“Hi, J.P.,” Annabelle said as she swiped at her forehead. “What brings you by?”
Jessamine strolled in, her fire-red hair pulled back in a loose bun at her nape. She shrugged out of her jacket and placed her hat over it, although she kept on her scarf. “I was bored.”
Fidelia shot her a smile. “No interesting tall tales today?”
Jessamine pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from where the women worked and sat down. “Not today,” she said with a groan. “Mr. Kilmarten thought I was naive enough to believe a story about a bear walking on its hind legs.” She rolled her eyes at the thought that anyone thought she was dimwitted enough to believe such a tale.
Leena frowned. “I think they can, if only for a few steps. Have you ever seen one?”
Jessamine groaned and dropped her head onto her crossed arms on the countertop. “Why, oh why, did I have to end up here?”
Fidelia laughed. “Because Bear Grass Springs is the exact opposite of those big cities you were running from.”
“And you met Ewan,” Annabelle said as she bit back a smile.
“I may have to apologize to the old geezer.” Jessamine glared at the women she thought of as family, humor rather than anger glinting in her eyes. “I’m checking with Bears to make sure his namesake really can walk two-legged before I have to humble myself to that man.”
The room was filled with laughter as they imagined Mr. Kilmarten’s delight at Jessamine eating crow. “You’ll have to allow him extra time in the storyteller’s chair,” Annabelle said.
Jessamine groaned. “I’ll be forced to take up drinking. He can never use one word when twenty will do.” She sighed. “It’s why I gave up trying to glean a story from them today and shooed them away from the fire before they could settle in for another few hours. I decided I could rustle up a story on my own.”
“What story could you find here?” Leticia asked as she entered from the front after helping customers. “Except that we are low on Sorcha’s wool with little hope of replenishing any of the stock with her out on Frederick’s farm.”
“Now there’s your story,” Annabelle said.
“I know, but Ewan forbade me from attempting to ride out there.” She frowned and shook her head before she blushed at Leena’s intense interest. “Once I got over my anger, I knew he was right.”
“How long did that take?” Fidelia asked with a chuckle.
“Oh, a day. He was so worried that I’d borrow a sleigh against his wishes that he asked Cailean, Alistair and Bears to bar me from the livery.” She shrugged and then sighed. “I realized I had no desire to be marooned in a ditch, stranded at the ranch or dead from exposure as a storm hit.” She glowered as she contemplated giving up researching her story.
“Was it hard for you to admit to Ewan that he was correct?” Leena asked.
Jessamine smiled at the woman who was slowly becoming her friend. “Yes, but apologies are important, and I’d made him worry.” She sighed. “I had no desire to be like Sorcha, forcing everyone to join in a search party.”
Leticia cringed. “From her letters, Sorcha regrets her rash actions, and she never expected the tamest horse to rear.” Leticia shared a look with the women in the bakery. “I think she’s more than paid for her foolishness, stuck out on the ranch with Frederick.”
“We always knew Sorcha’s impetuous nature would hurt her someday,” Annabelle said.
“Yes, but I always thought that meant she’d be caught in a compromising position, not actually hurt,” Leticia said as she shook her head.
“No, I was the one found in the compromising position,” Annabelle said as she laughed, her gaze distant, as though remembering the night of the June dance when she and Cailean had been caught kissing behind the schoolhouse by Mrs. Jameson. “It amazes me that I can laugh about it now.”
“You can laugh because it all turned out well,” Leena whispered.
Jessamine focused on Leena. “I know the perfect story for my paper. I haven’t had a T&T in too long. Why don’t you allow me to interview you, Leena?” Jessamine had a section in her paper called True and Tantalizing, where she wrote about true, unheralded events in the townsfolk’s lives.
“There’s nothing tantalizing about my life,” Leena protested.
“I know what we should do,” Jessamine said, sitting straighter as her eyes lit with delight. “Why don’t we have an article about what Christmas is like in Norway?”
Leena frowned. “Why would anyone want to read about that?”
