“You’re a good friend, Filly, and I thank you for your care,” Abby said, trying to hoist herself from her chair, quickly giving up with an exaggerated sigh. “Now go home and take care of that husband of yours, insufferable man that he is.”
Filly laughed, gave Abby a hug around her shoulders, and showed herself out the door. Hurrying home, she rushed to get a hot lunch ready for Luke and just barely set the plates on the table when he came whistling in the kitchen door.
“Hello, wife,” Luke said, hanging his coat and hat by the door before washing at the sink. “I saw you walk by earlier and you didn’t even wave at me.” He attempted a pout which accented the dimple in his chin and made him look boyish and entirely too appealing.
“I’m sorry. I had my thoughts elsewhere,” Filly said as she dished his lunch and sliced bread. “I went to see Abby and she was having a rough morning, so I stayed longer than I planned.”
Luke looked at her in concern. “Is she okay? Is there anything we can do?”
“I think she’s fine, just tired. She didn’t have the energy to clean up after breakfast, so I did a few things and put some lunch together, that’s all,” Filly said, pouring Luke a cup of hot tea. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check on her in the mornings. She promised to help me learn better social skills in exchange for my help around the house for an hour or so.”
Luke seated Filly at the table, then took his chair. After asking the blessing on the meal, he continued their conversation. “What social skills do you think you are lacking?”
“Well, for instance, I didn’t know if I should tip Percy this morning when he brought your delivery,” Filly said, blushing as she thought about the note and what it alluded to.
Luke grinned as he watched Filly’s cheeks turn pink. “So, you got the note and the package? Any thoughts on when you’d like to practice?”
“Yes, I received your package and note and no, I have not planned any practice sessions, you incorrigible man,” Filly said, sounding exasperated. “Could we please stick to the topic at hand?”
“The topic of kisses?” Luke teased.
Filly glared at him and shook her head, like he was the most hopeless human she’d ever encountered.
“Okay,” Luke said, attempting to be serious. “Yes, you should tip deliveries. Give Percy a nickel to a quarter, depending on what he delivered. Larger deliveries tip a half-dollar to a dollar. I keep a little household money in the top desk drawer in the library. You’re welcome to take out whatever you need. Just let me know what you spent because I like to make note of it in a ledger. If you need more than what is there, just let me know or drop by the bank and I’ll get you some cash. I’m sorry, Filly, I didn’t even think about you not knowing where I kept the household money. Do I need to find Percy and give him a tip?”
“No, I believe I settled the debt to his satisfaction,” Filly said, pushing the food around on her plate.
“And exactly how did you do that?” Luke asked, curious as to what the shrewd little Percy would have taken in lieu of money.
“Cookies,” Filly said, with a smile. “Evidently three sugar cookies warm from the oven are equivalent to whatever tip he was expecting.”
“I should say so,” Luke said, delighted at his wife’s creative thinking. “For a six-year-old boy that is quite a handsome tip, indeed.”
Chatting through lunch about a variety of topics, Luke eventually bundled up to head back to the bank. Before he left, he pecked Filly on the cheek. “Thanks for a delicious lunch, Filly. I appreciate it.”
She turned warm, green eyes his direction and gave him a shy smile. “Thank you for your gift.”
Luke twirled his hat in his hand, grinning broadly. “Maybe we can discuss the possibility of another practice session later.” With a wink he settled the hat on his rich golden head and whistled his way out the door.
Chapter Eight
Filly sat in the parlor enjoying a pleasant evening with Luke. With a cheery fire crackling in the fireplace, she sat curled up on the couch reading the newspaper. An article about the women’s suffrage movement captured her full attention.
Reading through the information, she thought about the struggle for women to have equality. Although she wouldn’t have been able to communicate on the topic a month ago, it was one that resonated with her now.
Why should it be allowed for men to treat women like possessions instead of partners? Thinking about the subject, she frowned as she stared into the fire, lost in her thoughts.
