by Keli Gwyn
“There’s Aunt Livy!” Dot called out. “Doesn’t she look pretty? I picked out her dress.” The darling girl had chosen a ruby-red silk that was one of Lavinia’s favorites. Although not a color a bridesmaid would wear under normal circumstances, Gladys had pronounced it a fitting choice, saying it would go well with her green one and lend the wedding a Christmas feel.
Alex hushed Dot, but Lavinia barely registered the interruption. She was drawn to Henry, who stood beside the piano in hushed conversation with one of the guests. He wore his cutaway coat, as he had at Thanksgiving, and looked more handsome than ever. He turned, saw her and froze, his lips parted. For a fleeting moment, she imagined what it would be like to walk down the aisle to a fine man like him.
A memory of Pauline walking to Jack, her face aglow, flashed through Lavinia’s mind. Her father had spurned her sister because of her choice, though. Lavinia couldn’t endure that. With her mother and Pauline gone, her father was all she had left. He was counting on her to carry out his wishes. Even though getting guardianship of the children was proving to be more difficult than she’d thought, she wouldn’t let him down.
Henry sent her an appreciative smile and took his place at the piano. She waited for the music to begin, realizing too late that she hadn’t asked him what he’d be playing as she descended. If anyone could come up with something fitting, however, he could. She’d learned during their caroling practices that he could hear a piece twice and pick it up. As if that wasn’t enough, he had a repertoire unlike anyone she’d ever known.
The first notes floated to her, causing her breath to hitch. He’d chosen a familiar tune by a fellow Scotsman, “O, My Love’s Like a Red, Red Rose.” She could recite every word of Robert Burns’s beloved poem. But why had Henry picked that song out of the many he knew? Could it be that he’d seen her in her red dress, been struck by her appearance and—
What was she thinking? He’d obviously chosen the romantic piece in honor of Gladys and Mr. Staples, celebrating their newfound love.
Despite her racing heart, Lavinia descended the stairs with no mishaps and stood by the minister, with Mr. Staples and his brother on the opposite side. Gladys glided down next, her eyes locked on her adoring groom.
The ceremony, although brief, affected Lavinia deeply. If Gladys could find love later in life, there was hope for Lavinia. One day, if it was God’s will, she would gaze at her new husband with adoration just as Gladys was gazing at Mr. Staples.
The minister pronounced the couple man and wife. Mr. Staples gave Gladys such an ardent kiss afterward that the dear woman’s cheeks turned as red as Lavinia’s dress.
Dot giggled. A mysterious look passed between Alex and Marcie. What were those two up to now? Lavinia wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She glanced at the doorways off the entryway. Other than the mistletoe in Gladys’s bouquet, there was none to be seen.
The men rushed forward to congratulate Mr. Staples while Lavinia hurried over to Gladys and grasped her hand. “I’m thrilled for you, Mrs. Staples.”
Dot appeared at Lavinia’s left, Alex and Marcie on her right.
“Do we have to call her Mrs. Staples now?” Marcie asked.
Gladys responded before Lavinia could. “I had a talk with your uncle, and he said it would be all right for you to call me Grandma S, if you’d like. Mr. Staples could be Grandpa S.”
Dot clapped her hands. “Goody! We’ve never had a grandma and grandpa before.”
The floor under Lavinia’s feet seemed to shift. “How did that happen?” Henry’s choice would make it even harder on the children when she gained custody and took them away.
“I mentioned to Henry how happy I was to marry but let it slip that I would miss the children when—”
“No!” Lavinia exclaimed. If the children learned about her plans to take them back to Philadelphia with her before she and Henry had come to an agreement, things could get complicated in a hurry.
Gladys smiled sweetly. “It’s all right, my dear. I was just going to say that I’ll miss them when I get back to town and am living in Mr. Staples’s house. That’s all. There’s no need to say anything else, is there?” Her words were innocent enough, but Lavinia detected an unspoken message. Had Gladys chosen to take Henry’s side regarding the guardianship? They had spent a good deal of time together. He’d even figured out how to make her laugh.
“Everything’s fine.” Lavinia resisted the urge to fan herself with her hand. The room had grown warm all of a sudden. She needed to get out of there. She raised her voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention!”
The buzz of conversations ceased. “In honor of Mr. and Mrs. Staples’s marriage, we have refreshments for you in the parlor. Feel free to help yourselves.” Gladys had offered to make the desserts herself, but Henry had overheard her and insisted on doing the baking. He’d spent most of yesterday filling the house with mouthwatering scents.
The guests joined the happy couple around tables laden with tempting treats. Henry had seen to it that there was a nice selection. If he wanted, he could open a bakery and make a success of it. Lavinia sighed. Was there anything he couldn’t do?
Henry remained behind, moving the chairs the guests had used during the ceremony back into the dining room. Lavinia followed him and waited until the last of the chairs was in place. “Could we talk?”
“Now? There’s a wedding reception taking place across the way.” He inclined his head toward the parlor.