Jessamine shrugged. “I’d be as interested in that as I would about Brutus continually eating Harold’s pantaloons or a rattlesnake nipping at Tobias last summer.” She smiled as Fidelia muttered her dismay at the rattlesnake’s poor aim. “You could always talk about what you’ll be tantalizing the town with here at the bakery during the Christmas season. Few can get enough of your gingerbread.”
“I don’t want Karl to be displeased with me for being in the paper,” Leena said as she bit her lip.
“Perhaps it will make him nostalgic and desirous of a compromise,” Annabelle said while Leticia scurried to the front room as the bell jingled. Annabelle met her friend’s worried gaze. “You are honorable and have never done anything to cause him shame. I think a story is a wonderful idea. For you and the bakery,” she said with a wink.
Jessamine smiled, snatching a cooling cookie from a rack. “Yes, and I can come by when you’re not busy.” She closed her eyes in bliss as she savored the bite of gingerbread. “I wish you made these all year-round.”
“Then they wouldn’t be special,” Leena said with a grin.
Jessamine nodded. “And I won’t be as big as a house.”
The women laughed.
Leena took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Ja. I will speak with you about Christmas in Norway.” She sobered further. “I want nothing scandalous.”
Jessamine laughed. “I’ve no need of scandal when you living at the bakery will keep the town talking for months.” She winked at Leena and rose. “I’ll be by soon for the interview.”
Karl poked his head into the livery and stilled as he saw Bears working in one of the stalls. “May I leave my horse here for a few hours?” he asked without preamble.
Bears looked over his shoulder, his astute gaze taking in a bundled-up Karl and showing no shock at seeing him in the livery doorway. He blinked his agreement and returned to work on the horse in the stall.
After a moment Karl returned with his horse, free from the sleigh’s harness. He ran a hand over her muzzle and murmured words of encouragement when she snorted, as though in delight to be out of the cold. Her chestnut coat steamed from a mixture of sweat and melting snow.
Bears approached, holding out his hand. He frowned, accepting the reins. Rather than tug the horse into motion, he waited for her to sniff at his hand and to calm down. “Come, beauty,” he said in a deep, soothing voice, leading her to a stall toward the center of the barn. “You’ll be warm here.” He frowned as she limped, and he cast a worried glance at Karl.
“I thought something might have happened on the ride in. She was fine when we left, but then she hitched more to one side about halfway here.” Karl hung his arms over the side of the stall as he watched Bears attend his horse.
Bears nodded and ran a hand down the side of her neck as she settled into the stall. “I’ll look her over. She might not return with you to the sawmill tonight. But you can borrow one of our horses so you aren’t stranded in town.” He paused. “Unless you’d prefer to be stranded.” He waited to see Karl flush and then stammered a denial. “It would do you good to show as much consideration for your wife as you do your horse.”
Karl flushed red and fisted his large hands together.
Bears met his irate gaze implacably.
“I have no need of advice from you.”
“Then you are in more need of it than you know,” Bears said. “You seem like an intelligent man, lumberman, but I have begun to ha
ve my doubts.” He waited to see if Karl would storm out of the livery. When he remained by the stall, Bears continued, “Many will be willing to give you advice. I’d be careful to take it only from those who understand what it is to love and to compromise.” He shared a long look with Karl. “Or from someone who has loved and lost. For they will advise you so you do not suffer the same.”
Karl’s gaze filled with confusion as he saw the echo of such suffering in Bears’ expression. “I’m tired of being thought a fool.”
“Until you value what you have, you are a fool,” Bears said.
Karl grumbled and spun on his heels, marching out of the livery into the cold evening air, uncertain of his destination but desperate to escape unsolicited advice.
A few hours later Karl leaned against the battered bar in the Stumble-Out Saloon, sipping a whiskey. The area in front of the long bar was crowded while the gambling tables at the back of the bar slowly filled with those interested in trying their luck. Curtains along the front windows billowed with each howl of wind while the lanterns lit the main area of the room but allowed nooks and crannies to remain dimmed for private conversations or transactions.
