by Karen Kirst
But Lavinia had more to go on than that. Reading the applicable statutes as many times as she had helped her remember them. When Henry had told her and Mr. Nichols about the sale of the smithy to Mr. Dealy on credit, she’d known right away she had what she needed to challenge Henry’s position as executor.
First, he’d neglected to get permission from the probate judge for the sale of Jack’s shop, which was required by law. Second, Henry had agreed to sell the smithy, granting Mr. Dealy a loan with payments extending more than three years into the future, which was more than the length of time a guardian was allowed for the sale of property belonging to minors on credit.
As soon as possible, she would pay Mr. Price a visit. If all went well, the lawyer would be willing to take her case now. They could petition the courts to have Henry removed as executor and challenge his rights as guardian at the same time because he’d failed to carry out all his duties. Since she was the nearest relative, aside from her father, who was back east, surely the judge would grant her the guardianship.
That’s enough strategizing, Lavinia. She needed to continue her campaign to win support in the community, which meant she must come up with a better way of asking Henry to help her because no one was interested in the housekeeper job. The owner of the mercantile hadn’t received a single inquiry about the advertisement she’d placed on the board at the back of his shop. And she couldn’t ask Norma to come to her rescue, although her generous neighbor had invited Dot over to spend the afternoon with her playmate, giving Lavinia some much-needed time to figure out how to deal with her predicament.
As she’d experimented with some desserts, the solution had become clear. Her only remaining option was to ask Henry for help. There was no way she could create the refreshments for the party on her own. Although she’d learned as much as possible from Gladys, her cooking skills were rudimentary and her baking skills even more limited.
Another approach was in order. Lavinia stirred the beginnings of the cake batter slowly and strove for a pleasant tone that didn’t convey her desperation. “I could use a hand with some baking, Henry, if your offer still stands.”
That didn’t work either. It sounded like she doubted his sincerity. He was a man of his word, which he’d proven at their meeting with Mr. Nichols. Even though the banker had stunned Henry with the news of the impending mortgage payment, he hadn’t given a thought to altering the verbal agreement he’d made with Mr. Dealy regarding his purchase of the blacksmith shop, a choice that could end up working in her favor. Instead, Henry had stated his decision to honor the agreed-upon terms without hesitation.
Yes. That was it. She would follow his example and make her request without prevaricating. “Will you please help me prepare the desserts for the party, Henry?”
“Perhaps.”
The wooden spoon she’d been holding clattered to the floor. She spun around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I gathered that since you’ve been talking to yourself.” He leaned against the door frame, his arms and feet crossed, looking entirely too appealing, which added to the sudden wave of light-headedness causing her to reel. She clutched the counter behind her for support.
“Oh, that.” She waved a hand dismissively and stooped to retrieve the spoon, giving her time to come up with a response. “I was just figuring out which approach would be the most effective. You men respond differently to requests than we women do.”
“You missed the obvious.”
“And what might that be?”
“Compliments. A man thrives on them.” His droll smile and waggling eyebrows took her by surprise. Something must have happened to put him in such good spirits.
“I see. So what should I have said? Something like this, perhaps?” She clasped her hands, tilted her head and batted her eyelashes in fawning-schoolgirl fashion. “Henry, you’re such a talented baker. I’d be honored if you’d put your culinary skills to work on my behalf. Would you do that, please?”
He swept low in a deep bow and came up grinning. “My dear lady, it would give me great pleasure to come to your rescue.”
Her rescue? Had he figured out her party plans were in jeopardy?
“However, I feel compelled to add a caveat.”
She fought the urge to gulp. “Yes?”
“I’ll do the baking, provided you work alongside me, allowing me to serve as your instructor.”
Although his request was reasonable, spending that much time with him might not be wise, considering how much she enjoyed his company. She ought to be keeping her distance, not agreeing to spend days with him in such close proximity, but what choice did she have? “Very well. I’ll be your sous-chef.”
“Are these your creations?” His gaze rested on the kitchen table filled with her attempts at creating something edible. Sadly, her efforts hadn’t yielded anything remotely resembling the tasty treats Henry and Gladys had made.
“Such as they are, yes.”
He picked up a snickerdoodle. The cookie broke into pieces when he bit into it. His quick movements enabled him to catch them before they hit the floor.
“When I first took them out of the oven, they looked fine, but they flattened and got brittle.”
He crunched the bite, swallowed and gave her an encouraging smile. “They’re tasty.”
It was nice of him to find something to compliment. “I did everything it said in the recipe.”
“How long did you stir the batter?”
“It said to mix it thoroughly, so I did.”
“That could be it. The recipe books don’t tell you, but ‘mix thoroughly,’ in this case, means just until the ingredients are combined.”
She extended her lower lip and blew out a breath, causing the curls that had broken loose to flutter. “Well, they should have said that. If I were writing a recipe, I would.”
The front door opened, and the children rushed in, chattering as they removed their coats.
