by Kit Morgan
“How well dressed, I wonder?” Mrs. Bridger asked. She exchanged a quick look with her husband – and then both turned to stare at the unsuspecting Olivia.
She was pouting and slicing her chicken, and it was a while before she noticed the silence and looked up. “What?”
Mr. Bridger rubbed a hand over his chin, as he often did when forming a scheme.
Olivia paled. “What are you thinking? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He pointed at her. “You, my sweet girl, are the answer to all our problems!”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “What problems?”
“Well …” Mr. Bridger hemmed and hawed for a moment before sighing in resignation. “The truth is … we’re almost out of money.”
“What?!” both Mrs. Bridger and Olivia squawked. Olivia added, “How can we be almost out of money?!”
“It’s gone, simple as that,” Mr. Bridger told them. “When my Uncle Gilbert died I had the choice of taking it as a lump sum or an annuity. I chose the lump sum. How do you think we could afford to travel the way we have?”
“But … but …” Olivia stammered. “Why didn’t you take the annuity?”
“If I had, we’d still be back east,” he said sharply, as if explaining it to a toddler. “It would have taken a long time to save up enough to leave.”
“You wanted to come west!” Olivia wailed. “I never did!”
“Watch your tongue, young lady,” her mother snapped.
Mr. Bridger sighed again. “That hardly matters now. What does is how we’re going to live when it runs out. Jonathan’s doing his part, and you’ll have to do your part, too.”
Olivia flinched. “Me? What do you expect me to do?”
He leaned forward. “Simple. You’re going to marry Mr. Eldon Judrow.”
Eldon sat in the parlor with Lucius and stared at the crackling fire. It had been a pleasant day, made more so by learning the name of the woman who’d run into him at the café. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. She was pretty, even with a smudge or two of dirt on her face. True, she could use some fattening up and her dress had obviously seen better days, but …
“What are you thinking about?” Lucius asked. “Her again?”
Eldon looked up from the fire and smiled. “I don’t know what it is about her. Can’t put my finger on it.”
Lucius chuckled. “Then why don’t you find out?”
“I plan to, if I see her again.”
“It’s a small town – you’re bound to eventually. I know she’s staying with the Todds. And what about that boy she was with? I know I’ve seen him around town.”
“His name was Jonathan Bridger – that’s all I know.”
“Don’t worry,” Lucius said. “She’ll turn up again. The question is, what will you do when she does?”
Emma came out of the bedroom and joined them in front of the fire. “What are you two talking about?”
“Eldon’s courtship,” Lucius said with a smile.
Eldon glared at him, but smiled as well.
“What’s this?” Emma asked. “I hope I get to meet her. She was very pretty.”
“You saw her?” Eldon said. “Then why didn’t you come say hello?”
“And not write down Mrs. Petroff’s recipe for plum pudding? She was getting ready to leave – I had to copy it down while I could.”
“Plum pudding?” Lucius asked. “There’s something I haven’t tried before.”
“She said her grandmother made it a special way. Very few folks prepare such things out here.”
“When do we get to try it?” Lucius asked on behalf of his legendary sweet tooth.
“I’ll start experimenting tomorrow. I’m entering it in the dessert contest.”
“Dessert contest? Can I judge?”
Emma gave her husband a look. “For Heaven’s sake, you don’t even know the details.”
“It’s dessert – what’s to tell?”
“Do us all a favor,” Eldon said. “Let the man judge the desserts. Who better?”
Emma laughed. “Too true! And maybe your Miss Shrewsbury will enter something.”
“How do you know her name?” Lucius asked. “I don’t recall telling you.”
“I have ears, dear. Besides, I wanted to see if this was the woman you two have been talking about.”
“She was,” Lucius admitted.
“I’ve never seen her around town before. Maybe she’s here visiting family?”
Eldon sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
The next morning after breakfast, Eldon went to the church with Emma to help with the festival planning. The festival would be the Saturday before Christmas, which was perfect. Sunday services would include a message about the season, Monday a special Christmas Eve meeting, then Christmas service on Tuesday – four days of holiday festivities.
