Copyright
ISBN 1-58660-934-3
Copyright © 2003 by Tamela Hancock Murray. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
One
Richmond, Virginia
1907
“Please stop singing through your nose, Miss Eaton. Think of yourself as a nightingale, not a parrot.”
“But, Professor Tobias,” Cecily protested in defense of her sister’s off-key performance, “parrots are ever so much more interesting.”
Augusta slapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle but removed it as soon as she composed herself. “All right, Professor Tobias. I’ll try to do better.”
Professor Tobias looked down his nose at Cecily. The sternness that had just darkened his long face dissipated. “Why don’t you show Miss Augusta how to sing the scales properly, Miss Cecily?” He placed a long forefinger on middle C.
Before Cecily could comply, the doorbell chimed. Seeing a chance to escape the lesson, Cecily lifted her ankle-length skirt ever so slightly and flounced from the parlor before Professor Tobias could object.
“I’ll get it, Hattie,” she called to the maid from the foyer.
When she flung open the door, she was greeted by a burst of cool spring air and a salesman. His diminutive stature made her conscious of her six-foot-tall frame. Yet his face wore a rare mixture of kindness and confidence. Ebony eyes nearly made her swoon.
“Good morning, Miss!” He tipped his hat.
As their glances met, Cecily could discern his interest in her. Such attention was unusual. Most men, especially those who stood fewer than six feet in height, took one look and ran. The pride of the men she knew, spurred by the expectation that men should be taller than their mates, limited Cecily’s choice of suitors. She didn’t mind short men. They simply were the ones who wouldn’t give her a chance.
Cecily’s close friends and family assured her that she was beautiful. In her most honest moments, Cecily admitted to herself that her face was pleasant enough. She thought about her friends who were of the age to court. They looked pleasant too. Most of them were of a diminutive, and thus desirable, stature. Even so, Cecily found company and conversation at every event she attended. She supposed the Lord could have given her a heavier cross to bear than her height.
She glanced at the salesman once more before averting her eyes to the points of her shoes. She noticed that his eyes twinkled with a kindness and generosity of spirit she never saw in strangers. Could he possibly think her pretty?
“Averil Kingsley at your service.” His voice didn’t resonate with the southern drawl familiar to Virginia’s capital city. The melody was much too chipper. Enchanted by its urgency, Cecily looked up in time to see him sweep his arm outward, allowing a sunbeam to sparkle off a gold cuff link. “And a fine morning it is. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Cecily peered past Mr. Kingsley’s shoulder. She had to agree. A slight breeze rippled through the air, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers across the lawn. The tall pines that had marked her front yard ever since Cecily could remember swayed back and forth. She noticed that the sky appeared to be cerulean blue. Fluffy white clouds, reminding her of soft cotton, floated upon the canvas. She nodded twice. “Yes. Yes, I would. I would say it’s a beautiful day indeed.”
Cecily clasped her hands and nervously swished her thumbs together. It wasn’t like her to repeat herself. To her ears, she sounded like a blathering idiot. What was she thinking?
The lilt of Augusta practicing scales drifted into the foyer. Averil’s face relaxed as though he were enjoying the performance. “And a fine morning it is for music.”
“That’s my sister. I take lessons with Professor Tobias too,” Cecily hastened to add.
He clutched the handle of the machine he carried. “I’m sorry to have interrupted. Should I return another time?”
She managed to stutter out a word that sounded like no.
“Are you quite certain?” His eyes were pleading.
“Yes. Yes indeed. Quite certain.” There she went again, repeating herself.
“Wonderful. My business with you will be brief.” He stepped back, revealing a machine. The salesman swept his arms above the contraption, presenting it as though it were an exotic grand prize. “This is the new, the fantastic, the only one of its kind manufactured today.” He paused, apparently for effect. “I present to you—the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator.”
Cecily stared at the machine. She felt certain she’d seen a similar beast in one of Mother’s periodicals. It looked heavy and cumbersome, though she did find its shade of deep blue appealing. Touching the verandah was a cylinder that looked as though it housed the carpet beater. An engine rested above, and a wooden handle protruded from the top. A long blue bag was attached to the engine.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” He ran his hand over the bag as though he were petting a favorite feline.
Cecily didn’t know how to answer. How could any household equipment be considered beautiful, even if it did come in a nice shade of deep blue? “I suppose you might call her a beauty.” She placed her right forefinger on her cheek and studied it again, searching for an answer that wouldn’t be a lie. “Yes, I suppose as household products go, she is a beauty.”
“I’m pleased that you agree. And did you know that you will be among the first homes here on Monument Avenue to possess one if I take your order today?” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. Being the envy of the block is not the best reason to purchase a pneumatic carpet renovator. But sanitation and hygiene are two very good reasons. Doesn’t your family deserve the cleanest, most hygienic environment you can provide them?”
“Why, yes. I believe they do.” Cecily nodded.
“Then you’ve come to the right place.”
“But, Mr. Kingsley,” Cecily couldn’t resist pointing out, “you are the one who came to me.”
