by Karen Kirst
“Why didn’t you? I’d have been happy to help.”
She set the figurine down and pinned him with a steely gaze. “Has it occurred to you I might not want your help? This party is my undertaking, my opportunity to show you that—” She clamped her lips together and turned away.
“To show me what? That you’re determined to win the children’s affection? I know that. I just don’t think you’re going about it the right way.” Ugh! How tactless could he be? “What I mean is—”
“I know what you mean.” She whirled around, her dark eyes flashing. “You think you can do a better job caring for them than I can, that because I’ve led a sheltered life I don’t have the necessary skills. You think you’re going to show me that they belong here with you. But you’re mistaken. I’m more capable than you give me credit for.”
“I think you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for. You traveled all the way to California, even though you had to challenge your father to do it.”
To his surprise, she didn’t correct his assumption, which told him his suspicion was correct. Knowing she’d stood up to her domineering father for the sake of the children ran counter to Henry’s earlier view of her. Lavinia was more like her spirited sister than he’d thought.
Since she made no move to speak, he continued. “You arrived to find that life here isn’t what you’re accustomed to, but you don’t complain or put on airs. You just roll up your sleeves and tackle whatever tasks need doing.”
She sank into the nearest chair and stared at the rug for several seconds before looking at him. Determination shone from her dark eyes. “I appreciate your kind words, but if you think plying me with compliments will make me see things your way, you’re mistaken. My father and I could offer the children a life beyond their wildest dreams. This party is just the beginning.”
Even if that was true, he was the children’s guardian. They wouldn’t be going anywhere, especially not to live under Paul Crowne’s roof—and his thumb.
“I’m sure the party will be spectacular, but life is made up of everyday pleasures mixed with plenty of love and a sprinkling of laughter. Like your idea of skating in the hall. The children will remember that for years to come.”
“That was fun, but a few minutes spent sliding over a polished floor can hardly compare with a party like the one I’m planning.” She rocked onto the balls of her feet, her eyes aglow. “I can hardly wait to see their faces when they walk into the meeting hall and experience the excitement in the air.”
Most likely they would be overwhelmed. Well, maybe not Marcie. She embraced new experiences, but Alex and Dot were more reserved.
“Come on, slowpokes!” A clatter of feet followed as Dot raced down the stairs.
Henry chuckled. “I think we’re in for some excitement now.”
Dot burst into the room, jammed her hands against her hips and shook her head. “I went up to tell Alex and Marcie we’re gonna sing Christmas songs, but they said they was too busy practicing for their play. Will you still play for me, Uncle Henry?”
“Of course, but I don’t think it will be long before your brother and sister show up, especially if we’re all singing. You will join us, won’t you, Lavinia?”
She twirled a loose curl around her finger and looked deep into his eyes, her own lit with mischief. “That depends.”
He raised an eyebrow. “On…?”
Her lips twitched for a moment, as though she was holding a smile back. It burst forth suddenly, warm and radiant. “On whether or not I know the song you’re playing.”
“How about ‘I Saw Three Ships’? Even if you or this eager singer—” he inclined his head toward Dot “—don’t know the words, they’re easy to pick up.”
“Good thinking. We’ll do such a fine job together that we’re sure to draw Alex and Marcie in.”
Dot tugged on his jacket. “What are the words, Uncle Henry?”
“Some of them change, but just remember ‘on Christmas Day.’ We’ll sing them a lot. Can you do that?”
She nodded.
He launched into the carol, one he’d played many times for the miners up in Marysville. Lavinia sang along, her voice a bright silvery mezzo soprano that harmonized well with his baritone. Dot chimed in on her lines with gusto.
They’d just started the second verse when Alex and Marcie rushed into the room, breathless, having thundered down the stairs. The two caught on to the song’s repetitive pattern in no time and joined in.
Their little group reached the end of the nine verses, and Dot clapped with glee. “More, Uncle Henry. Play some more, please.”
“What would you like to hear?”
Alex was quick to answer. “Can you play the songs we’ll be singing in the school choir?”
“Could you remind me what they are?”
“Yes, Alex. He needs to know that.” Marcie pulled a face at her brother.
Lavinia gave Marcie a pointed look and tilted her head toward Alex.
Marcie held out her hands and feigned innocence. “What? I was just trying to help.”
“Apologize to him, please.” Lavinia waited a moment, but Marcie said nothing. “Now.”
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
Although Marcie’s apology lacked sincerity, Lavinia didn’t press the matter. Her patience with the children was admirable. “What carols are you singing, Alex, other than ‘Angels From the Realms of Glory,’ that is? Thanks to Dot, I know about that one.” He tugged on her braid, earning him a smile.
“‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,’ ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and ‘It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.’”
“I know all of them except the last one.”
Lavinia began singing that carol, her voice strong and sure. The joy radiating from her was palpable. Henry watched, enthralled, as did the children. She completed the first verse, stopped and looked from face to face, surprise reflected on hers. “What is it?”
