Briar Rose

by Caroline Lee

  What is relevant is that you’re feeling lost and hurt and angry right now. I know, dear. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. Everything will be alright. I’m a godmother, dear—your godmother, in fact—and it’s my job to make sure that you get your Happily Ever After.

  Yes, Briar. With Gordon.

  I know that it’s hard right now, but I need you to trust me. I promise you that I will bring the two of you together, as soon as possible. I’ll start with a little gift…

  Yours very sincerely,

  Doc

  Briar reached the end of the letter, and then flipped it over, hoping that there was more on the other side. There wasn’t.

  …What? Her own family had betrayed her, she was in love with a man whom she couldn’t marry—didn’t even know if he wanted to marry her, for heaven’s sake!—was angry and hurt and heartsick, and a little bit hungry, and she was sitting on a bench in the middle of town, where anyone could see her…and some stupid letter told her everything would be alright?

  What?

  How could a letter—this Doc person—claim that everything would work out? If only Briar trusted her? Trust her? Trust some crazy person claiming to be a doctor and a godmother at the same time? Trust someone who apparently spied on Briar enough to know her reaction to reading the darn letter in the first place? Trust that this “godmother” really could ensure a Happily Ever After between Briar and Gordon?

  This was supposed to make her feel better?

  Oddly enough, it did.

  Briar took a few more deep breaths, clutched the letter to her chest, and let her head fall back against the wood of the inn. She had to trust this mysterious “Doc”, and had to allow this letter to calm her heart and her mind.

  After all, what other hope did she have?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thursday evening, and no Briar.

  Well, what did you expect? She’s getting married in a few days. Of course she wouldn’t make time to come to Spratt’s to bake cakes for his customers; she was probably elbow-deep in last-minute wedding details. She was going to marry the town’s most eligible bachelor on Monday morning, and Gordon was still stuck here, chopping vegetables and cleaning spoons.

  But…but he knew her. And that was what had kept him going, this last week. He knew Briar, and knew that she didn’t want to be married to a wealthy rancher or farmer. She’d been angry that her family hadn’t recognized that. So while the entire town was talking about her upcoming marriage, and what a beneficial match she’d made based on her chocolate drop cookies, Gordon knew the truth.

  The marriage had been arranged by her family—probably her grandmother—and not her. But he didn’t know her actual feelings about this particular marriage. Was it something her grandmother arranged, and she was going along with it out of a sense of duty? Or something that she was fighting, and being forced into? That uncertainty was what kept Gordon awake at nights. He knew Briar didn’t want this marriage, but was she going to go through with it anyway?

  If only he’d been able to see her, to talk to her! But both times he’d walked out to her home, he’d been turned away; once by her father—who looked very nervous—and once by Nana Rose herself. The older woman had turned her still-beautiful nose up at him, and instructed him that Briar “had no time to be spent” with the likes of him, and shooed him off the property. Gordon knew it was the truth. He wasn’t anywhere close to the “catch” that Roy DeVille Jr. was…but he wasn’t the poor servant he once was, either.

  Thanks to Vincenzo’s gift—because Gordon couldn’t bring himself to return it, knowing there might still be a chance with Briar—he was now the proud owner of a gorgeous storefront right there on Andersen and Perrault, with tall ceilings, two banks of windows and shiny floors. Mr. Worth had agreed to sell him the building, and he’d agreed to give the other man an extra six weeks to finish moving the bank to the new building. In just six short weeks, Skip could start the renovations, and assuming they worked through the winter, Gordon could open his restaurant in the spring. It was a heady feeling, all this freedom and anticipation.

  Would’ve been a heck of a lot better if he’d been sure about Briar.

  “You are still moping? I would think this would be a celebration time, yo?” Yacob had done his best to keep Gordon talking as he’d darted in and out of the kitchen serving meals, but this time he folded his scrawny arms and pierced Gordon with a too-bright stare. “You need to get out of here.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Bah!” The tiny Jewish man scoffed. “There is not so many customers that I cannot serve them. You take your stew Mama prepared, and you go out to sit with your friend, Mr. King.”

