by Holly Bush
Jolene heard a giggle from the doorway and opened her eyes. What had she been thinking? She brought her hands to Maximillian’s chest. “Stop it. Someone will see us.”
He growled. “Maybe they’ll think that the boss is the luckiest, horniest man in Texas.”
Jolene’s hand came to her mouth. She’d nearly laughed out loud at him, and she could not withhold a smile. “Really, Maximillian,” she said and blushed. “You say the most outlandish things. Now let me go before someone sees us.”
Maximillian put a hand on each of her cheeks and held her still. They were staring at each other, just inches apart. “You’ve always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but when you smile . . . when you smile at me like you did just a minute ago, I’d lay down and die for you. I’ve never seen anything to compare.”
He kissed her forehead and walked away. Jolene slid into the chair at her desk. She absently toyed with the ribbon laying on a box and thought about how unnerving her husband was and how forceful her reactions to him were. The side of the box slipped open and papers fell onto her lap. Jolene picked them up and saw Maximillian’s signature at the bottom and his first wife’s name at the top. She looked in the box and realized it was full of letters he’d written Melissa. She unfolded one completely.
To my sweetheart,
Thank your mother and father for me in allowing me to visit it with you this past Sunday after services. They are so kind to me. I can hardly wait to see you again and while our acquaintance hasn’t been of long duration, I am quite sure of my feelings. You are the face I see in my dreams and the woman I want to spend my lifetime with. I love you, Melissa. I will . . .
Jolene laid the letter in her lap and closed her eyes. She could hear Maximillian’s voice in head. What would it be like to feel the full weight of his emotions? Be the woman in his dreams? The woman he loved? Melissa was lucky in her short life in Jolene’s estimation. She fingered the other letters stacked in the box. How jealous she was, she admitted to herself. She went to her rooms and pulled out her pale pink stationary. Perhaps it was time to see how others were dealing with the monumental changes that had come their way.
Dear Julia,
It has been quite some time since I received your letter; however, I have read and reread it time and again. I am glad that you are happy with your husband and family. It is hard to write those words, as I spent such an inordinate amount of time thinking the worst of you over the years. I do not mean to have this letter come across harshly, but as you mentioned in your letter, you resented me for some time, and I returned the feeling, so it is the truth on both of our sides, and perhaps it is harsh.
My husband, Maximillian Shelby, is a successful rancher and oil man. My new home is spacious and grand in a lovely area near the city of Dallas, Texas. Maximillian is handsome and well-respected and is in the midst of running for a U. S. Senate seat. But more than all of that, he is exceptionally kind, courteous, and genuinely concerned for others, including myself. He is also the father of a twelve-year-old girl named Melinda. She is a bit of a trial, having had little discipline and her father’s doting attention, but she is already stunning in looks, much like Jillian was at her age, although Melinda is dark-haired.
Every time I reread your letter, I am struck by the words you wrote when you said that even after having taken Jillian to South Dakota, you were still unhappy and resentful. I must admit that I feel similarly. I truly do not believe I have reason to be wary and on my guard here. But I am. I continue to be unhappy as hard as Maximillian tries to make me comfortable, and now that I have been able to experience some peace, I would like to lower my guard. To relax and perhaps begin a new chapter of my life away from censure and judgments, but it is difficult having been reared under mother’s roof.
Do you remember Grandmother Crawford? You would have been quite young at the time of her death. I’ve been thinking about her lately. I am convinced that I have truly loved only two people in my life, her and Little William, and I am not sure I am capable of loving again, or more than that, or maybe even at all any more. But I am very glad to know that you love and are loved. It is comforting to know that one of the Crawford girls is capable of it although I know Jennifer has remained warm-hearted even bearing the brunt of Mother’s wrath on her own. I have even considered asking her to come to Texas for an extended visit.
