“Six?” Elsa asked, giving Fred a triumphant look as she smiled at his aunts.
“We’ll see you then,” Ari said, rising from the table and motioning for her sisters to join her. Murtag had insisted on waiting in the kitchen where Elsa had left him with a pot of hot coffee and a plate of sweet rolls and cookies.
The man suddenly appeared and went to the front door while Fred helped his aunts slip on their coats. He and Elsa walked them out to the sleigh with a promise to see them at six.
“Are you planning to stay, too, Mr. Murtag?” Fred asked.
“Certainly, sir. Where the young ladies go, I go.” The man gave him a slight smile. “And it’s just Murtag, sir.”
Unaccustomed to someone old enough to be his grandfather calling him sir, let alone anyone else, Fred didn’t know what to say, so he changed the subject. “Do you need somewhere to keep the horses and sleigh while you’re in town?”
“Yes, we do.” Murtag climbed up on the seat.
“I’ll be over to the boardinghouse shortly and take it the livery.”
“Thank you, sir. That would be most helpful.” Murtag nodded once at Fred, tipped his hat to Elsa, then smacked the reins as the horses pulling the sleigh started down the street in the direction of the boardinghouse.
“Well, that was exciting,” Elsa said, grinning at Fred as he followed her back inside. Together, they gathered the tea things and took them into the kitchen. Fred leaned against the counter as she poured out the tepid tea and carefully set the dishes in a pan of soapy water.
“You don’t have to cook for me or my aunts, Elsa. You’ve got to be exhausted and in need of some time alone.” Fred took her by the shoulders and turned her around to look at him.
“I’m fine, Fred. Your aunts are lovely and their arrival is the most wonderful thing that’s happened for a while.” She looked up and tilted her head to the side, observing his features. “You look like them.”
“What?” Fred said, shocked. He was the spitting image of his detestable father. No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise, the truth stared him in the face every time he looked in a mirror. “I don’t look a thing like them.”
Elsa nodded. “Yes, you do. Your eyes are not only the exact same shade of intriguing blue, but they’re also the same shape. And so are your lips.”
The tense anxiety flowed out of him and he inched closer to Elsa. The mention of lips sent his thoughts spiraling around how much he’d like to savor hers again. “My lips are what?” he asked in a husky tone, his eyes fastened to her lips. Thoughts of her sweet, delicious flavor made his mouth begin to water.
“Wonderful,” she whispered distractedly, then moved back from him and cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s wonderful how much your lips resemble those of your aunts. The shape of them is exactly the same. All three of them are so lovely and kind. Do you suppose Ari is related to the Butler family who owns that big industrial company in Philadelphia?”
“I have no idea, but maybe she’ll tell us more about it this evening.” Right at this moment, he cared more about stealing a kiss from the woman with her hands buried in a pan of dishwater than his formerly unbeknownst family.
Rather than give in to his desire to kiss Elsa, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pecked her cheek. “Be a good girl and I’ll see you later, if you’re sure you don’t mind making dinner for us.”
“I’ll have to cook something anyway, so don’t give it a thought, Fred. It might not be fancy, but it will be filling.” Elsa smiled over her shoulder at him then waggled one soapy finger toward the door. “Now get out of here and leave me to my work.”
Fred picked up his hat and coat where he’d discarded them earlier and nodded his head. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Bye, Fred, and thank you.”
He stood in the doorway and glanced at her. “For what?”
“For helping me move in, but mostly for hitting Ethan.” She giggled and he left on a smile.
Chapter Eleven
Fred arrived at five-thirty to help Elsa prepare dinner. She had him push two tables together then draped them both with a snowy white cloth. She placed a bowl of polished red apples in the center as a decoration. While Fred set the table, she rushed upstairs to change and comb her hair.
Fred caught his breath when she reappeared in a dress the same shade of blue as her eyes with her hair pinned in a style that softened her features and left his heart flopping around in his chest. “You look lovely,” he said in a low voice as he walked past her with a pitcher full of water to fill the glasses she’d asked him to place on the table.
