For Such a Time as This: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  Olivia stood and held out her napkin. “Good. Here, Luke. Take all of these, and gather up the silverware, too. We’re going to clear the table for her.” She turned to his sister. “Since you’re older, Randy, why don’t you gather the dishes and carry them to the kitchen table. I’ll take the tureen and the other empty bowls.”

  Once the table was clear, she set up operations in the kitchen. “Luke, you can hand me plates and cups to wash, one by one, or a handful of silver at a time. Randy, please take a clean towel from the shelf by the pantry door, and dry as I hand things to you. We’ll stack it all on the table, and if you’ll help me find the right places, we can put everything away for Cooky.”

  Although the children still looked concerned, in a short while, Olivia had the three of them working like the wheels of a locomotive. To lighten the mood, she led them in a series of cheery songs, beginning with “Camptown Races,” going through “Oh, Susannah,” and on to “Listen to the Mockingbird.”

  Scant minutes later, Mr. Whitman entered the kitchen, lines pleating his brow. “Cooky’s daughter, Kate, had an accident at her home. She’s been taken to Doc Chambers’s, and they sent her husband to fetch her mother. I assured Cooky we’d all be fine, and I see, Miss Moore, you’ve beaten me to making good on my word. Thank you.”

  He laid a hand on Randy’s shoulder and ruffled Luke’s hair on his way back out. “It’s a comfort to see this kind of cooperation. I’m looking forward to it continuing.”

  Olivia released her held breath. Relief made her weak in the knees. Who would think that something so common as washing up after a meal would prove to be such a great measure of progress?

  As evening approached, Eli began to worry. Cooky hadn’t returned, and he had two children who needed food. He supposed he could root around in the kitchen for whatever he might find, but he’d never had to put together a meal, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do so now.

  Still, it looked as though he would have to—and soon. As the house still had a vague aroma of their dinner, he figured hungry bellies wouldn’t fail to catch the scent. The children would come down soon, looking for supper.

  As he headed toward the kitchen, he heard the familiar sizzling sound of food cooking. Had Cooky come home and not let him know? He opened the door, and instead of his cook, found his nanny at the large black stove, wooden spoon in one hand, a folded kitchen towel in the other. While he watched, she took hold of the iron skillet and stirred a mix that released a savory scent.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Moore,” he said, “I never expected you to shoulder even this responsibility.”

  She turned, spoon still in hand. “It’s no bother at all.” She waved all around the kitchen with the spoon. “Cooky keeps a well-stocked larder, and it’s nothing elaborate, just sausage, apples, and biscuits, but it will do until Cooky returns.”

  He smiled. “Whatever it is, it smells wonderful, and I appreciate your willingness to step in. Let me know when I should call the children to the table.”

  Her cheeks tinted an attractive rose. “You can go ahead and ask them to wash up whenever you wish. The biscuits are about done. I’ll have everything on the table in minutes.”

  “We’ll be there, and again, thank you.”

  She looked away, clearly embarrassed by his praise. “You’re welcome, Mr. Whitman.”

  As he hurried to find Luke and Randy, Eli marveled at his good fortune. None of the previous nannies had been the kind who would have helped in an emergency like today’s.

  Then, when they sat to eat, he received another pleasant surprise. The savory scent in the kitchen should have alerted him, but the first bite of sausage and potatoes burst in his mouth with more flavor than Cooky had produced in the last month. To make sure he wasn’t imagining things, he took a bite of the apples, golden brown at the edges, tender, and with a hint of molasses, cinnamon, and cloves.

  He slanted a sideways glance at the woman who’d put the meal together and saw her studying Luke. It struck him she might be worried his children wouldn’t enjoy her food, since they’d been so critical of Cooky’s fare. But as he was about to pay her a compliment, Luke spoke up.

  “This is good! What’d Cooky do to make it so good tonight?”

  Eli smiled. “It is very tasty, isn’t it? But Cooky’s not back yet. Miss Moore surprised us with this fine supper. Why don’t you thank her for her help?”

