Might as well face facts.
Just as the waiters, at the far end of the room, began to move forward, a solemn group of suited men streamed into the room together. None paused to exchange greetings with fellow diners, some of whom waved or nodded as the men passed. And at the front of them was Juliana’s foe. Now if only Hatchens would sit near enough that Richard could overhear what they were discussing tonight.
Juliana’s face drained of color and her mouth pulled in tightly. She grabbed her water glass and took a drink. If Richard was seated by her, instead of Yost, he’d reassure her. And why had he failed to invite her himself? Because he’d become a coward after seeing her at dinner with Yost. Something boiled up in him. Never been a quitter before—ain’t gonna start now.
He had to fight for her.
“Iced tea, sir?” A waiter held out a silver pitcher. “Sorry, Mr. Christy, but I can’t get any closer.”
The trustees, being seated at the table behind them, made it impossible for the man to pour from the expected position, at each person’s shoulder. Richard passed his crystal glass to the waiter.
Tom scowled. “The Library trustees sure relished their grand entrance.”
Jo leaned in. “At least they’re quiet.”
The servant quickly filled the glasses and then stepped back between two of the tables as the trustees passed.
Pa’s nostrils flared and his bushy eyebrows bunched. “Why, they have no better manners than a bunch of polecats settin’ up waitin’ on a trash can to overturn.”
Mrs. St. Clair raised her napkin to her mouth and appeared to be covering a laugh. “Well, they’ve managed to get everyone’s attention, haven’t they?”
Tom exhaled loudly. “If that’s what they’ve wanted then they’ve achieved it.”
Cordelia, dressed in a lace-covered gown, moved to the banquet hall’s center. “Now that we have all arrived and been seated.” She cast a look at the trustee’s table, a tight smile on her face. “I’d like to welcome you to the grand opening of the inn, and in particular, welcome you to this hall, which we hope will serve the community for many years to come.”
People began to applaud, so Richard did, too.
“We’ll have some short speeches, but meanwhile my waiters will be coming through to serve your meal. You’ll notice on your menu cards that we’re serving Beef Bourguignon, whipped chived potatoes, assorted breads with fresh butter, and steamed asparagus for our main courses. For our grand finale, we offer chocolate mousse or apple torte served with whipped cream accompanied by café au lait, Café Americane, or hot tea.”
The applause was more enthusiastic. The waiters pushed carts down the aisle, beginning at the farthest table.
“Well, of course they’d serve us first. We’re the pillars of the community after all.” Mr. Hatchens’ nasally tone identified him immediately, and he was seated to Richard’s left immediately behind him.
One of the men at the table snorted, while the rest made softer sounds of agreement.
Pa frowned. “Ya know they changed the serving from front to back, and switched it around just for the Christy family?” His loud voice was surely meant to carry to the trustees’ ears.
“And the Jeffries,” Tom chimed in. “Although, in particular for the Christy men because we dare not keep Richard or Garrett waiting too long on their food or there might be an uprising.”
Jo elbowed Tom. “Behave.”
“What? It’s the truth.” Her fiancé leaned in to kiss her.
“We’re in public, son.” But Pa’s voice was light-hearted. He’d called Tom son. Would Rebecca be called daughter? And what about Juliana?
Behind them, Hatchens’ barked out, “And before our windbag of a mayor gets up there, let me announce that we will be working on staffing issues tonight.”
“Oh?” One of his cronies asked.
“Indeed. I’ve seen vexing issues with the female staff at our venerable institution. I want to propose some immediate solutions.”
Richard strained to listen, but he heard no comments pro or con over the soft discussions going on at his own table. Pa narrowed his eyes and Richard made the gesture for don’t ask, and his father winked at him. He looked past Richard, scanned the table behind him filled with the trustees, then ducked his chin as though indicating he’d watch, too.
The mayor, a kind man who supported both the library and the orphanage, spoke about the town being on the cusp of bigger things and how the history of the area had always been inclusive. Apparently not inclusive enough so to keep his library board members from wanting women out. But maybe the mayor didn’t know that.
