The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals Book 2)

by Tess Thompson

  “You two will have a sandwich first and then you may have a cake,” Mrs. Barnes said.

  They climbed onto a wide easy chair and sat together. Delphia’s legs were too short to dangle over the seat and stuck out straight in front of her. Adelaide sat with her hands folded on her lap as Mrs. Barnes gave them each a square of sandwich. While they nibbled, they watched me.

  “Girls, it’s not polite to stare,” Quinn said.

  “Why?” Delphia asked.

  “Because it might make a person self-conscious,” Mrs. Barnes said.

  “What’s self-commerce?” Delphia asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” Adelaide said to her sister. “For now, you should be quiet.”

  Delphia’s eyes flashed with annoyance but she kept whatever retort she had to herself.

  “How was your trip out here?” Mrs. Barnes asked me. “The train scared me to death the first time I took it from Denver to here. I thought I was going to die by falling off one of those steep tracks.”

  “I thought the same.”

  We were interrupted by Josephine’s arrival. She rushed in looking flushed and sat in the chair next to me. I caught a whiff of perfume that reminded me of jasmine. It was the smell from her letter to me. I’d been right. “I’m sorry I’m late. I lost myself in a book and didn’t realize the time.”

  Delphia, having finished her sandwich, asked for a cake.

  “I’m going to give you each one, and then you’ll go off to play and let the adults talk,” Quinn said.

  “As long as we get cake, I don’t care,” Delphia said.

  “Delphia, please mind your manners,” Quinn said.

  “Sorry, Mama.”

  The next few minutes we talked further of my trip out here. I mentioned that I’d met Martha Neal.

  “This is a small town,” Lord Barnes said. “Not surprising. Tell us, Phillip, what can we do to help your transition into our little town? What kind of work are you interested in finding?”

  “I trained as a cabinetmaker before the war. Other than that, I don’t have many skills.”

  “Would you want to set up a shop?” Lord Barnes asked.

  “Eventually, yes. But I’d need capital for that. Until then, I’ll take anything. If you have anything around here that needs fixing, I could help.”

  “But you’re our guest,” Josephine said. “We can’t put you to work right away.”

  “No, I’d prefer to work,” I said, hastily. “I like to earn my keep. It would help me feel less of a burden. Your offer to stay here at the house is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” A tickle of guilt bothered me.

  “Good man,” Lord Barnes said. “Everyone in this family works one way or the other. There’s a place for everyone in Emerson Pass. When you get settled, perhaps we can talk further about your shop.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I could have teared up right then and there. Would this be the place I finally found a sense of belonging?

  The rest of the hour passed pleasantly. At five, Josephine asked if I’d like to get bundled up and take a walk out to the barn. “I could show you the animals.”

  “Can I come?” Delphia asked from the corner. She’d put her doll facing the wall, as if she’d been naughty. I had a feeling Delphia herself had faced the corner quite a few times.

  “No, sweetheart,” Lord Barnes said as he patted his knee. “You and I are going to read a book so that Jo can show Philip around.”

  “All right, Papa.” Delphia climbed into his lap and snuggled close.

  Josephine stood. “Phillip, would you care for a tour or would you rather rest?”

  I jumped up, both excited and terrified at the prospect of spending time alone with the lovely Josephine. “No, I’d love a tour. Show me the way.”

  “We’ll see you at dinner,” Mrs. Barnes said.

  I thanked them for tea and followed Josephine to the foyer. The idea of Josephine alone had me reeling. Part of me wanted to run and hide. However, the bold part of me that lay dormant most of the time urged me forward. I’d come this far. No turning back now.

  “Do you have a coat?” she asked.

  “No, just my suit jacket.”

  She tugged open the closet door and pulled out a green-and-black-checkered hunter’s jacket. “There’s an old one of Theo’s or Flynn’s in here. Would you like it? The snow stopped, but it’ll be cold.”

  “Yes, please.” My first instinct had been to say no, but that would have been foolish. The weather was frigid here. I would have been completely chilled on the way from the train station had Harley not had wool blankets in the sleigh.

