Hope's Design (The Daughters of Riverton Book 2)

by Dawn Kinzer

  “I’m here at Annie’s request.”

  “You saw her at the store?”

  He nodded. “Jake and I came into town to get a few supplies. Annie got word that she could take a look at the house she wants to convert into a library, so she took her lunch break and headed over there with Jake. She’d like us to meet them there.”

  “My cousin isn’t one to dawdle, is she?” Hope closed her paint box and dropped her paintbrush into a small can of water. “In less than seven days she’s managed to set an idea into motion.”

  “Annie has never lacked enthusiasm.” Ben grabbed his hat from the table and plopped it on his head as he opened the front door for Hope.

  “I just hope it doesn’t lead her down a long path of disappointment.”

  ***

  Ben surveyed the front of the small run-down house and gave a low whistle. “It’s worse than I expected.” White paint—or what used to be white—peeled from the weathered exterior. Cracked windows bordered the warped door, and two of the four porch steps were broken through.

  “Maybe the inside looks more promising.” Hope climbed the steps, avoiding holes created by rotted wood giving way.

  Poor Annie. Her excitement had blinded her to the difficult, if not impossible, task ahead of her. Ben took a deep breath and followed Hope into the house.

  “I’m so glad you came. Isn’t it wonderful?” Annie flung her hands into the air and twirled around. “Mrs. Jorgenson agrees.”

  The sweet older woman stood with her hands clasped and a grin on her soft, wrinkled face, as though thoroughly delighted. “It is something, isn’t it? Riverton having its own public library.”

  Annie nodded heartily. “We still have to convince the town council, but I don’t see how they could turn us down once they hear our plan.”

  Ben groaned inside. What was it about women and their fantasies? Didn’t they see the wreckage in front of them? Filth covered the walls, animal droppings were scattered across the floor, and the place smelled like... The building should be torn down.

  Jake was nowhere to be seen, so Ben would let Hope be the voice of reason. She may be the only person who could get Annie to open her eyes to the undertaking ahead. Only, Hope didn’t refute her cousin’s statements. Instead, she wandered from one room, seeming to hang on every word coming from her cousin’s lips.

  Annie pointed. “Books would be checked out at a desk here. We can fit in two small tables and chairs there.”

  “The light from this window is quite nice.” Hope’s eyes shone. “What do you think about having several reading chairs here?” Her imagination must have caught up to Annie’s.

  “Oh, that would be lovely!” Mrs. Jorgenson beamed at the other two women. “I was also thinking how nice it would be to plant flowers in the front yard. They’d make the library even more welcoming.”

  Next they’d be talking about hanging frilly curtains in the windows and serving tea and cookies to reading groups. Ben sighed. Were they trying to create a library or a ladies’ club?

  A door slammed from the rear of the house, and Jake sauntered in from another room.

  Finally, another male influence. “Where have you been?”

  “I was just out back checking on some things.” Jake wiped his hands on his overalls and meandered over to the women. “The outhouse will have to be rebuilt. As far as the house itself, the foundation seems solid, so that’s a relief. But this place won’t be ready to open any time soon.”

  Annie hugged herself. “I’m in no hurry.”

  Yeah, right. Ben wiped his forehead. He was already sweating, and work on the place hadn’t even started. Annie may claim not being in a rush, but if her current speed was any indication, no hurry could mean she wanted the library doors open as soon as next week.

  “You mentioned a plan.” Hope spoke softly. “How are you going to convince the town council to let you have the building without cost? And if they do, then what?”

  “We’ve put together some ideas, haven’t we, Mrs. Jorgenson?”

  The older woman nodded and smiled.

  Annie held up her hand and pointed to her pointer finger. “One. It will be important to get the townspeople and farmers involved. Ben and Jake are going to need help with carpentry and other repairs. For instance, we’ll need bookshelves.” She pointed to her middle finger. “Two. We’ve already spoken to several ladies who are willing to help clean and paint.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Jake said, “but where is all the money going to come from to do these projects?”