After the mayor had finished, Reverend Jones, the pastor from their church, and Father Paul, from the Roman Catholic Church, each spoke and said prayers. Both were good speakers and didn’t throw in a bunch of fancy words that just confused people.
Reaching behind Jo’s back, Tom tapped Richard and whispered, “Reverend Jones is doing a good job of counseling us. According to Ox…” he jerked a thumb in Garrett’s direction “you’re supposed to be getting some sessions in with the pastor, too!” Tom laughed.
Richard scowled at his sister, hoping for an explanation. She shrugged. He nudged her toe under the table. She moved her feet away. He positioned his chair so close to hers that she was sandwiched between him and Tom. She crossed her arms.
“What is your fiancé talking about?” Richard whispered in her ear.
Jo gestured for him to scoot away from her and he did. Just a little, then he cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting. Finally, she sighed and pointed to Ox, whose sleepy eyes suggested he wasn’t paying any attention to the pastor’s words. “Garrett got it in his head that you and Juliana have plans and are merely waiting to set the date.”
“What plans?”
“For marriage you log-headed man.”
He jerked backward in his seat, afraid for a moment that he might tip over. “Where would he get such a notion?”
Pa, who’d still faced him, but appeared to be giving Reverend Jones’ words consideration, finally held a finger to his mouth to shush them. Richard exhaled loudly. He’d have to straighten Ox out later. Given everything he’d heard at church stump meetings, the responsibility a man had to his wife was immense. God sure asked a lot from a fella. Seemed like the wife got a better deal, even if she didn’t reckon so. If a husband abided by what the Good Book said, then the wife was getting a plum good specimen of a man. Pa had been like that with Ma. But could Richard be that kind of husband himself? No sense worryin’ since there were no prospects now—not with James Yost fawning over Juliana. Heck, the camp wasn’t even set up. He shouldn’t even be thinkin’ on such things. He swallowed hard and glanced at Juliana and Yost. He couldn’t just leave her to that man’s devices, could he?
After the preachers had finished talking, conversations resumed. Since Richard didn’t have a dinner companion, it wasn’t hard for him to simply eat, enjoy and hopefully eavesdrop on the library board.
“Delicious,” Pa pronounced.
Richard took a forkful of the beef. “Easier to eat without a beard, too.”
Ox ran a hand along his jaw. “Reckon it’s easier to kiss Juliana, too, ain’t it?”
So much for a private conversation. “Miss Beauchamps is a fine young lady and ya shouldn’t…” he searched for the fancy words Tom had taught him, “ya shouldn’t cast aspersions on her character.”
A muscle in Ox’s cheek jerked and Rebecca whispered in his ear before addressing Richard. “It is not vulgar for engaged couples to engage in a kiss.”
Richard shook his head. “I reckon that’s true. But seein’ as me and Miss Beauchamps aren’t courtin’, much less getting married, that wouldn’t apply, would it?”
Rebecca and Ox exchanged a confused glance. Where on earth had they gotten their ill-conceived notion? At the other end of the room, sat Miss Juliana Beauchamps, with whom he supposedly needed to “set a date” and apparently she was mighty cozy with James Yost.
So instead of worrying himself, he focused on digging into his food.
Once in a while his sister or brother would ask him something to which he’d nod and smile. That discouraged them from working too hard at getting him to do much talking. But he heard Hatchens loud and clear—there was only one windbag in the room and it wasn’t the mayor. Richard didn’t need to stay after the banquet was over to know what was going to be proposed. Every other comment the man made was a complaint about Juliana and her assistant. At one point, he heard one of the men turn in his chair, to look at her.
“Why that is her with James Yost, isn’t it. Mr. Hatchens, you have no worries as far as dismissing her. From the looks of things, perhaps our new friend will whisk her off to Wisconsin.”
“He’s a married man,” one of the men hissed.