He chuckled. “How right you are. I must say, you don’t miss a trick.” He lifted his forefinger. “And that is good for me. Very, very good. Because that means you are a smart woman who knows the value of an excellent household product.”
“Go on,” Cecily prodded, amused by his flattery.
He didn’t hesitate to comply. “This pneumatic carpet renovator removes household dirt from carpeting, upholstery, tapestries, draperies, hardwood flooring, and sundry household items.”
Cecily’s heart felt as though it were falling to the bottoms of her high-top shoes. She wanted to buy a pneumatic carpet renovator. If it would please the comely and charming Averil Kingsley, she would buy one for each floor of the house, including the cellar. Maybe she would buy one for each room. But no. Mother would never agree to purchase a new carpet cleaner. Not even one.
Cecily swallowed. “I can see you have faith in your product, Mr. Kingsley. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a salesman more sincere about what he was selling.”
Averil beamed, obviously pleased by her words. “I seem sincere because I am. I’m no snake oil salesman. I represent a fine product, one that I use myself.” He raised his forefinger. “May I add that my own mother uses
the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator. And she is very fond of hers. Very fond. That’s why I have full confidence that each and every customer of Capital Duster Company will be pleased with this product.”
“I’m sure Mother would be. But I’m afraid we already have a carpet cleaner, Mr. Kingsley.” Cecily allowed herself a regretful sigh.
His expression didn’t become defeated, as she had expected. Instead, he kept his demeanor coolly confident. “I’m sure you don’t have one like this.” He looked both ways and leaned closer, but not too closely. Just far enough so Cecily would get the impression that she was becoming privy to a huge secret. “This is no ordinary pneumatic carpet renovator. This one runs on electricity.”
Cecily stepped back and clasped her hand to her lace-covered throat. “That is impressive!” Perhaps Mother would consider buying one, after all.
“Will you allow me to step in and demonstrate? I won’t take but a few short minutes of your time.”
“Certainly.” Cecily stepped back to allow him to enter. The scent of bay rum followed him.
“Might I ask you to show me the machine you use to clean your carpets now?”
“Of course.” Cecily led Averil to the room off the side of the parlor. Augusta’s chirping indicated the voice lesson continued to progress. On the side of Father’s overstuffed chair stood what appeared to be a wooden side table. In fact, the table opened up to reveal a hand-pumped carpet sweeper.
Averil folded his arms across his chest as he eyed the sweeper. “Perhaps this was an inheritance from your grandmother? A Whirlwind model from the War Between the States, perchance?”
“The War Between the States?” She didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. Certainly Mr. Kingsley knew his carpet renovators better than that! She would set him straight. “No, Mr. Kingsley. It’s only about ten years old.”
“Only ten years, eh?” He shook his head. “How quickly man advances.” Averil cast Cecily a consoling look. “Thankfully, you wisely purchased a model that doubles as a fine end table. That way, it will still be of use once you’ve replaced it with the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator.”
“I suppose. . .”
Averil didn’t wait for Cecily to consider the possibilities. “Now then, could you run this old sweeper over your carpet? Just once will be enough for my demonstration.”
“I’m not sure I know how. Hattie usually does that for us.” Unwilling to be deterred, Cecily called for Hattie, who soon appeared.
“Hattie,” asked Cecily, “will you run the carpet sweeper for Mr. Kingsley?”
The maid placed her hands on stout hips. “Now, Miss Cecily, you knows I don’t do no sweepin’ without your momma. It takes two of us to run that sweeper.”
“I can help you, Hattie,” Cecily offered.
“What for?” Hattie’s eyes narrowed when she spotted Averil and his new carpet renovator. “He tryin’ to sell you a new machine?”
“I just thought I’d see what it does and tell Mother about it when she gets home.”
Hattie eyed Averil. “Mista, we don’t need no new contraptions heah today. If you’s a thinkin’ you can sell one here, you’ll jes have to come back another day.”
“He just wants to show us,” Cecily objected.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head vigorously, throwing both hands in the air. “I ain’t havin’ nothin’ to do with this, Miss Cecily. You need to wait till your momma gets home.” She pointed to the parlor. “An’ you need to get back to your music lesson.”
“I will, as soon as I see how the new machine works.”
“Uh-uh! Uh-uh!” Shaking her head, Hattie exited the room, still voicing her objections as she returned to the kitchen.
“I thought you seemed quite young to be the lady of the house,” Averil noted. “I suppose I should have asked first.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I probably should have told you earlier.” Cecily felt a sudden blush of embarrassment warm her cheeks.
Averil let out a sigh of defeat. “I don’t suppose it will do either of us any good for me to waste your time, then. I’ll return later.”
“I hate for you to have gone to all this trouble and not even give me a demonstration. Do let me see the carpet renovator anyway.” She flashed him what she knew to be an appealing smile. “If it works as well as you seem to think it does, I’ll be sure to tell Mother all about it.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? I hate to be party to you missing your music lesson.”
“I don’t mind. We’re concentrating on voice at the moment, and I much prefer to play the piano. And my sister certainly never minds if I have to leave the room during the lesson.”