Only when the couch dipped and the warmth of Luke’s presence penetrated her side did she turn her head. He was sitting so close she could see specks of light and dark blue dancing in his eyes. His spicy scent invaded her senses and the smile he turned on her made her stomach flutter.
“What put that unhappy look on your face?” Luke asked, trying to see what article she was reading.
Handing him the paper, she pointed to the article that captured her attention. Luke read through the entire paper earlier and was familiar with the information she indicated. “Ah, the suffrage movement. Do you disagree with what the reporter wrote?”
“No,” Filly said, thoughtfully. “It appears he is reporting facts from a meeting. He seems to be fair, offering quotes from both those in favor of the movement and those opposed.”
“But,” Luke said, looking forward to another lively discussion with Filly. As soon as he discerned what side she would be on, he would take the opposite. “You think he should have reported something differently?”
“It’s not that. It’s the whole reason for the suffrage movement. Why should women be treated like we are just a man’s property? Why should gender have any influence over the perceived level of a person’s intelligence? It’s perfectly barbaric the way some men think. They ought to drag their knuckles when they walk, like cavedwellers,” Filly said passionately. “Just because a person is a woman doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of rational thought, of making her own decisions. I can think of several men who aren’t half as smart as the women they married, but they treat their wives like they have no mind at all. Women should be allowed to pursue their dreams, to work in professions of their choosing, to help shape our great nation. Not just cook, clean, and have babies.”
“I agree,” Luke said, quickly forgetting about his plans to argue with Filly. He thought anyone intelligent enough to study the facts and come to an educated decision should be allowed to vote, to chart their own course, to follow their dreams, regardless of race or gender.
“You do?” Filly asked, looking at Luke in surprise. She knew he enjoyed debating current topics with her and this particular subject would have been a dandy.
“I do,” Luke said, tapping the end of her nose with his finger. “I can see you are greatly disappointed I didn’t turn this into our usual debate, but this is one subject in which I won’t argue. Women shouldn’t be treated as property, they shouldn’t be abused, ignored or stifled. If they want to be a banker or a doctor or own a store, why shouldn’t they be allowed to do so? I say more power to them. Although I will be the first to admit a wife who efficiently manages a home, who cooks meals so delicious I’d crawl home through a foot of snow on my hands and knees just to eat a bite of it, who is lovely and charming and witty, is an important contributing member of society.”
Placing her hand on top of Luke’s where it rested on his muscled thigh, she gave it a gentle pat. “Thank you for understanding, Luke. I appreciate it.”
Turning his hand over, he grasped her slender hand in his and twined their fingers together. “You don’t just cook and clean, Filly, you make a warm and inviting home for me here. You provide something very important with your organized efficiency and gentle ways. And as for those babies,” Luke said with a wicked grin. “As soon as we master kissing lessons, maybe we can start working on making a few.”
Filly’s face flushed red and she looked away from him, although a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You’re impo
ssible,” she whispered, embarrassed by the direction the conversation had taken.
“I know,” Luke teased. Settling into the soft cushions of the couch, he turned Filly so her back rested against his chest, his chin nestled on her head as they sat quietly a few moments, watching the fire. She was holding herself stiffly and Luke wanted to put her at ease.
“Did you read the article about the man in Canada who is working on an electric car?” Luke asked, toying with a curl that had escaped the pile on Filly’s head.
“I did. Do you think he’ll actually make it work?” Filly asked, her voice filled with excitement. “We don’t have electricity here, but just think, an electric car. Isn’t there a man, a Mr. Ford, working on a new engine powered by… oh, what did the article say?”
“Gasoline. It’s to be powered by gasoline. How do you suppose that will work?” Luke asked, knowing Filly would have several ideas.
Held against his chest, he felt her relax. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move and Luke decided they could spend all evening dissecting every article in the blasted newspaper if it kept her right where she was, close to his heart.
