Love Inspired Historical November 2014

by Danica Favorite

  Then her gaze came to rest on the less indulgent aspects of the room. She’d had to make a compromise or two in the past couple of years. When her housekeeper had been let go and she had to start doing her own laundry, Eileen had brought the washtubs in here and strung a clothesline across one end of the room so that she could do her menial work in private.

  Dovie and Ivy knew it was in here, but she never did her laundry while they were around. Just because she had been reduced to doing her own housework didn’t mean she had to put herself on display while she played the part of washerwoman.

  Of course some of that would have to change now. The sheer volume of laundry the residents in her house would generate would dictate that the clothes be hung outside to dry. She’d have to speak to Mr. Tucker about stringing an additional line for her.

  And she had to stop waiting until problems fell in her lap and start planning ahead, just as she had pressed Mr. Tucker to do. What other issues related to her new houseguests was she likely to encounter?

  It was time she found a quiet place and thought through the possibilities so she would be prepared.

  *

  At dinnertime, Dovie recruited the children to help set the table. Eileen no longer owned the elegant wrought iron cart that her housekeeper had once used to transport the dishes and food from the kitchen to the dining room, so it was necessary to hand carry everything. Eileen didn’t take an easy breath until everything had been transported without incident.

  As they prepared to take their seats, Dovie looked around the table. “The little ones will need risers on their chairs,” she said thoughtfully.

  Risers? Eileen looked at her chairs. Entertaining children in her dining room had never been a consideration before. What could she use to improvise?

  But before she could formulate a plan, Mr. Tucker spoke up. “I’ll take care of finding or making something to serve the purpose tomorrow. For now, if you or Mrs. Pierce will hold Molly in your lap, I’ll hold Joey in mine.”

  Apparently reading the panic in her face, Dovie quickly spoke up. “I’ll be glad to hold Molly, if Eileen will allow me the honor.”

  Grateful for the woman’s offer, Eileen gave a regal nod. “Yes, of course.”

  “Then that leaves you to serve everyone’s plate,” Mr. Tucker said, smiling her way.

  Eileen hesitated, then stood. She supposed if she had to choose between server and nursemaid, she preferred the role of server. The memory of how Molly had felt snuggled up against her flitted through her mind, but she shoved it away. Such things were not for her.

  As Fern no doubt agreed.

  “So how shall we do this?” she asked. “Would it be better for you to pass up your plates for me to serve? Or for you to each bring me your plates to fill?”

  “I would suggest they bring you their plates,” Dovie answered. “Less handling and confusion that way.”

  She nodded, seeing the logic in that. “Very well. Children, take your plates and line up. And do take care to hold them straight so nothing slides onto the floor.”

  Eileen served the first two plates without incident. Then it came to the third child, Rose. She placed a generous slice of ham on the plate then ladled up some of the butter beans.

  “No!”

  Eileen froze, startled by the little girl’s vehemence.

  “Rose doesn’t like for her food to touch.” Fern said. The older girl’s lips were pinched in disapproval, as if Eileen had been sloppy, or worse yet, had done it on purpose.

  Why did Fern seem to dislike her so much? But now was not the time to worry about that.

  “My apologies.” She set the plate with the offending contents aside and picked up her own. She very carefully dished up the ham, squash and butter beans so that very little liquid made it to the plate and then placed them so nothing touched.

  Rose studied the plate suspiciously, then smiled, nodded with a thank-you and moved to her chair.

  The next three children were served without incident, and Eileen began to breathe easier. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so nervous; this was a simple task after all.

  Then Harry stepped up for his portion. Just as she put the last spoonful of vegetables on his dish, it happened—Harry dropped his plate. The food splattered everywhere, including the bottom of her skirt. And the plate—one of the precious few remaining from her good china service, broke into three pieces.

  Eileen stared at the mess, unable to move, horrified by the extent of the disaster. It wasn’t the mess; it wasn’t even the possibility that her dress was stained. That broken dish meant someone would not have a plate to eat from for this meal or any subsequent ones while her newfound guests remained in residence.

  She turned her gaze on the offender, prepared to scold him for his clumsiness. Then she spotted his stricken and mortified expression and the words dried in her throat. Their eyes locked for a moment and Eileen found herself searching for the right words to defuse the situation.

  She managed to drag out a smile and keep her dismay out of her tone. “No harm done.”

  Dovie set Molly down in the chair and bustled over. “Harry, why don’t you let me help you clean up this mess while Mrs. Pierce finishes serving the others.”

  Grateful for Dovie’s intervention, Eileen took a quick glance at the others in the room and saw expressions displaying various degrees of wariness. Were they worried there would be repercussions?

  She took care to smile at the next child in line. Keeping her expression and movements calm and unruffled, she mechanically placed the food on Tessa’s plate and each of the others that followed, making sure she said something to each of them. But her mind kept spinning over what she would do to replace the broken dish.

  By the time she filled the last plate, the mess on the floor had been cleaned up and she handed Harry the plate she’d fixed earlier for Rose. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t mind that the food touched.

