Digging in her beaded reticule, she pulled out a coin and brought it to her lips for a lucky kiss. When she was growing up, her father had settled disputes between his children with that very coin. Any time one child had wanted to do one thing, while another had wanted to do something entirely different, he’d flipped a coin. “Let fate decide,” he’d always say.
When Tilly had left for culinary school, he had pressed the coin into the palm of her hand and kissed her cheek. “Just in case you ever need to make a tough decision,” he’d said. She doubted this was the kind of decision he’d had in mind.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Heads, I go; tails, I stay.” Then she flipped the coin high in the air, caught it deftly, and slapped it onto the back of her left hand. Both hands trembled as she mustered the courage to peek at which side landed upright. Even now, she wasn’t sure which she hoped it would be. Peeling her right hand back slowly, sunlight sparkled on Queen Victoria’s profile. Heads!
That settled, Tilly felt a smidge better. Not excited, exactly, but at least she wouldn’t have to fight an unfairly tarnished reputation any longer. Her fate was to marry a Mountie and start her life anew. Rolling back her shoulders with new resolve, she picked up her bag and opened the door.
Voices from the kitchen drew her. She paused just outside the door and steeled herself. Had any of the other brides heard about her scandal? She hadn’t given that a second thought before. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have come. The whole point of going west was to leave her past behind. If they brought the gossip with them…
Only one way to find out, she thought.
Every head in the kitchen swiveled when she entered, their eyes boring into her. Their scrutiny made her skin itch, just as it did when some fancy lady stopped in the street and glared as she passed. They knew. She could feel the disdain in their gazes. Then Miss Hazel broke into a sunny smile.
“Tilly, you’re late, but I’m so glad you came!”
The woman pulled Tilly into a big, motherly hug before handing her an apron and introducing her to the other girls. “Ladies, this is Tilly Conway. She’s a chef!”
A lovely, black-haired beauty scurried round the worktable and took Tilly’s hand in her floury ones. “I’m Rose, and I would love you forever if you could help me learn to cook. I really want to impress Elijah.”
Tilly didn’t see an ounce of guile in the woman’s eyes, only earnestness and hope. Something else was there, to…excitement. Rose seemed genuinely excited about all of this.
“Certainly,” I said, ducking into my apron as Rose led me to a spot next to hers.
“I’m Evelyn,” said another young woman. “I’ll be marrying Joel.”
I looked at Miss Hazel. “Didn’t you say there were four of us?”
“Yes, I’m the fourth,” said a beautiful young woman with blonde hair. “I’m JoAnn. Nice to meet you. Did the others tell you that Kendall will be my husband? Did you know he plays guitar? I play the violin, so really we’ll be a match made in heaven, just like Miss Hazel says.”
“Okay, dear,” Miss Hazel said, guiding a very chatty JoAnn to her work station. “Now, as I was saying, you will need to measure the flour carefully…”
Twenty minutes later, five bowls of dough were covered and rising on the counter, but Miss Hazel wasn’t finished with them yet. This was only the beginning, and Tilly couldn’t have been happier.
“Next we’ll learn how to make stew,” their matron instructed. “There is no shortage of meat out west, from beef to venison to moose—“
“Moose?” JoAnn cried, looking shocked and more than a little anxious. “They have meese there?”
“The plural of moose is still moose, dear,” Miss Hazel said. “And their meat is quite delicious. But today we’ll be using regular old cow meat.”
“Cow meat?” JoAnn cried out again.
Miss Hazel took her aside to calm her down while Tilly showed Rose and Evelyn how to cut tougher cuts of meat against the grain to make it as tender as possible. “If you happen to have a little red wine, marinate it for an hour or so to make it even more tender,” she added.
Miss Hazel snorted and her hand flew up to her nose. “Oh my, I’m sorry, dear. I hope you won’t be disappointed by the selection of goods available in Squirrel Ridge…or lack thereof.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Tilly said, once again doubting fate’s decision.
Chewing on her lip, deep in thought, she absentmindedly chopped an onion in just a few seconds. As she reached for a couple of carrots, she noticed Rose gawking at her. “What?”
“How did you do that so quickly?”
“Oh, I was trained to at culinary school.”
Rose’s eyes grew wider. “You went to culinary school? How exciting!”
Tilly had never thought of school as exciting, though she had loved it. “I suppose so.”
“Your family must be quite well off to afford that.”
Tilly was surprised by Rose’s bluntness, but also charmed. It was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.
“Not really,” Tilly answered with a smile. “I’m the oldest of ten, and I think my father just wanted a little more elbow room at the dinner table.”
Rose laughed, and Tilly knew they’d be friends. Anyone with a wonderful laugh like that was worth knowing.
“You’re joking!”
“Maybe a little,” Tilly conceded. “But we lived in a very small house for such a large family. My father is a milliner, so while he makes stunning hats for wealthy ladies, we were far from wealthy. He did somehow manage to save enough to send me to school, though.”
“Did you always love cooking?” Rose asked as I showed her how to chop four carrots at once.
“Oh, yes. I was always in the kitchen helping my mother with meals. I learned to read with cookbooks! By the time I was twelve, I’d taken over most of the cooking duties, which pleased my mother.”
“Goodness, that’s a lot of mouths to feed.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Tilly said without thinking. “I’ve cooked for parties of one hundred!”
The other ladies looked surprised.
“So when Miss Hazel said you were a chef, she didn’t mean you were simply a good cook. You’re a real chef? Where?”
Realizing her mistake, Tilly dropped her eyes to the celery she was chopping. “For, um, a wealthy family.”
JoAnn’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, who? I might know them.”
Real fear flared in Tilly’s heart. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t dare tell them who she’d worked for. Besides, she’d vowed to never speak his name again. “Um…”
“Ladies, enough chit chat,” Miss Hazel snapped. “You all need to focus on your work. I won’t send an unprepared bride to any of the brave men risking their lives day in and day out. They deserve better.”
The other three bent their heads over their half-chopped vegetables, while Tilly looked up at Miss Hazel with gratitude. Miss Hazel tipped her a wink and popped a hunk of carrot in her mouth, before turning to JoAnn.
“Dear, try to make your carrots a more uniform size…”
About the Author
Kay P. Dawson is a mom of two girls, who always dreamed of being a writer. After a breast cancer diagnosis in 2011, she decided it was time to follow her dream.
Years of reading historical romance, combined with her love for all history related to the old west and pioneer times, she knew that writing in the western historical genre was her calling.
She writes sweet romance, believing a good love story doesn’t need to give all of the juicy details - a true love story shows so much more.
**I have a Facebook fan group set up for anyone who enjoys my books, and reading in the sweet western romance genre - and I would love to have you join us! There are special giveaways and fun events just for members…and a place just to hang out with others :)
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RNWMP: Bride for Elijah (Mail Order Mounties Book 2) Page 11
