“She said his debts will take his estate and she has nowhere else to go.” Mother met her eyes with that iron-willed gaze of hers that allowed no discussion.
Oh no. Not just one more mouth to feed but four. She knew she should be happy to see her nieces and nephew, and have more family nearby but… How Lord? How am I to do this?
Oversleeping had cost her the ten extra minutes Juliana needed to change out of her bicycling costume and into her normal clothes for work. If only the social mores and strictures of society didn’t impinge on her physical freedom. Then she’d not have to concern herself with the delay of changing clothes. Why, in some places, women wore pantaloons to all manner of functions. Last summer, Juliana had even spied a tourist from Chicago sporting chartreuse silk bloomers to the Independence Day picnic basket auction. That was quite a sight. She grinned as she cycled as fast as she could toward the back of the library and slid her bike into the stand, wondering what Mr. Hatchens would say if Juliana wore such a getup to work. But then, a stiff breeze from the harbor made her shiver and she imagined what her work clothes, crammed in her rucksack, would look like after she pulled them out. She hurried toward the back door, which Gracie held open for her.
“Hurry! Mr. Hatchens is already walking up the street.”
“Oh no!” But if the board hadn’t required her to represent the library at Mrs. Jeffries’ event, she wouldn’t have been up half the night preparing. She’d assembled and cleaned the jewelry, stockings, dress shoes, and hair accessories she’d need to go with her ensemble. What did they mean by asking her at the last minute, anyway? Those men—surely they didn’t expect her to show up in her work clothes.
Gracie shoved Juliana past her and toward the ladies room. Once inside, she fumbled with her rucksack and finally emptied it, her dark skirt falling to the floor. She snatched it up and brushed it off. Thankfully, the janitor had done a good cleaning the night before. She pulled off her bicycling trousers and slipped into the skirt then fumbled in the bottom of her bag, for her belt. No belt. She tucked her blouse into the skirt. Juliana felt for her smaller bag with her necklace from Papa and earrings, her best stockings, her shiny church shoes, and the seven crystal studded tortoiseshell combs she needed to secure all her hair. Everything else was there but her belt.
Her assistant popped her head in. “Hurry! He’s asking for you.”
After coiling her braid up into a demure bun, Juliana pushed the tendrils around her face back into her hairline. No hair dare be out of place when Hatchens entered the library to spy. She splashed a little water from the pitcher into her hands and onto her face and then dabbed it dry. Dear Lord, please let him be reasonable today. Don’t let him find anything out of order. And Lord, I hope it is your will I keep my job because I sure need it.
“That wasn’t Miss Beauchamps I saw scuttling into the back entrance just now, was it?” Mr. Hatchen’s voice held a sneer.
When she rounded the corner to her desk, the man was actually leaning over it, rifling through her neatly stacked cards.
“Please cease your disruption.” Juliana scowled as she hurried to stop him from messing up her alphabetical arrangement of overdue books.
“What?” His attempt to assume an air of innocence failed and a guilty wash of red touched his cheekbones.
“Mr. Hatchens.” Gracie’s honey-sweet voice was surely meant to distract him. The seventeen-year-old beauty rocked back and forth, her hands clutched demurely at her waist. “Now, sir, you know better than to interfere with order here in the library.”
“What order?” he blustered. He gestured to where piles of books cluttered the center of a circle edged with children’s books.
“Those picture books are set out for the orphan’s group.” Juliana narrowed her eyes at him. Truth be told, she’d had enough of his interference. There had to be someone on the board who could help her.
“Did the trustees approve this group to be ongoing?” He smirked. “I’ve asked them to discontinue it. And I want that lumberjack fellow to stay away from the children.”
Juliana pushed her now-messy stack of cards aside and drew in a steadying breath. “You well know that when I was hired, this was one of our first library programs offered.” And Richard had done nothing wrong.
He sniffed and averted his gaze.
“Oh, I forgot. You weren’t on the board then, were you?” She ground out these last words despite the voice in her head screaming that she should be buttering this man up—not annoying him.