  That got Gordon’s attention. “Skip’s here?”

  “Yo, and he has asked if you are ready to make plans for your restaurant. He needs to buy things.” Yacob smiled when he saw that Gordon was already wiping his hands and pulling the apron over his head. “Go eat a meal with a friend, and talk about the future. Then you will not mope any longer.”

  Well, that wasn’t a guarantee, but Gordon liked the idea of sitting down with Skip and distracting himself with plans. He reached up to untie the top-knot, and pulled his hair back in its normal queue. “Alright, Yacob. Thanks.”

  He ladled some chicken stew into a bowl—making sure to snag two of the big dumplings—and grabbed a piece of bread on his way out to the dining hall. While he hoped to open a much fancier restaurant, he could appreciate the informality of Spratt’s once in a while.

  “Ahoy, Gordy. Finally come to join me?” Skip smiled and made room at the small table by the front window.

  Gordon smiled and joined his friend, noticing the notebook beside Skip’s elbow. It was filled with sketches and scribbles. He nodded toward it. “Hard at work, I see.”

  “Yep. Gilderoy’s new bank will be fancy. With Rupert running to Haskell after Miss Horner, I’ve had to bring in Mr. Booker for most of the bigger work, but I can finally start on the decorative details soon.” Gordon’s friend shoved a bite of food into his mouth and angled the notebook so they could both see it. Around the chicken stew, he described the carvings and the borders that the new bank was going to have, and Gordon found that the discussion did pull him out of his “moping”, as Yacob called it.

  He asked questions, and Skip answered them animatedly, making wide gestures with arms fully covered by tightly buttoned sleeves, as always. He might claim that his heart belonged to the sea, but he was a darn fine architect and carpenter. Right now, when Gordon was feeling like his future was anything but settled, it made him feel a little more at peace to know that Skip was in control of his restaurant.

  “So let’s talk about the old bank. What’re your ideas?” Skip turned to a new page in his notebook and took out his pencil. The two of them threw suggestions back and forth, and Gordon sketched out what he was thinking for the kitchens in what used to be the bank’s back room. Luckily, Mr. Worth was taking the vaults with him to the new building, which would give Gordon and Skip more flexibility.

  “And what about the apartment back here?” Skip tapped at their sketch with the end of his pencil. “Gilderoy is having a larger one built for himself at the new bank, so I’m assuming you’ll want to move into this one?”

  Gordon tilted his head to one side as he considered. He’d spent years living in hotel rooms, and now had his own small space in Vincenzo’s house. But Briar…

  He sighed and ran his hand over his eyes. Why was he thinking about Briar right now? She was going to be married to Roy Jr. in a few days, and he…well, it’d be silly of him to plan a home around another man’s wife. But still, he couldn’t live with Vincenzo forever. Not if he wanted any chance of convincing a woman to marry him.

  Convincing Briar to throw over Roy, Jr. and marry him instead. It was what he really wanted, but had no idea of how to go about doing it. Skip cleared his throat and raised one brow, and Gordon knew he had to answer his friend. Here and now, he could focus on the plan
s for his restaurant, and just hope that the rest of his future worked out the way he wanted.

  “Aye, I’ll keep the apartment.”

  “Even the small kitchen?”

  “No need fer a big one, eh?” Briar could use the restaurant’s kitchen when she needed to bake any—No. Don’t think about her, not now. “We—I’ll get along fine back there. That’ll give you less space in the storage room, though.”

  Skip just shrugged, and screwed up his face in concentration. “Not if we…” And then he was sketching again, smudging out old lines and drawing in new ones, until Gordon began to see what he meant.

  The two men planned while they ate, and even chuckled a bit, until Yacob Spratt closed down his Eatery. The old man had been right; Gordon had needed this time with his friend. He’d needed to plan his future, and it felt good.