“It won’t take long. Gladys said you told the children they could call her and her husband, grandma and grandpa.”
“I take it you don’t like the idea.”
She didn’t. It would be hard enough for the children to say goodbye to their friends as it was. Having to leave behind a set of honorary grandparents would make the parting even more difficult. “They already have a grandfather.”
Henry gripped the back of the chair he’d just set in its place, drew in a breath and released it slowly. His tone was firm but kind. “They do, but he’s shown no interest in them before now. I realize he expects you to return with them, but I have to ask myself, why now, after all this time?”
“He wants to get to know them, to give them opportunities they don’t have here.”
“Perhaps, but he doesn’t know what they have here, and he doesn’t want to. You do. You’ve seen how happy they are. Taking them away isn’t the answer, Lavinia.” He closed the distance between them and looked into her eyes, his gaze tender but probing. “Deep down, you know that. You must.”
Thinking clearly grew difficult when he was so close, so caring, so...captivating. She struggled to come up with a strong argument. “I know you believe they’re better off here. That making wreaths, singing carols and skating in their stockings is enough. But there’s more to life than that. California is in its infancy. There are those who expect great things to happen here someday, but those things are available back east right now. My father can see that the children have access to the best our country has to offer. You want that for them, don’t you?”
A burst of childish laughter in the parlor put a smile on Henry’s face. Marcie’s, if Lavinia wasn’t mistaken. Henry glanced at the doorway and back at her. His expression and his voice softened, almost like a caress, even though he hadn’t touched her. “I want them to be happy. I want the same for you, but I don’t think taking the children back to your father’s house is the answer. You’ve been happy here. It’s given you an opportunity to break free, to see what you’re capable of.”
She wasn’t sure about herself, but he was capable of muddling her mind, making her question things she’d taken for granted. She was happy. Wasn’t she? She had a good life back home, and she could offer the children the same. She must keep her goal in mind. “California has more to offer than I would have thought, but it’s all the children have known. If they could
see Philadelphia for themselves, they might appreciate it just as much. There were things you liked about it, weren’t there?”
“Since my parents passed on shortly after Jack and Pauline’s wedding, I can honestly say that everything I want is right here in Sutter Creek.”
His statement, uttered with those softly rolled R’s and such sincerity, filled her with hope. Was Henry letting her know that he liked having her here? Or was she just hearing what she wanted to hear? She’d have to give that some thought later, but what she needed now was to steer the conversation in a new direction before he figured out the effect he had on her. “Well, I’m here now, and I intend to see that the children have a good Christmas. My party should go a long way to making that happen.”
Henry took a step back, breaking the delightful sense of connection she’d felt with him. “How are things coming with that?”
“Just fine.” She wasn’t about to tell him that no one had responded to the advertisement she’d tacked up at the mercantile seeking a housekeeper. It had only been two days, though. She planned to talk with the ladies after the church service tomorrow. Surely, they would know if any of the womenfolk in town were seeking employment.
“Have you heard from the puppet company?”
She’d sent two letters but had yet to receive a reply. “I expect an answer Monday.”
“Let me know if you don’t get one. I mentioned the possibility of performing to my ventriloquist friend, and he said he’d be interested.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” If she was to convince the children that she could offer them a life unlike anything they’d ever imagined, she needed to do this on her own.
The clearing of a throat drew her attention. One of the guests stood in the doorway. Lavinia couldn’t recall his name, but she remembered Mr. Staples saying that he was a banker. She’d never met him before, having only dealt with the teller.
Thankfully, Henry took charge. “Was there something you needed, Mr. Nichols?”
“I noticed you two were alone, so I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you.”
“Is something wrong?” The concern in Henry’s tone didn’t bode well.
“I’d like you to come into my office Monday to talk about the mortgage payment.”
“What mortgage?” Henry asked. “Jack owned his shop outright.”
“It’s not the smithy I’m talking about. It’s the house.”
Henry threw up his hands in shock. “No! You must be mistaken.”
The dread in his voice sent a chill racing through Lavinia. “Are you certain, Mr. Nichols? I don’t recall hearing anything about a mortgage.”
“I’m sorry.” The banker took a step back. “I can see this has come as a surprise. If you’ll stop by my office Monday, we can sort things out then.”
“We’ll be there.” She nodded, and Mr. Nichols left.
Henry paced the length of the room three times and came to a stop before her, his breathing rapid and his hands clenched at his sides. “This makes no sense. Jack never said a word about taking out a loan.”
“Pauline never mentioned anything in her letters either. Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. You didn’t find anything to that effect in Jack’s files, did you?”
Henry shook his head. “I didn’t look.”
She kept her voice low, her tone free of accusation. Letting him know that she was watching his every move, seeking grounds to challenge him in court, could undermine her efforts. “They’ve been gone three months, but you haven’t looked through his desk?”
He dropped into a chair and raked his fingers through his hair. “I should have. I meant to. I even tried several times, but...” A red flush crept up his neck as he stared at the rug.