Rev. Latsch said it was the most excitement the town had ever seen, which was probably true. Eldon was certainly looking forward to it all. The only hitch was they had less than three weeks to put it all together.
The festival committee consisted of Rev. Latsch and his wife Mary. Jack and Willow Carlson, Sam and Estelle Todd, Mrs. Petroff, and last but not least, Emma and Eldon. (As a lawman, Lucius was too busy to get involved.) They should be able to handle it between the nine of them.
“Oh yoo-hoo!”
Make that ten? Eldon and the rest of the committee, seated in the first two pews of the sanctuary, turned to see the newcomer – a woman who sashayed her way up the aisle as if strolling through a park. In Paris. She was pretty, but with an air of haughtiness Eldon found instantly irritating. Who was she?
“Hello,” Mary Latsch greeted her. “If you’re here to help with the festival, you’re in the right place.”
“How gratifying to know,” the woman drawled. Her eyes locked on Eldon. “I’m Olivia Bridger, and I’ve come to offer my assistance.”
“You’re most welcome … Miss Bridger, I take it?” Emma asked as she glanced at her brother-in-law.
“Correct.” Her eyes roamed over Eldon before noting the others. “So this is the first time you folks have put together such a thing?”
“True,” said Rev. Latsch, “and we couldn’t be more excited! Have a seat.”
She flashed a huge smile. “Don’t mind if I do.” But rather than sit in the pew closest to her, next to Mrs. Carlson, she walked around the front pew to the other side and planted herself by Eldon. “The light seems better here,” she told him by way of explanation.
He raised an eyebrow, then, remembering his manners, turned away to face the group. Perhaps his first impression was wrong, but dang, what a horrible young woman!
“To recap,” Rev. Latsch began as he stood and faced them. “The festival will have several contests, including but not limited to a Christmas parade to kick things off at ten Saturday morning, a tree-decorating contest among local businesses, snowball-throwing events – for accuracy and distance – and gown and dessert contests as part of the supper and dance in the evening. There will be prizes for each event, all to be awarded at the dance.”
The Todds clapped with excitement. “Wonderful!” said Sam. “Now, what about judges?”
“My husband would like to judge the dessert contest,” Emma said, a bemused smile on her face, and everyone laughed.
Miss Bridger tapped Eldon on the shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
Eldon looked at her and wondered at the odd expression on her face, as if she was saying, let’s get on with it, shall we? “My brother has a notorious sweet tooth.”
“Well, I hope for his sake no one tries to poison him. Who knows what sort of cooks there are in this town?”
Eldon frowned. “You’re not giving folks much credit, Miss Bridger,” he said archly.
She shrugged as Rev. Latsch continued to go over details. “One never knows.”
Eldon furrowed his brow and faced forward again. Was the woman u
p to something? Or was she just naturally mean and insulting? Or both?
Chapter 7
Olivia strutted home proud as a peacock. What at first had seemed another of her father’s silly plans now showed merit. Eldon Judrow was handsome and, from the looks of him, rich. He was putting up prize money for all the contests, the largest stack for the dessert contest for some reason. There would be ribbons awarded too, but what were ribbons compared to money?
The real prize, however, was Mr. Judrow himself. Just how much was he worth? She planned to find out. “Mrs. Eldon Judrow,” she said to herself as she entered the house. “I like the sound of that.”
“Home already?” her father called from the parlor.
Olivia entered the room triumphantly. “A small affair, really – how long did you think I’d be?”
Her father, sitting in his favorite chair with a book, studied her suspiciously. “How did it go?”
“All is in hand,” she preened.
He sighed. “Don’t be vague. Did you meet this Mr. Judrow?”
“Yes, I did, and he’s very handsome. I’ll be seeing him again tomorrow.”
Her father sighed again, this time in relief. “Good.”
