“It’s Mother. She’s depressed and lonely. Before, I only worked three days a week. We spent much of the other days together. Now, I’m working six days.” Tilde went on to tell him what her mother had told her and what she had thought herself.
“I understand. It has to be hard being alone and having dealt with so much loss.”
“She just doesn’t have anything to look forward to everyday. I’m the only one left and most of her social activities have stopped.”
“She enjoyed your afternoon together. She spoke of seeing several of her friends while we had tea and at supper. Some of her reminisces were quite funny. I never realized she had such a sense of humor.” Joel pulled her to his chest and embraced her. He hoped they could resolve this conversation and move on to a more pleasurable topic.
“She used to have, even with her focus on lady-like propriety.” Unspoken were the words, ‘before the disaster.’
“What do you think will help her? Would she come to the bank and help out there?”
“No, that’s not something she would do. She’s never worked there and doesn’t have any inclination to start now.” She paused, then said, “I’d like to start taking some time off during the week. Maybe an afternoon or two. Do you think that’s a possibility?”
Joel thought about it for a minute, stroking her back as he did so. “I think so. Tuesday afternoon we’re not that busy. Thursday morning, too. That might work better than the afternoon. The end of the month I’d like you to be there to help close out the books. Most other weeks it should work.”
Tilde hugged him and jumped up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I know it will make Mother so happy.”
Joel chuckled and held her close. “You know what will make me so happy?”
“What?”
Joel lifted his eyebrow as he looked down into her face which lit up pink in the lamp light.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tilde pulled the lever on the adding machine and smiled. She loved the thing. She still did multiple additions of a column but when she didn’t get the same total she could go over the tapes and see where she punched the wrong keys. She would clip them together on the ledger page until the next month. That was the plan anyway. She’d only done it once so far when she closed the books in October.
November came in rainy with winds driving the cold into her bones as she walked to and from the bank. It kept she and her mother in the house on the days she took off.
The days she stayed home seemed to be helping her mother’s attitude. There was less sadness in her eyes. Even so, Tilde knew there was a major problem and didn’t know how to resolve it. Mabel was still mourning the fact that she hadn’t been at the wedding. That the wedding was just the two of them and two witnesses. And that one of those was not herself. Tilde didn’t know what to do about it so she kept quiet about the issue. There really wasn’t any need to bring it up since her mother dropped it into conversation at regular intervals.
“Seeing that I wasn’t at the wedding.”
“I missed seeing you married.”
“I’d hoped you would wear my veil.”
Somehow, she managed to bring her grievance up most days.
Joel had asked her how things were going the previous evening. Tilde and he were sitting on the settee by the curved windows. It was a favorite spot for them. They had turned the piece around since with winter coming they kept the draperies closed most of the time. Facing the room seemed better than facing fabric hangings.
“She seems better. At least about my spending less time at the bank. About our wedding, she’s less satisfied. She knows I was the one who pushed getting married the day you arrived and without telling her. Does she ever mention it to you?”
“No, not that I recall. Can you think of anything that might help with that? Change her attitude?”
“Not unless we get married again. Have a full-blown church wedding with all the trimmings. Invite everyone in town and have a reception at the inn with a huge multi-tiered wedding cake. Then we’d have to go off on a tour of Europe honeymoon and come back in a couple of months with tales we can tell of all we’d done.” Tilde sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t see how we can leave for a couple of months. There’s no one to run the bank unless she wants to.” Joel began running his fingers through the hair at her temple.
“No, I suppose not.”
When Joel slipped his fingers under her chin, lifting her face, she closed her eyes waiting for his kiss.
One knock sounded, and the bedroom door opened, admitting Mabel. Joel and Tilde startled apart. Joel stood stepping in front of her. Tilde felt her face heat. Drat her blushes anyway.
“Mother, what are you doing? Do you need something?” Tilde stood, stepping around Joel.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Mabel turned around grasping at the doorknob. A paper in her hand dropped to the floor. Joel bent and picked it up.
“What’s this?” Tilde took the sheet from his hand. “Oh. Are you all right, Mother? Where did you get this?”
Her mother turned slowly, a tear slipping down her face. “I was going through your father’s desk. It’s something I need to do.” She glanced at Joel. “Your husband needs to be able to use the desk to its fullest.”
Tilde studied the paper. It was a watercolor painting she had done when she was about eight. She had given it to her father on his birthday. In the picture was their house and four people. Two adults and a boy and girl.
Joel took the painting from her and used his hand to urge Tilde to go to her mother. She wrapped her arms around her and they both cried, grieving again for the loss of those they’d loved.
When Mother pulled back, she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes and nose. “I’m so very sorry to have disturbed you. I didn’t think. Your room needs to be a haven of privacy. I won’t forget again. Please forgive the intrusion.”
“Please don’t worry over it,” Joel said. He handed the painting back to her. “Keep this in a safe place. It’s precious.”
With a nod, she took it and closed the door gently as she left.
With the mood broken, Tilde and Joel climbed into bed. Tilde lay on her side with Joel spooned behind her. It was a long time before she was able to fall asleep.