“Of course he wasn’t, Miss Juliana.” Gracie batted her lashes and leaned in toward the man. “He and his lovely family only moved here right when I arrived at the orphanage three years ago. And Mrs. Hatchens is the sweetest lady.”
He backed away from her. “You’re an orphan?” He might have asked if Gracie was a leper.
The color drained from the girl’s face. “Why, yes, sir, you signed for me to volunteer here.”
He waved a hand at her as though whisking away a fly.
“Excuse me, Miss Juliana.” Gracie spun on her heel and headed toward the far stacks.
No matter that her temper was hot as a poker left in the fire too long, Juliana needed this job. She had to regain control.
The double doors into the library swung open, allowing light to create a path on the crimson and gold wool rug that covered the planked floors. James Yost entered, and a sandy-haired young man accompanied him, clutching a notebook. Right behind them, Richard Christy slipped in and disappeared behind a row of books, ending her brief hope of his rescue.
The obnoxious trustee swiveled to face them. “Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?”
Mr. Yost’s pale eyes widened and he cocked his head to the side. “I believe that is Miss Beauchamps’ duty, sir, to assist patrons.”
“I’m a Library Board member, and I consider it my responsibility…”
“Splendid. A man who owns his responsibilities. I believe we have much to discuss.” Mr. Yost took the board member by his elbow, and led him over to the alcove by the entrance.
What is that all about?
Richard Christy ambled out of the fiction section, toward the counter, and passed a copy of Aurora Leigh, Book One in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s series, to her.
“You want to read this?” She scarce could believe it.
When his dark eyes met hers and he grinned, her heart hitched up into her throat and Juliana simply stared back at him, grasping the book to her chest.
“Can ya check that back in for me, Miss Beauchamps, please?” His impertinent wink brought her back to her senses.
“Back in?”
“Yes, Miss Gracie checked it out for me.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming beneath his beard.
“She didn’t…” Gracie wouldn’t have jeopardized her position as library assistant. “That is, did you check this out in your name?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled himself up to his full height. “And I enjoyed it right well.”
“You read it all?” She’d not seen much of him since the night he’d found her at The Pines with Mr. Yost. Did he know she’d seen him duck in and then right back out of the new restaurant? And she’d seen his scowl, too, when the hostess pointed out the dress code. Apparently Paul Bon Jean was not welcome in the newest restaurant where pristine linen table cloths, polished silverware, and brilliant crystal chandeliers might clash with faded red-and-black checked flannel.
“I read it every night.” He ran a finger over his full lower lip. What would it feel like to kiss those lips? Would his beard tickle?
Stop those thoughts right now!
“Made me feel right lonely, though.”
“Isn’t it less lonely out there, now that the lumberjacks are trickling into camp?” She bit her lower lip as Mr. Hatchens turned from Mr. Yost and observed her. She dare not continue to engage in personal conversation.
“Dont’cha want to know what brings me back into town?” An ebony curl fell across the man’s brow as he
leaned in so close that she could smell the fresh scent of pine on him.
Juliana swallowed but couldn’t utter a word. Dare she hope? Had he come to town to see her? Why couldn’t she get him off her mind?
He straightened and adjusted his suspenders. “I’m fixin’ to interview that doc for the camp.”
She puffed out a breath. “A physician?”
“Not just any physician—the one who helped you.” Richard grinned and tugged on his suspenders.
“Oh.” So her Bon Jean lookalike wasn’t there for her.
“And not full time, mind ya, but part of the time.”
“I see.” She didn’t.
“Dr. Adams-Payne came up from downstate to work in Newberry, but he’s willin’ to come out to my camp once or twice a month.”
She tried to make her mouth work. “That’s splendid,” finally came out.
He turned to look at the two men in the alcove, their heads close together, before directing his attention back to her. “Don’t reckon this is any of my business, but what’s Hatchens got against you, Miss Beauchamps?”
“Nothing.” My, that came out too quickly and too loudly. Both gentlemen looked in their direction. She quickly made motions of stamping Richard’s book back in and filing his card.