Please give my regards to your husband and children. And if it is a comfort, Mother was unable to speak from the soup course until the cheese and fruit had been served on the evening that I dined with her and father and Jennifer and told them of my plans to move to Texas and marry Maximillian. She barely communicated with me from then until the day I was to board the train. She made a special trip to Landonmore to tell me that I was an embarrassment to her and Father and that town was abuzz with my social demise. She said you and I were cowardly fools, incapable of managing ourselves, and that, undoubtedly, we would both be scurrying home to her at some point soon. I told her that the least foolish of us all was you, as you had managed an escape and a reckoning with your past, something that Mother and I were apparently incapable of doing.
Jolene
Jolene folded the letter, addressed it, and went downstairs just as Maria came to tell her that Mrs. McCabe was at the door and asking for her.
“Mrs. McCabe,” Jolene said as she met the woman in the entranceway.
“Mrs. Shelby,” she replied. “I have the gown completed that you ordered, and I am sorry it took so long. I ordered lace from New York City, but when it arrived I was not satisfied and had to come up with an alternative. I hope you like.”
Jolene waited while her gown was unwrapped. Melinda came down the hallway.
“Who is at the door, Jolene? May I skip some of the arithmetic? Ooh,” she said as she saw Jolene’s gown. “It is gorgeous.”
Jolene touched the neckline of the dress and looked at Melinda. “It is a rather beautiful, is it not?”
“I found a woman in Dallas who hand-twists fringe. I think it turned out excessively well and outshines any lace I could have found,” Mrs. McCabe said.
“That’s fine,” Jolene heard Maximillian say as he walked through the double doors. One of Mrs. McCabe’s assistants was hovering beside him.
“It is no trouble, Mr. Shelby,” the assistant said. “I will carry the packages.”
Maximillian looked at Jolene and Melinda with a smile. “I see more fancy stuff has arrived for the two prettiest girls in the county.”
Maximillian shifted the packages under his arm, and the string broke on one of them. A long piece of sheer cream-colored fabric slithered to the floor. Maximillian picked it up and held it in front of him. Jolene’s eyes widened, and Mrs. McCabe made a grab for the fabric.
“What’s that, Daddy? You can almost see through it,” Melinda asked.
Jolene took the lingerie from Maximillian’s grasp, and Mrs. McCabe picked up the the paper packaging.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Shelby,” Mrs. McCabe whispered.
“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Jolene said. “Everything looks just right.”
“And in plenty of time for the Cattlemen’s Ball,” Mrs. McCabe said.
Maximillian looked at her with a wry smile. “Something new to wear on the night of the ball, Jolene?”
She knew her face reddened, but there was nothing to be done about it. “Come along, Mrs. McCabe. I will see to it that you are paid.” She could hear Maximillian laugh as she led the women to her office.
* * *
“I am watching you, Melinda,” Jolene said as she stood at the fence of the corral later that week. “Continue on.”
“So you finally gave in,” Max said as he walked up beside his wife.
Jolene did not take her eyes from Melinda as she rode Daisy. “I did. I am not sure why she is so concerned with me seeing her ride, but it does seem very important to her. I try to make a point of watching her progress once a week.”
“Don’t you remember a
s a little girl wanting your momma to kiss every scraped knee and see every little thing you were doing? I remember mushing up worms and putting their guts in a jar and taking them to my mother,” Max said with a laugh. “She was green from me pointing out all the worm parts, but she patted my head and told me I was such a smart boy.”
“We did not scrape our knees, other than Julia, of course,” Jolene said. “And no matter what success we shared with Mother, she found some small detail to focus on and criticize.”
Max leaned against the fence and tilted back his hat. “Maybe there’s a compromise in there somewhere between my mother saying everything was wonderful and yours saying, well, saying the opposite.”
Jolene looked up at him and shaded her eyes. “I suppose you are right although I believe that even criticism can be shared in a way that doesn’t diminish the receiver.”
“I hear how you speak to Melinda,” Max said. “She hangs on every word you say to her.”