  Now he just needed to figure out a way to convince Briar to share that future with him.

  Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright.

  It had become Briar’s mantra over the last week and a half. Everything will be alright. She had to believe it, or she’d go crazy. Her godmother’s words—and it was a little disturbing how easily Briar started to think of the mysterious “Doc” as her godmother—were the only thing that kept her from running screaming from the house as the preparations for the Wedding Tea progressed. Everything will be alright.

  And strangely, re-reading Doc’s letter did help calm her down. That, and the deep breaths. And when Nana Rose handed her yet another to-do list, or Ma mentioned—yet again—the wedding quilts and trousseau she’d been saving for the last ten years, and Briar was ready to scream, she’d find another note.

  The second one, only a day after she’d found the first one on the boardwalk, had been on her pillow:

  Deep breaths. Everything will be alright. -D

  And then, three days later, when Briar was sure she’d have to escape the Tea preparations soon, she found another letter on her windowsill:

  As promised, I’ve discovered a way to ensure your Happily Ever After with Gordon. I know it’s hard to trust me, but I don’t think I can tell you about it before the Wedding Tea. I promise you, you’ll know the plan by that evening, though. Chin up, dear, and deep breaths!

  -Doc

  Briar had no idea who this mysterious person was, or what her plan was, but somehow it made her feel better to know that someone, somewhere, had a plan to save her from this wedding. Because Briar sure didn’t. Right now her best plan was to grit her teeth and limit herself to sarcastic comments under her breath.

  The only time her anger lessened was in the kitchen, and that was only because none of her desserts would come out right if she didn’t release some of the tension she was holding in her stomach and shoulders and temples. And luckily—for her mental health, at least—she was in the kitchen often.

  Ma and Nana Rose were planning a ladies’ tea in Briar’s honor on Saturday. It was a break from tradition, but Nana Rose was just too thrilled with the engagement to not crow about it a little. So she’d invited every lady in Everland—and some from even further away—to a special tea in the church hall where she could preside over the gathering and gather compliments on how clever she was to have snared the town’s most eligible bachelor.

  And of course, what was a tea without cakes? And cookies, and tarts and chocolate eclairs? At first, the fact that Nana Rose was expecting Briar to make all of these desserts for a celebration for a wedding she wanted no part in just made her more angry. But, as she’d learned over the years, it was almost impossible to be angry while baking. So her days were filled with ups and downs; frustration when listening to her family blather on about the wedding planning, and relative calm when she was working in the kitchen.

  She hadn’t been allowed to go to Spratt’s Eatery on Thursday night, and thus she hadn’t seen Gordon in over a week. Her grandmother kept her too busy to leave, and any time Briar tried to sneak out of the house, there was Thorn hanging around the front porch entirely too nonchalantly to be believable. He always mentioned some other chore Ma or Pa had left for her. By day three, Briar had come to realize that they weren’t going to let her out of their sight.

  By the day before the Wedding Tea—and only three days before the wedding itself!—Briar had finally come up with her own plan. No matter what “Doc” came up with, she knew that she wasn’t marrying Roy DeVille Jr. Of course, no one had bothered to listen to her when she repeated this statement again and again, so she’d come to a private decision: on Monday morning, when Pa tried to walk her down the aisle, Briar would refuse. She’d refuse to say her vows, and if necessary, she’d walk right out of the church. And yes, that would embarrass her family, but she wasn’t about to be locked into a marriage with a nincompoop, when the man she loved was right there in town.

  The only problem, of course, was letting Gordon know this. She’d tried to bribe Thorn twice to take letters to Gordon, but both times he’d refused. Whatever Nana Rose had promised him in return for his help must’ve been substantial. Briar had taken to calling him “traitor” behind Ma’s back, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

  And now it was Saturday, and she was dressed in her second-best blue gown—her first-best, of course, was being saved for Monday’s wedding, which she absolutely would not be participating in—and making as many trips as possible between Pa’s wagon and the church hall, unloading her desserts and hoping against hope that she’d catch a glimpse of Gordon.