She blushed but hurried into the kitchen where she donned an apron and dished up the meal.
At five minutes before six, his three aunts appeared with Murtag. The older man said he’d return to the boardinghouse and asked if Fred would mind walking the ladies home after dinner.
“I’d be happy to,” Fred said, watching as the older gent tipped his head then sauntered down the street. He turned to his aunts and grinned. “Explain Mr. Murtag to me.”
“What’s to explain? He was Daddy’s personal assistant. When he passed away, Murtag decided to stay with us,” Ari said. “He does his best to keep us out of trouble.”
“So he lives with you?” Fred asked Ari.
“Yes, he’s one of our household staff.”
Fred digested the news that Ari had multiple staff, not just Murtag. “Up until my mother passed away and I found a few letters and two photographs, I had no idea she had any family or where they lived. I’d be grateful if you could help me learn more about my grandfather and even your mother.”
“Of course,” Ari said, wrapping her arm around Fred’s as they walked over to the table. He seated his three aunts, helped Elsa carry out the food, and then held out a chair next to his for her before taking a seat across from Claire.
After he asked a blessing on the meal and offered a word of thanks for the appearance of his aunts, he eagerly waited for the three sisters to delve into stories of his family.
“Oh, that is so good.” Claire took another bite of the potatoes Elsa had thinly sliced and layered in a casserole dish with cream, breadcrumbs and grated cheese.
“Everything is delicious,” Ari said after she’d wiped her mouth on a pristine white napkin and draped it across her lap.
“I agree. I don’t know when we’ve had anything better,” Bett said, smiling at Elsa across the table.
Fred tamped down his eagerness to learn about his family and carried on a conversation with his aunts and Elsa, discussing Hardman, the upcoming holiday festivities, and the work he did in town.
“So you work at the livery, the lumberyard, as a deputy to the sheriff, a handyman when needed, and have your own farm?” Ari gazed at him with one shapely brow lifted upward in question.
“Yes, ma’am. That about covers it.” Fred smiled at his aunt and buttered a second slice of light, airy bread.
“Why in the world do you work so hard, Fred?” Bett asked, setting her fork on the edge of her plate. Are you in need of the funds?”
“No, I’m financially sound.” He shrugged. “I work because I want to, I like to.”
“He truly is one of the hardest working men in town,” Elsa said, giving Fred an encouraging smile. “Everyone knows if they need a helping hand to call on Fred.”
“I see,” Ari said, and cast her sister, Bett, an indecipherable look.
“What about you, Elsa? Fred said you and your brother own this bakery?” Claire asked.
“That’s right. My family has a bakery in Boston, where we grew up, but Ethan and I wanted to do something different, something more. When this bakery became available for sale, we decided to purchase it, and here we are.”
“Ethan and Elsa are twins,” Fred said, thinking his aunts, who all looked so much alike, would find that tidbit of information of interest.
“Identical?” Ari asked.
Elsa shook her head. “Not quite, although w
e do bear a strong resemblance to one another.”
“Ethan recently married,” Fred said, ignoring Elsa’s dark scowl. “He went on a trip to Portland to purchase bakery supplies last week and returned home married to the supplier’s daughter.”
“That must have been quite a shock to you,” Bett said to Elsa.
Elsa nodded and scowled at Fred again. He winked at her and turned to Bett. “The shock of it is the reason I was helping her move upstairs today.”
“I see,” Ari said, with a knowing smile to Elsa. In an effort to guide the conversation elsewhere, she leaned back in her chair and looked to Fred. “You probably have a hundred questions you’d like us to answer, so let’s begin with who we are. I’m the oldest. I turned twenty-five in March, and I’ve been married to a wonderful man, Heath Butler, for the last six years. Heath works with his father and brother. The family owns a large industrial plant, part of a railroad, and a coalmine. We don’t yet have any children, unless you count Claire since she moved in with us when Daddy died.”