Despite her eagerness to find enough material to convince a lawyer to take on her case, her heart went out to Henry. She’d been so focused on helping the children deal with their grief that she hadn’t thought about what he was going through. She pulled out a chair and sat facing him. “It’s all right. We’ll do it together. Tonight, after the children are in bed.”
She waited for him to speak, the merriment in the parlor a sharp contrast to the silence in the dining room. Several seconds passed before he responded. When he finally did, his voice was thick. “Thank you for the offer. I appreciate it. And if you need my help with the party, what with Gladys being gone and all, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Not that she had any intention of taking him up on his offer. This was her opportunity to make an impression on the children, as well as the townspeople, and earn some goodwill. That could come in handy if she found herself facing a jury comprised of locals, which seemed more likely, thanks to the banker’s revelation.
She’d prayed for grounds to have Henry’s rights as executor and guardian revoked. If what Mr. Nichols had said was true and there was an outstanding mortgage, she might have found just what she needed to secure representation and build a case.
For some reason, that didn’t make her as happy as she’d expected.
Chapter Eleven
“Take all the time you need, Henry.” Norma cast a glance at the two girls playing in her parlor and smiled. “Yvonne welcomes any opportunity to spend time with Dot.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t like to take advantage of their neighbor’s generosity, but with Gladys married and off on her honeymoon with Mr. Staples, and Lavinia already downtown on an errand of some sort, Henry had no choice. He couldn’t take a four-year-old to a business meeting. Not that he wanted to go at all.
The weekend had flown by. Normally, he looked forward to Monday and the start of a new week filled with opportunities and adventures, but he wasn’t looking forward to what Mr. Nichols had to say.
Even though a search of Jack’s desk hadn’t resulted in the discovery of mortgage papers, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The banker had spoken with certainty after Gladys’s wedding, his startling message having clenched Henry’s stomach.
Lavinia had tackled the hunt for the documents with determination and her usual thoroughness, searching every closet, cupboard and bureau in the house. She must be as eager to disprove Mr. Nichols as he was. A man could do well with an ally like her.
And speaking of Lavinia, she’d be waiting at the bank for him, and she valued punctuality. He’d best hustle.
Henry arrived on Main Street just as Lavinia stepped out of the mercantile. Her shoulders sagged, and she shook her head.
He strode after her, catching up to her as she neared the bank. “Lavinia.”
She stopped and turned his way. “Oh, good. You’re not there yet. I was afraid I was going to be late.”
He stifled a smile. Evidently, she’d been baking. “Looks like you tangled with some flour. I’ll take care of it for you.” He brushed her cheek, removing the powdery streak. Her skin was soft, her eyes wide. He stared at his hand, which he had yet to remove, and jerked it away.
“Did you get it all?” Her question came out whisper soft.
“I believe so. You look lovely.”
Lovely? What had come over him? First, he’d let his big ol’ paw linger, and then he’d opened his mouth, spouting words he hadn’t meant to utter. She was a beautiful woman, though. He smiled every time he thought about her standing at the top of the stairs in that red gown, waiting to come down before Gladys had. Lavinia had so captivated him that he’d begun playing one of the Scottish tunes his father had taught him when he was a wee lad. She’d looked as surprised by his choice as he’d been.
“Thank you. We should be going.” She set off down the plank walkway at a brisk pace, her boot heels tapping out a staccato beat.
He matched his stride to hers. “Is everything all right? You were frowning when you came out of the shop.”
“I’ve had a bit of a setback regarding the party. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“I appreciate the offer, but you’ve already done so much. I’m sure things will work out.”
Her independence was an admirable trait, but one that made it difficult for her to accept help. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
She nodded but said nothing.
They reached the bank moments later and went inside.
“Welcome. I’ve been expecting you.” Mr. Nichols crossed the lobby, extended his hand and shook Henry’s. Lavinia offered hers, and the banker shook it as well. “Let’s go to my office, shall we?” He swept an arm toward the doorway beside the teller’s cage.
Lavinia perched on the flowery armless chair in front of the banker’s expansive desk, looking every bit the elegant lady she was, despite the fleck of flour Henry had missed. He took a seat in the supple leather wingback chair. The well-appointed room smelled of furniture polish, India ink and money.
Mr. Nichols plopped down on his centripetal spring armchair, a clever creation on wheels that had Henry imagining what it would take to forge an intricate design like that. The banker reached into a drawer and pulled out a document and ledger. He flipped open the latter, thumbed through it until he came to the page he was after and set a paperweight on the opposite one to keep the book open to that spot.
Henry’s stomach pitched when he read the words Hawthorn Mortgage at the top of the page. Despite having found nothing in the house to indicate Jack having taken out a loan, it appeared he’d done so. Henry ventured a glance at Lavinia. She, too, was looking at the name penned in crisp black letters.
Unlike him, she appeared to take the revelation in stride. Her calmness while awaiting the news of what would happen to the home Jack and Pauline had worked hard to provide for their family was admirable.