The hairs on the back of Richard’s neck rose. He watched as James Yost slid his hand across to Juliana’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Of all the low life, low down, men… He ought to go introduce Yost to his friends, Mr. Fists.
“You’re misinformed,” Hatchens growled. “His wife died last winter from pneumonia.”
A widower then. Richard’s ire diminished and he suddenly felt sorry for the man. There’d been no mention of his marital status in the papers, but the social section implied he was single and highly sought after. Rich or not, to lose one’s wife had to be awful. But at least he’d known the joy of marriage. Across the table, Pa’s face looked peaceful for the first time in a very long time. Mrs. St. Clair seemed to be the right match for him despite their differences. And finally, Pa had come out of the dark place he’d isolated himself in after Ma’s death.
“Doesn’t change the fact that our head librarian is cavorting around town with him,” another board member groused.
“They didn’t arrive together,” Hatchens stated. “Mr. Yost and I were supposed to walk over together. I’d invited him to sit at our table.”
Richard took a bite of his potatoes, the savory puff melting in his mouth.
He strained to hear another man’s soft voice, “I figured with his experience funding the building of the new library in Milwaukee, that Mr. Yost would have good insight for us.”
Which was what type of insight? By the time Hatchens spoke again, Richard had finished cutting his asparagus into tiny pieces.
“Mr. Yost has an offer for us that may solve some of our dilemmas.”
Was that how the officious man thought of Juliana? As a dilemma? And who was their other one?
He’d find a way to help Juliana. He had to. His heart wouldn’t allow otherwise.
Chapter 10
“Here’s another directive from the board.” Hatchens slid a missive across the shiny surface of her worktop. He wore a jolly expression, as though he was Pére Noel delivering her Christmas present.
Behind him, Gracie rolled her eyes as she carried an armful of books to the children’s circle.
Juliana forced her features into what she hoped was a courteous, submissive expression, all the while battling the urge to take the letter, tear it into tiny little pieces, and dump them over the horrid man’s head. But she needed this job. “I’ll read it right after I’ve completed the children’s program.”
Her obsequious expression must have worked, because he didn’t challenge her statement. As he departed the library, she exhaled a long, slow puff of air and sank back onto her wooden stool.
Gracie hurried toward her, one of Claudette’s old Sunday dresses swirling around her legs. She leaned in across the counter. “Have you seen Mr. Christy? The children are asking for his Bon Jean stories.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She eyed the envelope.
She’d cut back on wearing her bicycling outfits to work, particularly the bloomers, after the long and scathing memo she’d received from the Library Board. So, now, unless the day was mild like today, Juliana would have to take her mother’s carriage and pay for the boarding and livery in town since they’d limited her transportation. But she’d walked the miles to work this morning, thinking about Mr. Hatchens with each step. Would the train be stopping at the Christy Lumber Camp? But the locomotive that would go should be a different kind of train, with a flat bed, mainly for hauling freight and logs. And she couldn’t picture herself hopping on the back of it like the lumberjacks might. She exhaled a long sigh. Maybe she could ask her friend, Janet, if Labrons Store was doing deliveries to the camp, or she’d add that of her list of things to ask Richard.
Bon Jean never showed up that day. Juliana wished she could fuss just as the children had when he failed to arrive. One of the town children, listening to the story on the edge of the circle, had piped up and shared that Richard made the Bible come to life. Wouldn’t that be nice, if like Papa, Richard read the Bible to her after dinner?
As the day came to a close, Juliana fingered the latest dictate from the board. Any volunteers at the library shall first be approved by the board. All must submit to an interview. What satisfaction she would have later that night, in burning the new mandate in the cookstove fire. She crumpled the paper and shoved it in her pocket. So now they were taking away her Bon Jean.
“What a long and disappointing day.” Juliana sighed and brushed her hair from her forehead as she and Gracie left the library building and locked up.
Outside the back door, Richard paced. He glanced up at them. Although he appeared much younger without his beard, if possible, he was even better looking. “You’re walking today, Miss Beauchamps?”
