The Artisan's Wife

by Judith Miller

  Ainslee arrived at the boardinghouse with only enough time to wash up for supper. When she returned downstairs, Mrs. Brighton was standing at the end of the table and waved Ainslee toward her chair. Before Ainslee’s feet were under the dinner table, the older woman had finished saying grace and bustled into the kitchen.

  “Have you heard?” Sarah leaned across the table and nearly tipped over her water glass.

  “Heard what?” Ainslee unfolded her napkin and arranged it across her skirt. “I just arrived home. Is there something I need to know?”

  “There’s a new boarder at the men’s boardinghouse. Of course, I know you don’t care since you’re not interested in marriage, but he’s awfully nice-looking.”

  Ainslee arched her brows. “You’ve met him?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, but Mrs. Brighton said he’s a nice-appearing and a well-spoken young man. Those are her very words, aren’t they, Mae?”

  A wisp of Mae’s light brown hair fell across her forehead when she bobbed her head. “Yes. Exactly. Well-spoken and nice -appearing. Isn’t that truly exciting?” Mae didn’t wait for a response. “You should join us on the front porch this evening, Ainslee. Even if you aren’t looking for a husband, you could still meet him. That’s the hospitable thing to do, isn’t it?” Mae glanced around the table, but her question was met with groans and several glares.

  Ainslee swallowed a chuckle. “Thank you for your invitation, Mae, but I believe I’ll go upstairs and read this evening. No need for me to take up space on the porch.”

  She considered telling them she’d hired Mr. Judson earlier in the day, but Cecelia immediately suggested that they take turns guessing why the new man had come to Weston, where he worked, and who would be the fortunate lady to win him as a suitor. Ainslee couldn’t believe her ears. Surely the other ladies would think the idea outlandish.

  Instead Sarah scooted forward on her chair. “I’ll go first!” Her eyes glistened with excitement.

  The other ladies sat at full attention as Sarah gave her answer to each question. When she finished, they all applauded. All except Ainslee, who choked on a bite of pickled beets when Sarah guessed that the new boarder was likely a doctor who’d come to work at the asylum. Mae pounded her on her back while Cecelia thrust a glass of water toward her.

  As soon as Ainslee’s cough had subsided, the guessing game continued, with each guess becoming more outlandish than the last. Except for Mae, they all guessed he’d arrived in Weston to work at the asylum. Mae guessed he was a journalist who’d come to purchase the town’s newspaper, even though it wasn’t listed for sale. Not surprisingly, each woman chose herself to be the future love interest of the new man in town.

  After supper Ainslee remained at the table while the other ladies hurried off to primp before going outdoors. She reached across the table and was filling her teacup when Mrs. Brighton stepped back into the room. “I thought everyone had gone upstairs. Are you not finished with your supper just yet?”

  “I’ve finished. The meal was delicious, but I thought I’d enjoy one last cup of tea before going upstairs to read. The other ladies have gone to their rooms to make certain they look their best before going outside.”

  Mrs. Brighton chuckled. “They’re wanting to impress the new boarder. I figured the minute they knew a single young fellow was in town, they’d be on the front porch, hoping for an invite to meet him. You have no interest in meeting him?”

  Ainslee took a sip of her tea before glancing toward the other room. “The truth is, I’ve already met him—and hired him—but I didn’t say anything at supper. I knew it would cause a stir. The ladies would have asked far more questions than I could have answered. I’d rather they gain their information from him. It didn’t seem proper to talk about him since he’s now my employee. I wouldn’t want him to think I was spreading tales before he arrived at work tomorrow.”

  The creases in Mrs. Brighton’s forehead faded, and recognition shone in her eyes. “I think Mr. Judson will appreciate your decision, but the ladies may take you to task for not telling.”

  Ainslee shrugged. “I think they’ll be more disappointed when they discover he’s a tile worker rather than a doctor or journalist.” Ainslee downed the last of her tea. “Earlier you referred to Mr. Judson as a single man. Did he tell you he wasn’t married?”

