The Potter's Lady

by Judith Miller

  Even his name had changed. Instead of referring to him as Rylan, his stepmother called him “boy” or “you.” The fact that his father hadn’t stepped forward to protect him made Rylan’s decision to leave home quite simple. Once his wages provided enough money for him to rent a room in Mrs. O’Malley’s boardinghouse, he didn’t look back.

  His room in the boardinghouse had been a solace. A place where he could arrange everything in an orderly fashion and feel assured nothing would be changed when he returned home. The boardinghouse table had been laden with plentiful good food, and his new home had provided a safe haven for a boy of only thirteen years. He had enjoyed the stability of working in the pottery, and until Mr. Bancock sold the place, there’d been no worry about change. Of course, he’d been moved from job to job in the pottery, but that wasn’t the same as the changes plucky Rose McKay had insisted upon once her family purchased the business.

  Since that time, he’d accepted the idea of education for the children, but maybe Robert had been right. Maybe the only reason he’d been willing to accept that change was because it didn’t affect him.

  On the other hand, the cleanliness rules had been an entirely different issue. During her first week at the pottery, Rose had insisted the work areas be cleaned and had posted signs that all employees were expected to wash their hands before eating. The employees had objected, but they knew there would be no choice in the matter. For the first few weeks, Rose prowled the work areas to make certain the rules were being followed. And she’d been clear that there would be more changes in the future. Once the pottery was profitable, she wanted separate washrooms installed for the men and women to wash and change clothes before returning to their homes. Rylan was sure that she’d come up with even more newfangled ideas once she didn’t have to worry about how few contracts they’d acquired.

  The dwindling contracts dumbfounded Rylan. His expectations had been high when Mr. McKay started bidding on contracts. After all, the family had connections among businessmen in the big cities, and Mr. Bancock had talked as though the pottery would expand under Mr. McKay’s leadership. So far, that hadn’t proved to be correct, for they’d won few of their bids.

  Possibly the hardest part of eating dinner each night at the McKays would be hearing Joshua Harkness’s name spoken with respect. The man was a cad, of that he was certain, but it wasn’t his place to point it out. However, he prayed that it would become clear before Rose’s heart was broken. At least she wouldn’t be seeing Joshua for a month. Perhaps she’d lose interest in him during that time.

  The following week, Ewan crossed the room. “Ready for your first meal with the McKays?” Ewan smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Glad I am to have you joining the family for the next month. I grow weary of being the only man at the table. I hope you’re prepared to be the center of attention. Ainslee and Adaira, my mother-in-law, and my wife will likely all be asking ya questions.”

  Rylan longed to beg out of the nightly dinners, but to do so would be rude and unpleasant for him and for Ewan. “Your younger sisters and I have visited a bit at the classroom. They seem to be enjoying their time helping at the school.”

  “I think they may be enjoying it a wee bit too much. Both of them think they should remain here in Grafton and continue to help at the school rather than go on to boarding school and finish their own education.”

  Rylan followed Ewan out the front door and waited while he locked the office. “They could go to the normal school here in Grafton and help at the pottery classroom later in the day.”

  Ewan shook his head as the two of them crossed the railroad tracks. Rylan had been surprised when Mr. McKay appeared at the pottery on his first day of work. He’d expected the new owner to arrive in a fancy carriage with a driver. Instead, he walked to work each day. He said it helped him clear his head. Though Mr. Bancock hadn’t arrived by carriage, either, Ewan McKay was different. His family had money—at least his wife’s family had money. Rylan had expected Mr. McKay to flaunt his wealth like some of the other business owners in town. Instead, he worried about finances even more than Mr. Bancock had. Not that he faulted the man. If this was his business, he’d be worried, too.

  “I’m going to be praying those bids you mailed last week will turn the tide for us. Not that I haven’t prayed about the other bids we’ve submitted, but I’m worried if we don’t win at least two of those bids, we’re going to be in deep financial trouble.”

  Rylan had gone over the books with Ewan and knew his assessment was correct, but the man needed to be cheered a bit. “If we can win this contest, it will be even better than winning one or two of those bids.”