  I helped her into her coat first. She put a fur-lined cap over her head while I put on the jacket. “A good fit,” I said.

  “Yes, you’re almost exactly the height of my brothers. Check the pocket. There’s probably a hat and gloves in there.”

  I reached into both pockets. Sure enough, there was a knit hat and a pair of gloves inside. After I’d donned both, I asked if she was ready.

  “Yes, we should go before it gets completely dark.”

  We walked out to the covered entrance. If she didn’t think this was dark, how dark did it get here? She pointed toward the lit barn, then turned a switch on near the door. The lanterns that lined the drive came on, dazzling me with their bright lights. “So pretty,” I said under my breath.

  “Aren’t they? Papa had them put in just last year. They’re especially festive this time of year.”

  We headed out to a shoveled walkway that led to the barn. I let her take the lead.

  “Our family loves animals,” Josephine said. “Don’t be surprised if they ask at dinner about what you thought of our horses.”

  “What should I say?” I concentrated on not slipping on the icy path.

  “Something about how they’re the most beautiful horses you’ve ever seen. That’s what they think, anyway.”

  “Then I shall say it for certain.”

  She laughed, and her breath made a cloud in the cold air as she yanked open a side door and motioned for me to go in first.

  The space was large and tall with stalls for a cow, a pig, and several horses. Chickens lay on nests. A rooster eyed us suspiciously.

  “That’s Doodle,” Josephine said. “He’s mean, so keep an eye out for him.”

  She pointed to a hayloft. “I used to go up there to be by myself when I was younger. I love my brothers and sisters, but sometimes I needed a little peace and a place to read.”

  “That sounds nice. I’d have liked a place like that at the orphanage.” I’d never had any time alone there. We’d slept in small beds all lined up in a row and ate all meals together. “The only place I could escape to was the pages of a book.”

  We locked eyes for a split second.

  “I understand perfectly.” She took two apples from a bucket near the door. “Would you like to feed one of the horses an apple?”

  “Sure.” I’d have liked to say no. Horses scared me a little with their large teeth.

  We walked over to the stalls. The horses both whinnied at the sight of Josephine. “These two girls are Lucy and Pearl. They’re a little older than the other two, so we use them for the small sleigh.” She pointed to the other pair. “These two are only three years old.” She held the apple up to one of the horses. “This one is Willie. And that’s Oz.”

  I held out the apple in front of Oz. “Will he just take it?”

  “Bring it closer.”

  I did so and flinched as Oz sucked it from my hand.

  “You haven’t been around horses much, have you?”

  “No, not really,” I said.

  “These two are gentle. They won’t hurt you.”

  She took my hand and put it on Oz’s nose. “Stroke him with your thumb. He loves that.”

  I would have preferred to stroke Josephine’s nose, but I did as she asked. Oz flicked his tail.

  “He likes you,” Josephine said.

  “How can you tell?”


  “He’s smiling. See.” She pointed at his mouth, which looked exactly as it had when we first walked up to him.

  “Did Walter really read you all parts of my letters?” Josephine asked.

  “We loved the stories of your family’s antics. Everything is exactly how I pictured it from your descriptions.”

  “Perhaps my family is more entertaining on paper than the real thing.”

  “I found them entertaining just now.”

  “Wait until you meet Cymbeline. Was it really my letters that made you want to come here?” Josephine asked.

  “Yes. I wanted to get out of the city. As your father said—there are too many people. When I was so sick, I told myself if I survived, I’d come out here to see it all for myself.” And you. I kept that to myself.

  “I hope you won’t find the town too quiet.” Josephine leaned against the stall.

  “I don’t think I will,” I said. “I’ve a confession to make.”

  “Yes?”

  “I read through all your letters when I was well enough. They helped me get better. I know that probably sounds ridiculous.”

  “No, not ridiculous.” She watched me, carefully, as if I were an oddity she wanted to figure out but couldn’t quite. “Sweet, actually. Reading letters from a girl you didn’t know seems a romantic thing to do.”