Jo Christy came through the front door and made a beeline to her brother. She took his arm. “You have a lot of work to do today. Cordelia sent me to fetch you.”
Richard’s cheekbones flushed above his beard. He gestured toward Juliana. “Ain’t ya gonna at least say hello to Miss Beauchamps while yer here, ya bossy sister?”
Making a silly face, Jo stretched up on her tiptoes toward her brother and wagged a finger at him. “What’s a big sister for, if not to boss the likes of a younger brother around?”
Juliana looked between the two. Jo wasn’t older. But she must be. She just said she was.
The auburn-haired beauty smiled at Juliana. “Good to see you, Juliana. And I bet you know why I immediately sought my baby brother out here.”
Baby brother? A sinking feeling started in Juliana’s gut. Had she misheard Garrett Christy at Rebecca’s shop? She’d thought he’d said Richard was the elder brother. “He loves to read, doesn’t he?” she croaked. Rebecca had told her that Josephine was twenty-five.
“It would seem so.”
Josephine shook her head. “Can you believe such a great big hairy fellow was a skinny little boy?” She held out her hand to waist height between her and her brother.
“Aw, Sis. Stop it.” Richard rolled his eyes like an annoyed young lad would.
The woman’s tinkling laughter followed her as she waved and pulled Richard toward the door. He raised his hand in a brief wave before they disappeared out into the sunlit day.
Appearances could be deceiving. Juliana plunked down on her stool, behind the desk, and stared around the library. This had become her world after Aleksanteri had left and never sent for her. After Papa made sure she had a livelihood when no other man came to call on her. How old was Richard anyway? There had been a twenty-six year age difference between her eldest brother, Gerard, and Claudette. The oldest he could be was twenty four. Claudette’s age. And the youngest? She didn’t even want to think about it. Just like she didn’t want to consider that her mother, at seventy, may never see either of her post-Civil War daughters wed. Had she and Papa been trying for replacement sons, like her older brothers insisted? Too bad the two youngest of the surviving brothers had thought so, resented their younger sisters, and left for the military as soon as they could.
Gracie sidled up to Juliana. “Have our contracts come in yet?”
Chapter 8
All afternoon, Richard assisted his father and brother and the hired men in setting up Cordelia’s Inn for the grand opening for the community. He’d need a good bath before changing into his fancy duds for the dinner that night.
“I wanted to let the people of St. Ignace know how happy I am to be here.” Cordelia stood at the entrance to the main dining room, which could seat nearly seventy people. She gazed from one end to another, a smile of satisfaction fixed on her face.
Richard had never seen so much china, silver, and crystal in one place at the same time. Well, maybe at The Pines, but he’d not gotten far enough into the establishment to appreciate it. He had, however, that night, gotten a good look at old Yost making cow eyes at Juliana. She’d be better off with him. If she married the beer baron, he’d take care of the Beauchamps family. Yost was a generous man, from what all the Milwaukee newspapers said about him—and Richard had paid a pretty penny to buy the periodicals up and scour them through for any hint of scandal. None.
Jo pinched his arm and laughed. “You’re deep in thought.”
He growled at her and she laughed.
“Well little brother, pretty soon, I bet there’ll be electric lights in this inn. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Sure would.” What other changes would electricity bring? The world was changing. His thoughts went back to Hatchens. Maybe that was the trustee’s problem. Women in Michigan were a hard-working bunch—had to be—but Hatchens wanted to keep them as they’d been earlier in the century. But he was progressive in other ways. Charles Labron had shared that when electricity did come in, Hatchens wanted his house to be one of the first with it. He’d even considered buying an electrical generator, but didn’t when he realized the noise it would make and didn’t want his wife disturbed. And in teaching Sunday School for the last few weeks, Richard had heard Atlas Hatchens make only positive comments about his father, including the man’s deep love and respect for his wife.
The scents of roasting beef, potatoes, and sweet apples mingled with coffee and the deeper scent of chocolate and cinnamon, and pulled Richard from his thoughts. His stomach began to growl. “The smell of all that good food you’re fixin’ in the kitchen is gonna kill me if I don’t have some soon.”
