by Kit Morgan
“I am, I assure you. It was busy, wasn’t it?”
“I’ve had busier,” he commented. “And I’ve dealt with my share of demanding customers. But that Mrs. Overton and her daughter …” He shuddered. “Frightening.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of an old woman and her spinster daughter?”
He rolled his eyes. “Spinster being the operative word. If Mrs. Overton had her way, her shrewish daughter and I would be standing in front of Rev. Latsch at this very moment.”
She laughed again.
“You think it’s funny? While you were back there measuring Miss Overton, Mrs. Overton went on and on about the virtues of her daughter’s cooking, her total lack of sewing skills – which is why I would be such a godsend – and her sister in San Francisco who’s married to a shipping magnate, and wouldn’t I just love to join the family?” He glared at the ceiling.
Elizabeth’s hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. “She didn’t really say that, did she?”
“She might as well have. There aren’t any more like her in this town, are there?”
“No, the Overtons are the exception – and mercifully, they aren’t in town often. I’m not one to gossip, but rumor has it they feel they’re far above Cutter’s Creek.”
“Then why do they live here?”
“They don’t, not year-round. Most of the time they’re in San Francisco, or Utah Territory. They have relatives in both.”
He went to the counter and absently tapped his fingers on the surface. “That explains a few things. But if she wanted to marry off her daughter you’d think she’d try in San Francisco, not here. Or even Utah – there must be someone there looking for a wife.”
Elizabeth almost choked trying not to laugh. “Maybe she has without success. Who knows? It’s really none of our business.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“What sort of dress did they order?”
Bart made a face. “One like the one in the window.”
“That? But … that’s a ball gown. One could use it as a wedding gown, I suppose – around here that’s all one could use it for.”
“That’s what I told her. But as you say, they spend time in San Francisco. There it wouldn’t be shockingly out of place.”
“Why don’t you just sell her that one?”
His eyes widened. “No, I didn’t make it to sell. It … was an experiment. I wanted to see if I still, how should I say, had my touch.”
Elizabeth crossed the shop to the dress on display. “Well, you certainly do – it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” She touched the light green bodice, admiring the embroidery. “Really, your work is outstanding. Your talent is wasted out here in the boondocks.”
He came away from the counter. “I don’t see it that way. You’re as good as I am, and you’re out here.”
She closed the distance between them. “I mean it, Bart - you’re a skilled craftsman, a true artist. The only thing I haven’t seen you do is make a hat.”
He smiled good-naturedly. “That’s because I haven’t gotten around to it. Besides, I like your hats better. You could open a millinery shop anywhere this side of London.”
She blushed. “I do all right, but I’ve seen better.”
“So have I, and I’ve seen much worse as well. And they still sold.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have?”
“Yes, in Boston. And in other places I’ve visited – Nashville, Philadelphia, New York.”
Her eyes drifted to the workroom where several hats sat on a corner table. “I never thought I was very good at it.”
“You could hold your own in a big city, Elizabeth. You’d do good business there, I guarantee it.”
She looked at him. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
She blushed again. “But you’ve already done good business there, haven’t you? You must have, if you had to employ five people.”
He slowly nodded. “Yes.”
She studied him. “You miss it, don’t you?”
He met her gaze. “Sometimes, yes.”
She ran a finger along the counter. “Do you … ever think of going back to Boston?”
He watched her a moment, then shook her head. “No. I don’t belong there anymore. Granted, Boston does have a certain appeal. They don’t pay you in bushels of apples or baskets of eggs.”
She laughed. “You started that.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll never starve if I stay here.” He gazed into her eyes. “And neither will you.”
“Not now. I don’t know what I’ll do with all the eggs I have.”
“Bake something?”
She smiled. “You know, I think I shall.”
12
“Thank you for the butter,” Aggie said.
“There’s more where that came from,” Elizabeth told her with a laugh. “I’ve got more butter and eggs than I can use.”
Aggie bent to take another batch of cookies out of the oven. “If you keep putting plates of cookies on the shop counter for the customers, none of them will be able to fit into their dresses when they’re finished.”
“Willow said the same thing a few days ago,” Elizabeth told her. “She thinks I ought to open a sweet shop on the side. Like I’d have the time.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe Bart can run the dress shop and you can run the sweet shop.”
Elizabeth, who had started a cake, stopped stirring the batter and stared at her.
Aggie saw her expression and backed up a step. “It was just a suggestion. I didn’t mean … oh, never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“Me,” Aggie said. “I’m not thinking straight. Too many cookies.”
“You’ve only eaten three,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Far less than your usual.”
“Is that all?” Aggie asked then shrugged. “I guess I can’t hold my cookies like I used to.”
Elizabeth laughed and went back to stirring her batter. “I wonder what it would be like to own a couple of businesses like that.”
“I think between the two of you, you could do it.”