  She didn’t.

  The tea itself was quite good, but Briar credited that to her own desserts, which she enjoyed. She filled her plate with cookies and eclairs and sat on one of the wooden chairs that had been dragged in, and didn’t speak to anyone. She didn’t care if everyone thought that she was rude; she wasn’t going to celebrate this wedding, no matter how polite it would’ve been. She overheard Nana Rose dismiss her solitude by claiming she had “nerves”. And didn’t that just make her want to throw her tea cup? Of course she had nerves! She had nerves because everyone was ignoring her wishes! Nerves, ha! Briar snorted.

  Because Nana Rose insisted on being the center of attention, she’d arranged the chairs in a big circle. Slowly the ladies found their seats and Nana Rose welcomed them all. Briar thought that her grandmother’s speech was just a little too preening to be about another person; it was like she was the one being married. And then, when the ladies started bringing out the gifts they’d brought along, Nana Rose was the one who actually accepted them!

  It would’ve been galling, if Briar could make herself care. Instead, she sipped her tea and ate her eclairs, and nodded politely to her friends. And occasionally glared at the back of Nana Rose’s head.

  Arabella Bellini gifted a collection of recipe books, along with jokes about how Briar didn’t need the “dessert” suggestions, but they’d be a big help in her new home. Ella Crowne presented a lovely bolt of off-white linen, to be used—she said as she patted her own outrageously pregnant belly—for baby clothes. And Meri Carpenter, who’d mothered Briar as much as she’d mothered Zelle over the years, gave her a beautiful multi-hued wooden bowl, along with a special smile. “I had Mr. King make it especially for you, dear.”

  Briar thanked them all from her chair, and knew that she’d have to make up for her rudeness some other day. Perhaps on the day that she returned their gifts to them, because she darn well wasn’t getting married!

  After her own friends presented their gifts, there were more from her mother’s friends, and then even more from her grandmother’s friends.

  Sitting in a clump under the far window were three women whom Briar didn’t recognize at all. She assumed that they were Nana Rose’s acquaintances from out of town, even though she never saw them interact with anyone, including her grandmother.

  Suddenly, one of the women stood and stomped to the center of the room. She had short-cropped red hair that managed to look not-at-all boyish, and what looked like a permanent scowl on her face. She shook out t
he white bundle that she held under her arm, and Briar felt her cheeks bloom an unflattering raspberry-pink.

  The white lawn linen was so fine that Briar imaged that she could see through it. The woman held up a nightgown that was meant for being seen, and judging from the giggles and titters from the other women in the room, Briar could guess who was supposed to see it. But Roy Jr. would only see her in it over her dead body.

  Of course, while Nana Rose thanked her friend for the gift, and sent knowing looks around the room, Briar couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like in the gown. It was lacy, and frilly, and not at all girlish. It was a nightgown for a woman! What would Gordon think if he could see her in it? She could imagine the way his lips might pull up on one side in appreciation, and the way his large hands would look against the fine material. Feel against the material, even. My, it was getting warm in here, wasn’t it?

  Maybe that was one gift she wouldn’t return, on the off-chance that she could wear it one day.

  For Gordon.

  Amid the giggles, the frowning red-headed lady plopped back down in her seat, and the second lady came forward. She bowed low, and Briar sat a little straighter, as intrigued as the rest of the women in the room. This lady was dressed like a gypsy, with bloomers tucked into tall boots, colorful scarves tied around her neck and head, and golden bangles of every sort dangling from her wrists and ears.

  She smiled, and gestured grandly toward the window of the church hall. “My gift was too large to bring inside. You can see them out by my wagon.”

  Briar was one of the dozen who moved toward the windows, her curiosity overriding her determination to sulk. Outside the hall was a gaily-painted covered wagon, and beside it stood two tremendous rose bushes, the root balls wrapped up in canvas. It was the oddest gift Briar could imagine, but they certainly were gorgeous, weren’t they?