He closed the barn door and crossed the lawn, letting himself into the kitchen from the back porch. Mable turned as he entered, just having set a pot of water on the stove to heat.
“She seems very nice, Mr. Anthony,” Mable said as she wiped her hands on her apron. “The girls seem to like her very much. She’s reading them a book in her room.”
He peered around the corner, relieved that she was getting on with the girls but unsettled that there was a new person in the house.
“Mable, do you think I did the right thing?” He sat down and leaned on the small kitchen table, setting his hat down and running his hand through his dark hair.
The housekeeper laid her hand gently on his arm and he looked up into her kind eyes. She’d been with the family since before he was born, and he welcomed her gentle touch.
“You listen to me, Mr. Chandler. You’ve been here alone long enough. I know you miss the family--I do, too--but now with Mrs. Robertson gone, you’re going to need some help. Not just for them, but for you, too.”
His heart thudded as he sat up. “I’m fine, Mable. Or I was fine before Adelaide died and the girls came. Besides, I have no time to think of myself. The shop--”
Mable held her hands up, stopping him. “I know all about the shop, Mr. Chandler, don’t think I don’t. I’m sure you’ll make it right. You always have. But a man’s gotta have a life too. It ain’t natural for you to be all by yourself, losing your entire family.”
He frowned as he stood. Since his parents died, all he’d done was to try to keep the shop going, tried to make ends meet. He’d never given a thought to whether or not he was lonely. Besides, no polite woman in Corinth would give him a second glance if she knew that although he had one of the biggest houses in Corinth, the silver had all gone to keeping it.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Chandler, and that’s why I think maybe this young lady might be just the thing. For you and for the girls.”
She reached for a plate in the cupboard and set it on the table. As she filled it with several cookies, she said, “You go take Miss Blake’s bags up and keep an open mind. Tell the girls it’s cookie time, and let Miss Blake know I’m bringing up water for a bath.”
Anthony grabbed a cookie and turned before Mable could swat his hand. He pulled the suitcases inside, glancing at the portrait of his parents on the wall in the stairwell as he headed up.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” he said to them out loud as he turned on the landing, looking up as he heard Mattie and Missy giggle again.
Chapter 6
“How do I tell you two apart?” Michelle had asked as they reached the top of the stairs and the two girls pulled her into a large bedroom at the end of a long hall.
She sat on the tall four-poster bed to catch her breath as one of the twins ran out of the room, returning in an instant with a book. She held it out with both hands and said, “If you read us a book, we’ll tell you.”
The other twin giggled and covered her mouth as she climbed on the steps to sit behind Michelle on the bed. She’d never known twins before and cocked her head as the other one, her brown eyes wide with anticipation, climbed up the step stool and sat on her other side.
She pulled off her gloves and tossed them on the white, lace doily on the nightstand. Pulling her hatpins out, she set them beside her gloves and took her hat off, throwing it behind her on the bed. She rubbed the back of her neck as her red curls fell around her shoulders.
The twin on her left, the one with the freckle beside her eye, reached up and twirled a finger through one of Michelle’s curls.
“Your hair is beautiful, Miss Blake. I’ve never seen such red hair before.”
Michelle laughed and wrapped her arm around the twin.
“You haven’t? Well, I’ve never seen twins before.”
Both girls giggled and snuggled up to her, and Michelle’s heart swelled. Even if she was to teach the girls--read them books and maybe even how to read themselves--this might not be so bad.
She opened the book, turning the pages slowly and making tiger or lion noises in all the appropriate places, the girls giggling as she went along.
Closing the book as she finished, she said, “All right. Now tell me the secret. Who is Mattie and who is Missy?”
The twins leaned forward and looked at each other and nodded.
The one with the freckle said, “You must promise not to tell Uncle Anthony or Mable. We haven’t even told them yet, and sometimes they get us mixed up.”