  “I was getting to that.” Annie held up her ring finger. “Three. We plan to hold several fundraisers, yet to be determined, but we have a few ideas. Those events will also involve volunteers from the community, which will help more people feel like they’re contributing to the library.”

  “It will be costly to fill this room alone with books.” Concern flooded Hope’s voice. “Most people living around here don’t make large wages. There’s nothing wrong with simple living, but you have to consider that even though people may be willing to give all they can, the contributions might still not be enough. What if it takes all the money you raise just to make the place habitable?”

  “I’ve thought about that.” The light in Annie’s eyes dimmed. “I’m not ignorant of the challenges.”

  “I sure hope that’s true.” Not intending to reveal his doubt, the tone in Ben’s voice did the job anyway.

  Hope’s eyes flashed. “Ben!”

  Her reprimand in front of the others pricked his ego, but even worse was the hurt expression on Annie’s face. That weighed heavily on Ben’s heart. “I’m sorry, Annie, I didn’t mean...” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But if he tried to explain that he wanted to help and protect her, it might make matters worse. He’d just keep quiet, and then somehow find a way to make it up to her.

  ***

  With their visit to the intended library completed, Hope grew anxious to return to her sketching.

  “Hope, would you mind riding with Ben and Jake?” Annie chewed the lower corner of her lip. “I need to take Mrs. Jorgenson home before returning to the store, and I’ve already been gone longer than I should have been.”

  “Of course, Annie.” Hope glanced at the two men waiting. “Mr. Carter is an understanding employer, but we don’t want to take advantage of his easy-going nature. We can talk more over supper.”

  “Thank you for coming, everyone.” Annie helped Mrs. Jorgenson into her buggy.

  Hope walked over to the wagon and Jake helped her up, then slid next to her so she was sandwiched between the two men. Jake seemed perfectly comfortable, but Ben squirmed slightly and inched away from her. Should she be offended? Did he find her unattractive or had he moved out of respect? He hadn’t shoved her away the other night at the farm when she’d tripped outside his shed—he’d held on and seemed hesitant to let go. Hope folded her hands in her lap and tried to stay put as the wagon jolted and moved down the road.

  Jake leaned forward and faced Ben. “Remember, we need to stop at the blacksmith shop. The new harnesses should be ready.” He slid back and smiled at Hope. “It won’t take up much time. Promise.”

  “I don’t mind.” Even if she did, it would be unreasonable to object. The blacksmith was just up ahead. Annie’s house was on their way out of town, so it didn’t make sense for them to take Hope there and then return. It would also take longer for her to walk the rest of the way home than it would for her to wait for Jake to take care of his business.

  “Whoa.” Ben guided the horses to a stop near the blacksmith’s building.

  Jake jumped to the ground. “I’ll take care of it.” He strode through open doors leading inside where sounds of hammers striking metal rang from within.

  She should be home, filling in the lines of the dress with that beautiful shade of blue. If she finished before noon the next day and was pleased with the results, she could still mail the design to Butterick and meet this month’s deadline for subm
issions.

  Instead, she sat next to a man who in every way seemed complicated. He could irritate her one minute and make her heart race the next. No man had ever confused Hope more.

  The silence between them made it difficult to sit still, and she slid over a bit toward Jake’s empty spot on the bench. She should say something—anything. Find out why Ben seemed so unsupportive of Annie’s ideas for the library. The other day he expressed willingness to help, but his attitude today annoyed Hope. Even more importantly, his lack of enthusiasm had clearly hurt Annie’s feelings.

  “You’re not going to get away with this, Jamie McFarland!” A tall, muscular man wearing a leather apron and covered with black soot rounded the corner of the building, chasing a scrawny male. He grabbed the man he called Jamie, spun him around, lifted him, and dangled him in the air like a puppet.

  Jamie tried to break free. “I didn’t mean to, Charlie! Honest!”