  The older woman hesitated. “No. I just guessed he was single, since he’s rooming at a boardinghouse. Did he tell you different?”

  “No. We didn’t discuss his marital status. I asked only because the ladies are counting on the fact that he’s eligible. They’ll be sorely disappointed if they find out otherwise.”

  Mrs. Brighton just smiled. “If he’s married, their lives will be no different than when they got out of bed this morning, now, will they? I’m not going to worry myself with what those ladies will think if the new boarder happens to have a wife.”

  “What? He’s married?” Mae rounded the doorway into the dining room, her features knotted together like a crumpled piece of paper. She peered back and forth between Ainslee and Mrs. Brighton.

  The older woman continued to scrape the dirty dishes. “I don’t know if he’s married or not. He didn’t say. But since he arrived without a wife, I guessed him to be a single man. The two of us were having a private conversation, and the question came up as to whether he’d said he was single. There’s no need to get all stirred up, Mae.” She picked up one of the napkins and waved it toward the front door. “You can ask him for yourself if he’s got a wife.”

  Mae straightened her shoulders. “I plan to do just that.”

  Mrs. Brighton moved around the table and added the dirty utensils to her stack. “Mae won’t have the courage to ask, but Sarah will find out before the evening is over. You can be sure of that.”

  Ainslee smiled as a twinge of curiosity nudged her. Earlier she’d been curious about his brother, and now she wondered if he was married. To her surprise, she found herself hoping Sarah would find out.

  No more than an hour had passed when a knock sounded at her bedroom door. The knock was quickly followed by Mae’s distressed voice. “Psssst. Ainslee! Answer the door. I know you can’t be asleep yet. Sarah and I want to talk to you.”

  Ainslee sighed. After placing her book on the small bedside table, she crossed the room and opened the door. Sarah and Mae stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed, chins jutted, and eyes smoldering.

  Sarah pushed past her and stepped into the room. “Why didn’t you tell us you knew Mr. Judson? You let us go over there and make fools of ourselves.” She marched across the room, turned around, and waved at Mae. “Get in here, Mae, and close the door behind you.”

  Mae did as she was bid and then leaned against the door.

  “I don’t know him. He applied for a job at the tile works and I hired him. How did that cause any of you to make fools of yourselves?”

  Sarah wagged her finger in Ainslee’s direction. “We all went over there with high hopes, thinking Mr. Judson would be an eligible suitor for one of us. While we were going around the table guessing his profession and the reason he’d come to Weston, you knew he was a tile worker and that he’d come from Philadelphia.”

  “And that he’s engaged to be married to a woman who lives in Philadelphia.” Mae flung the remark in Ainslee’s direction.

  “Engaged? How do you think I would know that? We never ask such questions when we’re hiring employees.” Why were they so angry with her? She had no control over Mr. Judson’s marital status. “I’m sure Mr. Judson will tell you that the subject of his marital eligibility was never discussed.” Ainslee squared her shoulders. “Beyond that, I have nothing more to say about Mr. Judson.”

  Though she was certain they weren’t pleased with her answer, Mae and Sarah left the room without further inquiry, and Ainslee returned to her reading—or at least she tried. Though she stared at the printed pages, she couldn’t concentrate. Instead, her thoughts were of Levi Judson and the questions she’d
asked him earlier in the day. While he’d told her he had a brother in Weston, he had never given her a reason for why he quit his job and moved here. Odd that he wouldn’t live with his brother. And odd that a man would quit a job where he was highly valued and move to a town where he had no promise of work. Especially a man who was betrothed to a woman in another city.

  There must be more to Levi Judson than she’d imagined.

  Chapter 8

  Levi hurried downstairs and sat down at the breakfast table with the other men who lived in the boardinghouse. The minute he arrived, Fred Masters pretended to swoon. “Oh, Levi, do tell us about life in the big city.” Fred spoke in a high-pitched tone and fluttered his lashes. The rest of the men guffawed and joined in with jibes of their own.

