garden design.”
“Fascinating.” Mr. Chattingworth lifted his glass in her direction. “I myself am on the park board.”
Now was her chance. She glanced at Edward, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement. As Henry had driven them here, she and Edward had discussed using this opportunity to speak to Mr. Chattingworth. Edward had pledged to help her should the subject come up.
She turned to her gray-haired host. “Thank you for serving our community in that capacity, Mr. Chattingworth. Do you enjoy your work on the park board?”
“Most of the time.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his broad chest. “I must admit, I tend to spend a great deal of time helping my fellow board members understand that not every project is worthy. Many of them think that whatever Fred Nussbaumer wants, he should get. I’m more practical than that.”
“I imagine that it’s difficult to determine which things deserve the board’s financial support.” Tessa paused. Everyone at the table was now listening. She’d have to tread carefully lest she offend the guest of honor, Catherine, by stealing the spotlight.
“Catherine,” Tessa said, “what about you? Do you en
joy Como Park?”
“I most certainly do, and I have been growing chrysanthemums from seeds for several months. I want to enter them in the fall show. Perhaps after dinner you can give me a few pointers on them.”
“I’d be happy to.” Tessa smiled. This was going better than she could have imagined. “And Mr. Chattingworth, I’m sure another difficult part of your job is considering how Saint Paul will keep up with the parks of the other important US cities. For example, in my coursework I learned Saint Louis, San Francisco, New York, and Baltimore all have botanical conservatories.”
“They do?”
“Oh yes. Even Columbus brags about their grand Franklin Park Conservatory.”
Mr. Chattingworth swallowed and leaned forward. “What about Chicago?”
She tapped her finger against her lips. “Hmm. I believe the Garfield Park Conservatory was built five or six years ago.” She slowly ate a second bite of her cake, then dabbed her lips with her napkin.
“I do hope there are plans for Saint Paul to follow suit soon.” Catherine gave her father a slightly pouty look that said she expected her wishes to be met. “I’d hate for us to fall behind other important cities.”
Edward placed his arm on the back of Tessa’s chair. “Your daughter and Miss Gregory have made a good point. Under the board’s direction, Como Park has become the crowning glory of Saint Paul, and a conservatory would be the jewel in her crown.”
“I believe plans are already under way to that end.” Mr. Chattingworth cleared his throat. “And if not, I’ll be looking into it. We can’t very well fall behind the other cities.”
“I’m sure you’ll take care of it, dear.” Mrs. Chattingworth’s gaze swept over the other ladies, and then she stood. The guests rose as well, and the ladies followed their hostess to the drawing room with the gentlemen close behind.
The carpet had been rolled up and removed to allow for dancing, and a pianist and violinist struck up a waltz called “Come My Hero.”
Edward turned to Tessa and held out his hand. “Would you care to join me?”
As Love Blooms Page 8