  “Aye, that’s true, and I do na mean to appear selfish, but I would be pleased to have both. We’ve fallen so far behind in our orders that it’s going to take a good deal of diggin’ to get us back on our feet. I was foolish to think I’d be successful in keeping all of Mr. Bancock’s customers.”

  That had surprised Rylan, as well. Mr. Bancock’s contracts called for a rebidding process if the pottery changed hands. Both Ewan and Rylan assumed the bids they submitted would be accepted, as they’d matched Mr. Bancock’s previous bids. But they’d been underbid, and many of the contracts had been awarded to Harkness Pottery.

  Joshua had apologized to Ewan when he discovered he’d won several contracts previously held by Bancock Pottery. The young owner had even offered to withdraw his acceptance, but Ewan had rejected the suggestion. Since then, Ewan had won only two bids, both for small orders. Though he and Rylan had gone over his figures carefully with each bid and believed no other pottery would submit a lower figure, they’d been wrong. When the rejection letters came, they’d sit for hours calculating how they could submit lower bids and still make a profit. With each submission came a rejection and Ewan finally declared he’d been a fool to let Rose convince him a pottery was a better idea than a brickyard.

  “I’ll say a few prayers, myself, Mr. McKay. I know we need orders.”

  “Thank you, Rylan.” Ewan glanced at him as they turned the corner. “Do you think anyone will underbid us on the proposals you mailed today?”

  Rylan shrugged his shoulders. “If there’s a lower bid on any of those jobs, I would be mighty surprised. I don’t see how any pottery could do it for less.”

  Ewan smiled and gave a slight nod. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you during this transition, Rylan. ’Tis easy to see why Mr. Bancock made you his assistant.”

  The two of them continued to walk in silence, Rylan thinking about mingling with the McKay family. He guessed Ewan was worrying about those contracts and the failing pottery.

  “Here we are.” Ewan gestured for Rylan to go ahead of him as they neared the walkway leading to the house.

  A wooden trellis, blanketed with pink climbing roses, adorned the far end of the porch, and the scent of roses hung heavy on the late afternoon breeze. “Someone is good with flowers.”

  Ewan chuckled. “Both Laura and her mother have a special talent when it comes to gardening. Once we moved into the house, they couldn’t wait to begin planting, but that trellis was already on the porch when we purchased the house, so we have the former owners to thank for the roses.”

  Mrs. McKay stepped into the foyer as they entered the house. “I thought I heard voices out there.” Her lips curved in a welcoming smile. She’d met Rylan during her occasional visits to the pottery and had always been gracious. “We’re delighted that you’ve agreed to join us for dinner while you and Rose work on your designs, Rylan.” She grasped her husband’s arm. “I must say that I wholeheartedly agree with Ewan that working here at the house is much more acceptable than you and Rose spending several hours alone at the pottery each evening.” Her smile returned as she gestured for him to enter the parlor. “Besides, we enjoy company. Do sit down. Dinner will be served in a few minutes.”

  Muffled footsteps were followed by the appearance of an older lady with perfectly coifed hair and wearing a pale blue silk
dress trimmed with a navy fringe. She snapped open her fan and waved it back and forth as she sat down near Rylan. “You must be Rylan Campbell, our dinner guest.”

  “Aye, that I am.”

  Ewan drew near. “Rylan, this is my wife’s mother, Mrs. Woodfield.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I thank you for allowing me to take my meals at yar table while Rose and I work on our drawings.”

  He allowed his gaze to wander away from the older woman’s scrutiny. While Mrs. McKay had been warm and welcoming, Mrs. Woodfield’s deportment was more detached, as though she preferred to observe from a distance. Right now, Rylan shared that same feeling. Rather than be a participant in this unfolding scene, he would have preferred to peer through a window as an unobserved spectator. But he was here, and he must make the best of it. If he couldn’t help the pottery survive, he’d be making the biggest change of his life—seeking a new place of employment.

