The Christmas Bargain

by Shanna Hatfield

  “Why, I declare,” Abby gasped in surprise. “You’ve got the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Philamena blushed and went back to washing dishes. Finally, she said, “My mother had green eyes.”

  “She must have been a very beautiful woman,” Abby said, drinking the last sip of her coffee.

  “She was,” Philamena said, scrubbing a skillet without looking up.

  “You know, I’m going to have my tongue tied in knots calling you Miss Philamena Booth. Since I feel like we’re already friends, may I call you Philamena? Would you mind?”

  “I don’t mind,” Philamena said, drying the dishes. She kept her head down as she spoke and her cheeks turned pink. “I’d like being friends.”

  Abby lumbered up from the table and gave Philamena a hug around her thin shoulders. “Let’s put on a pot of stew for lunch. It’s going to be chilly today and that will taste good with a pan of cornbread, don’t you think? We can leave it on the back of the stove while we go over to my dress shop.”

  “You have your own store?” Philamena asked as she helped put vegetables into a pot of broth with chunks of rich smelling beef.

  “I sure do. I’ve been a seamstress since I was old enough to hold a needle. I had a store in Kansas where I grew up and when my folks died, my cousin and I decided to head out West. She fell in love on the train ride out here and ended up staying in Idaho with her new husband, but I decided to come on to Hardman and see what was available. I not only found the perfect store, but the perfect man for me,” Abby said, looking around the kitchen, surprised at how quickly Philamena set everything to rights. “Let me get a couple of my shawls and we’ll run over to the store.”

  While Philamena wiped off the table, Abby disappeared and came back with an extra shawl, handing it to Philamena. Wrapping it around her narrow shoulders, Philamena reveled in both the softness and warmth it offered.

  Opening the door, Abby waited for Philamena to step outside before joining her. As they walked past the church, Abby waved at the building, then grinned at Philamena.

  “I never know if he’s looking out the windows or not, but at least Chauncy knows I waved if he was,” Abby said, tipping her head toward Philamena conspiratorially.

  Philamena couldn’t help but smile at Abby.

  They walked down the street and stopped two doors down from the mercantile where a window display featured a rich brown and cream striped gown with a beautiful cream-colored shawl, fancy brown shoes and a hat bedecked with peacock feathers. Philamena let out a sigh as she looked dreamily in the window.

  “Like it?” Abby asked, observing Philamena’s perusal of the items in the window as she took a key from her reticule and unlocked the door. “I can’t wait for you to try on a few things.”

  The few things Abby wanted Philamena to try on turned out to be more like two dozen different dresses in a variety of styles.

  It didn’t take long for Abby to decide what styles and colors looked best on her new friend. As Philamena tried clothes on, Abby either shook her head or clapped her hands in delight and started making notes and pinning in alterations. The entire time, Abby kept Philamena away from the big cheval mirror in the corner. When she was finished with Philamena, she could look, but not until her makeover was complete.

  “I don’t know what Mr. Granger has planned,” Philamena finally said, “but I’m sure one dress would suffice.”

  Abby laughed and continued fitting a beautiful burgundy silk gown to Philamena’s tall figure. Hoping that Philamena would fill out once she began eating better, Abby was leaving wide seams that could be let out later.

  “Luke will want you to have everything you need to be a banker’s wife. I intend to see you properly outfitted.”

  “Oh,” was all Philamena could manage to say, as her thoughts tumbled through her head. She had no business being a banker’s wife. Her skills when it came to being a gracious hostess or socializing were practically nonexistent.

  Other than at harvest time when the threshing crew came to help cut their wheat, the only person she’d been around in the last dozen years was her pa. He drank, ate, yelled at her, and slept. On the rare occasions when he was somewhat sober, he attempted to farm. If they had any money, he went to town and spent it all at the saloon.

  She grew all their vegetables, canning and preserving what she could during the summer and fall months. Their once robust herd of cattle was now a handful of spindly cows. Pa butchered one a year and that beef had to last them for a good long time. Philamena learned to stay out of his way, be quiet, and keep the house as neat and clean as possible.