“Oh?”
Cecily grinned and whispered. “She’s sweet on the instructor.”
“So now I’m part of a conspiracy.” He made his observation with an amused expression, a twinkle entering both eyes. For the first time, Cecily noticed that when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled in a most pleasing way.
“You may be able to say that.”
“In that event, I’ll set up your old cleaner. Let me do the pumping, and you can run the nozzle over a rug. Preferably one that sees a lot of traffic.”
“How about the rug in the foyer? That sees more traffic than any other, I suppose.”
Minutes later, the mission was accomplished.
Cecily wiped a forearm over her forehead. “I didn’t realize how much work this is. Mother always makes everything look so easy.”
“That’s what mothers do. So don’t you think she deserves to own the best pneumatic carpet renovator made today? Not to mention, the whole house will be more sanitary and hygienic.”
“Really?”
“Do you have any reason to doubt?” He waved his hands back and forth. “Don’t answer that. Let me set your mind at ease this minute.” He lifted a forefinger in the air. “Now, here is where the ordinary salesman with an ordinary product will simply sweep behind you, showing you how much dirt your old machine leaves behind. But I’m so confident in the superiority of my product, that I will go one step further.” He opened a small metal box he had been carrying that turned out to contain several attachments, some papers, and a bag. Averil reached for the bag. With flourish, he opened it and proceeded to dump a mound of dust and dirt all over the rug.
“Mr. Kingsley!”
“Now, now. Not to worry. This will all be gone in the wink of an eye. Just watch.” He searched the walls, looking for an electrical wall sconce.
“Over there.”
Grandly, he screwed the plug into the sconce. “You will be amazed by how quickly this dirt will disappear when I use the pneumatic carpet renovator. Your newly hygienic, sanitary, dirt-free home begins with a flick of a switch.”
He moved the switch to the “on” position. No noise came from the machine. The beater bar didn’t move. Nothing. Averil’s dark eyebrows shot up while his mouth closed into a frustrated line. He moved the switch up and down several times. Still nothing.
Cecily looked at the mound of filth on her mother’s prized Oriental rug, the same rug that had rested in her grandmother’s foyer.
“I don’t know what’s happening.” Averil’s distress was evident as he kept moving the switch back and forth. He finally unplugged the machine. Then, turning it over, he inspected it. “I don’t see anything clogging the beater bar or any other reason why this machine shouldn’t operate.” He looked up at Cecily. “It worked just fine at the last house. In fact, I even sold one to Mrs. MacGregor next door, using the very same demonstration I was about to give you.”
“But I thought if I bought one, I’d be the first one on the block to own a Capital Duster.”
A look of chagrin flashed over Averil’s features before he quickly recovered. “I did say that, now didn’t I?”
Cecily folded her arms and arched her eyebrow in a most challenging manner. “Yes, you did.”
“I’m so sorry.” He looked deeply into Cecily�
�s eyes and lowered his voice. “I beg your pardon for saying so, but as soon as I saw you, I forgot all about Mrs. MacGregor.”
Cecily had been taught better than to laugh at such a fresh remark, but a girlish giggle escaped her lips nevertheless. After clapping a hand over her mouth, which so often betrayed her, Cecily fluttered her lashes toward the floor for a moment before introducing a slight change of topic.
“How unfortunate that the carpet cleaner doesn’t work. Mother and Mrs. MacGregor are big rivals. If she knew Mrs. MacGregor bought one, you would have sold another one on the spot.”
“Is that so? Then let me add that not only would your dear mother trump the neighbor, but also she’d be getting a bargain. The Capital Duster sells for only seventy-five dollars.”
Cecily’s hand flew up to her chest. “Seventy-five dollars? Isn’t that a lot of money?”
Averil stood up to his full height, which still only brought his head to the top of her neck. “In most circumstances, I would tell you that seventy-five dollars is only pennies a day. But I know I’ve hardly convinced you of the need to buy a machine that apparently doesn’t work.” He observed the dirt he had thrown on the rug. “Please accept my deepest apologies, Miss, Miss—”
“Eaton. Miss Cecily Eaton.”
“The least I can do is to help you clean up the mess I made. Would you be so kind as to allow me?”
“That’s all right,” she assured him. “Hattie can clean it later.”
His lips tightened into a line indicating obvious chagrin. “If I remember correctly, she warned us against my little demonstration.” He looked at the dirty rug. “I’m afraid she was right.” Mr. Kingsley returned his gaze to Cecily. “I made this mess. I’ll clean it up.”
Cecily nodded. “All right. If you insist.”
As he disappeared into the study to retrieve the old sweeper, Hattie entered the foyer, dust rag in hand. When she spotted the dirt, her eyes widened, and she let out a screech. “Miss Cecily! What happened?”
“Don’t worry. Mr. Kingsley will clean it up.”
“That man ain’t gone yet? Don’t he know when he’s not welcome? Looks like he could take a hint.” She shook her finger. “You tell him he better clean this up, and good. Your momma prizes this rug. She won’t be too happy iffin that dirt don’t come out.”
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