Olivia pulled off her gloves. “I’d best have Aggie iron my blue dress so I can …” She stopped dead. Oh, right – the shrew had run off to hide in some hole. She’d have to iron her own dress. In addition to all the other things she was having to do, now that she didn’t have a maid to dump them on. How dare Aggie leave her in the lurch like this!
Mr. Bridger watched her face turn red, rolled his eyes, and settled in to endure the latest explosion.
“Gone!” she screeched. “How can she be gone?”
Her father shook his head in annoyance. “Very easily, Olivia. And that’s that.”
“You’re not going to do anything to bring her back?!”
“And how would I go about that? Track her like a bounty hunter and drag her home at gunpoint?” He laughed at the idea.
“We treated her better than she deserved,” Olivia sneered. “I can’t believe you’re going to let her get away with this! She owes us!”
Another eye roll. “It’s for the best.”
“The best! The BEST?” Olivia stomped out of the parlor and went up to her room, seething. She was mad as a hornet and didn’t care what she did next. What she did was to inspect the small trunk where Aggie had kept her few belongings. Empty. She picked it up and threw it across the room, hitting the dresser and sending a vase of dead flowers crashing to the floor. She opened the armoire Aggie kept a dress in, but it too was gone.
“Wretch!” she screamed, and began picking up shoes and throwing them at the wall. “Un. Grateful. Wretch!” Her last word came out a high screech. Her breathing ragged, she opened the door, charged back down the stairs and confronted her father. “If you’re not going to bring her sorry hide back here, I will!”
Mr. Bridger looked up from his book. “No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will! I refuse to be so demeaned!”
Her father crossed his legs and set the book in his lap. “The fact is, Olivia, we can’t afford to feed her. Her leaving was a blessing in disguise. You’ll just have to pull your weight around here like the rest of us.”
Olivia’s jaw trembled with her anger. “We’ll see about that,” she spat. She went back up to her room and slammed the door. Since that ungrateful shrew’s departure had made her life miserable, she was determined to do two things. First, snare and marry Eldon Judrow so she’d never have to worry about money again. And second make Agatha Shrewsbury’s life as miserable as hers was right now, and then some.
Aggie sighed in contentment as she finished the final stitches on a skirt Mrs. Cornell had given her. She couldn’t tell the difference between the work she’d done and the work her employer had. “Perfect,” she said with a smile.
“All done?” Mrs. Cornell asked.
Aggie held the garment up for inspection. “How do you like it?”
Mrs. Cornell took the skirt and examined the stitching. “Why, Aggie, this is wonderful. Very nicely done!”
Aggie blushed. “Thank you.”
“You’ve worked hard all morning. Why don’t you take a break for lunch?”
“Thank you.” Aggie stood and stretched. “I am hungry.”
Mrs. Cornell smiled. “Let’s lock up the shop and have lunch at the café.”
Aggie froze. “Oh, I … brought some food with me.” It was leftover toast and bacon from breakfast at the Todds’, since she didn’t have any money.
“Then I’ll run upstairs and make myself something. Would you like to join me?”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes, it’s where I live.”
Aggie smiled. “I had no idea. Is it a large apartment?”
“Yes. Come, I’ll show it to you.”
Aggie reached behind her chair and snatched the small sack she’d brought with her off the floor. She followed Mrs. Cornell out through a storeroom filled with shelves of colorful cloth, lace, ribbon and thread to the back of the building. Out the back door was a staircase that led to the second-floor apartment. “I haven’t been in town long enough to really fix the place up,” Mrs. Cornell said as they went. “But it’s starting to come together. I’ve been more concerned with my business first.”
“Understandable,” Aggie agreed. “How long have you lived in Cutter’s Creek?”
“Not long. My husband and I came west about six years ago. We lived in Oregon for a short time, then Washington Territory. After he died last year, I came here.” She unlocked the door and went inside.
Aggie followed, her heart going out to the woman, while at the same time filled with inspiration. “I’m so sorry. You built this up yourself?”