Marcie was the first to appear in the kitchen. “Something smells really good. Oh! You made cookies.” She grabbed one and chomped down, repeatedly, until a piece broke off. She spat it onto her palm. “What happened? It’s as hard as a rock!”
Alex, who had come into the kitchen, frowned. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Marcie.”
“Well, it’s true. You try one.”
Henry rested a hand on each of the children’s shoulders. “If you two will have a seat, I’ve got an idea.”
Lavinia looked at the doorway. “Where are Miss Norma, Dot and the others? I thought you were all going to walk home from school together.”
Marcie set the remainder of her snickerdoodle on the table. “They were being slowpokes, so Alex and I decided to race up the hill.”
A rap at the front door was followed by Norma’s cheery call. “We’re back!”
Lavinia left Henry and the older children in the kitchen and went to greet her friend. Norma stood in the entryway with Bobby in her arms and Dot and her two girls surrounding her.
“Thanks for watching Dot this afternoon and for walking Alex and Marcie home.”
Norma smiled. “My pleasure. Yvonne was happy to have the company, and I was glad to have a few minutes to call my own while this little fellow napped.” She kissed her son’s forehead.
“Would you like to come in? I did some baking, and you’re welcome to sample my disasters—if you’re brave, that is.”
Norma smiled. “Come now. It can’t be that bad.”
Lavinia scoffed. “My snickerdoodles are so hard they could be used as cobblestones. Henry about broke a tooth biting into one.”
Dot peered up at Lavinia. “Can I get a cookie?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, sweetie. They didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped.”
“It’s fine.” Henry stood in t
he dining room doorway. “You made tasty treats that are great for dunking in milk. They don’t crumble or get soggy. So, if you two ladies don’t mind, I’ll take the girls with me and give you a few minutes to yourselves.”
Norma nodded. “Thank you, Henry.” She addressed her daughters. “But you’ll have to be quick, girls. I need to get supper started.”
He left with his charges, having formed them into a train with himself as the engine and Dot as the caboose. He led the way to the kitchen, providing a piercing whistle and inviting the girls to join him on the chugging.
Norma smiled at the retreating group and turned to Lavinia. “Were you able to ask Henry if he’ll help you with the baking?”
“He’s agreed.”
“Good. Then you have your location and refreshments taken care of. How are things coming with the entertainment?”
Lavinia inhaled sharply. “I’d forgotten about that. I need to get to the post office and see if the letter from the puppet troupe has arrived. They were supposed to have gotten back to me by now. I’d best be on my way. Would you please let Henry know?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you.” Lavinia threw on her coat, grabbed her reticule and dashed out the door.
Minutes later, she entered the American House hotel and walked up to the owner who served as the Sutter Creek postmaster. “Do you have a letter for me, Mr. Little?”
He checked the slots filled with mail but returned to the counter empty handed. “Sorry, Miss Crowne. Maybe there will be something in the mailbag for you tomorrow.”
That would be too late. She needed to get the invitations out and had planned to add a mention of the puppet show to them that evening. She produced a smile, albeit a half-hearted one. “Thank you.”
She squared her shoulders, left the hotel and headed down Main Street. The ever-present rumble of the stamp mills echoed the throbbing at her temples. She’d come to Sutter Creek prepared to give the children a Christmas beyond their wildest dreams, and yet she’d dealt with one challenge after another.
At least she had the venue reserved. Henry had agreed to help her with the baking, so she’d have desserts for the guests. If she wanted entertainment beyond accepting the church pianist’s offer to play carols as background music, she’d have to ask Henry to arrange a meeting with his ventriloquist friend. She could get gifts for the children in town. They might not be as nice as what she’d hoped to find, but at least she’d have something to give them.
The only thing left to take care of was getting a Christmas tree, but she could hire one of the young men in town to chop one down for her and deliver it. If she bought all the decorations the mercantile had and tied the gifts for the children to the boughs, the tree would look passable.
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Everything would be fine—provided nothing else went wrong.
Now to see if Mr. Price would take her case.
* * *
Henry hefted the sack of flour onto his shoulder the following afternoon, thanked the younger Mr. Staples, who was running the grocery store while his older brother was on his honeymoon, and headed up Church Street to the house, where Lavinia was waiting for him to give her another baking lesson. She was an apt student. Between the two of them, they would have ample time to prepare the desserts she’d chosen to serve at her party.
The thought of working with her again quickened his pace. When she was immersed in a project, she ceased to be the prim and proper lady society expected. Instead, she became as animated and as talkative as Marcie, peppering him with questions. Lavinia laughed more easily and more often, too. She might not be aware of the transformation but he was, and he liked it.
He entered the kitchen minutes later and proceeded to refill the flour tin.
Lavinia smiled. “Oh, good. You’re back. Just in time, too.” She grabbed a folded dish towel, opened the oven door and pulled out a tray of hard gingerbread cut into triangular-shaped pieces. A sunny smile burst forth, adding to her beauty. “They turned out just right.”