“Tell Uncle Anthony what?” Anthony stepped into the room, setting her luggage down beside the door. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, smiling as he leaned against the door jamb.
One of the twins gasped and they both scrambled down from the bed. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” said the one without the freckle.
“Hm. Somehow I don’t believe you. Nevertheless, Mable said it’s cookie time.”
He’d barely got the last word out before the twins squealed, pushing past him as they raced down the hall.
Michelle lifted her hand to her chest, unable to contain her smile. “My, they certainly are full of energy.”
Mr. Chandler pushed himself away from the door jamb and leaned out the door, looking at the twins as they disappeared down the stairs.
“I see you found your room all right. I hope it’s comfortable.”
Michelle realized she was sitting on the bed with a strange man in the room--even though it was her future husband--and she jumped down the step stool, smoothing her skirt. She’d taken off her coat and thrown it on the chair in a hurry when the girls had pulled her in.
“It’s very comfortable, Mr. Chandler. Thank you.”
“And I trust that you were able to find suitable clothing.”
Heat crept into her cheeks as she looked down at her dress. She and Josephine had had a wonderful time shopping, and she’d tried to buy some things that were both sensible and lovely.
“Oh, I ought to have thanked you when we first spoke.”
He walked over to the nightstand and picked up the white leather gloves she’d worn. “You thanked me in your letter telling me when you’d arrive, but I’m glad to see for myself that you have fine taste. You look lovely.”
Her cheeks must be crimson by now but she looked up at him. “Well, I do feel it appropriate to thank you once again, Mr. Chandler.”
He cocked his head as he regarded her. “Please, call me Anthony.”
She cleared her throat and gave him a small curtsy. “Then you must call me Michelle.”
He laughed, his eyes twinkling, and she felt a tug at her heart. She’d worried she might find a house of doom and gloom, having so much loss recently, and she was pleasantly surprised at the warmth she felt at his laugh, and the happiness that he’d clearly been able to provide for the twins.
“That seems appropriate, especially as we are to be wed tomorrow.”
Michelle’s heart leapt to her throat and she gasped. “Tomorrow?”
He stiffened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is that not all right with you?”
“I...it’s just...it’s so sudden.”
Anthony looked down at his feet then back up at Michelle, his eyes softening. “I know it must be a very strange thing to be here, Michelle, and be wed so quickly. But it wouldn’t do for you to be in the house, even with Mable here, if we weren’t married. I can’t take much time away from the shop, and tomorrow’s Sunday. And since that’s why you came...”
Michelle wished Josephine was with her. She would know what to say. But she wasn’t, so she gathered her courage and squared her shoulders.
“I’ll be fine, Mr.--Anthony. It is a lot to take in.” She looked around at her room, a far cry from her thin mattress with springs poking through. “But I am grateful to be here. Tomorrow, it is.”
Anthony smiled and her heart warmed. She may not have a job in Lawrence anymore, and she missed sewing and her friends, but this family needed her help. And it
was help she wanted to provide.
He stepped away from the door as the housekeeper had rushed by when she’d arrived carried in two large buckets of steaming water.
“Thought you might want a bath, ma’am, and Mr. Anthony brought the tub up here to your room for you.” She set the buckets down as she nodded at Michelle, her wide smile brightening up her face. She tucked an escaped strand of gray hair back into her chignon and wiped her hands on the white apron covering her black dress. She turned to Anthony, her eyebrows raised and her hands settling on her wide hips.
Anthony looked from the housekeeper to Michelle. “Oh, I didn’t get to introduce the two of you before the girls brought you inside. Mable, this is Miss Blake. This is Mable, the housekeeper here at the Robbins’ Nest.”
Mable gave a small curtsy to Michelle. “Yes, I am the housekeeper here at the Robbins’ Nest and have been going on almost forty years. Ain’t nobody knows this house better than I do, ma’am, and if you need anything at all, you just ask me.” She turned to Anthony and said, “If you’ll empty those pails for me, Mr. Anthony, I’ll go down and get two more. Miss Michelle, I left a snack over there on the vanity for you, and supper will be in a couple of hours. I’ll come and fetch you when it’s time. You probably need a rest.”
