“I’m all right, and I’m not moping,” Ariadne retorted, although she likely was. “I wouldn’t mind going out for a little while, though.”
“I’ll mind the store while you take a walk. I noticed that Millie’s outside sweeping the walk—maybe she could use a visitor.”
Ariadne perked up at that. Millie was one of her good friends, and she hadn’t seen her for a few days. “I won’t be long.”
Regina smiled. “Be gone as long as you need to in order to wipe that melancholy look off your face.”
A moment later, Ariadne was headed down the street, looking around eagerly while trying not to look like she was eager at all. If she happened to run into Mr. Wells, that would certainly be nice, but she wasn’t going to jinx it by hoping too hard.
“Hello there!” Millie called out as Ariadne approached. Her lovely red hair was piled high into a bun, but tendrils were escaping as she swept. Ariadne wished she looked half as beautiful while doing her chores.
“Regina told me to take a walk,” Ariadne said as she greeted her friend. “I must have been annoying her in some way.”
“I can’t imagine you being annoying. Have you had any lunch? Edwin made a few extra, and I’m ready to sit down myself.”
Ariadne followed Millie inside, and they sat down across from each other with their meals. Edwin was a good cook, as was Millie, and when they worked together, the results were always mouth-watering.
“Tell me all your news,” Millie said, which was just the opening Ariadne had been looking for.
“Have you met a man by the name of Thomas Wells? He’s new in town.”
“No, I don’t think so. Is he a miner?”
“He’s here to buy some property. He came into the shop yesterday, and we struck up a conversation. He’s from London, if you can believe the luck.”
“And I take it he’s handsome?” Millie’s eyes sparkled. “Your cheeks are pink—it’s a giveaway.”
“Yes, he’s handsome,” Ariadne replied, wishing she didn’t blush so easily. It would be nice to keep her true feelings to herself once in a while, but then, with Millie, there wasn’t a need. She knew she was safe with her friend. “I’ve been watching for him all day, hoping to run into him again.”
“If he’s here to buy property, you know he’s going to be around for quite some time,” Millie replied. “I’m sure you’ll have every chance to see him again.”
“I know. I just want it to happen soon.”
They both laughed.
“It’s hard to be patient sometimes,” Millie said. “I know how that goes—it seemed like Edwin would never tell me how he felt. But then he finally did, and here we are.”
“And you like being married?”
“I love it. Every minute of it. I don’t enjoy washing socks, but at least now I’m washing socks for my husband instead of my brother, and that seems a little more palatable in some ways.”
Ariadne laughed again. “How are Callum and Celeste?”
“Doing well. It’s been an adjustment for both of them, as I’m sure you can imagine, but the miracles just keep happening. It’s so hard to believe that we’re now both married when we thought we’d both end up single forever.”
“I was thinking just yesterday that it’s almost like the entire town is falling in love.” Ariadne tried to keep her voice light, but a sad note did enter it, and Millie picked up on it instantly.
“You’ll find someone, I know you will,” she said, reaching out and covering Ariadne’s hand with her own. “I often hear your name come up, and I know there are several men in town who think the world of you.”
“That’s very sweet of them, but it’s like I was telling Jake—none of them are for me. Nothing has clicked. Nothing has felt right.” She paused. “I’d like a chance to see if something could happen with Mr. Wells. He might not be interested in me at all, but you never know.” She paused again, truth building up and pressing on her insides. “But there’s also a part of me that wonders if I only want to get married so I can be like Regina. I don’t want to be left behind, the old maid running a tea shop forever because she couldn’t find a husband.”
“We all need to think about our motives from time to time and make sure that we’re doing things for the right reasons, but I don’t think there’s any need to worry about yours,” Millie told her. “Maybe you’re overthinking this just a bit. Shouldn’t romance be fun? Shouldn’t you relax and enjoy it when it comes? You’re young, Ariadne—far younger than I was when Edwin finally proposed. You have time to go to parties and be seen and get courted. There’s not a rush or a race.”
“You’re right. You always are, you know.”
Millie laughed. “That’s one of the reasons Callum was so eager to marry me off, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think he was eager at all—I think he knew how very much he was going to miss you. You did take very good care of him all those years.”
“I did, and he was always a good brother to me in return. It’s so odd now, not seeing him every day, but this is how it’s supposed to be for both of us. And you shall have all the things that are supposed to be for you, too.” Millie stood and gathered up their dishes. “Is Regina hungry, do you think? Would you like to take something to her?”
“I don’t know if she’s eaten—yes, please. I appreciate it.”
Ariadne waited while Millie put together another meal, then thanked her friend again and headed back to the shop. Regina had told her not to come back until she was feeling better, and she could honestly say that now she was. Millie always helped her see things from a new perspective, and the pressure she’d been feeling had been eased somewhat. Truly, it wasn’t a race. Things would happen when they were supposed to.
She came up the street just as Willie slid off his horse in front of the tea shop. “Miss Stoker,” he panted, pulling off his hat. “I was just looking for you.”
“You were? Is something wrong?”
