by Zina Abbott
“Thank you, Miss…” Andrea’s forehead scrunched with confusion. “Which is your real name?”
Delphinia closed her eyes. She hated these lies. “Please, please keep this to yourselves, even after people find out I am the Delia Brownlee that was writing to you, Mr. Brinks. Neither name is my real name. I dare not let my real name be known. My father…” Delphinia bit her lip. “Here is my situation. I need to find another miner to marry—soon. If I don’t, I’ll need to assume another alias and go to another place where hopefully no one will think to look for me. I am dead set on not returning home and accepting the course of action my family insists I follow.”
This time Aaron looked at her in confusion. “Why a miner? From what I read in your letters, and especially after meeting you tonight, I can’t picture you being happy with the general type of men who work for the mine.”
“A valid question. I perhaps was placing a lot of stock on Mrs. Millard’s graphology method for helping me choose someone appropriate for me. You see, I did not dare encourage a match with anyone in moneyed social circles—someone who might have business connections with my father. They would have given me up without a thought for my wishes or well-being on the chance of being able to call in a favor in the future.”
Delphinia smiled and continued. “However, I’m not so obtuse that I didn’t realize that most men in the West looking for wives are ranchers or farmers. They want a woman who can clean, sew, garden, can, do laundry, milk the cow, tend the chickens and cook for a household of people, all while being eight months with child and having ten little ones hanging onto her skirts. I realized to a man like that, I would be a severe disappointment.”
Once again, the couple looked at each other and smiled before Aaron spoke. “The woman you just described could be Andrea, except we don’t have the ten children yet. We’ve barely started on our first. And we ask you to keep that confidential. We haven’t told my parents yet.”
“I see. Congratulations, and of course I won’t say a word. I assure you, I will act delightfully surprised when the proud grandparents share their good news. Then it is for the best we did not meet before, isn’t it, Mr. Brinks? From what I could see from Mrs. Millard’s matching us, you did seem a validation of her theory. You were raised in a large city, and your parents were successful businesspeople. I looked at your background as one that would not be farfetched from what I am accustomed to. However, after meeting the woman you chose, I obviously misjudged.”
Andrea smiled. “It must have turned out the way it has for a reason. We wish you well.”
Bennett Nighy’s face appeared in Delphinia’s mind, but she dismissed it. He wasn’t one of the miners who were waiting for a wife. “Unfortunately, I need to put myself in Mrs. Millard’s hands once more for help in finding a husband. I don’t know if she will allow me to maintain the alias Sarah Brown I used to escape New York, or if she will announce to Jubilee Springs and the world I am Delia Brownlee. As long as she helps me find a husband who will marry me on my terms and whose name will protect me from being dragged back home against my will, I will do what I must. I just didn’t want you to be the last person to hear the woman with whom you corresponded is now in Jubilee Springs.”
“Thank you, Miss…”
“Until you hear differently, Sarah Brown. That is how the people in town know me.”
~o0o~
Bennett sat on the porch of the dark, vacant house across the street from the house of Aaron Brinks, and focused on the light in the front window. He considered every possible reason why Sarah Brown, a newcomer from a wealthy family back east, would have to speak with the miner and his wife. He could not come up with anything that made sense.
The longer Miss Brown stayed inside talking to Aaron Brinks, the angrier Bennett grew.
He felt frustrated.
He felt bereft.
He felt…possessive?
No.
The woman annoyed him to death. She was the one who had the audacity to come into his store and tell him how to manage his showroom and arrange his furniture. Why would any sane man want to possess a bossy woman like her?
Bennett pulled out his pocket watch and raised the lantern to see the time. If he was going to clean up and organize his showroom the way Miss Sarah Brown wanted—no, commanded—he needed to get back to the shop soon to get started or he would get no sleep at all.
Bennett had almost decided to march over to the home of Aaron Brinks and insist it was time for Sarah Brown to leave when the door finally opened. He watched as Sarah and Mrs. Brinks hugged, then Sarah shook hands with Aaron.
A niggling feeling assured him Miss Brown was up to something, probably no good, but he still had no idea what, or how it involved Aaron Brinks. Unfortunately, he had given his word to not ask.
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CHAPTER 13
~o0o~
Bennett, still in his dusty muslin work shirt and old Army surplus wool work trousers, rubbed his forehead with one hand as he scattered the piles of invoices with the other, still looking for the one with his latest purchase of walnut. The scraping of heavy wood across the showroom floor caused him to jerk up straight. He hadn’t heard the bell, but someone was definitely in his shop. The search for the lost invoice would have to wait. He jumped to his feet and hurried out front.
Bennett came to a quick halt, flabbergasted at the sight before him. Miss Sarah Brown, this day dressed in a deep rose pink outfit trimmed in dark brown piping, stood bent over at the waist to the point her dark brown underskirt beneath the pink drape of her overskirt threatened to drag on his floor or get caught beneath those boots with two inch heels she insisted on wearing. Her hands, encased in dark brown kidskin gloves, gripped the edge of one of the clear pine dining tables he had dutifully placed towards the back of the building as she had instructed. So why was she now in the process of dragging it across the floor towards the front?