  “You thieving scoundrel! I oughta hang you!” Charlie dropped him so his feet touched the ground, then with his right fist, made a swift upper cut to Jamie’s chin.

  Hope sat at the edge of her seat. “Ben! Please do something!”

  “It’s none of our business.” Ben’s jaw hardened. “It’s better to leave it alone.”

  Charlie hit Jamie in the face, then the ribs, and the leaner man doubled over before he dropped to his knees.

  Hope tasted bile. How could Ben not help the poor man? “I can’t just sit here and watch!” She moved to the side of the wagon and prepared to step down.

  Ben grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the seat. “Don’t be a fool. You can’t get in the middle of that.”

  He called her foolish for wanting to stop a fight? Her throat burned.

  Blood flowed from the corner of Jamie’s mouth. “Please, Charlie...stop.”

  Jake strolled out through the doors of the blacksmith shop.

  Hope stood. “Jake, help him!” She pointed to the scuffling.

  Jake dropped his package on the ground and ran over to the two fighting men. “What’s going on here?” He tried to pull the blacksmith away, got hit in the nose with Charlie’s elbow, and staggered back. “Come on, Charlie. You don’t want to do this.”

  “Ah—he’s no good!” Charlie pushed Jamie away, and breathing heavily, wiped his brow. “I gave this lowlife a job at my shop—a chance to make things better for himself, and he stole from me.”

  Jamie sat on his ankles. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I won’t ever do it again. I promise.”

  “You better believe you won’t.” Charlie spat on the ground. “I’m done with ya. I got my money back, but if I ever see you near my door again, I’ll press charges and you’ll end up in prison.” Charlie stalked back into the building.

  Hope took advantage of Ben’s distraction and escaped the wagon. She scurried over to the two beaten men. “Are you all right?”

  “You should get the doc to look at you.” Jake put an arm around Jamie and helped him stand. “Want us to take you over there?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Jamie rubbed his jaw.

  “Stay away from Charlie.” Jake picked up the package he’d dropped. “You don’t need any more trouble.”

  “No worry there. I aim to keep my distance.” Jamie brushed himself off. “Thanks for your help. I thought he was going to knock my head off. But I had it coming. It wasn’t right what I did. I—I don’t know what got into me.” He shook hands with Jake, then trudged down the street with his chin down.

  Hope wanted to hug Jake. “That was valiant, jumping in and stopping that bully from beating on this poor man.”

  “Valiant? Me?” A triumphant grin slid onto his face.

  “He could have killed Jamie.” Her stomach still churned from what she’d just witnessed. Her mind conjured Henry’s face—those angry eyes. The pain from his words even worse than his digging grip that left marks on her arm for days.

  “Charlie can get mighty angry when provoked, but he’d never take it that far.” Jake took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood dripping from his nose.

  “It was still a brave thing to do. Not everyone has that kind of courage. Even when I begged your brother to step in, he refused to leave the wagon.” Her gut on fire, Hope couldn’t even look in Ben’s direction.

  A look mixed with concern, horror, and apology flashed in Jake’s eyes. He helped her into the wagon, got settled in himself, then nodded at his brother. “Let’s head home.”

  Not saying a word, Ben lifted the reins and started the horses moving.

  They rode in silence, each of them staring straight ahead, until they reached Annie’s house. Hope’s clenched hands remained on her lap. Ben hadn’t even tried to protect Jamie from Charlie’s blows. Why?

  Jake helped her down from the wagon and walked her to the door. Hope turned to say good-bye to Ben, but he stared straight ahead, his face hardened.

  She reached for the doorknob, then withdrew her hand. “Jake—”

  “I know the fight upset you.” He spoke softly, then sighed. “But don’t judge someone you barely know. My brother...”

  “Why didn’t Ben try to stop him? Explain it to me.”