  “They gave me joy when I needed it most. Like a good book.”

  “I can imagine doing the same in your situation. You were lonely and scared and needed a distraction.” Josephine took in a deep breath and looked up at the rafters. “There were parts meant just for Walter. I’m slightly mortified to think what I put in there. I must have sounded like a lovesick girl.”

  “You made me long for someone to feel that way about me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not that good a writer.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I was taken aback when you said he’d read parts of the letters to the other men. I imagined him reading them as I did his. Savoring every bit. Reading them over and over and keeping them to myself. Holding them close. Like a secret love.”

  “We needed your stories of family doing ordinary things. You can’t imagine how much. There were days…when things were really bad and I felt certain none of us would ever make it home.” I paused, thinking about how much I wanted to tell her. How truthful did I want to be? “They hinted at the possibilities of life. If I could just make it out alive, there might be a girl who would love me as you had Walter. Then later, when I was sick, they held the idea of promise. Of better things to come.”

  “I’m glad they gave you something to hold on to. After your letter that Walter had died, I was lost in that way, too. Looking for anything that would lead me into the future. That they gave you all something to look forward to and enjoy during such a hard time gives my life meaning.” Her voice wavered. “I struggle to understand why certain things have happened and what my place is supposed to be now. Is it just my work at the library? Should that be enough?”

  “You could love again, couldn’t you?” I asked. “Someone worthy?”

  “My father did. After Mother died, he was able to fall in love. But me? I don’t know. There’s never been anyone else I felt that way for.”

  Bitter jealousy churned my stomach. If she only knew how undeserving my friend had been.

  “What about you, Phillip Baker? You must not have a girl back in New York or you would’ve brought her with you.”

  “Right, there’s no one.”

  “Do you want someone?” Josephine asked.

  “I want a wife and family more than anything in the world.”

  Her eyes softened. “Oh, that’s nice. You’ll get it. A wonderful, very lucky girl will come to you soon.”

  “I don’t have much to offer a woman. Not yet.”

  “You’re enough just as you are.” She smiled and brushed the collar of my coat with her fingertips. “I have a feeling the young ladies of Emerson Pass will be tripping over one another to meet our new handsome bachelor. I’ll be sure to tell you who to stay away from and who is good.”

  I knew the girl I wanted. She was standing right in front of me. Now I just had to win her heart.

  Josephine

  The night of Phillip’s arrival, we dined with my parents. The little girls had already eaten and been tucked into bed, but Fiona and Cymbeline were allowed to join the adults. My brothers had stayed in town to eat at the café before working from Papa’s office.

  The chandelier shed soft light over the dining room table. Mama and Papa always sat on either end with my siblings and me on either side. Tonight, Cymbeline and Fiona sat across from each other on the end nearest Papa. Phillip and I were opposite, near Mama.

  Phillip had dressed for dinner in a dark suit and white shirt with a bow tie. I hadn’t expected him to be quite so nice-looking. I’m not sure why, but it had never crossed my mind what he looked like one way or the other, only that he’d been Walter’s friend. He’d been through a lot, and I have must seemed like a spoiled rich girl. What did he think of me? I was surprised to realize I hoped I’d lived up to my letters and that I wanted very much for him to like me.

  Before the first course of squash soup, Papa raised his glass. “To Phillip. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m pleased to be here.”

  We all lifted our glasses to toast. My sisters looked fetching in their dinner dresses. Fiona was in a soft blue and Cymbeline in gold with small beads sewn into a lovely pattern. This was her first formal dress as a young woman of sixteen. She’d been the same height for several years and most likely wouldn’t grow taller. She was curvier than Fiona and me and strong as an ox. One day a few years ago, I’d caught her standing in front of the mirror, crying over the fact that her breasts had seemed to arrive out of nowhere. “I don’t want them,” she’d said. “They’re pulling me forward when I skate or run.” I’d had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Only Cymbeline would be dismayed by her chest, whereas I wished I had much of anything at all in that area. My sister was not your ordinary girl.