Mable left the room and Anthony lifted each pail, emptying it into the bathtub. Michelle squirmed and she hoped he’d be leaving soon. Her head reeled with the information that tomorrow she’d be a married woman, and she needed some time alone for it to all sink in.
“I hope you enjoy your bath,” Anthony said, his cheeks crimson as he backed toward the door. “I’ll see you at supper, Miss--er, Michelle.”
Her heart pinched as he closed the door behind him. From the color of his cheeks, he might just be as nervous about this as she was.
Chapter 7
Her bath had been divine, and she’d fallen asleep to the scent of the magnolias left on her hair from the soap Mable left beside the bathtub. She’d left the grime of the journey in the tub, and her skin gleamed after she’d rubbed it with the soft towel.
She thought she’d only lay down for a moment after she’d placed her clothes in the beautiful, dark wood wardrobe in the corner of the room. After she’d put on what she thought was one of the prettiest dresses she and Josephine had chosen--a soft, blue one--her head had hit the pillow and the next thing she knew, there was a soft rap at the door.
She stepped down the stool and took a peek in the mirror of the vanity before she opened the door, re-arranging a red curl and pinching her cheeks.
Michelle opened the door and looked down at two giggling girls.
“Are you ready for supper?” one of the twins said as she held her sister’s hand.
She smiled and crouched down to their eye level. “Yes, I am, but I still need to know the secret. Which one of you is which?”
The girls glanced at each other, suppressing giggles. “You promise you won’t tell?”
Michelle peered down the hall to see that it was empty. “I promise I won’t tell,” she said as she wondered if she should have her fingers crossed behind her back. Hopefully this wouldn’t end up to be a bad idea.
One of the twins pointed to the freckle near her eye and said, “I’m Mattie.”
The other pointed to her eye as well, where there was no freckle, and said, “And I’m Missy.”
“Ah, now I see it. Thanks for telling me,” Michelle said as she took the outstretched hands she was offered.
They started downstairs and Michelle’s stomach grumbled. She’d meant to eat what Mable had left for her but had fallen asleep instead. But now as her stomach tightened at the delicious aroma of food wafting up the stairs, she realized she hadn’t eaten all day.
“Mable made her famous biscuits and gravy for you. We normally just have it for breakfast, but she said this was special and you needed to know real southern food, right from the get-go.”
The girls walked ahead of Michelle so she couldn’t see which one was speaking, Mattie or Missy. Maybe she’d need to get them different colored ribbons for their hair until she knew them better.
They pulled her into the dining room that she’d passed on her way upstairs earlier and she stopped in the doorway. She’d never seen such a grand, long table, the wood gleaming. The seats of the matching chairs were upholstered with a cross-stitch pattern, richly colored with golds, greens and scarlets.
She walked along the matching buffet and closed her eyes at the wonderful aromas as she passed by. Was that a pumpkin pie?
Anthony smiled at her and nodded as he held out a chair, scooting her in as she sat. Mable poked her head in and said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy. You all talk amongst yourselves.”
“Were you able to rest?” Anthony asked as he flicked his linen napkin and placed it on her lap. She looked down at her plate, picked up her napkin and went through the same motions.
“I think she was sleeping when we went to get her,” Mattie said as she climbed on one of the chairs opposite Michelle.
“No, I wasn’t. I’d already woken up,” Michelle fibbed as she glanced around the room. “I do feel quite rested, though, thank you. And much cleaner.”
Missy giggled and put her napkin in her lap. “You looked pretty tired before.”
Michelle smiled at what she hoped was an innocent comment. She knew she’d looked a little frazzled, but hoped it wasn’t too bad.