  A good cook and efficient housekeeper, Philamena was hopeful she wouldn’t be an overwhelming burden to Mr. Granger as she worked to pay off her father’s debt. Failing to grasp why she had to marry him for the bargain to be carried through, Philamena decided to worry about that another day.

  Abby could see the doubts flitting across Philamena’s face and patted her hand. “Now, don’t you worry. Luke is a wonderful man and he’ll take good care of you. I don’t know much about your situation, Philamena, but I know you have new friends in me, Chauncy, and Luke, so don’t be fearful. As my husband would say, trust in the Lord and leave it at that.”

  Philamena nodded her head, considering what Abby said.

  Glancing at the clock, Abby gasped. “My gracious, we’ll have to hurry home for lunch. After my required afternoon nap, we’ll work on altering these gowns. Tomorrow, my new friend, we’ll really be busy.”

  In the whirlwind she was coming to think of as Abby, Philamena soon found herself back in her plain dirt-colored dress, bundled up and walking down the sidewalk to the parsonage, carrying a huge basket filled with dresses that needed altered.

  Stepping inside the Dodd’s cozy home, the delicious beefy smell of the stew greeted them. The kitchen was warm and homey and inviting. Philamena could see why Luke found it so appealing. Chauncy was setting down three place settings at the table as they came in the door.

  “Have a fun morning, girls?” he asked, helping Abby off with her shawl and kissing her cheek.

  “We certainly did,” Abby said, washing her hands. She took a pan of cornbread from the cupboard and put it in the oven to warm. “How was your morning?”

  “Fine,” Chauncy said, pouring three cups of steaming coffee. “I saw two lovely ladies outside the church window and one was good enough to wave at me.”

  Abby grinned and gave Philamena a look that said, “I told you so.”

  Philamena carried the stew pot to the table and Chauncy stuck in a ladle. “We keep things pretty simple around here. Hope you don’t mind,” he said with a smile.

  “Not at all,” Philamena said, almost daring herself to look into the pastor’s face, but not yet ready.

  They were soon seated at the table and Chauncy again gave thanks for the meal. Abby continued to encourage Philamena to eat, which she did reluctantly. Finally, Abby couldn’t hold her tongue.

  “Philamena, honey, we’ve got an abundance of food and I want you to enjoy it. If you want a second, or even a third helping of anything, you go right ahead and take it. You eat your fill. There’s no need for you to go hungry or take such small helpings.”

  Keeping her head down, Philamena slowly nodded in agreement. When Chauncy passed the plate of cornbread, she took another slice and buttered it. Then, surprising herself with her boldness, she added a large dollop of berry jam. Chauncy grinned and Abby smiled, but neither said anything. They were making progress with their guest.

  After lunch, Philamena insisted on doing the dishes while Abby took a nap. Chauncy returned to his office at the church, leaving Philamena alone in the kitchen.

  Drying the last dish and putting it away, Philamena decided to save Abby some work later and put on a roast for dinner. Abby mentioned it was what she had planned for the evening meal. Adding carrots and potatoes to the pan and placing it in the oven to bake throughout the afternoon, Philamena found a
container of yeast and had bread rising on the warming shelf of the oven in no time. It felt so good to knead the bread and inhale the rich, yeasty scent. She could hardly wait to eat a piece, hot from the oven, slathered with butter.

  Taking the basket of dresses in the front room, Philamena sat by the fire Chauncy stoked before he went back to the church and threaded a needle. Warmed by the fire and full of good food, she felt herself growing drowsy, but she kept on stitching.

  Her mind could hardly grasp the notion that she was no longer imprisoned by her father and treated like a slave. In less than twenty-four hours, she found herself among kind, loving people who had made her feel welcome. They didn’t look down their nose at her shabby clothes and tattered state. Instead, they offered her food, shelter and friendship. Tears clogged her throat and stung the backs of her eyes.

  There was nothing she could ever do to repay the Dodds, or Luke Granger, for what they had given her. Freedom was beyond a price. As was friendship.