  Chapter 15

  Rylan had barely gathered his bearings when a maid announced dinner would be served in fifteen minutes. From a distant room, a bell rang and was soon followed by a clatter of feet in the upstairs hallway. Moments later, the twins and Rose descended the stairs and gathered with them in the parlor. They were followed by a young woman with red hair, who carried the youngest of the McKay daughters in her arms. His stomach lurched at the sight of her. Was she the woman he’d seen with Joshua?

  Mrs. McKay waved the redheaded woman forward. “Rylan, this is our youngest daughter, Tessa, and her nanny, Beatrice Murphy. Beatrice agreed to come with us when we moved from Bartlett, and we’re grateful for her help with our little girl.” She smiled at the nanny. “Mr. Campbell assists Mr. McKay in the office at the pottery.”

  Beatrice gave a slight nod as she pinned him with a disparaging stare, likely wondering why the hired help was being entertained in the McKay home. Her look of disdain made him long to rush home and change into his Sunday white shirt and black trousers, but he remained glued to his chair.

  The scene outside the hotel replayed in his mind as the nanny crossed the room. She presented the child to her parents, who kissed her and then returned her to Beatrice’s care. Moments later, Adaira and Ainslee took up positions on either side of him. Ainslee nodded toward the little girl. “Tessa goes back upstairs with Beatrice to eat her dinner when we have guests, but Laura likes to have her come downstairs while we gather in the parlor for prayer before going into the dining room.”

  Rylan thought it an odd practice—not the prayer, but the fact that they gathered in the parlor rather than sitting around the table and praying before the meal. When Ewan bowed his head, Rylan and the others followed suit. Ewan’s prayer was earnest. Beyond asking God to bless their food, he prayed for his family members, the staff in his home, all of the employees working for him, and then petitioned the Lord for favor regarding his recent contract bids and the contest entries. He ended by giving thanks for the Lord’s protection and blessings.

  Gathering the family for prayer before a meal, or at any other time, was foreign to Rylan. Thoughts of Beatrice and the hotel fled from his mind as he recalled Mam praying with him before bedtime when he was little, but that, too, had changed when his da remarried.

  None of the tenants in the boardinghouse had ever offered to say a blessing over their meal, and Mrs. O’Malley had been too busy serving their food to worry if they’d prayed or not, but Rylan liked the idea of thanking God before meals. He hadn’t been brave enough to pray aloud, but he’d silently prayed before his meals. If he ever had a family, he would want to pray with his children. He would want them to learn of God’s love at an early age.

  Not until he’d questioned Mr. Bancock had Rylan truly learned the meaning of God’s love. And there’d been no doubt Mr. Bancock believed the teachings of the Bible. Throughout the years Rylan had worked for him, Mr. Bancock had been fair to all those who worked for him and was a living example of God’s love. To now work for Ewan, another man who lived his faith, was an additional blessing for Rylan. Mr. Bancock’s declining health had recently required a move to a sanitarium in Wheeling, and he missed the older man’s sage advice, his friendship, and his godly example.

  Rose had greeted him when she and the twins entered the room, but she’d remained on the other side of the room. Unlike her twin sisters, Rose seemed to think it proper to keep distance between them. As they prepared to enter the dining room, Laura glanced over her shoulder. “You’ll be seated next to Rose, Rylan.”

  Both twins objected, and Rose offered to give up her position, but Ewan waved a warning hand. “You girls will be sitting in your usual places. No more objections.”

  Rylan followed Ewan’s lead and held Rose’s chair before he sat down. He stared at the variety of silverware flanking his dinner plate. He was accustomed to a fork, a knife, and a spoon. After his meals at the boardinghouse, Mrs. O’Malley had collected any unused silverware and returned it to the kitchen. “Makes no sense to wash clean dishes or silverware,” she’d told one of the tenants who’d objected to the practice. “But if it will make you feel better, you can wash them yourself.” The fellow hadn’t taken her up on the offer. After that, nothing was said when the clean silverware was collected and put away.