Max listened intently to his wife and daughter’s conversations. Jolene never smiled and did not gush praise although she was quick to point out when Melinda had learned something new or was following directions well. But he’d also listened when he knew they didn’t think he could hear. Jolene would mention to Melinda when she was doing her reading incorrectly or when Melinda was not sitting up straight or when his daughter was impolite. She spoke privately and quietly to Melinda and explained why she was wrong and sometimes ended by saying she thought that Melinda was capable of doing much better, that she had the intelligence and some natural abilities to rise above the mediocre.
“I have not always been judicious in my criticisms. In truth, I was much feared by my staff and by others in my sphere in Boston. I have consciously tried to change and worried it was too late. My move here gave me a chance to begin again, though.”
“Feared by your staff? I can hardly imagine that,” Max said. “You don’t threaten me or Melinda, and while I think the staff is more formal with you than with me, I don’t get the sense they are afraid of you.”
“I am glad to hear that, Maximillian,” she said quietly. “I had a taste of unfounded superiority after my first husband died. I felt it was long past time that I quit proving my worth on the backs of those around me as my mother had done. I was turning into her, you see. You have no idea what a momentous undertaking it has been. Although I do find myself slipping back when I am angry or upset.”
“You are an amazing woman, Jolene,” Max said, and he meant it.
Jolene looked up at him sharply and then looked away just as fast. “No need to coddle me. I can be as cruel and conniving as my mother ever was, if not more.”
“One thing I know for certain,” Max said with a smile and leaned in close to her. “You sure have trouble taking compliments, but I imagine that has to be learned, too.” He pulled her into his arms and when she protested that everyone could see them, he shouted as he spun her around. “Mrs. Shelby! You are beautiful and thoughtful, and I am glad you married me!”
Ranch hands were yahooing, and Melinda rode over to them. She jumped down from Daisy and came through the gate. “You’re embarrassing Jolene,” she said. “It’s not nice to embarrass a lady.”
Max put Jolene on her feet and picked up Melinda and swung her around and kissed her nose. “And here’s a pretty little lady that used to be a ragamuffin!”
Melinda was laughing and hanging on to him. When he set her down, she looked up at Jolene and sobered. “Oh. I shouldn’t laugh and holler like that, should I?”
“It is fine to be jolly and silly on occasion, and what better time than when your father hugs you and teases you.”
Jolene hadn’t smiled but she looked up at him shyly. With little forethought, Max found himself wishing he was privy to the inner turmoil that tormented his wife. He thought it would be good for her to speak her troubles out loud and let him take them from her. Let him handle the demons that haunted her. Her happiness grew more important to him every day.
* * *
“Mrs. Shelby?” Alice said when Jolene came through the door to her rooms.
“Yes, Alice?”
“I am laying out what we will need to take with us on Saturday, ma’am. Will you be needing anything formal for Sunday morning?”
The Cattlemen’s Ball was in two days and Jolene had refused to think about staying in a hotel room with Maximillian, although she would admit to herself that he was at the back of her mind the day she ordered the sheer lingerie Mrs. McCabe had delivered. She loved luxurious, feminine fabrics for her underthings and sleepwear, but she’d also pictured Maximillian looking at her in them. She must stop this! She must stop imagining that their relationship might be sexual in nature. There. She’d admitted to herself that she wondered what it would be like to have Maximillian loom over her and have his way with her body. But she also found she thought about touching him. About what it would be like to put her mouth . . .
“Mrs. Shelby?”
Jolene gave her head a shake. “No, Alice. We won’t be doing anything formal on Sunday morning, but I do imagine we’ll be eating at the hotel and perhaps saying our goodbyes to others who may be staying there as well. Something dressy but not formal, I would think. What about the pale green linen?”
“I will pack it, ma’am, and will also need to know what jewelry you would like to take.”