  Finishing the alterations on the first dress out of the basket, Philamena looked up when Abby waddled out of the bedroom, looking rested and tired at the same time. Abby studied Philamena’s handiwork and nodded her approval.

  “You’re very good with a needle,” Abby said, surprised by Philamena’s skill. She was a skilled seamstress if the work she’d just finished was any indication. “You did a fine job on this dress.”

  Philamena blushed, unaccustomed to any praise. “My mama taught me to sew. We used to spend many hours sitting by the fire, sewing and talking.”

  Abby placed a warm hand on Philamena’s shoulder. “She sounds like she was a wonderful mother.”

  “She was,” Philamena whispered, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. Forced to bottle up her emotions for so long, she felt like they now might spill over at any moment.

  “I hope I’ll be a good mama,” Abby said, lowering herself to a chair with a sigh. She picked up a soft green wool gown and threaded a needle.

  “I’m sure you will be,” Philamena said, smiling at her new friend.

  Abby beamed at her, then set to work on the gown. She could smell the roast in the oven and the bread rising. Maybe letting Luke have Philamena wasn’t such a good idea, after all. She could certainly use her help here with the baby coming soon.

  Smiling to herself, she knew that for whatever reason Chauncy was all for this marriage, so she would do everything she could to encourage it.

  “When is your little one due to arrive?” Philamena finally asked, not sure her question was proper or not, but curious when Abby would welcome the baby.

  “Middle of December, as close as we can guess,” Abby said, stopping her sewing for a moment. “Maybe we’ll have a Christmas baby.”

  “Maybe,” Philamena said, thinking that babies born close to the holiday had to be extra-special.

  The afternoon passed as quickly as the morning. Abby had a way of drawing her out of her shell and into conversation. It was soon time to get supper on the table. Between the two of them, four altered dressed were now hanging in the wardrobe in Philamena’s room.

  When Chauncy opened the door, it was to the sound of women’s laughter as Abby buttered hot rolls and Philamena sliced the roast.

  “Well, now, if that isn’t a welcome sound, I don’t know what is,” he said cheerfully as he came in the back door, hanging his coat and hat on pegs put there for just that purpose.

  When Philamena turned and saw Chauncy, she quickly ducked her head and grew silent. Abby patted her on the back and they continued with the meal preparations.

  Pouring three tall glasses of milk, Chauncy set the glasses on the table while Philamena helped carry over platters of food. Chauncy asked a blessing on the food that again had Philamena’s eyes filling with tears.

  Once the food was passed around, Chauncy asked about their day and how the wardrobe was progressing. He talked about his plans to visit some of the folks on ranches south of town the next day and asked Abby if she’d mind packing a lunch for him to take along.

  The evening was spent by the cozy fire in the front room. Chauncy read a book while the two women worked on more gown alterations.

  Cuddling down into the soft comfort of her bed in the guest room later that evening, Philamena felt blessed for the first time in many, many years.

  Chapter Three

  Luke breathed in deeply of the crisp morning air and held it in his lungs before releasing it. Straightening his shoulders, he pushed open the door to the town’s only restaurant and walked to his usual table.

  He didn’t have long to wait before the waitress, Melanie LaRoux, came to his table. As she sidled up next to him, her eyes glittered with familiarity.

  “Mornin’ Luke, honey,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I missed you yesterday morning. Heard you had breakfast with the pastor.”

  “Yes, I did,” Luke said in a clipped tone, wondering best how to break Melanie’s heart.

  “Somethin’ the matter, sugar?” Melanie asked, a hurt look crossing her features as her full, rosy lips formed into a becoming pout. Luke absently wondered if she perfected the placement of her lips by practicing in front of a mirror.

  Courting Melanie on and off for several years, Luke was never willing to make a commitment even though she was definitely hunting a husband. She’d get mad and tell him to never speak to her again, then after a few weeks, she’d beg him to take her on a picnic or to the skating rink or for a ride in his carriage. He never considered marrying her, but Melanie was determined to change his mind.