  “Papa, please tell us about the slope,” Cymbeline said. “I can hardly wait to try skiing.”

  Papa’s eyes lit up as he set down his glass and answered my sister. “The rope pulled me up the mountain with limited effort. Theo’s system is genius.”

  “Did you go fast on the way down? Were you afraid?” Fiona asked, her eyes wide.

  “I was not afraid, but remember, I skied in Switzerland on holiday as a child,” Papa said. “I’d forgotten how exhilarating it is.”

  “Dear me, I do hope you won’t make me do it,” Mama said. “I’m not keen on heights or speed.”

  Papa flashed an indulgent smile her way. “You, my love, will stay in the lodge sipping a hot toddy and watching your husband conquer the mountain.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Mama said, smiling back at him, looking pretty in a beaded cream dress with her golden hair piled on top of her head. Long white gloves ran the length of her arms.

  “What’s the lodge like?” Fiona asked. “Will it be fancy?”

  “I was imagining it more rustic,” Phillip said. “With large beams and high ceilings.”

  We all turned to look at him.

  He flushed at the attention. I had the feeling he hadn’t meant to speak.

  “Are you familiar with ski lodges?” Mama asked.

  “Not really,” Phillip said. “I imagine them that way, for some reason.”

  “Do you fancy architecture?” Papa asked.

  “Nothing so complex as that,” Phillip said. “Cabinets and furniture suit me fine.”

  “We don’t have a furniture shop in town,” Cymbeline said, her eyes sparkling. She’d inherited Papa’s excitement around business. If she’d been born a man, I could easily see her opening a business of her own. Now, if all went well, her best hope was to work for my brothers. She was a born lead
er but needed something to focus on or she got herself in trouble.

  “True enough,” Papa said. “I’d like to have one so we are as independent from the city as possible. As it stands now, people make their own or have them shipped at great expense on the train. Perhaps you could make something for us in the barn to show me an example of what you can make. A business loan could be arranged if I like what I see.”

  I stole a glance at Phillip. He was leaning forward slightly with his spoon hovering above his bowl. “I’m not a braggart, Lord Barnes, but I’m skilled. Where would I get wood?”

  “We have a forest of it right here.” Papa pointed toward the windows. “Cedars, firs, quaking aspens. If you can cut it down on my land, you can have it.”

  “I’ve not cut down a tree before,” Phillip said.

  “I have,” Cymbeline said. “With an ax. There’s nothing to it.”

  “You could take him out, Cym, and show him how we do it in Colorado,” Papa said.

  “I’d love to,” Cymbeline said. “You have to be patient, chipping away at it one swing at a time.”

  “Patience is something I’m good at,” Phillip said.

  “Don’t forget the triangle part,” Fiona said.

  “Right. You make a forty-five-degree angled notch in the trunk,” Cymbeline said. “We’ll show you.”

  “Girls chop down trees in Colorado?” Phillip asked, looking from Cymbeline to me, then to Papa.

  “We do whatever a boy can do here,” Cymbeline said with a flash of rebellion in her eyes. “If we want to, anyway. Jo doesn’t care for rough jobs, but I do.”

  “The noise it makes when the tree falls scares me,” Fiona said. “But I try to be brave so Cymbeline doesn’t get impatient with me.”

  “I worry about their safety, of course,” Mama said. “But these girls know the woods as well as their papa. However, might I suggest that a trip to the local sawmill, where they have cut wood, might be more efficient?”

  Lord Barnes laughed. “As usual, my dear, you’re correct.”

  “The Barnes ladies open libraries, chop down trees, and roam the woods, and what else?” Phillip’s blue eyes twinkled as he gazed across the table at me.

  A little buzz started in my chest. He was absolutely too handsome and personable. He already had my sisters twisted around his finger. If I weren’t careful, I might like him. No, my heart belonged to my poor dead soldier. I’d promised him.