Mrs. Cornell walked down a hall to the parlor at the front of the building. They passed a couple of doors along the way, probably bedrooms. “Yes. We were going to run it together – my husband was a tailor.”
“That would have been perfect for a small town like this.”
“True, but I’ve done all right by myself. And now that I have you to help me, the shop should do even better.”
“I’m glad I’m here, then.” Aggie said with a smile.
Mrs. Cornell nodded. “I’ll fix us some tea.” She led Aggie into a kitchen just big enough for a work space, a table and two chairs. “Where do you live again?”
A chill went up Aggie’s spine, and she swallowed hard. What should she say? She didn’t want to emphasize that she was a charity case, sleeping on a near-stranger’s couch. “I, um … I’m staying with the Todds right now …”
“Oh, that’s right. They’re good people,” Mrs. Cornell commented as she gathered what she needed for tea and placed a kettle on the little stove. “How long have you lived here?”
“In town? Only a few days.”
“Really?” she said. “No wonder I hadn’t seen you around before. Where did you come from?”
Aggie knew she should answer carefully. “I … kept house for a family out in … well, out in the middle of nowhere.” Might as well stick as close to the truth as possible. She’d leave out the part about basically being slave labor.
“I can understand you coming here, then. I’ve always preferred towns myself – it’s hard to be bored in a town. But you were right to seek a different line of work. I doubt any family around here can afford a housekeeper … well, except maybe the Bridgers up the road. I seem to recall one of them boasting they had a maid.” Mrs. Cornell turned around. “They must be very well off.”
“Er …”
“Oh, you probably don’t know them, you being new around town. But I hope you’re happy enough working here.”
Aggie smiled and nodded, unsure of what to say. Other than, “Oh yes – very much so.”
Mrs. Cornell turned back to the stove. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s have lunch.”
Lunch with her new employer, though short, was very pleasant. Aggie learned more
about Mrs. Cornell – she originally hailed from Evansville, Indiana, and had headed west with her husband when the war began, as living just over the river from Kentucky (a prime Confederate target) wasn’t so safe. She talked about her sojourns in Oregon and Washington, and coping with her husband’s passing. Aggie didn’t have much to add, but she was happy to listen.
When they went back downstairs, Mrs. Petroff was waiting at the door. As she chose material for the dress she’d ordered for her granddaughter, she filled them in on the latest Christmas festival developments. “You must enter a dessert, Mrs. Cornell,” the older woman urged. “Everyone knows what a good cook you are.”
“If I have time. I’ll have to think about it.”
“What about you, Miss Shrewsbury?” Mrs. Petroff asked. “Are you going to enter anything?”
“Me?” Good heavens, no! She wanted to stay out of the public eye as much as she could, lest Mrs. Bridger or Olivia find her. “I don’t believe I’ll have the time either. Not with a dance being planned. Won’t a lot of women want new dresses?”
“The ones that can afford it, yes,” Mrs. Petroff agreed. “Though others will be bringing you dresses they’d like spruced up, no doubt – some extra ribbon here, some lace there.”
“I’ve done quite a bit of that since I opened here,” Mrs. Cornell admitted. “But we’ve had a few full dresses ordered. In fact, yours was the third for the dance so far, Mrs. Petroff – and the most elaborate.”
“Oh, I hope you’re able to get them done in time.”
“Now that I have Agatha helping me, it should be no problem.”
Mrs. Petroff studied Aggie a moment. “You were at the church the other day, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” She picked up a spool of thread and fiddled nervously with it. She didn’t want her asking too many questions.
“Mr. Judrow’s brother would make a fine escort to the dance,” Mrs. Petroff went on. “Such a generous man, and handsome too. It’s too bad my granddaughter isn’t a few years older.”
“Deputy Judrow has a brother?” Mrs. Cornell asked.
“Yes. He’s new in town and looking to settle here. He told the festival committee just this morning that he plans on building a house outside of town.”