The bank door opened bringing her thoughts back to the present. Braylon Watts came in. Tilde stood and went to the teller window. “Hello, Mr. Watts. What can I do for you today?”
“I’m here to speak to Mr. Richards. We’re working on the plans for the electric junctions. He mentioned electrifying the bank. I need to know what he plans on installing electrically.”
Tilde was confused. Joel hadn’t mentioned anything about electricity for the bank. “Of course. He’s in his office. Come right this way.”
Once Mr. Watts was in Joel’s office with the door closed, Tilde sat back at her desk. Why hadn’t Joel told her he was contemplating bringing electricity to the bank? What for? They didn’t need electricity. What could doing so possibly do to improve their work? Why had he kept it a secret? What else was he keeping from her?
Tilde tapped her pencil on the blotter. She yawned. She was tired. Her sleep had been troubled and she’d woken several times in the night worried about her mother. Now she had another thing to worry about. What was Joel keeping from her concerning the bank?
She yawned again and opened another ledger. More columns to add.
~~~~~
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Watts. I think I understand your plan. Let me know if I can help in any way.” Joel opened his office door and allowed Mr. Watts to proceed him through.
The man stopped near Tilde’s desk. “Your wife seems a bit tired.” He grinned at Joel.
Tilde’s head was lying on an open ledger, her hand on the keys of the adding machine. She was softly snoring.
Joel smiled, then sobered. “She had a restless night. I’m not surprised that she’s tired. Let’s leave her be. I’ll
see you out.” Joel’s voice was soft so as not to disturb his wife.
Once he’d closed the door behind Mr. Watts, Joel went to stand beside Tilde. Noticing a speck of drool on her lip, he slipped his handkerchief under her cheek. That way the ledger page wouldn’t get spotted. Smiling, he went back to his office hoping no more customers came to disturb her sleep.
As he thought of Tilde’s worry for her mother and the reason why, he felt bad he’d participated in causing Mabel pain. More pain on top of what she’d suffered. If he’d realized the magnitude of the suffering the residents of Silverpines had experienced, he didn’t think he would have agreed to be married that first day. And without including Tilde’s mother.
She wasn’t the harridan Tilde had made her out to be. Yes, she was a stickler for propriety and she liked things her way. But she was mostly a grieving, lonely woman who loved her daughter and was devastated that one more thing was taken from her so suddenly. The opportunity to celebrate her daughter’s wedding.
Joel remembered how much fun Mama and Annie had planning her wedding. Joel had gotten tired hearing all the details discussed every evening at supper. When he’d mentioned, complained, about it to his pa he’d been told to stop complaining and let them have their fun. It would be over real soon and not to spoil the pleasure of their plans. Mabel Lasek had been robbed of all that pleasure.
Thinking of his parents and siblings, Joel steepled his fingers and an idea came to mind. He drew a piece of stationary from the drawer and began to write.
~~~~~
“What’s gotten into you, missy?” Dara scolded as Tilde set a plate down rather hard on the table. “You’ll break that and herself will be that angry at you, she will.”
Tilde set the next one down softly, the china barely making a sound as it touched the table. “Joel never mentioned he was electrifying the bank. Never spoke to me about it at all. Kept me totally in the dark about it. I never would have known if Mr. Watts hadn’t come to the bank to speak with him about it.” She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.
“Be careful. A little birdie will come and sit on that lip.”
Dara’s comment brought a smile. That was a phrase she’d scolded Tilde with when she was a child and things didn’t go the way she wanted.
“He still should have discussed it with me.” She began placing the silverware beside the plates.
“Maybe so, but himself is the president of the bank now. Would your father have consulted you?” Dara placed a crystal goblet near a knife.
“No, but I’m half owner now. I should know what’s going on.”
“Maybe so, but he’s a man and not used to discussing business with a woman. ‘Tisn’t a man’s way. Besides, you only own a quarter of the bank, if that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, sweeting, your mother has half and with you marrying, you, at the very best, split ownership with your husband. That gives you each a quarter. Your man is the president with your mother’s approval. That gives him majority say in what goes on.”
Tilde stared at Dara. “That’s not fair. I ran the bank by myself before Joel came.”
“That be true, but you placed that ad and married him. You knew you needed help running the bank. Told me so yourself. Himself is doing so. I’m not sayin’ he shouldn’t have mentioned it or consulted you, but he is the president.”
“It’s still not fair. He should have told me,” Tilde grumbled as she went back into the kitchen.
~~~~~
That evening at supper, after complimenting Dara on her ham glazed with peaches, Joel said, “Tilde knows, but I don’t think you do, Mother. We are putting in electricity at the bank. There will be electric lights and ceiling fans as well as a burglar alarm that will sound loudly if it’s tripped when the bank is closed.” He buttered the roll he’d broken in half.
He thought of the first meal he had at Lasek House. The look of approval given to him by his new mother-in-law when he broke his bread before buttering it seemed to have gone a long way to helping her accept him. Breaking your bread was accepted as proper.
“I’d heard that the mill was generating electricity. I never thought about it at the bank.”
“Mr. Watts is focusing on the downtown first. Then he plans on continuing into the residential neighborhoods. I thought it might be good to bring to the house.”