Dot was the first to speak. “You’re the bestest singer I ever heard, Aunt Livy.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I didn’t mean to get carried away, but ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’ is my favorite carol.”
“It’s a beautiful song.” Henry swept a hand over the keyboard. “Could you play it for us?”
“Certainly. If you’ll let me have the bench…”
He scooted to the left. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to watch and see if I can pick it up.”
“All right.” She cast him a quizzical glance but took her place and began playing and singing. Alex and Marcie sang along.
Lavinia had been having trouble concentrating earlier. Now Henry fought to remain focused. She was so near that he got a good whiff of the delicate rose scent she favored. He’d asked Gladys about it. The housekeeper had said it was Otto of Roses, the most expensive perfume available, made from the blossoms of rose trees near the Sea of Galilee. She’d confided with obvious pride that, thanks to Lavinia’s generosity, she’d been granted permission to dab it on herself a few times.
Henry dragged his gaze from Lavinia’s lovely face and forced himself to watch her hands move over the keys, her slender fingers graceful and sure, like the woman herself. He managed to keep his attention on the notes she was playing…until she glanced at him. The movement of her petal-pink lips as she sang made all thoughts of music slip from his mind. All he could think about was that moment under the mistletoe when the children had urged him to kiss her.
Dot sidled up next to him and whispered. “I can’t sing, Uncle Henry. I don’t know all them words.”
He leaned close and spoke in her ear. “I don’t either. We can hum instead.”
Satisfied with his response, Dot did just that. He hummed along with her while forcing himself to keep his gaze on Lavinia’s hands and not on her mouth.
She completed the second verse and started the third. He played along with her, note for note, matching her tempo. When she began the fourth verse, he added a few embellishments, mindful of her role as primo, supporting and showcasing her in his as secondo.
They finished, their final notes fading simultaneously, leaving him feeling more festive, more free than he had since receiving the news about the tragic loss of Jack and Pauline.
Lavinia’s idea of wholeheartedly embracing the joys of the season was a good one, even if the way she’d chosen to go about doing so wasn’t in line with what Henry envisioned. If he was patient, he could help her see how much fun informal family activities such as this could be. She’d certainly immersed herself in this one.
She leaned toward the children, her tone bright. “What shall we do next?”
“‘Angels From the Realms of Glory,’” Marcie stated firmly. “I like it best since I get to be an angel in the church play.” She flipped a hand at her dark curls.
“Very well.” Lavinia faced Henry. “Since you know this one, would you like to play it on your own?”
“We can play together. Which position would you like to take?”
She graced him with a shy, almost apologetic smile. “Since you’re the stronger player, why don’t you stay there?”
Smiles and compliments? This was a worthwhile activity, indeed.
The next hour, filled with music, song, laughter and even more smiles, came to an end far too soon. He could spend several more seated next to Lavinia, enjoying the occasional brush of her arm against his and the unexpected sense of camaraderie.
Gladys entered the room. “I’m sorry the concert’s over. I enjoyed listening to those beautiful tunes while putting the kitchen to rights, but—” she rested a hand on Dot’s back “—it’s time for a young lady to go to bed. Give your aunt and uncle a hug, and I’ll take you up.”
Dot climbed onto the piano bench, wedged herself between Lavinia and Henry, wrapped an arm around each of their necks and planted noisy kisses on their cheeks. “I’m glad we singed together. Now I know all the words to ‘Angels From the Realms of Glory.’ I’m so happy.”
So was Henry. He wouldn’t have to endure her endless repetition of the first line.
Gladys beckoned with a crooked finger. “Come, our little singer. Your pillow is calling.”
Dot trooped after the housekeeper, she and Gladys both singing the carol together on the way upstairs.
Lavinia stared at the open door, slack-jawed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard Gladys sing. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she’s downright cheery these days. Interesting.”
Marcie produced a smug smile. “I know why. She’s in love.”
Lavinia leaned back, startled. “What do you know about such things?”
“I know what love looks like. I saw how Mama and Papa looked at each other. It’s the same way Uncle Henry was looking at you while you were playing the piano.” She mimicked an adoring gaze.
Henry inhaled sharply and coughed. Repeatedly. Marcie was full of surprises, but she’d never said anything so shocking—or so ludicrous.
Lavinia cast a glance at him, concern creasing her brow. “Are you all right?”
He held up a hand and nodded to indicate he would be—provided the subject of his supposed attraction to her was dropped quickly. He might have looked at her, might even have admired her a time or two, but he most certainly had not gaped at her as though love-struck. She was attractive, talented and resourceful, but he didn’t have feelings for her. He couldn’t. Lavinia Crowne was, well, a Crowne, and he was a Hawthorn. Their values were as far apart as Christmas and the Fourth of July.
She turned to their niece. “Your mother and father loved each other very much, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken about your uncle. We were having fun together, but he and I are just friends. And as for Gladys, maybe she’s just happy about Christmas.”