<><><>
The first week of December arrived with a blustery wind and snow storm. For two days, the entire town shut down due to a lack of visibility and gale-force winds.
Luke bundled up twice to check on Chauncy and Abby and found them doing fine both times.
Filly wanted to go along, but Luke gently refused. She was gaining weight and filling out her womanly form now that she had plenty of good food to eat, but she was still thin and the thought of her catching cold or getting blown away didn’t set well with him. So he took the basket of food she prepared for their friends, tugged his Stetson down low over his eyes and carefully made his way to the parsonage.
The third day dawned clear and bright with a thick layer of snow glistening like diamonds in the sunshine. The wind had blown the snow into drifts which added to the natural beauty of the landscape. The trees were shagged in an icy crust, making them look frosted.
Luke got up early to take care of the livestock but found Filly already in the kitchen, staring out the window at the wintery display.
Quietly walking behind her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “It looks nice out, doesn’t it?”
Casting him a warm glance over her shoulder, she smiled. “It looks just like a painting Mama had by Currier & Ives. All we need is a sleigh passing by to make it picture perfect.”
After breakfast, Filly packed a basket of treats, bundled up in her warmest clothes and planned to trek to the parsonage to visit Abby. She was just shutting the front door when Luke pulled up at the end of the sidewalk in a black sleigh with burgundy trim.
Filly managed to keep from squealing in delight, but her eyes glowed brightly and a smile filled her face.
Jumping down from the sleigh, Luke hurried up the walk, swept off his hat and gave her a bow before offering his arm. “I believe you said a sleigh would make it picture perfect.”
Impetuously, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before turning her full attention to the sleigh. “It is positively, absolutely perfect. Where did you get it?”
Helping her into the sleigh, Luke carefully tucked a lap robe around her, being much more thorough than was necessary. Climbing in, he directed the horse toward the other end of town. “Dad ordered it for my mother, but she didn’t like being out in the cold. I’ve used it a few times when the weather called for it, but mostly I just ride Drake.”
“I think it’s marvelous,” Filly said, rubbing her gloved hand over the plush velvet seat. “Thank you so much, Luke, for giving me a ride.”
“You are more than welcome,” he said, stopping in front of the parsonage. Chauncy had already cleared the walk and was busy shoveling a path to the church. “I’ll stop back by close to noon to take you home.”
“That would be just fine,” Filly said, waving to Chauncy as she bounced up the parsonage steps and tapped on the door before going in.
Before leaving, Luke helped Chauncy finish shoveling out the church walk and around the parsonage. He took the horse and sleigh back home before going on to the bank where he cleared off the sidewalk. Harlan was already inside taking care of the few customers who had ventured into town.
Stopping by the boarding house, since he was banned from the restaurant, he ordered lunch for four. Hurrying to the mercantile to purchase a few things, Luke ran back to collect their lunch from the boarding house before returning to the parsonage.
When he let himself in the kitchen door, he found Filly scrubbing a tub full of laundry and Abby asleep in the front room in a chair by the fire.
“I brought lunch so you wouldn’t have to cook,” he said, setting the box on the kitchen table.
“Oh, Luke, how thoughtful,” she said, wringing water out of a shirt. “I put on a roast, but it won’t be done until dinner time. I was wondering what I could fix for their lunch.”
“Now we can enjoy a nice meal together,” Luke said, taking the meal out of the box from the boarding house as Chauncy came in the back door. Eyeing the food, Chauncy smiled and slapped Luke on the back. “I thought you were forbidden from entering the restaurant.”
“I am, but I can go to the boarding house,” Luke said, with a broad grin. “I’m still on Mrs. Ferguson’s good side.”
Chauncy laughed and helped Luke set the table while Filly finished ringing out the wash. Rinsing her hands, she poured coffee while Chauncy went to get Abby.
After he asked the blessing on the food, the four of them enjoyed a lively conversation.
Cleaning up after the meal, Chauncy hauled out the wash water while Luke helped Filly hang up the laundry to dry. Abby retreated to her bedroom for another nap.