  “Hope, I can’t.” Jake shoved fingers through his messy hair. “It’s his story to share. If and when he decides he can trust you.”

  chapter NINE

  Hope fingered the rejection letter from the Butterick Publishing Company concerning several drawings she’d submitted a month ago, two weeks prior to arriving in Riverton. What chance did she have to get her ideas noticed? Most of the designs chosen for patterns, as well as placement in The Delineator, were submitted by merchandisers who brought them back from European showings.

  She sighed and stuffed the letter temporarily in a drawer behind the store counter. This would never do—this wallowing in self-pity. What would her mother think?

  No need to wonder. In her gentle way, she’d tell Hope that thankfulness for the position at the Home Store and time spent with Annie would soften disappointment. She would also, in so many words, remind Hope that trusting God to show her the path he’d designed for her would provide strength to keep trying.

  According to the large clock on the wall, she’d used her entire break going through mail Annie had picked up at the post office earlier that morning. With a raised chin and shoulders pulled back, Hope studied the customers milling in the aisles and around the displays. Though not the sixteen-story Butterick building in Manhattan, the Home Store was a lovely and friendly place. For now, it was also where she was employed, and she needed to focus on the tasks in front of her.

  Clara Boyle, the widow with four children Hope had met at church, rushed to the counter. “Good afternoon.”

  “How nice to see you, Clara.” Hope offered a generous smile to the seamstress. “How may I help you?”

  “I’d like your opinion. I’m trying to choose between two fabrics, and I can’t make up my mind which would be better suited for this particular dress. The pattern suggests several.” Clara blushed. “It’s a gift for Rose’s fourteenth birthday. Somethin’ to wear to church and for special occasions. There’s never been much money to spend on fancy duds, and Rose never complains about her plain clothes, but she’s at that age where most young women want to feel pretty.”

  “You’re sweet to be so considerate of your daughter.” Hope eyed the woman’s bundles. “Let’s take a look at your choices.”

  Clara laid two bolts of cloth across the counter—one pale blue silk and one lighter weight lavender with a tiny floral print.

  “If I remember correctly, Rose is the oldest with brown curls and beautiful chestnut-colored eyes.” Hope caressed the material lightly with her fingers, then picked up the Butterick pattern Clara had laid next to them. It showed a standup collar, three rows of pleats extending from the shoulder to the waist, and a wide lawn ruffle around the bottom. “I’d choose the lavender with satin ribbon for trim. It will complement her coloring and look feminine without
appearing too sophisticated for her age.”

  “Oh, thank you. That’s what I was leanin’ toward, but I want her to be happy, and you being a fashion designer and all...”

  “I’m more of an aspiring designer.” She placed the packaged dress pattern back in Clara’s hands. “Maybe someday you’ll see Butterick patterns for my creations.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something!” Clara grinned. “Are you workin’ on ideas now?”

  Not everyone understood Hope’s passion. As a seamstress, Clara probably shared excitement over seeing beautiful fabric put together in a way that enhanced a woman’s appearance. It was an art form of its own.

  “I’m always sketching.” Hope swallowed. “Between you and me, I submitted some of my best drawings to Butterick before leaving New York. But I received a letter this morning saying that although they display potential, my designs aren’t quite up to their standard.”

  Clara’s eyes widened. “That’s wonderful news!”

  “It is?” How could not being up to their standard be good?

  “You have promise.” Clara nodded as if to punctuate her statement. “Don’t be discouraged. You just have to keep tryin’.” She leaned forward, as though eager to hear more. “How does it work? Designs and patterns and all?”

  “Hmmm...well, I only know some of what takes place.” Hope smoothed the rejected blue silk and laid the bolt aside. She quickly glanced about to make sure no one else seemed in need of her. Giddiness tickled inside with the calm surrounding them. She’d have a chance to discuss her vision with a fellow enthusiast. “First, ideas are presented, and many of them represent what’s new in Europe. Then, whatever is being considered is made up in muslins and modeled for designers and management. Each style is scrutinized for line, silhouette, and fashion. They probably have to consider practicality and suitability to the Butterick customer.”