“No, ma’am. I just have a letter for you.” He pulled it from his pocket, handed it over, and mounted his horse again. “Have a good day.” He spurred the animal onward before she even had the chance to offer him a coin or a tea cake.
Curious. She turned the envelope over. It was addressed to Miss Ariadne Stoker, but it had no address, and it hadn’t been sent through the post office. She went inside, gave Regina the meal she’d brought, then sat down under the window and slid her finger under the flap.
The handwriting wasn’t familiar, but that was no surprise because she didn’t know many people in town well enough to recognize their handwriting. She forgot to think about that, though, when she read what the note said.
It had to be from Mr. Wells—it just had to be—and he wanted to take her for a moonlit walk. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to keep her heart from thumping clean through onto the table.
“What’s the matter?” Regina asked, setting down her fork on the table where she was eating. “You look upset.”
“I’m not upset,” Ariadne replied. Her voice caught a little in her throat, and she cleared it to try again. “I’m not upset. I’m … I’m over the moon. Look what Mr. Wells sent me.” She stood and crossed the room to where Regina sat.
Regina took the letter and read it over. “Oh, my,” she said, skimming it again. “Now I really will have to ask Jake about this man. Do you know anything about him? What part of London is he from? I wonder if we should send a telegram to Father’s old solicitor and see what we can find out about him.”
Ariadne held up a hand, laughing. “Yes, by all means, ask Jake, but we’re not going to investigate Mr. Wells as though he’s some sort of criminal. He’s simply sent me a letter—a very nice letter—and asked to take a walk with me. He didn’t even give a day—just a suggestion. No telegrams, please.”
“All right, no telegrams. But you can’t blame me for being curious. And cautious. No man is going to be good enough for my little sister, no matter who he is.”
Ariadne imp
ulsively bent down and wrapped her arms around Regina’s shoulders. “Thank you, but let’s keep our heads. It’s just a letter, just a walk—that’s all.”
Oh, but she hoped it would become much, much more.
Chapter Six
Ariadne craned her neck from one side to the other, trying to spot Mr. Wells in the congregation. Regina jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow. “Will you please stop?” she hissed. “This is church, not a social club.”
“The service hasn’t begun yet,” Ariade retorted.
“It’s still a place of worship.”
Ariadne thumped back against the bench, staring straight ahead. Regina simply didn’t understand. It wasn’t just that she wanted to see Mr. Wells—although she did. But if she saw him at church, that would tell her more about what sort of man he was. And then perhaps they’d have a conversation after the service, and make plans for their outing.
She was surprised a moment later to see Mr. Thurgood working his way up the aisle across the chapel and taking a seat on a pew near the front. She’d never seen him in church before, and that looked like a new suit he was wearing. It made him look a bit younger—possibly even slightly dapper. That was quite a revelation—Mr. Thurgood was capable of looking dapper. Two surprises regarding him in one week’s time. This should teach her not to judge someone without knowing more about them.
It was hard to pay attention to the sermon because she kept looking for Mr. Wells. For that matter, it was always somewhat hard to pay attention to the sermon. Reverend Theodore just didn’t hold her interest the way Reverend Bing did, but Reverend Bing preached in Bachelor most Sundays, and that was a bit of a drive for early on a Sunday morning.
After the conclusion of the service, Ariadne had resigned herself to the fact that Mr. Wells wasn’t coming, and she chatted quite happily with Kara and Toria and Beatrice out on the lawn surrounding the building. She was laughing at something Beatrice said and took a step back to run smack into someone. When she turned to apologize, she saw Mr. Thurgood standing there, red-faced.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Thurgood,” she said, just as embarrassed as he was. “I didn’t mean to bump you.”
“It’s all right. I was just trying to get through the crowd. Have a good day.” He touched the brim of his hat and began to move onward again.
“I’m getting in some new varieties of tea this week,” she called out. “You’re more than welcome to come try them.” She didn’t know why she said it—there was something in her that wanted to reach out to him and make up for the way she’d misjudged him so often. She’d been unfair, and felt terrible about it.
“I’d like that. Thank you.” And then he was gone, although she could see his tall head bobbing through the mass of people visiting before they went their different directions.
“I’ve never seen Mr. Thurgood at church before,” Beatrice commented. “I wonder what brought him out today.”
“He certainly looked nice in his new suit,” Toria added.
The ladies then moved on to other topics, and Ariadne added her own two cents, but her thoughts kept returning to Mr. Thurgood. If she were to be honest, she might even say that he had looked handsome. What an astonishing concept.
As she walked back toward the tea shop and her cozy apartment above it, her heart gave a beat when she noticed Mr. Wells approaching from the opposite direction. He smiled, swept off his hat, and gave her a grand bow.
“Good morning,” he said, replacing the hat on his head. “I take it I missed the morning service.”
“You did,” she replied.
“That’s a shame—I got held up.”