Coming back in the kitchen, Chauncy raised an eyebrow at Luke. “Never thought I’d see the day when our town’s big shot banker was helping hang my shirts up to dry.”
“Just don’t let the word get out around town,” Luke said, trying to look solemn. “I don’t want everyone to know what a great laundry person I’d make. I might have to switch careers.”
Filly giggled and Chauncy laughed as he helped hang up the last of the wet laundry.
“Well, wife, we better get you back home,” Luke said as he helped Filly on with her coat. Walking out the door, Luke shook hands with his friend, “Let us know if Abby needs anything.”
“I will. Thanks for coming over to help today. We both appreciate it so much,” Chauncy said, waving as left the parsonage and headed toward home.
Arriving back at the house, Luke finished shoveling their walks, the path to the barn and carriage house and made sure none of the pipes were in danger of freezing before he came in for a break.
Filly offered him a mug of hot chocolate along with molasses cookies. Savoring every bite, Luke closed his eyes in bliss.
“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate your cooking talents?” Luke asked as he devoured his third cookie.
“You may have hinted at it once or twice. If I didn’t know better, I might be inclined to think you’re partial to sweets,” Filly said with a saucy grin.
“What would give you that idea, Filly?” Luke said as he devoured another cookie.
“Maybe it is the fact you lose all control when there are cookies, cake or pie left unattended,” Filly said, sipping at her own cup of chocolate. “Really, Luke, how could you eat two slices of pie between the time I went to bed and breakfast the other morning?”
“You don’t have any proof it was me,” Luke said, taking another cookie.
“The pumpkin pie smeared all over the sleeve of your shirt said otherwise,” Filly said.
“Is that right?” Luke asked, enjoying their banter, although somewhat annoyed to be caught sneaking sweets. He felt like a naughty child who’d just been thoroughly scolded. “You don’t know as much about me as you think you do.”
“Are you sure about that?” Filly asked, a knowing look on her face.
&nb
sp; “Quite sure,” Luke said smugly. She might have caught him stealing pie, but he didn’t think she paid much attention to his likes and dislikes.
Arching one shapely eyebrow, Filly turned her big emerald eyes on Luke. “I know you have an insatiable sweet tooth, you dislike canned peas, and you like your steak cooked just a smidgen past raw. You can’t abide card games, prefer to read biographies to fiction, and you like the bathroom towels folded in thirds. You enjoy a good joke, would do anything for your friends and have a big heart that you attempt to hide behind a businesslike exterior. You own a coal mine to the north, are a partner in a mill to the south and would rather spend your days riding Drake and chasing cattle than figuring columns of numbers at the bank. You prefer tea to coffee, although you wouldn’t admit it, and you take great pleasure in teasing me.”
Luke sat staring at her. How had she noticed so much about him in the short time they had been married? Maybe she cared for him more than he suspected. Maybe there was hope of making this marriage real and lasting. He quickly went through the list of things he knew about her and realized he had noticed her likes and dislikes as well.
“Aren’t you observant, Mrs. Granger.”
“I try,” Filly said, hiding her smile behind her mug of chocolate.
“I happen to know a thing or two about you,” Luke said, shooting her a sideways glance.
“Do tell, kind sir,” Filly said, batting her eyelashes at him. If Luke didn’t know better, he would think she was being downright flirtatious.
“I have observed, dear woman, that you put others before yourself, you are a dedicated and caring friend and that you have a keen mind with a quick wit. You are clever and smart and not afraid of hard work. You are very talented with domestic skills and are inspiring as a cook. Your chocolate pudding could make grown men weep.”
Filly offered him a perturbed glare. “So, Mr. Granger, I have missed my calling as a school teacher or perhaps a cook at the restaurant. If my chocolate pudding makes grown men weep, what will my peach pie do to the male population? Bring them to their knees? Make them beg for mercy?”
The Christmas Bargain Page 10