  And she still hadn’t come up with a solution to being short by one plate.

  Time to make a graceful exit—or as graceful as possible given the circumstances. “If you will excuse me, I have something to attend to. Please go on with your meal without me.”

  Her announcement was met with an awkward silence and some of the wary glances returned. Her gaze snagged for a heartbeat on Mr. Tucker’s frown, but then she turned to make her exit. Leaving her guests to their own devices seemed preferable to making a spectacle out of her lack of a place setting.

  But before she could get away, Mr. Tucker spoke up. “Mrs. Pierce, whatever it is you need to take care of, surely it can wait until after we eat.” His gaze practically demanded she stay.

  But she ignored both the gaze and the words. “I’m afraid it cannot.” And with that, she left the room without a backward glance.

  When Eileen reached the kitchen, she looked around as if a plate would appear out of thin air. The only thing that seemed remotely appropriate was the meat platter, but it was big enough to serve a full-grown turkey. Even the saucers were on the side table in the dining room, awaiting time to serve the pecan pie.

  She gave a mental shrug. That was irrelevant. The fresh food was back in the dining room and she didn’t plan to go back out there before the others were done eating.

  Eileen moved to the sink and wet a rag. She lifted her hem and began scrubbing at the food spatters on her skirt with firm, even strokes. Too bad she hadn’t been wearing the black skirt. She no longer had so much clothing that she could afford to discard something merely because it was stained.

  Her stomach rumbled—she’d had a very light lunch. She supposed she could always open one of the jars of vegetables she’d put up from her garden. But after the savory meal she’d just dished up for the others, she had very little enthusiasm for such fare.

  Perhaps she would just wait. Once the dishes were washed and the children were put down for the night she could come back here and snack on whatever leftovers were available.

  The door opened behind her and
she quickly dropped her skirt. Then she turned around with hastily mustered dignity. Mr. Tucker stood in the doorway, looking oddly diffident.

  She managed a haughty look. “I will thank you, sir, to knock when entering a room with a closed door.”

  “My apologies, ma’am. I guess I’m just not used to knocking before entering a kitchen.”

  He was quite right, but she ignored both that and the hint of amusement in his tone. “And just what are you doing following me in here? Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on the children?”

  “The better question is, what are you doing in here. After we said the blessing I told the kids I’d check on you. They all think you’re angry with them, or at least with Harry.”

  It seemed she was failing in at least one area of her duties as a hostess. “Please put their minds at ease.” She brushed at her skirt, keeping her expression politely distant. “You may assure them it is only that I prefer to take my meals in private.”

  “Nonsense.”

  She stiffened. Had he just called her a liar?

  “You were all set to eat in the dining room before Harry’s accident.”

  He had her there, so she held her tongue.

  “Accidents happen—” his voice had taken on a more cajoling tone “—especially when children are involved. But as adults we need to be understanding and forgiving. They shouldn’t be made to feel that they’ve been found lacking.”

  Time to put an end to this. She tilted up her head and gave him a direct look. “Again, I apologize if they misread my mood. Was there anything else?”

  Her words only seemed to intensify his irritation. “Reassurances from me won’t help the situation—they need to see it for themselves. You can’t really want to have the children think you don’t care for their company.”

  Why couldn’t the man just drop the subject and go away? “The children have you and Miss Jacobs to help build their self-esteem. My function is to provide shelter, and perhaps also provide them with instruction on matters of propriety and taste.”

  “And do you consider your current actions a good example for them to follow?”

  She had no answer for that.

  “Just put aside your own feelings for a moment and think of theirs. Surely you can do this one thing, just to put their minds at ease.”

  She knew he was trying to manipulate her by playing on her sympathies. But that didn’t stop her from feeling a pang of guilt.

  “Afterward,” he continued, “if you want to eat every other meal for the rest of your life in total isolation, then I won’t interfere.”

  His sarcasm was easier to deal with than his cajoling. “And what makes you think you have the right to interfere now?”

  He threw up his hands. “Have it your way.”

  He pushed out of the room in a huff, and Eileen heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like impossible woman.

  She sagged against the counter, feeling more than a bit sorry for herself. There were tears pressing against the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Better he think her selfish than that he learn the pitiful truth.

  Without warning the door swung open again.

  “I don’t think you truly under—” Mr. Tucker paused midsentence, studying her face. Then he gave a short bow. “Forgive me for being such a thoughtless lout. I’m sorry if I upset you—of course you have every right to your privacy.”

  It was his unexpected kindness that did her in. “I don’t have another plate!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out—she wasn’t a blurter. But at least she had the satisfaction of seeing surprise replace the sympathy on his face.

  He recovered a moment later and gave her an incredulous smile. “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?” She took a deep breath, calming herself and trying to reclaim her dignity by brute force. “Mr. Tucker, it seems to me a plate is an essential part of the meal process.”

  “Well, sure, but one can get creative and improvise.”

  Without waiting for her response, he moved to her cupboards and shifted a few things around.

  She watched him, trying to figure out how to get the situation back under control after her pitiful confession. What must he think of her now?