  Levi joined in the laughter. Meeting their jokes with anger would only prolong the teasing. Besides, at supper last night the men had warned him what to expect so he wouldn’t be caught off guard. He’d thought they were exaggerating, but the deluge of ladies seeking his attention was even more intense than the men had predicted. Two of the ladies had edged close, one on either side, and they’d been unwilling to relinquish their spots until Fred told them Levi was engaged to a young lady in Philadelphia.

  That comment had been enough to send them running off. The one who’d introduced herself as Mae was in tears. And Sarah, the other one, had accused him of toying with her affections. He didn’t know how she could charge him with such a thing. She was the one who’d fluttered her lashes and leaned close and cooed questions in his ear. All the while, he’d backed away from her and avoided answering her bold inquiries.

  Levi had been stunned by Fred’s remark to the visiting ladies. Later, Fred laughed and said it was the only way to deter the women. Levi wasn’t sure if Fred had been trying to protect him or gain some of the attention for himself, but he was thankful for the reprieve. He hadn’t corrected Fred’s announcement, and he had no plans to do so. He didn’t know what the future held for him.

  Levi had suffered the pain of being pushed aside when the woman he loved had discovered his brother, Noah, suffered from insanity. Though she’d said it was her family who objected to their marriage, Levi was certain she was relieved to be released from their engagement. Even though Noah had periods of lucidity, her parents harbored the fear that Noah’s mental disorder might be hereditary and they couldn’t risk their daughter giving birth to an imperfect child.

  Levi had argued there was no guarantee of perfection with any child, but Ann’s family had remained steadfast. Even when Levi explained that Noah had been quite normal until he’d suffered a high fever as a child, they’d remained steadfast in their decision. He couldn’t completely fault them, for he hadn’t met their expectations as a suitable match for their daughter in any way. Yet he’d been surprised when Ann had so readily agreed with her parents.

  Fred nudged his arm. “You better get moving if you’re going to walk to work.”

  Most of the men worked at the asylum, and they had an arrangement with a liveryman in town who sent a hack each morning to deliver them to work and pick them up in the evening for a reasonable rate. But Levi planned to walk the mile to work when the weather permitted.

  Before he departed the room, Levi tapped Fred’s shoulder. “Don’t be telling any more whoppers about me to the ladies—or anyone else.”

  Fred chuckled. “I won’t. But if you meant what you said about not wanting the ladies hounding ya, you’d be smart to let them keep on believing you got a woman back home.”

  Bill Wilcox raked his fingers through thinning hair. “Besides, we don’t need no more competition. An old geezer like me can’t compete with you pretty boys.”

  “Pretty boys?” Levi laughed and shook his head. “This is the first time I’ve ever been called a pretty boy, but you don’t need to worry about me, Bill. I’m not looking for a woman to complicate my life.”

  Bill forked another sausage onto his plate. “That’s good to hear. Believe me, your secret’s safe with us.” He glanced around the table. “Ain’t it, fellas?” When they didn’t immediately respond, Bill repeated the question until the men finally nodded and mumbled their agreement. “That’s more like it.” Bill’s lips curved in a satisfied grin.

  A twinge of guilt edged up Levi’s spine. He was leading folks astray with half-truths and silence. He hadn’t planned on being secretive or misleading folks about himself, but Fred had done it for him. And any attempt to set things aright would serve no purpose. Likely it would make things worse. When the ladies learned the truth, they’d be angry with Fred, and then Fred, in turn, would become angry with him. The consequences of straightening things out were far too daunting.

  Levi tugged his cap low on his forehead and bounded down the porch steps. The sound of chattering ladies drifted toward him from the boardinghouse next door. He offered a silent prayer of thanks that the tile works was located in the opposite direction. Facing any of those ladies this morning would only add a dash of embarrassment to his nagging guilt.