A smile twitched on Jo’s lips. “Maybe I need to tell Juliana good cooking is the way to your heart then, and not poetry?”
He tried to force a scowl, but they both laughed. His sister always could read him like a book.
Tom Jeffries crept up behind Jo, an index finger placed to his lips. Then he poked Jo in her sides and she shrieked and swiveled around.
“Why you!” She swatted at him but her fiancé grabbed her hands.
“You’re needed in the kitchen, my love.” Tom kissed Jo’s forehead and then grasped her hand and led her away.
The light from the hallway dimmed as a broad-shouldered man filled the entryway. “Pa?”
In three strides, his father was beside him and pulled him into a brief bear hug and then hammered him on his shoulders. “Ya ain’t gettin’ weak livin’ up here, are ya?”
“No, sir.” He’d not tell him he struck him on a sore spot.
“And ya ain’t jumpin’ into any more fires, are ya?” Pa laughed but when he gave him another quick hug, Richard knew his father had been scared for him.
“No, sir. No more fires.” And no more Peevey. Since getting right with God, Richard had been troubled that the wicked man likely burned in an eternal hellfire. But there was nothing to be done for it now. Other than to work with boys at Sunday School and instill in them the need for wisdom, especially as laid down in Proverbs, fourth chapter, which he’d be teaching on this week. Maybe he’d reach a boy, who like Peevey went home to an alcoholic abusive father and had no one to instill God’s Word in him.
“I’m glad.” His father scanned the room and then waved to the inn’s owner.
Cordelia Jeffries left the table she’d been examining, and joined them. “So good to see you, Mr. Christy. And I assume my sister is here somewhere?”
“She sure is. Said somethin’ about wantin’ to lay her gown out real quick so it don’t wrinkle.”
Mrs. Jeffries dipped her chin in acknowledgement.
“Cordelia, you’ve got a beautiful place here.” Pa grinned, as he eyed the banquet room. “You’re temp
ting me to take up permanent residence.”
Mrs. Jeffries fussed with her lacy collar. “Irene knows you are both welcome to live at the inn, until you figure out what direction your new life should take.”
He still couldn’t believe Pa was marrying Irene, who also happened to be Tom Jeffries’ aunt. The Christy family was about to get all mixed together with the Jeffries. Jo’s mother-in-law would end up being her aunt by marriage and her stepmother, too. The handsome woman seemed a good fit for Pa, though, and up to the challenge of dealing with all the menfolk. Tonight Irene and Pa were going to advise him on the hiring for the camp. Although Richard had some ideas, it was, after all, Pa’s money he was putting up.
“I’m so glad you could be here for our very first event.” Mrs. Jeffries reminded him of a schoolgirl, with the way she clapped her hands together. Juliana was like that, too, or had been before the fire. He missed that about her—she didn’t seem excited about things like before. But maybe that would return.
He wasn’t worthy of her, regardless. Who was he kidding? He was a lumberjack and she was an educated young woman.
Pa elbowed him. “You all right, son?”
“Yeah. A little tired.”
The inn owner beamed. “I’ve kept him busy.”
Richard laughed. “Tom would say your comment was an understatement.”
“Tom would wax eloquent as to all your physical efforts today on my behalf, I’m sure. He’d even make your sweating and hoisting furniture around sound poetic.” She smiled. “Come, let me show you who is sitting where.”
Richard followed them past white linen-covered tables, each topped by bouquets of garden flowers. The scent in the room reminded him of Juliana’s perfume. He sneezed. He scanned the vases and soon found the culprits—lilacs in several of the larger bouquets. The powerful perfume didn’t agree with him. “Um, Mrs. Jeffries, I reckon you may have forgotten, but I get a bad case of sneezing fits when lilacs are around.”
Her mouth formed an “O”. “I’m so sorry. I forgot. Let me have those removed.” She waved at one of the wait staff. “Please remove all the lilacs from the bouquets.”
Lilacs for Juliana (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 3) Page 9