Bennett raced to her side and stilled her movement by placing his hands over hers. “Miss Brown, what on earth do you think you are doing?”
The aggravating woman had the audacity to jerk her hands from beneath his grasp, and stand up straight as a lodge pole pine in her two inch heels. The brown wedge-shaped hat sporting pink-dyed ostrich feathers she wore added at least four more inches to her height. She stared at him as though he was a simpleton. “I would think it is obvious. I am moving this table, Mr. Nighy. You did an adequate job of organizing the bedroom set the way I instructed. However, I had an inspiration this morning that I believe will enhance the display. It required me to find the right size table for what I need. Now that you are here, perhaps you can lift the other end and help me carry it.”
“If you had told me yesterday you wanted it up front, I would have already placed it there. Unfortunately, your directions on how I should arrange my furniture store were such that you were very clear the less expensive pine furnishings should be kept to the back.”
Delphinia waved off his complaint. “Pshaw, Mr. Nighy. That was yesterday. There is no time to quibble today. Your eleven-thirty appointment will be here before you know it. Now, if you will give me a hand with this table…”
“Out of the way, Miss Brown. I will move the table. The last thing I need is for you to catch those two inch heels on something and trip.”
Delphinia scowled at him. She had been walking in two inch heels for years, quite capably, and knew how to do so without tripping.
“Very well, Mr. Nighy.” Delphinia spun on the ball of her foot and strode towards the front of the store. She tapped her foot as she impatiently waited for him. Finally he appeared pushing the table as it stood on end with its bottom edge balanced on a furniture dolly. She tipped her chin up and willed herself to not blush with the realization that if she had known such equipment for moving heavy furnishings existed, it would have saved her a considerable amount of tugging and pulling.
“Where did you have in mind for this to go, M
iss Brown?”
Delphinia ignored the hint of sarcasm in Bennett’s voice as she strode over to the oak headboard. “Right here. Place it to line up with the edges.”
Bennett looked at the headboard which someone, evidently Sarah Brown, had placed on two of the wooden blocks he kept in back for his casket work. “Would you mind explaining why you lifted the headboard up on blocks? And why do you want the table in front of it after you told me last night to keep bedroom sets separate from dining sets?”
Delphinia huffed in annoyance. “Just trust me on this. We want to create the illusion this is a mattress. A very short mattress.” She started towards the table still on the dolly. “Here, I’ll help you guide this in place. When we get it set up, you’ll see what I have in mind.”
Biting his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret later, Bennett worked with Delphinia to position the table in front of the headboard. “Who moved the footboard that goes with this set?”
“I did. Give me a moment to prepare the table and then you can put the footboard in place opposite the headboard.”
Bennett watched as Delphinia walked to the dining set on the other side of his showroom and filled her long arms with a folded white counterpane so fluffy she could barely see over it. She spread it over the table as if on a bed, folding the back towards the front and smoothing it in place to keep it from dragging on the floor.
“You may position the footboard at the bottom while I put the pillows in place.”
“You are too kind, Miss Brown.” Bennett’s sarcasm was not lost on Delphinia, but she chose to ignore it.
Out of the corner of his eye Bennett watched as Delphinia carried two pillows over and placed them under the fold of the counterpane, tucking the edge beneath the pillows. “It doesn’t look like a bed, you know. It looks like a table covered up to look like a bed.”
Delphinia turned and focused an intense stare upon him. “It is called staging, Mr. Bennett, like a set in a play. It is obvious it is not a bed, but there is enough of a look to it to give a prospective buyer an idea of how your wood pieces would appear around a real mattress. Some decorative pillows on top would have been a nice touch, but there were none in my room to borrow. I have to make do with the counterpane.”
“You mean you took the bedding out of the Howard’s place?”
“Of course. It is not like I stole it. I will take it back as soon as it has served its purpose while Mr. and Mrs. Shumaker are here.” Delphinia turned towards the dining room display, aware that Bennett followed her.
Bennett noticed she had found a small plant stand of the same finish as the dining set and placed it in the corner between the china cabinet and the sideboard. It had never occurred to him to add it in with the dining room set.
Delphinia reached over to adjust the swag on the lightweight paisley shawl in various shades of pink and lavender she had draped across one end of the sideboard that went with the dark walnut eight-chair dining set with matching china hutch. She suppressed a grin as she heard the man behind her sigh.
“I’m afraid to ask, but where did all this come from?”
A smile on her face, Delphinia turned to face him. “The shawl came from my trunk. It’s the wrong time of year to wear it, but it looks lovely on the furniture, don’t you think? The milk glass vase is borrowed, compliments of Mrs. Howard, once again.” Delphinia walked over and trailed her fingertips across the petals of the pink silk roses. “Real flowers would have been better, of course, but is the wrong time of year.”
“Of course.” To his knowledge, Bennett had never seen a flower, real or otherwise, in his shop unless he had carved it into wood as part of a design.