As Anthony asked the girls about their day, she glanced around the grand dining room and up to the crystal chandelier overhead. Portraits lined the walls and she couldn’t help but notice that they were all of what looked to be Anthony and his sister, as young children and then adults. She looked from the portrait of the young woman that hung behind the girls and then down to them. Yes, that had to be their mother. The resemblance was striking. She looked at Anthony from the corner of her eye and the resemblance was striking there, too. Had they been twins?
Over in the corner stood a very tall piece of furniture, filled with shelves, its doors made of rounded glass. She’d seen one before at the house of a friend--a rich friend--and that one had been filled with silver, crystal statues and beautiful serving dishes. She cocked her eyebrow as she looked more closely at this one--it was empty.
Both of the twins clapped their hands together and their eyes grew wide. Michelle followed their gaze to a beaming Mable walking in with a big platter upon which sat the most delicious-looking, browned chicken Michelle thought she had ever seen.
Anthony smiled and stood as Mable set the platter in the middle of the table.
“I want a drumstick,” Mattie said as she leaned forward on the table.
Missy stuck out her bottom lip. “You always get the drumstick.”
“That’s because I ask first.” Mattie hadn’t taken her eyes off the chicken.
“Girls, last I checked there were two drumsticks, and I’m sure if you convince Mr. Anthony and Miss Michelle, they’ll let you have them.”
Mable turned to the buffet, serving each of them mashed potatoes and some kind of green stringy vegetable Michelle had never seen before as Anthony carved the chicken.
“Yes, a drumstick for each of you,” he said as he placed one on each of the girls’ plates. The girls giggled, but Anthony stood up and frowned, turning to Michelle. “That is, of course, unless you want one.”
Michelle laughed. “No, I wouldn’t dream of taking one. I prefer white meat, anyway.”
Anthony looked relieved as he set some chicken breast on her plate.
Michelle inhaled deeply as she poured from the beautiful, patterned china gravy boat. She’d only seen china like this once before, also at her wealthy friend’s house.
The food was incredibly delicious, Anthony explaining that the green stringy vegetable was called, “greens” and was a staple on most southern tables. Michelle had never been a picky eater, grateful for anything, and she tried a bite, smiling as it melted in her mouth. She thought she tasted bacon, and wasn’t sure at al
l how they’d been prepared. No matter how, they were wonderful.
When they’d finished, Michelle stood to help clear the table. The girls picked up their plates and followed Mable into the kitchen. As she reached for the platter holding the chicken, Anthony touched her arm. She looked over at him, his touch warm.
“Sit for a moment, won’t you? They’ll be busy for a bit getting dessert.”
She set the platter down and sat, setting her knife and fork on her plate. With a full belly, her head turned back to her day tomorrow--the wedding.
“I’m very pleased that you seem to have such a nice rapport with the girls. They seem to really like you.”
Michelle’s heart tugged as she looked up at the portrait of their mother. “I’m pleased as well. They’re darling, and it must have been so rough on all of you.”
Anthony followed her gaze to the portrait of Adelaide and sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Incredibly. And now--well, I have work to do at the shop, and Mable is busy taking care of the house and us.”
Michelle looked down at her hands. She’d lost her mother long ago, but she couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to lose your parents and sibling so close together--everyone in your family, gone.
Well, except for these adorable twins. “Do you find that having Mattie and Missy make it easier for you?” she asked as she looked up at Anthony.
His eyes still rested on the portrait of his sister. He cleared his throat and turned to Michelle, his dark eyes holding her gaze.
“I love them dearly. But sometimes I think it makes it even more difficult. Adelaide and I are--were--twins. When I look at them, I see Adelaide at their age--I hear her voice as they play outside and I see her eyes when I tuck them in at night.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” she said, her heart tugging at the sorrow in his voice.
He ran his hand through his hair and set his napkin down beside his plate, nodding as he smiled sadly.
Michelle_Bride of Mississippi Page 3