  Luke shoveled in another mouthful, chewed, swallowed, and then nodded. “Miss Moore, this is… it’s better than good. C’n you show Cooky how to cook? Her stuff’s like—well, it’s like the whitewash Papa had Mr. Webber put on the outhouse in the summer.”

  Miss Moore looked horrified. “Oh, no, Luke. That wouldn’t be nice at all.”

  Luke shrugged and, before he went back to his food, added, “Would help.”

  Eli turned to Randy. “What do you think, dear?”

  She gave her lips a dainty dab with her napkin. “I can eat it.” She swallowed—hard, and refused to meet the nanny’s gaze. “Thank you, Miss Moore.”

  Olivia’s cheeks reddened as she glanced up and met his gaze. A heartbeat later, she turned away, smoothed her hair, picked up her napkin, and brought it to her lips.

  She was modest, too.

  It occurred to Eli that Miss Olivia Moore might be the best bargain he’d ever struck.

  The next morning, as Olivia smoothed her hair into the usual knot, someone knocked on her bedroom door. Hurrying across, she found Cooky on the other side.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How is your daughter?”

  Cooky twisted her hands together. “It was a bad burn my Katy-girl got on her right arm. But Doc says it should be a-healing just fine, miss, if she takes care, you see. But it sure did hurt the poor thing, it did.” She looked down at the floor. “But that isn’t why I’m here. I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been, and all. Here I was thinking you’d be just like the other highfalutin’ nannies, but you’ve been nothing but sweet as just-pulled taffy and even helped when I was gone, at that.”

  Olivia took the woman’s hand. “Please don’t worry about it, Cooky. Mr. Whitman explained what happened, and I was more than happy to help. I’m glad you could be with your daughter. I know I would have wanted Mama with me if I were hurt bad.”

  “But I didn’t ever welcome you or even say a kind word, I didn’t. It dawned on me, it did, when I was with my Katy, that I’d have been steamed with anyone who’d been so stiff-necked-like to her. Wasn’t right, Miss Moore, it wasn’t. Good Lord knows I’ve been an old fool—”

  “How about if you do me a favor, Cooky? How about if you call me Olivia, and we’ll call it a day. Please don’t think about it anymore.”

  The teary-eyed cook wrapped Olivia in a warm hug, and for the first time since coming to the Whitman home, she felt as though things might work out. Who would have thought a skillet of sausage, potatoes, and apples would pave the way?

  On Monday morning, Eli had an unexpected visitor at his office. “Nathan! How are you? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How’s the logging camp?”

  The son of Eli Whitman, Sr.’s business partner, Nathan Bartlett, had inherited his father’s share of the Bank of Bountiful. He ran a hand through his dusty-brown hair in a clear effort to remove the deep mark his hat had left. “It’s a world of hard work, but Father left me that land, and now that we have the means to get the lumber down to market over the Columbia River, I’m going to make the most of what I have.”

  A pang of apprehension struck. “Are you telling me you need to withdraw funds? I realize it’s a costly enterprise.”

  Nathan hesitated. Then, “May I sit?”

  “Please. You’re part owner this bank, after all.”

  “It’s never felt that way. I’m not cut out to sit at a desk and count folks’ money. I need to be outside, to be in the best part of God’s Creation.”

  Relief made Eli chuckle. “We’re different men. I’d be lost out there.”


  “You’re where you belong, and Bountiful needs a bank. Which is the reason I came.”

  And here Eli thought he’d made it past peril. “You don’t say?”

  Nathan leaned forward, his expression earnest. “I don’t know how else to do this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m sure you know as well as I do how farmers and ranchers are hurting this year. All their properties… I’ve heard tell they’ve come to you for mortgages, that you’ve helped them all. Is that right?”

  “I couldn’t let them fail—the bank holds too many notes. Of course, I helped them.”

  “How are the bank’s funds after you’ve made these loans?”

  “I won’t lie to you. We’re on a tight margin of liquidity. We can’t make hasty decisions or mistakes. But we should be fine—”

  “Should the Lord bring us rain, right?”

  Eli shrugged. “It can’t be dry forever.”