Her joy was contagious. “They look great. I’m curious why you cut them that way, though.”
“They’re going to be Christmas trees.” She held the tray in one hand, grabbed a spatula and began putting the trees on a wire cooling rack. “I made some white frosting the way you showed me. I’ll put it in a rolled-up parchment sheet and squeeze it out like garland. I’ve cut some candied fruit into little pieces that the children can use to decorate the trees. They’ll have fun, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do. And speaking of the children, where’s Dot?”
“Upstairs taking a nap. I expect her to come down soon.”
“She’s not getting sick, is she?”
Lavinia paused, the spatula suspended midair. “I don’t think so. She’d been playing with her doll in the parlor, but she popped in here for a minute and then headed up to her room. I peeked in soon after and saw her curled up in bed. I figured she was just tired out. Why?”
“She stopped taking naps not long after she turned three.”
“You’re right. I’ve never seen her take one before. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll check on her and make sure she doesn’t have a fever.” She lifted the last of the gingerbread triangles from the tray and held it out to him. “Would you like to try one and see if it tastes all right?”
“Would I ever.” He sank his teeth into the treat and savored the burst of spicy goodness. “This is delicious. You could serve these at the party.”
“These?” She laughed. “They’re not fancy. They’re—”
“Fun. The children would love decorating them, and aren’t they the reason for the shindig, after all?”
Lavinia’s smile faded. “Now don’t go spoiling things, Henry. I’ve had a good time working with you, but it seems you haven’t grasped my vision for the party. It’s going to be a grand affair.” She frowned. “At least, it’s supposed to be.”
Of that he had no doubt. She’d told him that morning about the gifts she was going to buy, one for every child at the party. Although she’d intended to purchase things like toy soldiers or tea sets, the limited selections in the shops had thwarted her plans. Instead, every child at the party would leave with a small item such as a yo-yo, a wooden top, or a cup and ball. Although she was disappointed, he felt sure she’d end up happy with her choices and had shared his thoughts as tactfully as possible.
“Thanks to you, I have entertainment now. I just hope everything works out with your friend.” She set the empty tray on the stovetop and picked up a full one.
Lavinia had surprised him by agreeing to hire Quinn to provide the entertainment, even though she had yet to meet the talented ventriloquist. It wasn’t like her to relinquish control, but with the party just three days away, she’d run out of options. “You can trust me. I’ve seen Quinn keep a crowd of miners enthralled, and they can be a tough audience. Your guests, children and parents alike, will enjoy his performance.”
“I’m sure they will, but I’m still feeling a bit uneasy. I can’t explain it.”
“Makes sense. This a big undertaking.” She was counting on winning Alex, Marcie and Dot over with this event, so she had a lot invested in it. “Have faith. I’m sure things will work out.”
“I hope you’re right.” She put the tray of gingerbread in the oven, stood and dusted her hands on her apron. “I’ll go upstairs and make sure Dot’s all right.”
“Would you mind if I tag along?”
“You don’t trust me to detect a fever on my own, do you?” She chuckled. “Fine. Follow me.” She led the way up the stairs with him one step behind.
They were on the second landing when she paused. “Do you hear that?”
He did. Dot was crying.
Lavinia raced up the last steps, but he took them two at a time,
passing her by. He rushed to Dot’s bedside, pulled the sobbing girl into his arms and then held her back far enough so he could look into her tearstained face. “I’m here, Dimples. What’s wrong?”
“It hurts here.” She put a hand over her heart.
He glanced at Lavinia, who stood to the side. She held up her hands and shook her head, clearly as mystified as he was. He turned back to Dot. “Are you having trouble breathing?”
“I can…breathe,” she said between shuddering breaths, “but, I c-c-can’t stop…crying.”
Lavinia knelt beside the bed. “Are you sad, sweetie?”
Dot nodded.
“Why?”
“Because Christmas is coming, and it’s all wrong.” Dot dissolved into tears once more.
Henry whipped out his freshly laundered handkerchief and mopped up some of the moisture on Dot’s puffy red face. He could handle most things, but crying females puzzled him. If his niece would just tell them what was bothering her, he could make things right. As it was, he felt helpless.
A gentle pressure on his arm drew his attention. He looked down to find Lavinia’s hand resting there. “I think I know what’s going on. Perhaps if I hold her…”
“Sure.” He was happy to hand over the whimpering girl. Lavinia seemed better equipped to extract something from her than he was.
She perched on the edge of the bed, pulled Dot into her lap and attempted to caress her cheek. Their niece turned away, intentionally thwarting Lavinia’s efforts. “Your mama loved Christmas so much. It’s not the same without her, is it?”
Dot sniffed several times, slowly lifted her head and gazed at Lavinia with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so. You came into the kitchen, saw me wearing your mama’s apron and baking Christmas treats like she did, and it made you sad, didn’t it?”
Dot nodded. “She was the bestest mama in the whole wide world, but she went away, and she’s never coming back.”