  “Ah, here we go.” He turned back to her in triumph. “Two shallow bowls.”

  Did he really expect her to eat from a bowl while he and the others ate from plates? That would be so undignified. “Bowls are for soups and stews.”

  His cocky attitude didn’t falter. “What I was actually thinking was that in the future, we can serve Molly’s and Joey’s food in these while the rest of us eat from the plates.” His pleased-with-himself grin should have irritated her, but for some reason it didn’t.

  “I see.” She supposed that could work. But it didn’t take care of tonight’s meal.

  “As for today,” he said as if reading her thoughts, “I can’t eat my meal knowing you are back here alone and hungry. Please return to the dining room with me.”

  His smile was disarmingly charming, but she stiffened her resolve. “Mr. Tucker, please don’t waste your time worrying over me—I am neither lonely nor unduly hungry. I have told you that I will not eat my meal from one of those bowls. And I can hardly swap dishes with one of the children now that they have already started on their meals. Feel free to make what excuses you feel necessary to relieve their anxiety.” She marched to the pantry and snatched up a jar at random. “I will open this jar of—” she looked at it more closely “—speckled butter beans. It will do quite well for my dinner.” Hopefully she put more enthusiasm in her voice than she truly felt for the bland fare.

  Did he actually roll his eyes at her?

  Chapter Nine

  Simon couldn’t believe Mrs. Pierce would rather go hungry than sacrifice her dignity. But he was relieved to discover that that was her issue rather than a selfish desire to make Harry feel bad.

  If the infuriating woman would just relax and handle the situation with a touch of humor, no one would give it a second thought. But humor didn’t seem to be a strength of hers—he’d have to come up with something else—something that would allow her the cold comfort of her dignity. “All right, if you won’t eat from a bowl, perhaps you can claim to have a light appetite and eat from one of the saucers.”

  There was no thawing in her demeanor. “Those saucers are for the dessert. If I take one for my meal, then we will be short one when it comes time to serve the pie.”

  That was an easy fix. “Not necessarily. I’ll just eat my dessert from my dinner plate. No one will think anything of it.”

  Still she hesitated, so he tried another approach. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for the children. Right now they still think you’re angry with Harry. And the longer we stay back here, the stronger that feeling will grow.” He gave her a direct look. “Are you angry with Harry?”

  “I’ve already told you I wasn’t,” she said stiffly. Then she unbent slightly. “Actually, I suppose I was angry at the time.”

  He was pleasantly surprised by her honesty. It confirmed his belief that she was a woman of integrity.

  “But only for a moment,” she continued. “Anger is a useless emotion that accomplishes nothing.”

  At least they agreed on that point. He gave her what he hoped was a persuasive smile. “I know eating from a saucer is not the most dignified way to take your meal, but I’d consider it a great favor if you’d do so just this once. Come on and rejoin us in the dining room so the children can see for themselves you’re not angry.”

  He thought he could detect some of her resolve slipping and searched for a way to press his advantage. “You said earlier that you wanted to give the children instruction on social skills. Isn’t showing grace under pressure one of those skills?”

  She didn’t say anything for several heartbeats. Then she nodded. “You are correct. And if it truly means that much to you and the children, I suppose I could make do, just
this once.”

  “Thank you. Your selflessness is a wonderful example for the children.”

  She moved to the door, her expression composed. She either hadn’t heard the teasing note in his words or chose to ignore it.

  When they entered the dining room, all discussion stopped and the children studied them with wary expressions.

  “My apologies for being gone so long,” Mrs. Pierce said pleasantly. “I wanted to clean my skirt before the stain set.” She casually reached for one of the nearby saucers, then sat down with a graceful movement.

  Simon studied her relaxed demeanor with approval. One would think her the hostess to a gathering of welcome friends rather than unanticipated houseguests, most of whom were children.

  She looked around the table. “I declare, it’s been more than two years since I sat with so many for a meal in here. It feels almost like a dinner party.”

  “I like parties,” Molly said hopefully. “Me and Flossie have tea parties sometimes.”

  “Tea parties are quite nice,” Mrs. Pierce agreed. “Perhaps we can have one while you are here.”

  Simon felt some of the tension ease from the room.

  “I understand you had the opportunity to visit the Blue Bottle Sweet Shop this afternoon,” she said to Harry. “Were you able to sample any of Mrs. Dawson’s fine treats?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The boy sat up straighter. “I never tasted such fine caramels in all my born days.”

  She smiled. “Caramels were always my favorite treat as a little girl, as well.”

  Then she turned to one of the other children to ask a question about their meal at Daisy’s restaurant.

  Throughout the meal she was a gracious hostess, making certain the conversation didn’t lapse or grow stale and trying to draw everyone out. She might not have much experience with children, Simon reflected, but her social skills were excellent.

  Once the meal was over, Simon stood. “All right, it’s time for us to show Mrs. Pierce how much we appreciate her hospitality. Audrey and Albert, you clear the table. Rose and Lily, you take care of washing, drying and putting away the dishes.”