  If he was going to complete this meal without making a fool of himself, Rylan would need to watch Ewan. When Ewan lifted his napkin and spread it across his lap, Rylan followed his lead.

  Mrs. Woodfield was seated across from him, and after taking a sip of water, she leaned forward. “We’re eager to hear more about this contest you and Rose are going to enter. Ewan told us the exciting news last evening.”

  He looked up from the bowl of creamy chicken soup that had been placed in front of him. “Rose is the one who received the letter from her school and suggested entering the contest. She can tell you far more than I can.”

  Rose gave him a sideways glance before turning toward the older woman. “There isn’t anything further either of us can tell you. The only information we have is what was contained in Mrs. Fisk’s letter.”

  “I must say that I’m pleased Muriel thought to send you news of the contest, even if she was a bit tardy with her communication.” Mrs. Woodfield pursed her lips.

  “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt, Mother. She may have only heard about the contest recently.” Laura graced her mother with a charming smile.

  “I suppose that’s true.” The older woman looked back and forth between Rylan and Rose. “Have the two of you discussed a theme or decided upon any idea that will set you apart from the other contestants?”

  Rylan waited, hoping Rose would reply, but she just sat there, silent as a stone. Finally he shook his head. “Nay, we’ve not decided, but perhaps tonight we’ll come up with a winning idea, right, Rose?”

  “It’s difficult to say if we’ll be able to agree on anything so soon,” she said, before dipping her spoon into the soup.

  Mrs. Woodfield dabbed the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin and straightened her shoulders. “Well, I’ve given the matter some thought, and I have an idea.”

  Both of them stared at the older woman. This time Rose gathered her composure and addressed the woman. “I think two of us trying to agree on a design will prove difficult enough. If the rest of you want to participate, I fear we’ll never reach a decision.”

  Mrs. Woodfield chuckled. “Are you saying that too many cooks can spoil the broth, my dear?”

  Rose smiled and gave a slight nod. “I don’t mean to offend, but—”

  “No offense taken. I wasn’t going to offer any ideas about the design, but rather a method that might help the two of you develop a winning entry.”

  Mrs. Woodfield’s comment aroused Rylan’s interest. “What kind of method?”

  A look of satisfaction spread across the older woman’s face. “I think the two of you need to visit the Franklin Hotel in Pittsburgh so you have a better idea of the décor and style the owner has chosen for his primary hotel. Once you’ve seen
the interior of the hotel, I believe you’ll be better able to decide upon your design.” She leaned back in her chair. Her eyes glimmered with satisfaction as she looked at her daughter. “Don’t you agree, Laura?”

  Laura arched her brows. “The idea is certainly promising, but I don’t know how Rose and Rylan could possibly travel to—”

  Mrs. Woodfield waved her daughter to silence. “I’ve already decided that you and I can accompany them and act as their chaperones. It’s a perfect plan. We could leave as early as tomorrow morning if Ewan has no objection.”

  Ewan’s eyes shone with concern. “While I think your idea a good one, I don’t think Laura should be included in your travel plans. Even though she’s been feeling better over the past two weeks, I worry she may once again become ill while traveling. I don’t think it’s wise.”

  Rylan had witnessed the strain Mrs. McKay’s recent illness had caused his employer. Over the past few months, Ewan had gone home more often than usual to check on the well-being of his wife, but he’d never mentioned the cause of her illness. And she certainly didn’t appear ill this evening, but he admired Ewan’s concern for his wife.

  “I believe Ewan is right, Mother. While I am feeling quite well at the moment, I don’t think travel would be wise. You know how my health has faltered of late. I do well for a time, and then I must take to my bed.” She offered her mother a sympathetic smile. “I would very much like to join you, but I’m sure the doctor would also object.” She straightened her shoulders and looked at Rose. “I do think the idea holds great merit, and I see no reason why the three of you shouldn’t leave tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Woodfield leaned sideways and patted her daughter’s hand. “You and Ewan are right. I thought perhaps the trip might be a nice diversion, but it could prove too taxing.” She sighed. “I do wish the doctor could discover what’s been ailing you.”