She hoped he’d elaborate so she’d have the chance to learn more about his life and what he did every day, but he didn’t. “I understand that next week’s sermon is about charity,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll make it to that one.” And perhaps he’d sit somewhere near her, or even with her, but she wouldn’t let herself dream about that. One step at a time … it wasn’t a race …
“I’m sure that will be very delightful.” He paused. “I wonder if you’re open tomorrow.”
“Yes, every day except Sunday.”
“Then I’ll be sure to drop in. Have a pleasant day, Miss Stoker.”
He touched his hat and moved off. The encounter was so short, much shorter than she would have liked, but she felt her heart lift off the ground as he walked away. It was likely awkward for him to arrange a time for their walk while standing on the street, where anyone could see him, so he’d come into the shop where they could talk more privately. That’s what she would prefer too. Happy, she climbed the stairs to her apartment and changed out of her Sunday dress, ready for an afternoon of reading and possibly napping. She was invited out to Jake and Regina’s cabin on the Circle C for dinner, but until then, the day was hers, and she’d probably spend a good portion of it daydreaming too.
***
Wendell had been surprised, and then not surprised, to catch sight of Miss Chapel in back of the church during the service. Surprised because it was such an ordinary mortal thing to do, and then not surprised because where else would an angel be on a Sunday? And even before he heard the ringing of a small gold bell, he anticipated that she’d show up while he was walking home.
“I’m very proud of you,” she said, tucking her arm through his like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You bought a suit, your hair is combed nicely, and you sent a letter. And now, even before I suggested it, you went to church. You’re moving forward with leaps and bounds.”
Wendell felt his cheeks grow warm with the praise. “I figured that if the Almighty was going to go out of His way to help me, I might take a minute to pay my respects.”
“That’s very good of you, but there’s something you should understand—helping you isn’t going out of the Almighty’s way at all. His way is to help you.” She motioned down a side street, and they continued their walk. It felt good to take a moment to stretch his legs—Wendell spent far too much time behind his desk.
“Everything you see, from the mountains to the trees to the dirt under your feet, was placed here by God so we could have beautiful lives. Anything that’s lovely comes from God, and all the anger and frustration and hatred in the world? Well, that’s how men react when they come up against things that are unpleasant. Women too—I use the term ‘men’ in its most generic sense, I assure you. When we focus on the things of God, we see more beauty, and that helps us slog through the times that are more difficult.”
Wendell nodded. “I suppose I should expect a little gospel teaching along the way, seeing as I’m being schooled by an angel.”
She gave him a look. He was coming to know that look very well. “Of course. It’s good for you. And perhaps I should let you in on another secret—most life lessons are actually lessons about God, when you get right down into the heart of them. Oh, some people miss that because they aren’t looking, but trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve decided that trusting you is one of the wisest things I can be doing at this point.”
She patted his shoulder. “Good boy, good boy. But remember—just as Miss Stoker has the freedom to choose how she feels, you have the freedom to choose where to get your advice. One of the greatest gifts God ever gave to man was the ability to choose.”
They reached a log bench that had been set up alongside the road, and Wendell sat down, motioning for Miss Chapel to join him. For once, she didn’t argue, and they sat companionably side by side, listening to the wind rustling the aspen leaves.
“Sunday afternoons are a beautiful time to reflect, aren’t they?” Miss Chapel said, lifting her face to the sun. “It’s like the world pauses and takes a breath to get ready to plunge back into Monday. It’s an excellent time to plan for the week ahead, don’t you think?”
“I do,” he replied, anticipating her next statement.
“Which is why we need to discuss your next step,” she continued, and he laughed.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“Further evidence that your intelligence is increasing. I noticed that you spoke with Miss Stoker after church today.”
“Funny thing about that, actually,” he said. “She spoke to me. She accidently backed up into me, and when she turned around to apologize, she invited me into the shop to try some new teas she’s getting in.”
Miss Chapel clasped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful. It’s simply wonderful. I was called away and wasn’t able to check in like I wanted—you recall that I was going to see how your letter was received. It sounds to me like it was received very well.”
Wendell felt a stab of disappointment. “You mean I’m not your only … project right now? Assignment? Whatever you call it?”
“You’re my largest assignment, and certainly my most important, but I am overseeing a few other things as well. Don’t worry—everything’s perfectly under control. Now, did she say when the teas would be coming in?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Then I advise sending her a note tomorrow and waiting until Tuesday to stop by. That way, you’re in daily contact, but you’re not being pushy.”
Wendell sighed. “Another note? I’d hoped one would be enough.”
“Oh, my dear sir, when it comes to the art of the love letter, one is never enough. A young lady wants several so she can tie them up in a ribbon and tuck them into her bureau drawer. There should be enough to treasure if the romance ends happily—or if he dies in some tragic way and she wants to keep his memory alive—and there should be enough to create a nice flame if he jilts her and she sets them on fire.” She wiggled her fingers as though envisioning the flames before her.
“Sets them on fire?”
“Only if he jilts her.” Miss Chapel turned to him with a severe look. “You aren’t planning to jilt her, are you?”
“No, gracious not. Definitely not after all this work.”
Loving the Landlord Page 5