Elizabeth shrugged again. “It’s not like I’m married to the man. He’s just my employee.”
“Lizzy, are you sure he’s not more than that?”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he’s more like a business partner, don’t you think? He does far more than I ever did when I worked for you.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. “Oh,” she said, disappointed. But why would that be? Was she hoping Aggie would suggest that there be something more between her and Bart than a business relationship?
“I helped with the sewing, mending and all of that. But I’m no good at bookkeeping, not like Bart is. Even Eldon is impressed.”
“I don’t know why it would be a surprise,” Elizabeth said. “Bart was a businessman before he ever came to Cutter’s Creek. Why should it impress anyone?”
Aggie started moving cookies from the pan to a plate. “Because he’s become an employee, I guess. Bart Brown is used to being in charge.”
Elizabeth stopped again. Aggie was right. Bart worked for her, after those first fumbling days. Yet in the short time he’d been there, he’d easily doubled her business. He didn’t demand credit for it either, save a little good-natured teasing, or any extra money. Did he want compensation in the future? Maybe – there was that line about asking for a raise. And he’d wondered aloud how many eggs they could eat between them over the next few weeks. She giggled at the thought and went back to stirring.
“What’s so funny?” Aggie asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about all the eggs we’ve taken in over the last couple of weeks.”
“Yes, I know. Eldon keeps wondering why I’ve been making so many omelets. Emma likes them, though.” She sighed. “Poor Emma, her back’s been bothering her lately.”
“Sh
e’s lucky to have you around. You did the right thing, leaving the shop.”
“Just think – if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have such a booming business right now.”
Her comment stung a little, but it was true. Bart had done a fantastic job. Which made Elizabeth wonder: what if he ran the business instead of her? Would he bring the shop even more customers? Then again, she wasn’t sure there were any more customers to bring in. If they were in a larger town or city, on the other hand …
“What kind of cake are you baking?” Aggie asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Chocolate. Bart mentioned it was his favorite, so …”
Aggie smiled slyly. “So you just happen to be making a chocolate cake. Quite a coincidence.”
Elizabeth’s expression went flat. “I like chocolate too.”
Aggie laughed and shook her head. “Elizabeth, tell me true. Aren’t you the least bit attracted to him?”
Elizabeth almost dropped the mixing bowl. “What?”
“You have to admit, he’s a handsome man now that he’s cleared all the hair away.”
“Trimmed,” Elizabeth corrected.
“You know what I mean,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “At least we can see his face now.”
Elizabeth smiled and did her best not to laugh. “It was awful, wasn’t it? Sometimes I felt like I was talking to a wild animal.”
Aggie nodded as she tried to stifle her giggles. “I thought the same thing. Eldon and Lucius never seemed to care, but Emma and I …” Another eye roll.
“I can only imagine. At least I’m not the only one.”
Aggie shook her head. “No, you weren’t. Emma and I kept speculating what he looked like under it. He’ll have no problem finding a wife when he wants one.”
Elizabeth poured the cake batter into a pan, her eyes fixed on her work. “No, he won’t.”
Aggie watched her a moment. “Do you ever think of getting married again?”
“Enough!” Elizabeth slammed the bowl onto the worktable. “Why is everyone so concerned about that? First Willow, now you.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Aggie said in her defense. “I’m just curious. Besides, it’s like, I don’t know, like you’re getting the chance to have everything you lost. I can’t understand why you don’t take it.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Elizabeth said as she scraped what was left of the batter into the cake pans. “And I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She set the bowl down. “I’ll tell you what I told Willow. We wouldn’t suit.”
“Wouldn’t suit? Or are you just scared? Maybe you don’t mind being alone, but for most it’s not by choice. Sometimes things happen.”
“Like losing a husband,” Elizabeth replied dourly.
“Yes, you lost your husband, but it’s been years. If you prefer to be alone, that’s fine, but when you don’t have to …”
“Bart has given me no reason to think that he’d be good company. Or that he’d want to keep company with me.” She set the bowl to the side and turned away. “How did we get on this subject?”
Aggie put a hand on her shoulder. “Because I brought it up. I’ve seen the way you look at Eldon and me, and at Emma and Lucius. I wouldn’t say it’s envy, Lizzy, but there’s something there. I know that you want what I have. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Elizabeth stared at her, her heart in her throat. Aggie wasn’t wrong. She closed her eyes and turned away again.
“I’ve said too much. I’m sorry, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth took the cake pans and put them in the oven. When she straightened she looked at Aggie. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped earlier. It’s just that, if you and Willow assume that Bart and I should be together, who else is going to? The longer he works for me … soon the whole town will start.”
“Except for Mrs. Overton. Story is Martha has her cap set for Bart. Of course, Mrs. Overton would have everyone think it was the other way around.”
Elizabeth groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Aggie shook her head.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” She sighed. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing Bart can’t handle. Besides, Martha’s dress is done. Once they pick it up there’s no need for them to come into the shop anymore.”