“The mercantile, unfortunately, did not have a large selection of silk flowers. But I believe these roses go well with the vase and table scarf.” Delphinia turned and looked at Bennett who struggled to not show the befuddlement he felt. “It sets the scene, Mr. Nighy. Although it is not the same decorations Mrs. Shumaker may have in her home, it is just enough to allow her to see the possibilities.”
Bennett shook his head. “How many trips did it take for you to get all this here?”
“Three. The counterpane was the most awkward to carry, and I’m certain I received a few enquiring looks along the way. However, I was here with my first load by ten-thirty, as I told you I would be. You, unfortunately, were not.”
Bennett just stared. She had entered the store three times without him hearing the bell over the door? He must have been more deeply engrossed in trying to search through his piles of bills and invoices than he thought. Delphinia’s next comment brought him back to the present.
“Everything is ready for your customers except you, Mr. Nighy.”
Bennett frowned. “I’m ready. I was here. I was in back by the time you arrived. I’m sorry I didn’t hear the bell.”
“And you must have been rolling in the dust all morning judging by your appearance.” Delphinia tipped up the watch she had pinned above her left breast. “You only have half an hour. I know you don’t have time for another bath, but I’d advise you to clean up and dress as you did last night for supper. Mrs. Shumaker will be impressed you made the effort. I’ll watch the store for you while you take care of that.”
Bennett muttered under his breath as he climbed to his apartment above the shop. The woman tells him to clean his store, how to arrange the furniture, she brings in knick-knacks from around town and has the audacity to tell him how to dress in order to conduct his own business. He reached his bedroom and caught sight of his face in the mirror. All right, the smudge on his forehead probably would not favorably impress the banker’s wife. He sighed and grabbed his pitcher from the bedroom washstand and took it to the kitchen sink to pump water into it. He probably would be wise to do a complete upper body wash. Late October or not, weeping the floors and moving all the furniture around to Miss Brown’s specifications had cause him to work up a bit of a sweat.
Clothed in his suit and white dress shirt with his tie cinched under his still neatly-trimmed beard, Bennett descended his stairs. He walked across the showroom floor. All the furnishings were in place just as Miss Brown had organized them. However, there was no sign of Miss Brown.
As Bennett walked towards the back of the building, he heard noise coming from the direction of his office. He entered to find the woman who was either the best thing that had ever walked into his store or the bane of his existence—he hadn’t decided which yet—bending over his desk, each elegantly-gloved hand full of a stack of his invoices.
Delphinia looked up, an expression of dismay on her face. “Mr. Nighy, are you aware your financial records are a disaster?”
Speechless, Bennett stared at her.
That was the understatement of the century.
He finally found his voice. He exerted super-human effort to keep from yelling at her. “Miss Brown, what are you doing in my private office looking through my private financial records?”
Delphinia straightened to her full height and huffed. “Since it is downstairs, I assumed it is your business office, a place where you bring people to conduct business. It is not like I went upstairs to your private quarters. Now, you are deflecting rather than answering the question. Do you have any idea where you are on your finances? Based on the disarray I see here, my guess is you don’t.”
“It is really none of your concern.”
“Mr. Nighy, might I remind you that you have some very important customers coming shortly? I went to a lot of work to prepare your shop to show your work to its best advantage in order to increase the likelihood of you making a significant sale today.”
“You prepared my shop? I could have sworn I was the one up half the night and early this morning cleaning up and arranging the furniture.”
“An admirable job well done, I will grant you, although I will point out that the finishing touches I provided may be what tips the scales. Back to your accounting disarray, Mr. Nighy. If you do not already have exactly w
hat Mrs. Shumaker wants in the exact wood and finish she desires, are you able to work up a reasonable quote for her? Do you know for sure how much you spend for supplies, what it will take to ship it here, and if your cost to income ratio is well-balanced so you make enough to be profitable without overcharging your customer?”
“I never overcharge my customers.”
“Do you know your current costs—all your costs, not just the obvious ones—sufficiently well enough to know you are making a decent return for yourself? Do you know exactly what type of project brings you the greatest overall return on investment of time and materials?”
His jaw tight, Bennett wordlessly stared at the woman. In some respects, she spoke a foreign language.
Delphinia returned his glare. “Based on your silence, I will assume your answer is no. I suggest if Mrs. Shumaker decides on something that requires an estimate, rather than give her and her husband something off the top of your head that may or may not be appropriate, you ask them to allow you to present a written estimate on Monday. Maybe Tuesday would be even better in the event you need to telegraph to Denver for some prices. Make sure when you deliver it, the form is neatly written up so there is no confusion.”
Both heads turned towards the front of the shop at the sound of the bell tinkling.
Bennett turned back to Delphinia. “Have you sufficiently instructed me on how to run my own business, Miss Brown? If so, I believe I have customers out front.”
“For now, Mr. Nighy. I suggest we not leave them waiting too long. You look quite professional, by the way.” With that, Delphinia swept past Bennett, leaving a slightly flummoxed furniture store owner following in her wake.
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CHAPTER 14