“Whatever for?” Tilde’s sharp tone made him look at her.
“Same thing as the bank, mostly. Lights, ceiling fans. There are electric mixers and kettles, coffee percolators. Singer has an electric sewing machine. I even read an article about electric lights for Christmas trees.”
“Do you think it’s safe?” Mabel asked.
“Seems to be. They have electricity in many cities all across the country. I’m sure there will be more inventions coming that will make life easier for everyone.”
“Electric lights on the Christmas tree would certainly be safer than candles.” Tilde was concentrating on her meal and the words were rather grudging.
“So, shall I speak with Mr. Watts about it?” Joel could tell that Mother wanted the electricity. Her eyes were bright with interest. It was the first time she’d been so since he moved in.
Even though she was still a stickler for propriety, Tilde’s mother had softened toward him. Though she was often solemn and retired to her bedroom shortly after they finished supper, his marriage to her daughter had been accepted and she seemed to enjoy his company and the lifting of burdens she’d carried since the death of her husband. He was able to do the heavier tasks needed around the house. When he’d cleared the gardens after the killing frost, Mother had expressed her gratitude by baking his favorite pecan apple pie. Dara had groused about the invasion of her kitchen but with a smile in her eyes.
Tilde, on the other hand, seemed to be more irritable as the weeks went on. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea of electricity in the house. It seemed another area she was hesitant to progress in.
~~~~~
“Why did you tell Mother I knew about the electricity coming to the bank? You never mentioned it to me.” Tilde hung her maroon bodice and skirt in the wardrobe. She frowned. There wasn’t enough room for her things and Joel’s. Maybe she’d ask her mother if they could move Terrence’s wardrobe in. It would crowd the room, but her clothing was being squashed and wrinkled. She didn’t want to put more ironing on Dara and didn’t want to do it herself.
“Pardon me?” Joel looked puzzled when she turned around. He was already in bed with a book.
“I didn’t know anything about it until Mr. Watts came in and mentioned it.”
“You didn’t? I thought I’d told you.”
Tilde clenched her teeth to keep from snapping at him. Told her about it, huh? “No. You didn’t.”
“Oh, I thought I did.” Joel looked down at his book again.
Tilde stared at him. No ‘I’m sorry. I should have discussed it with you.’ No ‘I’ll make sure I discuss major changes and ideas with you in the future.’ No, ‘This is what Mr. Watts and I spoke about.’ Huh, seems she was being ignored. Well, she was tired and he could just deal with her ignoring him in other ways for a few days. Maybe a week or two until he got the idea she wanted to be included in decisions at the bank.
Tilde climbed into bed, turned her back to him, pulling the covers over her shoulder and tried to go to sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The bank door opened and Mr. Cliff Dermont came in. “Howdy, Mrs. Richards. I’ve come to make a mortgage payment,” he said stepping up to the teller window.
Tilde barely kept her mouth from dropping open. Mr. Dermont hadn’t made a payment since the disaster. Not that she wasn’t going to accept it, but him coming in without her going to hound him, as she’d done several times, surprised her.
“Here it is.” He laid the bills on the counter.
Tilde could see that it wasn’t enough to cover even a month, let alone all the back months.
“It was s
ure nice of Mr. Richards to change the monthly amount as well as drop the late payment fees if I pay this much each month. I appreciate that. With business being so slow, it makes it hard to make ends meet and make the mortgage payments too.” Mr. Dermont owned and ran the bakery. With fewer people living in Silverpines his business had suffered greatly.
“Let me get the payment book, please. I’ll be right back.” Tilde went into the safe and found it. She opened it and saw a note outlining the new agreement. Both Joel’s and Mr. Dermont’s names were signed on the page.
Another thing Joel hadn’t discussed with her. She tapped the book on her leg as she walked back to the teller window.
“I’ll record this and get you a receipt. Thank you for coming in today.” Tilde finished and waved goodbye as the man left.
Just one more thing Joel isn’t telling me. Tilde was beginning to think he was purposefully leaving her out of the decisions concerning the bank.
She went to the safe to put the book away. The drawer that held business mortgage books had fewer than she knew should be in it. Tilde pulled out the drawer with home mortgage books. That definitely had less than there should be.
When she and Joel had discussed the number of loans not being paid and those homes and businesses which had been deserted, Joel had told her he’d look into it and get back with her. Seems he’d done the first but not the second.
She stomped out of the safe intending to speak with Joel in his office. He was standing by her desk.
“Ah, there you are. I’m going to a meeting with the mayor, Clay Cutler, Marshal Sewell, and the rest of the town council. I should be back before closing. If not, I’ll meet you at home.”
“Joel, there’s something I want to speak with you about.”
He was already out from behind the counter, putting his hat on and shrugging into his coat. “It will have to wait until later. I made this appointment with him and I don’t want to be late.”
Tilde watched silently as he left the bank.
She wondered if she’d made a mistake in trusting him. Not that she thought he’d do anything to ruin the bank but that he’d treat her with respect as his colleague as well as his wife.
Wanted: Bookkeeper (Silverpines Series Book 14) Page 8