  The birds were chirping morning songs, and a warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers that bloomed along the roadway and up the steep hillside. He needed to push aside his worries of last evening before he arrived at work. Today was important. He needed to make a good impression. While he wanted the foreman and Miss McKay to view him as a skilled worker and a good choice, he didn’t want to appear brash or boastful. He’d worked with men who thought they were the biggest toad in the puddle, and he knew there could be a fine line between revealing one’s skills and appearing arrogant. Yesterday he’d done his best to impress Miss McKay—but only enough to secure employment. He hadn’t overstated his abilities, yet he’d departed her office unsure about what she thought of him or his skills.

  Working for Miss McKay was going to be much different than working for Mr. Kresie. Granted, the work would be similar, but Mr. Kresie had been a mentor and friend. That wouldn’t be the case with Miss McKay. From his recent contact with her, it appeared she wasn’t interested in forming friendships with her workers, and she didn’t have the experience to be a mentor. Truth be told, she was the one in need of a mentor. And while he’d be willing to help her, she didn’t seem particularly interested in any assistance.

  He wanted the opportunity to prove that his new ideas could be successful. If he couldn’t convince Miss McKay, it would probably be years before he’d have a similar opportunity. He’d wrestled with leaving Philadelphia just when Mr. Kresie had been willing to look at the new techniques as a possibility for expansion. In the end, his brother’s needs had won out. While the doctors hadn’t been completely negative about his brother’s ability to leave the asylum one day, they’d given Levi only a thread of hope.

  He doubted whether another tile works would open in Weston, so the best hope for producing his new designs lay with Miss McKay. If she was going to be convinced, it would take more than a winning smile and smooth words. He’d need the Lord’s help.

  At the sound of an approaching horse and buggy, Levi stepped to the side of the road. He knew few people in Weston, so there was no need to turn and look. The sleek, black horse trotted by at a steady pace, causing plumes of dust to rise from beneath the wheels of the buggy. If the owner of the rig was going to his job at the tile works, he was going to arrive at least half an hour before the start of the workday. Then again, maybe it was a supervisor or foreman. Mr. Kresie had insisted that his foremen be at work fifteen minutes before the first bell to ensure the workers were punctual. Maybe Miss McKay didn’t tolerate tardiness, either.

  Soon after the rig passed him, voices drifted down from the hillside, and Levi caught sight of several men as they navigated their way down toward the path. The steepness of the hill made it impossible to traverse in a straight course, so they moved in a zigzag pattern, dodging tree limbs and loose rocks with surprising agility.

  One of the fellows grabbed hold of a sapling. “You the new fella?” His feet skittered and the sapling bent low bearin
g his weight.

  “I am.” Loose rocks tumbled toward him, and Levi jumped back. He waited until the men completed their descent and then introduced himself.

  “Pleased to meet ya, Levi. I’m John Burgess.” He gestured to the other two men. “This here’s Martin Kohl and that lad with the red hair is Lawrence Gault.”

  Martin shook his hand. “Pleased to meet ya.” Lawrence nodded. “I hear tell you were hired as a cutter and burner. That right?”

  “That’s right.” He was surprised the men knew of his arrival. Miss McKay had said she’d take him on a tour of the place and introduce him this morning. Instead, she’d already told the workers she’d hired a new employee.

  Levi waved toward the hillside. “That’s quite a skill you’ve developed. I think I’d break an arm or leg if I attempted to come down that hill like the three of you. Have you ever taken a tumble?”

  “Of course.” Martin glanced at his friends. “We all did back when we first started coming that way, but after a few months of practice, we got it down. Once in a while one of us still slips, but during those early days we suffered a lot of scrapes and bruises.”

  Martin raked a hank of dark hair from his forehead. “It saves us a lot of time since we all live a good ways from Weston. ‘Course, we can’t come that way when it rains or snows—way too slick once it gets wet and muddy.”

  Martin and Lawrence started along the path leading down to the tile works, and John dropped back to walk alongside Levi. “You come here from Grafton, like Miss McKay?”

  When a squirrel scampered across the path in front of them, Martin let out a loud sigh. “Wouldn’t you know it? I always see squirrels and rabbits when I don’t have my gun.”

  Lawrence gave Martin a playful slap on the shoulder. “Quit your complaining. It’s too warm to hunt squirrels.”