“The pearl necklace for the ball and just my locket for Sunday. Please pack my new lingerie, as well. There is a robe for it and slippers, I believe.”
Jolene was suddenly desperate for another woman to talk to. Someone with whom she could discuss intimacies, even if the language used was coded, rather than graphic, as she used to talk to Lenora. Or someone she could just relate to as a woman, and who also had a shared history, albeit from different perspectives. She sat down on the bed and glanced at Alice as she folded her clothing with tissues.
“It has been almost four months since we moved, Alice. What do you think of it here?”
“It is fine, ma’am.”
“Just fine? It has been a huge change for you, hasn’t it?”
Alice nodded and shrugged. “I am grateful for the work and for the chance to travel some, ma’am.”
“Was it a hard decision for you?”
“Yes, it was. I have a younger brother who is sickly. But I am able to send money to my mother to help with his care. I am very thankful for the raise in my salary.”
“Was there anyone else that was hard to leave?”
Alice stopped folding clothes and stared straight ahead. “Yes.”
“I did not know that there was a beau in your life.”
“He was not a beau,” she said and continued her folding. “He was promised to another.”
“Ah,” Jolene said. “But it was still difficult to leave him?”
Alice walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors. “I gave him everything, ma’am. Everything. And he took it knowing he had proposed to another. So it was for the very best that I begin again.”
“Men can be duplicitous. That is for certain.”
“Oh, but not your new husband, ma’am. You are so very lucky!” she said and then turned scarlet and hurried to finish the packing.
“He is handsome and wealthy,” Jolene added. Alice began to speak and stopped. “Go on. Say what you wish to say. I will not hold it against you.”
“That is not it. Being handsome and rich, I mean. That is not why you are lucky,” she said in a rush and wrung her hands at her waist. “Everyone here is happy and loves working for him. He settles disputes and does not allow anyone to be mean or loose with the women working here. I do not know him well, but he must be such a wonderful man to be married to.”
“I can see that his staff respects him and even cares for him, and he for them,” Jolene said. “It is very unique having come from where we came from, is it not?”
Alice nodded.
“Take something other than a uniform with you to town,” Jolene said. “Mr. Shel
by has bought you a ticket to see a play showing at the theatre just a few doors down from the hotel. You will be there and back before we have returned to our rooms.”
“A play?”
“Do you think you would like to see a play?”
Alice curtsied. “Oh yes, ma’am. I would love to. Thank you, ma’am.”
Chapter Twelve
“Please check with the hotel staff and make sure that Zebidiah had a ticket reserved for Alice for the theatre,” Jolene said as they checked in to the Hotel Windsor on the day of the Cattlemen’s Ball.
Max spoke to the manager and turned back to Jolene. “Here is the ticket for Alice you ordered.”
“Thank you,” she said, opened her reticule and deposited the ticket.
The manager was speaking to the uniformed young men who would be carrying their trunks and luggage. “Rooms twenty-four, forty-two, and forty-four. The maid will tell you what to deposit where.”
Jolene looked up at him in some surprise and then stepped into the caged elevator. He followed and the operator began closing the hinged doors.
“Are you looking forward to this evening?” he asked.
“Yes. Very much so. I am looking forward to making the acquaintance of the men who will help you run for the Senate and to renewing my friendship with the women I met at Emma Jean’s,” Jolene said. “I want to set a date soon to entertain them at the Hacienda.”
“Whatever suits you,” he said.
“I would like Melinda to meet these women, and you will want her to begin meeting other families as well.”
“I suppose so. The only friends she has are the children at the Hacienda.”
“In the not so distant future, she will begin to meet young men. It would be wise if we knew the families with whom they are associated,” Jolene said.
Max stared at her. “What young men? Do any of these women have sons her age?”
“That is not how it works, Maximillian. She will meet the families, and we will be social with those families. Eventually we will meet older brothers or nephews or other young people visiting this area with ties to these families,” she said.