Karl watched as men threw down their cards in frustration at Lady Luck’s fickleness while other patrons chatted, smoked and spit tobacco on the floor nearby. Karl nursed his drink, unwilling to waste much money at the saloon but equally unwilling to spend another evening alone in his small house.
He stiffened as he listened to the men around him discussing town events. The Second Annual New Year’s Eve Dance would soon occur, and many of the men bemoaned the lack of unmarried women. One man muttered that not even Sorcha MacKinnon would be present, due to her injury.
“Makes no sense that the woman had to recover at the ranch. Makes me think something else is goin’ on that folks don’t want us talkin’ ’bout,” said one man behind Karl.
“Her brothers are fierce men. They won’t allow no hanky-panky to occur,” his friend said around a hiccup.
“There ain’t no man dumb enough to take on the MacKinnons. Besides, their Injun would scalp you.”
Karl snorted and rolled his eyes as he listened to the gossip about the MacKinnons. Karl knew them through Nathanial and his friendship with Ewan. Although the MacKinnons were loyal, Karl could not imagine them doing bodily harm to anyone.
“That foreign baker will be single this year. Betcha we could get a dance outta her.” The first man whistled and then slapped his hand on the bar as though that were a compliment to the woman in discussion.
Karl stiffened at the allusion to his wife and forced himself to remain calm.
“Have you tasted the sweet things she bakes?” his friend asked. “I imagine she tastes even sweeter.”
Karl saw red and was about to spin to face them when a hand gripped his shoulder, and Karl met Ewan MacKinnon’s warning gaze. Although virtually the same height, Karl was stockier. However, Ewan was determined in this moment to prevent a brawl.
“No, Karl. They’re no’ worth it.” He waited until he saw Karl relax before signaling to the barkeep for a drink.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were married.”
“The same could be said of you, Norway,” Ewan replied with a smile. “Jessie heard of a poker match, an’ she wanted the particulars. Sent me to sniff out the tale for her.”
“I thought she was the sort of woman who frequented saloons.” Karl met Ewan’s amused gaze with one of confusion and animosity.
“Aye, she is, an’ she’s a better reporter than I am. She can recall full sentences, whereas I …” Ewan laughed. “I can remember the basics of a tale but no’ the particulars, ye ken?”
“I find that hard to believe,” Karl said with a frown.
“So does Jessie. But I believe there can be too much truth in some of her stories. When it comes to a poker match, or an auction at the Boudoir, a little embellishment never hurt anythin’. She doesna always agree.” Ewan took a sip of his whiskey and nodded at someone he knew but remained focused on Karl.
“Then why doesn’t she come to the saloon for her story? You’ve admitted she’s a better reporter, ja?” Karl asked.
Ewan met Karl’s gaze and became serious for a moment. “She doesna because I asked her no’ to. She understands that I would worry about no’ being able to keep her safe should a brawl erupt.” His eyes clouded. “We already had that happen once at the Boudoir.”
Karl glowered. “Your wife listens to you.”
Ewan nodded. “Aye, because I asked her and showed her that it was because I cared about her and her well-bein’. No’ because I demanded it of her with no rational explanation.” He took a sip of his whiskey as he allowed that to sink in.
Karl brooded for a while. When he spoke, he said, “But she still gave up some of her independence to please you.”
Ewan laughed. “Do ye think I didna give up as much when I married her?” He shook his head as he looked at Karl. “Jessie kent I was askin’ her to give up visits to the saloons, no’ because I wanted to control her or to take away an outing she enjoyed. She kent it was out of my concern for her. She decided worryin’ me out of spite or in a determination to prove she could do it wasna worth the discord.”
Karl frowned. “Your wife sounds more reasonable than mine.”
“Ye give, and ye take, Karl. Ye ask for somethin’ in an intelligent manner. Ye show her why ye would like somethin’ the way ye wish it. If she doesna agree, ye try to see it from her point of view. An’ then ye ask again in a way she understands.”
Karl shook his head. “I don’t understand that type of marriage, carpenter.”