  “What about the grasshoppers?”

  “Two plagues are more than enough, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, that’s what I think, but it might not be what happens. What if they come back? If they eat all the plantings as they have the last two years? What then?”

  “Then I’ll have to trust in the Lord’s provision, just like everyone else.”

  Nathan stood, his tall, strong frame dwarfing the room. He paced from the chair to the door and back. “I trust in the Lord’s provision, but I also use the caution He’s given me. I can’t afford to let my money stay here if the bank’s going to be wiped clean by another drought. If the loans aren’t paid back, I won’t be able to count on my deposits, will I?”

  “No need to worry. I know these men. As do you. They’re honorable, hardworking, and determined to pull through.”

  “Grasshoppers are just as determined, and they’re always hungry. No one’s managed to fight them off with any success.” He gripped the back of the leather chair where he’d sat. “If these men begin to default, I won’t be able to sit back and wait. I—I’ll have to withdraw my funds.”

  Lead landed in the pit of Eli’s stomach. “Please don’t say that. Give us time to see things turn around. Don’t make a hasty decision.”

  “I can’t risk everything my father worked for.”

  “He believed in this bank. Our fathers were partners. He worked for this—”

  “Hello, Papa!” Luke cried, opening the door and pelting in. “I came to see you. Miss Olivia and Randy are at the Mercantile. Cooky wanted a sack of beans and salt and other boring stuff, so I came to see you.”

  “So sorry, Mr. Whitman.” Samuel Holtwood, Eli’s right-hand man and the bank’s head cashier, stood behind Luke. “I know you’ve asked us to keep interruptions to a minimum, but I couldn’t stop him before he ran in.”

  “Uncle Nate!” Luke cried when he spotted the lumberman. “You coming home with us tonight? Please?”

  Eli didn’t know whether to be exasperated with Luke or grateful for the timely interruption. He needed to gather his thoughts, to come up with an argument to persuade Nathan to not leave the bank high and dry.

  “Not today,” Nathan said. “I came to town for supplies for the camp and to talk to your papa.”

  “So, then,” Holtwood said, a hand on Luke’s shoulder to lead him back toward the door, “since they were talking, you and I are going to let them continue with their business. You can visit your father another day.”

  “Bu—but—”

  “No, son,” Eli said, “Mr. Holtwood’s right. Go on with him.” He turned to the cashier. “Please give Luke a penny for candy. I’m sure Mr. Metcalf has something on the counter he’ll enjoy.”

  “G’bye, Uncle Nate. Please come back soon.”

  “I will. I promise.” When the door closed, Nathan faced Eli again. “Very well. I’ll wait, but not for so long that the bank is drained as dry as the land around these parts.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Eli crossed to Nathan’s side, hand outstretched. “I know we’re on the way to better days. I have faith.”

  Nathan clasped Eli’s fingers in his strong, warm grip. “So do I. That’s why I’m willing to give you—and the others—more time.”

  “I won’t let you down. And… if it looks as though things are going sour, well, then, I’ll send word. You can come withdraw your part.”

  “I’m sorry it is this way, but I must steward what Father left behind. Thank you for understanding.”

  As his friend left, Eli’s temples began to pound. Between the bank, the matters at home, and now with Cooky’s daughter injured, he felt as though he were being torn in two.

  A knock came at the door. “May I come in?” Holtwood asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I sent young Lucas with a handful of pennies. He promised he wouldn’t eat all the candy at one time.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help—more than I can say.”

  Silence thickened. Seconds ticked by. Eli wondered what his serious, highly efficient right-hand man wanted. Holtwood was rarely at a loss, so this perplexed him.

  “Can I do something for you?” he asked when he could no longer bear the wait.

  “No, sir.” The cashier met his gaze head-on. “I’m hoping I can help you. It’s about Luke. I understand how difficult it has been to care for him and your daughter since—well, the last two years. But I must say, you’ve been distracted of late, and I suspect it’s because of the children.”

  “I can’t deny it. They weigh heavily on me. I don’t know how to be both mother and father to them.”