Claire stuck out her tongue at her sister, making them all laugh. “I’m the youngest and, if you ask the other two, the most adventurous. I enjoy singing and painting, and archery. Until I meet a man who is even half as interesting and fun as Daddy was, I shall remain blissfully unwed.”
“It’s not that she hasn’t met any interesting men, they are just put off by a girl who runs around in britches and can shoot a bow and arrow better than they do.” Bett smiled adoringly at her younger sister then looked back at Fred. “My husband is Clark Dillard. He’s a brilliant architect and designs the most amazing buildings. We’ve been married almost two years and we, too, are waiting for the blessing of our first child.” Bett reached out and squeezed Ari’s hand. “And I was born only a year after dear Ari.”
Fred glanced to his two married aunts. “Your husbands didn’t mind you traveling all the way out here in the winter?”
Ari laughed. “Oh, Heath and Clark learned long ago that we are independent women. As long as Murtag is along, they don’t worry about us overly much.”
“But they do have to send a telegram every few days to keep the men updated,” Claire said, wrinkling her nose at her sisters. “I’m as free as a bird.”
“And as humble as a preening peacock, too,” Ari said, giving Claire a pointed look before redirecting the conversation back to matters of family. “Daddy’s attorney was quite pleased to receive your note. He came to see us the very day it arrived. Of course, we knew of your existence, but Mildred was adamant about none of us meddling in her life or yours. We’re terribly sorry to hear of her passing. The poor dear must have suffered so from her illness.”
“Mother did have a rough time of it. I like to think she’s happy and peaceful now, though,” Fred said, suddenly missing his mother. Mildred Decker hadn’t been an easy person to love and an even harder one to know, but she’d been singularly devoted to Fred and he loved her for that.
Bett dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Mr. Moran allowed us all to read your letter. You mentioned losing both your parents, Fred. Your father is gone as well?”
He nodded. How did he tell his three well-to-do, cultured, genteel aunts that his father had been an outlaw? He supposed they’d learn the truth quick enough if they spent more than five minutes talking to anyone in Hardman since everyone in town knew all about his past.
More than admitting to the diseased branches in his family tree to his aunts, though, he hated for Elsa to hear how horrible his father had been. Then again, she’d lived in town long enough she’d probably heard so many rumors she’d pieced together most of the truth.
Fred cleared his throat and looked down at his plate, unable to meet the gazes of his aunts or Elsa. “My father died in prison.”
To their credit, his aunts didn’t faint or utter any words of disbelief or shock. Bett sucked in a slight gasp, but other than that, all four women remained silent.
“I guess you could say Joe Decker was a good actor. He could fool most anyone into believing his lies with a winsome smile and a bushel of charm, as Mother used to say. When I was sixteen, my father came home right before Christmas and beat me nearly to death. The schoolteacher found me and took me home then arranged for me to stay hidden at the doctor’s office until my father was arrested.” Fred took a drink from the glass of water in front of him, trying to swallow the taste of bitterness thick on his tongue as memories of his father swamped him. “Irony is a funny thing, isn’t it? You see, that schoolteacher who saved my life… well, my dear old dad murdered her father in cold blood the previous year. Come to find out, Joe Decker was a thief, a murderer, and an outlaw wanted in several states.”
He felt Elsa’s hand squeeze his beneath the table and cast a quick glance her way. Moisture shimmered in her eyes but rather than the sympathy he expected to see, he discovered genuine care and concern. He turned his hand over on his thigh and laced his fingers with hers, grateful she didn’t pull away from his grasp. The warmth of her touch, along with the tingle it sent racing up his arm, was both comforting and exhilarating.
“Oh, Fred,” Ari said, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked at him with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, for both you and Mildred. We had no idea. If Daddy knew anything about it, he never mentioned it, although any mention of Joe and Mildred generally sent him into a state of distress and fury.”
“Do any of you know how they met? Why she married him?” Fred asked, looking from Ari to Bett. “Just from the little I’ve seen of you all, from what I read in the three letters I found that your father wrote to Mother, I can’t imagine why she would have settled for someone like him anyway.”