She gestured to the empty bike stand. “As you can see.”
“Why’s that?” He rubbed his jaw.
“I recently received a memo from the board. Apparently, riding a bicycle isn’t considered ladylike.” And another edict had been issued that day, which would likely keep Bon Jean from entertaining the children again. At least at the library. Maybe they could work something else out. But what, she didn’t know. Perhaps something at the orphanage, after work. Soon Richard would be busy with the demands of his camp and likely unavailable to volunteer.
Gracie snorted. “No one else has ever complained about her biking. In fact, many of the women in town ride regularly. And there’s a new bicycling club forming—not that I own a bike, but for those who do, such as Miss Beauchamps.”
“As it is, I’ll have to shun my bicycle and walk, for now.” As often as she could, anyway.
A breeze ruffled the leaves on the nearby oak tree and tousled Richard’s hair. “But you do have a pair of fine mares, if I recollect properly.”
She exhaled loudly. “We do, but with two families now sharing them, I can’t drive the carriage in, so I’m walking.” And four more mouths to feed, plus the orphans who continued to visit. Not that she resented them, but her faith in God’s provision was being stretched so thin, it may snap.
“Come on with me, I’ll give you a ride.” He grinned down at her and she averted her eyes as heat singed her cheeks.
Why hadn’t he come by the library that day? She’d watched the clock, hoping and praying, but he’d disappointed her—and now here he was. “What are you doing in town?” Her voice emerged as a whine and she gritted her teeth. She sounded like she owned him. And here he’d just offered her a ride. She should be happy, grateful even.
“I ‘spect I can come to town just like any fella.” Richard’s words held a tease.
“But you didn’t come into the library.” And now it sounded like she was accusing him of a felony. It wasn’t Juliana’s business if he chose to not come by. Had a board member said something to him?
Gracie giggled. “Was it because I had to fuss at those shanty boys of yours for falling asleep in the back stacks a few days ago?”
“No.” He frowned. “I interviewed some cook candidates for the camp.”
Juliana’s sister-in-law had mentioned she’d seen the Christy Lumber Camp ad, in the newspaper they subscribed to at home. With all of the children battling the flux, Melanie was loathe to leave them to come interview. And how wo
uld she be able to work with three young children at home, anyway? “Any success?”
“None.”
“Sorry.”
He twisted his cap in his hands. “Don’t know what I’ll do, Juliana. If I don’t get some awful good cooks, I’ll be outta business right quick.”
“I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure.” Her family’s property was not more than two to three miles from Christy camp. Even if the children were sick, couldn’t one of the women stay home to watch while the other two went to cook? And could Mother and Claudette help a little until he secured full time cooks?
He walked so closely beside her, on the walkway, that his wool plaid jacket brushed against her arms. She looked up, up into his dark eyes and warmth spread through her chest. How could she tell this man that he had to submit to an interrogation by the board before he returned to her story circle? If he could manage to get past Mr. Hatchens, which was doubtful.
They paused and Richard turned toward her and took her hand. He leaned in. Was he…going to kiss her? Right there on the city’s main thoroughfare?
“Miss Beauchamps, there is something I have to tell you. It’s been on my mind and my heart for a little while now.”
Oh heavens, was he going to share his feelings right there in front of Gracie? She pressed a hand to her heart.
Gracie giggled. “I better scoot on back to the orphanage and see how Sister Mary Lou is feeling. Have a good evening, you two.”
Gazing down at her, love shone in Richard’s eyes. Or was it concern? Or respect for an older female friend? “I should have said something earlier.”
Juliana pulled her hand free and held it up, to stop him. He may be handsome and sweet, and wonderful with the children, but wasn’t Juliana too many years his senior? With his beard shaved off and Jo Christy’s pronouncement that Richard was her “baby brother”, could anything further ever come of their friendship? “Mr. Christy, you are much too young to…”
Lilacs for Juliana (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 3) Page 11