“We did have fun, didn’t we, Aunt Livy?” Marcie smiled. “Christmas is going to be good, isn’t it?”
“I’m doing all I can to see that it is.”
“Does that mean we’re going to get presents?”
Alex scowled at his sister. “Marcie, it’s not polite to ask about that.”
Lavinia laughed, an airy sound free of reproach. “It’s all right, Alex. Since things are different this year, her question makes sense.” She took Marcie’s hands in hers. “Of course you’ll have presents. I’ll see to that.”
“I want a pair of pretty red boots like you have.” Marcie pulled her hands free and pointed at the toes of the boots peeking out from under Lavinia’s skirt. “Red’s my favorite color.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that. Now, how about you and Alex head upstairs and get your nightclothes on? I’ll be there shortly to tuck you in.”
The children trooped up the stairs. Henry jumped to his feet. He must put distance between himself and Lavinia now that they were alone. No telling what she was thinking after Marcie’s startling declaration.
Lavinia covered the keys with the fallboard and ran a hand over it. “I can’t recall a time I had as much fun playing as I did tonight. We’ll have to do it again.”
“That’s a great idea. We could teach the children enough songs so we could go caroling. I’m sure they’d enjoy a simple activity like that. Would you?”
She spun around, and he forced himself to look casual, as though that awkward question of Marcie’s hadn’t happened. She studied him for the longest time before speaking, which suggested she was thinking about it, too. He fought the urge to fidget.
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
Did she? He silently urged her to continue.
“You want me to see what a wonderful job Jack and Pauline did raising the children despite their limited means. Well, I have. But I could do even more good if given the opportunity.”
She wholeheartedly believed she could. That much he knew, but what she couldn’t see was that her idea of good wasn’t what was best for the children. Their past, present and future were in Sutter Creek. With him. “You could offer them things they can’t get here, but how do you know they want them?”
“They do. Look.” She lifted her hem just enough for him to see her cherry-red boots and stamped her foot to draw attention to it. “Marcie wants boots like these.” She released her skirts, and they swished around her ankles. “She could have them, along with clothes made by the finest dress designers on the eastern seaboard. Think of how much it would mean to her to wear such lovely creations.”
If Lavinia thought she was going to win him over with an argument like that, she was misguided. Marcie had been content with her black boots until Lavinia had come along, boasting an abundance of footwear. Having boots to match each outfit might be important to her, but in his world that was a luxury. He’d ensure that the children had the clothes and shoes they needed just as Jack and Pauline had. He wouldn’t allow anyone, not even their well-meaning aunt, to cause the children to question the decisions their parents had made or see themselves as lacking.
Pauline had walked away from her lavish lifestyle, and she hadn’t regretted her decision. She once said that what she’d gained by marrying the man she loved more than made up for what she’d lost. Her only regret, she’d confided in him one day soon after he’d arrived in California, was having left Lavinia behind. If Pauline could have figured out a way to take her younger sister with her, she would have. She’d told Henry that she’d suggested the idea to Lavinia, who’d stared at Pauline like she was addlepated before flatly refusing to leave their father. If only Lavinia didn’t hold Paul Crowne in such high regard.
“I’m sure Marcie would welcome a new pair of boots or a fancy dress, but she’s happy with what she has.” At least, she had been, and he intended to keep it that way. “Do you know wh
at she’d really like?”
Lavinia eyed him warily. “What?”
“She wants the things money can’t buy—love, kindness, understanding. You’ve given her those and more ever since you arrived.”
“I’ve done my best, but I want to give her and the others more than that. Children like presents. You heard her. Christmas won’t be the same without them. The trouble is, I haven’t been able to find what I’m after. The shops here have a limited selection.”
For someone used to shopping in Philadelphia, with excursions to New York when it suited her, that would be true. She was accustomed to finding wares from Europe and beyond, but getting items like those to California was a slow, costly process. The shop owners in the small Gold Rush towns couldn’t afford to carry much aside from the basics.
“Do you know of someplace else I could go? I’m not familiar with the other towns yet.”
“Jackson’s just five miles down the road. I could take you there if you’d like.” What had possessed him to make that offer? He didn’t even like shopping.
Lavinia beamed. “Oh, would you? I’d like that. How about tomorrow? I could leave Dot with Gladys so there wouldn’t be any prying eyes.”
The only eyes he was thinking about were Lavinia’s. They held such childlike delight that he couldn’t resist granting her request. “Sure. Tomorrow would be fine.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.”
So was he. More than he should.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The front door closed with a bang, and Gladys rushed into the kitchen with a wicker basket full of groceries slung over her arm. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Lavinia. I lost track of the time.”
Again? Talking with Mr. Staples, no doubt. Lavinia bit back the reprimand fighting for release. Gladys had been faithful to the family for years. She deserved respect, but the situation had to be addressed.
“I’m glad you’re here now, but I’m disappointed. You knew Henry would be coming soon and that I need you to watch Dot and be here to pick up Marcie and Alex from school if I’m not back in time.”