Ewan nodded. “I ken. I never kent much about a good marriage. No’ until I saw how things were with my brother Cailean an’ his wife, Annabelle. An’ then, that’s what I wanted.”
Karl glowered at the mention of Annabelle. “That woman has caused more problems in this town.”
Ewan’s friendly demeanor changed at the criticism of his sister-in-law. “Nae, she hasna. She’s helped this town while also showin’ more charity to its residents than they deserved. One day, Karl, ye’ll be thankin’ her for the kindness she showed yer wife.” Ewan finished the final sip of his whiskey, slapped Karl on the back and then moseyed over to the area where the poker match was turning serious.
Karl watched Ewan leave, his words echoing through his mind as he finished his drink and then left the saloon. As he stepped outside, he glanced at the bakery. Rather than begin the cold trip home, he crossed the street and ensured the area around the bakery was clear of snow and appeared secure for the night. Whispering into the wind, “Good night, my love,” he walked along the boardwalk toward the livery and then rode home.
Chapter 4
Annabelle entered the bakery the next morning to find Leena had already baked loaves of bread and was hard at work on her now-famous apple cakes. She made them in small tins so that the miners and townsfolk could buy them as a single-serving cake. This allowed them to sell the apple cakes as a treat, rather than having the customers make an expensive purchase for a larger cake. “You’re up early.”
Leena stopped stirring her mixture and set her hands on the butcher-block countertop as though she needed the support to remain standing. “Someone was here a little while ago. Outside.”
Annabelle nodded. “Yes, they were. And they were quite kind. They shoveled out the back area and left dry wood.” She yawned. “Who do you think would do that?”
“Your husband?” Leena asked.
Annabelle laughed. “Oh, he did in the past. When we were estranged, and I was living here. However, I know for a fact he didn’t leave our bed this morning.” Her contented smile sparked a look of envy in Leena’s gaze. “Sounds to me like your husband is attempting to woo you again, Leena.”
She huffed out a breath and sat on a stool. “Then he’s a fool to believe that shoveling and wood will make a difference.”
Annabelle tugged on an apron and pulled out a bowl as
she moved to stand beside Leena. “Why? Isn’t he showing you, in a subtle manner, that he now approves of your working here?”
Leena shook her head. “I need the words, Anna. I know that may seem small or spiteful, but I need him to say that I can continue to work here.” She bit her lip. “My dream is that he says he is proud of what I do.”
Her friend gripped her hand. “That is not foolish, to want those we love to esteem what we do. For it is a part of who we are.” Annabelle squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. “Give him time. I know he’s had numerous conversations with varying MacKinnon men, and I imagine his head is reeling from all of the advice.”
Leena half smiled. “Do you think I’m foolish, Anna, for wanting to introduce the townsfolk to my traditions? For wanting to work here?”
“Of course not. I think we are fortunate. And, if the way you sold out of your pepperkake yesterday is any indication, the townsfolk are excited to try new things.”
“I want to build a pepperkake house,” Leena said. “It’s what we always did at home. And then we can eat it.” Her eyes lit with excitement.
“Oh, that’s perfect! Warren was just talking with me a few days ago about how they’d like to have a fund-raiser at the New Year’s Eve Dance to raise money for the fire wagon. If you baked one of those gingerbread houses, it could be auctioned off. The townsfolk already know how delicious it will be.”
Her cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm and her eyes filled with hope. “Do you think they’d bid on it?” Leena asked.
“Yes. We can ask J.P. to print up small pamphlets here for the patrons, so they would know the tradition behind it and how fortunate they would be to make the top bid.”
Leena laughed. “Ja, I think that would work.”
Annabelle gave a little squeal of delight. “Oh, how fun! I’m sure J.P. will be by at some point today, since she is always looking for a story, and it’s been dreadfully dull the past week.”
“If she were like she was before she married Ewan, she would write about Sorcha stuck at Frederick’s ranch,” Leena said. “He always seemed a nice man to me when he was in town in the spring to help his grandparents.”
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