  “Then let me make a suggestion. I have a friend back East. He’s the headmaster at the boarding school where I studied. I can contact him for you, make sure he has a spot for Luke. There is also a young ladies academy nearby. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have Miranda.”

  Eli dropped his pencil onto the blotter on his desk. “I know, I know. I’ve thought about it many times. I suppose it’s the most practical solution, and may be what’s best for them. Perhaps I’m being selfish, but I can’t imagine an empty home every evening.”

  “You must understand, considering the importance of your negotiations with the railroad, you must not let anything distract you. Not right now.”

  “You’re right, but… I’m not ready just yet. Besides, I’ve hired a new nanny—companion, we’re calling her, since the children feel they’re too old for a nanny. She seems quite promising.”

  “I hope the promise bears fruit, and soon. We can’t let this opportunity slip by us.”

  Eli sighed. “You’re right. Negotiations are at a critical point. I’ll keep your offer in mind. I won’t wait too long before deciding.”

  Holtwood gave a quick nod. “Do remember, Mr. Whitman, I’m here to help you. In any way you might need.”

  “You have been for years. You can’t imagine how I appreciate your help. Especially at a time like this, when things are so difficult.” He clapped a hand on Holtwood’s back. As he walked him to the door, a piece of paper on the corner of his desk caught his eye. “Did you see to the letter for the railroad?”

  “Yesterday. I have it with the rest of the correspondence for you to sign. I will admit, though, my penmanship’s not nearly as excellent as Harry’s was, but right now, we must make do with my attempts.”

  Harry O’Dell, secretary at the bank since Eli’s father had opened the doors, had died six months earlier. They’d been doing their best to manage since then, but Eli realized he’d put off finding a replacement for too long.

  He chuckled. “Then perhaps you’d enjoy penning one of your last missives today. Please prepare an advertisement I can send to a number of newspapers. It’s past time I replaced O’Dell.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  “I’m sure of that. I’m sorry I let it go on for so long. You’ve been doing too much for one man. I hope we find a secretary soon.”

  “I’ll see that we do, Mr. Whitman. Let me get right to it.”

  Eli closed the door behind hi
s head cashier—truthfully, Holtwood was far more than just a cashier, a run-of-the-mill employee. The man had been there for Eli’s father, and in the years since the older Whitman had died, he’d also been there for Eli through even the worst moments.

  He realized he’d been consumed by his troubles since things began to go wrong in his marriage to Victoria. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who’d paid for his late wife’s sins. Not only had his children suffered, but Holtwood—the bank—had also borne the consequences.

  Regardless, he had to make sure the bank didn’t go under.

  Nathan had said he didn’t want to lose what his father had worked for. Well, neither did Eli. He just hadn’t had the heart to let the farmers and ranchers go under when weather and insects had ravaged the land. He hoped doing what he believed had been the right thing didn’t cost him everything his father had left him.

  Chapter 9

  Working for Mr. Whitman provided Olivia with more benefits than she’d hoped. She was no longer a burden to Mama and Papa, and she earned a reasonable wage. While the banker’s children were… well, challenging, they were also intelligent and, occasionally, a joy to work with.

  Olivia counted her new relationship with Cooky as a promise for the future. The older woman had a down-to-earth approach to life and, since their truce, she’d noticed the cook had a way of finding the humor in many circumstances, something to be treasured when working with children.

  Finally, working for Mr. Whitman offered her the opportunity to live in town, which meant she could visit Addie on a regular basis.

  That Wednesday afternoon, after Olivia and Cooky finished their lunch of cold lamb slices from Sunday’s roast, a wedge of good cheese, Cooky’s fresh-baked bread, and the crisp apples from Mr. Newton’s nearby orchard, she donned her navy jacket, pulled on her gloves, and then gathered her leather drawstring purse to make her way down Main Street to the Tucker home. The crisp fall air bore the spicy tang of the season, and the bright sun lifted her spirits.

  At the Tuckers’ home, when she clanged the doorknocker against its brass plate, an unhappy Baby Joshua wailed his response. Moments later, a harried-looking Addie opened the door.