  Working in her parents’ restaurant as a waitress along with her two sisters, all three girls were beautiful blonds with big blue eyes. As the eldest, Melanie was the one who had caught Luke’s eye even if she never managed to capture his heart.

  Petite and buxom, Melanie was a flirt of immense proportions. She knew she was pretty, turning the heads of many young men in town. Using that knowledge to her advantage every opportunity she could, she was a skilled manipulator. She was also high-strung with a wicked temper.

  It was one thing to be seen with the prettiest girl in town on his arm and something altogether different to make her his wife. Luke had never felt Melanie was suitable wife material. Between her temper and coy behavior, something always held him back whenever he considered offering her a promise of commitment. She reminded him all too well of his own mother.

  Now he was going to have to tell her about his upcoming nuptials and he had a feeling the conversation was not going to go well. That was why his stomach hurt and his jaw was beginning to ache from being clenched tightly.

  “Nothing’s the matter,” Luke said, deciding to wait until the restaurant cleared out after breakfast before talking to Melanie. “I’m just hungry.”

  Placing a small hand on his arm, she beamed at Luke. “You came to the right place to fix that problem, honey. You want your usual for breakfast?”

  “Yes, please,” Luke said, swallowing back a sigh, watching Melanie sashay back to the kitchen with his order. She was easy on the eyes, for certain, and completely unlike his wife-to-be.

  Philamena looked like a strong wind would blow her down and that hideous dress did nothing but bring to mind a big burlap sack.

  After breakfast yesterday at the parsonage, he had purposely stayed away. Knowing he intimidated Philamena, Luke didn’t want to frighten her entirely with his presence. He supposed it would take time and gentleness to overcome her fears and help her realize not all men were drunken louts.

  Luke prided himself on being able to break any horse with a gentle hand. He decided Philamena couldn’t be much different. It was a challenge he was preparing himself to take on and Luke didn’t set his hand to anything unless he knew the outcome would be successful.

  Melanie soon returned with his breakfast, placing it before him with a beguiling smile. Luke ate without even tasting the smoky bacon or crisply fried potatoes. After a second cup of steaming coffee, he knew he had to t
ell her the truth. If he didn’t, she’d likely hear a rumor before the day was over, since Abby mentioned she was planning to take Philamena to the mercantile to purchase necessities today.

  Giving George Bruner, the store owner, instructions to put whatever the women wanted on his tab before he came to the restaurant for breakfast, Luke hoped Philamena was enjoying her time with the bubbly Abby. If anyone could draw her out of her shell, Abby was the woman for the job.

  When Melanie returned to his table to refill his coffee cup a third time, Luke shook his head and motioned for her to sit down. The restaurant was mostly empty except for a couple of old-timers who spent the better part of each morning near the stove playing checkers.

  “What is it, Luke?” Melanie asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Luke suddenly found it annoying instead of endearing. Had she always been so…flirtatious?

  “You know I’ve enjoyed our time together and had a lot of fun with you in the past,” Luke said, trying his best to soften the blow. Glancing at Melanie, Luke wasn’t surprised to find her sitting smugly with an expectant look on her face. Luke decided it was best to leave off the sugar-coating and come right to the point.

  “Melanie, I’m getting married,” he said, not quite looking her in the eye.

  “Lover, I know that. It’s about time you figured it out,” she said, leaning across the table and putting her hand on his. Not seeing the look of dismay on his face, Melanie gushed with plans. “Let’s have a Christmas wedding. I can be ready by then. I’ll have Mrs. Dodd make my dress and Mama will want…”

  Luke removed his hand from beneath hers and placed it under the table. “I said I’m getting married. Not we. I’m sorry, Melanie, but I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t want you to hear it around town.”

  Melanie’s mouth hung open like a fish waiting for bait. Her face flushed a shade of red similar to an overripe tomato before cold rage settled in her eyes and her entire countenance shouted with barely restrained hostility. At that moment, Luke had never seen a woman look less attractive. He thought she might stamp her foot or start screaming. When she finally snapped her mouth shut, Luke let out the breath he’d been holding.