“Unless they order another. They certainly have the money.”
“Please, don’t even suggest such a thing. It’s all I can do to take Martha’s constant sour expression. I’ve never seen a more unhappy spinster.”
“Maybe she’s so unhappy because she is a spinster,” Aggie suggested.
Elizabeth stared at her a moment, sighed again, and found herself hoping she didn’t wind up the same.
“Another dress, Mrs. Overton?” Bart said, his tone flat. Good grief, it was all he could do to get through the first one he’d made for her. “But the dress I just made is perfect on your daughter.”
“Which is why I’d like another,” Mrs. Overton said as she gazed down her nose at him in the workroom.
Bart stood. Better to deal with the woman where she couldn’t loom over him like a vulture. “Very well. If you’d like another dress, we shall have it for you after the picnic. Neither Mrs. Cornell or I could possibly fit one into the work schedule and have it done before.”
“What a pity,” Mrs. Overton said, sighing theatrically. “But I suppose you are busy – we’ve only a week to go after all. At least I know Martha will be the best-dressed lady attending. Thanks to you.”
He nodded in thanks and forced half a smile. Not that she deserved one – the woman was odious, cantankerous, demanding and the second-rudest customer he’d ever had. (The worst had been a whaling ship’s first mate back in Boston in ’57, who had the vocabulary of a scatologist – he’d finally had his employees throw the old tar bodily out of the shop.) He did his best to keep her away from Elizabeth, lest she suffer too.
“Martha will just have to spend time with you at the picnic and afterwards.”
That got his attention. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ll of course want to show off your work in public, won’t you? What better time than the town picnic?”
Bart felt himself go pale. Was the woman out of her mind? Spend the picnic with Martha Overton – what a fate! “Your daughter is perfectly capable of telling people where she got the dress. Besides, everyone in town knows I made one for her.”
“Which is why you should be there side-by-side with my Martha so you can tell everyone what a lovely time you had making such an extravagance.”
“Mrs. Overton, Martha’s fine form will show off the dress and speak for itself.” Now he was just plain lying – Martha’s sallow skin and bad posture would do his work no justice, even with the corset he’d installed.
She smiled with satisfaction. “So glad you think so. Martha will be pleased to hear it.”
He smiled tightly, offering no further comment.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if she starts to call you Bart.”
“What!?”
“Well, if you’re going to start calling her by her Christian name, she might as well do the same.”
“Mrs. Overton, that would be highly improper.”
“Don’t be silly, young man – it’s perfectly proper.” She turned on her heel and headed for the door. “I’ll have Martha back here tomorrow for new measurements.”
Bart stared after her, then returned to the workroom to straighten things up. His brain was still mulling over the impending horror of being on a first-name basis with Martha Overton. How could she think it was all right? It wasn’t as if they were courting …
His eyes widened. Oh no! “Mrs. Overton!” he cried – just as the shop’s door closed behind her. He took a step after her, wanting to correct this now. What was the woman thinking? Other than to try and pawn her daughter off on him.
Now that he thought on it, people
had been giving him strange looks of late when he ran errands. And though no one had said anything, he wouldn’t put it past either Mrs. or Miss Overton to be spreading rumors around town that he was not only sweet on her, but that they were courting – a revolting thought. Even if Martha Overton wasn’t such a sour-faced, bore, she was also at least ten years his senior.
“Bart? Are you back there?” Elizabeth called from the front of the shop. She’d left to run an errand, something having to do with the picnic.
“Yes, I’m here.”
She came into the workroom and removed her gloves. “I think everything’s coming along nicely for the picnic.”
“The prizes are set, then?”
“Yes, Rev. Latsch and Mary are very pleased with the turnout of volunteers. Especially since this is the first time the town’s done such a thing. He said it was the same with the Christmas festival. Everyone was very helpful.”
“So I’ve heard. Eldon can’t wait until next year.”
“I saw Mrs. Overton a few moments ago. Did she come by the shop?”
“Yes,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “And Hell rode with her.”
She chuckled. “Come now, she’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say, she’s not trying to marry you off to her daughter.”
Elizabeth laughed, then stopped. “What now?”
“Miss Overton and I are now apparently on a first-name basis, and her mother expects me to spend my time at the picnic with her and the dress I made. Something about advertisement.”
Elizabeth shook her head and laughed again. In fact she was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop.
“I’m glad you find this amusing, but I don’t. And she ordered another dress.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and got herself under control. “What’s wrong with that? It is more business.”
“True, but Mrs. Overton’s parting words this afternoon were something about measuring Martha again.”
“You didn’t measure her the first time.”
“Exactly, but it seems she expects me to now. Probably hoping to catch us in some compromising position so she can force me to marry her daughter.”
Elizabeth blanched. “She wouldn’t dare.”