Ari and Bett looked at each other then Bett gave an almost imperceptible nod. With a deep breath, Ari reached over and patted Fred’s arm. “John Baker, our father, came from old money. His family has done everything from banking and investing to owning fleets of merchant ships. He was the only son of an only son and the entire future of their empire hinged on him. When Daddy was still a boy, really, his father decided to merge the family fortune with the Durham family through an arranged marriage. From the time he was fourteen, Daddy knew when he was grown, he was expected to marry Ethel Durham, your grandmother. Ethel’s family was reputed to have ties to those who arrived on the Mayflower. Her family had roots deeper than any of us could possibly fathom. Her family also had money, oodles of money. Like Daddy, she was the only child of an only child. Her father was desperate to ensure a strong bloodline for the future, which is why he and our grandfather struck an agreement to force their two children to wed. The men looked at it as a successful alliance. So, when Daddy was nineteen and Ethel was twenty-eight, they wed. Ethel was…” Ari paused as through searching for a kind way to state the obvious.
“Not a woman most men would choose to wed,” Fred said, recalling from the photo that she looked so much like his mother — short, rotund, not particularly attractive.
Bett gave him a sad nod but Ari shook her head. “Not that, Fred, not what you’re thinking. Ethel might not have been a pretty woman, but she was smart as a whip. Our father said although he didn’t want to marry her, she eventually won not only his friendship but also his respect. She helped his business flourish and he relied on her as a trusted business partner. They only had one child, your mother. Ethel and their son died in childbirth when Mildred was fifteen. For the next ten years, Mildred managed their home and took Ethel’s place as Daddy’s business partner. Daddy cherished her, because she reminded him so much of Ethel, and because she was his only child. Then, on a lovely spring day, Daddy stopped at a little restaurant near the park and sat outside, listening to the birds sing and breathing in the scent of the newly blossomed flowers. He was admiring the water flowing from the park’s fountain when a beautiful young woman working in the restaurant caught his eye.”
“Marissa, your mother?” Fred asked.
“That’s right,” Claire said, beaming as she listened to Ari tell the story. “It was love
the moment their eyes met.”
Ari smiled indulgently at her youngest sister then looked back to Fred. “Daddy was quite smitten with Miss Marissa Stevens, even though she was five years younger than his daughter. He’d never had the opportunity to fall in love before, never been in love before, and nothing anyone said would dissuade him from marrying our mother, even when she refused to wed him.”
Fred gave Ari a questioning look. “Why would she refuse? She loved him, didn’t she?”
“With her whole heart, but she was afraid of the disgrace it would cause if someone like John Baker married a lowly waitress with hardly a penny to her name, especially one so young.”
“But they did wed.” Fred’s gaze traveled over the three sisters and returned to Ari. “How did he convince her?”
Bett laughed. “Daddy could be quite persuasive when he set his mind to it. Mama said he just marched right up to her at the restaurant one afternoon, swept her into his arms and refused to let her go. He carried her straight to the church where the parson, her family, and their close friends awaited. He’d even paid a dressmaker to come and everyone waited while Mama was sewn into a gorgeous wedding dress.” She dreamily folded her hands beneath her chin. “It was so romantic.”
“And scandalous,” Claire added with a sassy grin. “Don’t forget that part of the story.”
Ari rolled her eyes at Claire then continued. “It did create quite a scandal in Daddy’s social circle until Mama won them over with her beauty, kindness, and charm. We had such happy times together. Our house was always full of laughter and love, until mother passed away. Daddy was never the same after that.”
“I’m sorry to have never met either of them, or even known about them,” Fred said, feeling a wave of emotion for the grandparents he’d never had the opportunity to meet. He ignored the anger he experienced at his mother for denying him such a simple thing as knowing his family. How much different his life would have been if his mother had allowed him to visit his grandfather and aunts. Then again, every experience he’d endured had shaped him into who he was today and Fred couldn’t regret the path that had led him to sitting beside Elsa with her hand cradled in his.
The Christmas Confection Page 13
