by Noelle, Jo
Toria was the first to give her reply. “I’ll think on this. I need to know that it means a lot to me before I commit.” Several other women said they’d consider it too.
Millie felt disappointment nearly strangle her until she realized she couldn’t feel bad about Toria’s answer. Millie would march because she did feel strongly about it. That was the whole idea behind voting—you spoke for what you wanted to support.
“I’ll be there, Millie,” Eliza said softly. “It’s something I already believe in. I’ve read a little about it in the Denver Post. I think it just might become law. If my support can push that along, I want to participate.”
“Thank you, Eliza,” Millie said. “And everyone for considering it. I’ll be here next week for tea, and whether or not we march together won’t change the love I have for each of you.”
Millie left the tea shop and saw the Scottish woman standing outside by Millie’s horse, waiting for her.
“That’s done.” The woman patted Millie’s arm. “You’re doing a fine thing.”
“Thank you. You’re from Scotland. What’s your name?”
“You can call me Mama M. Everyone does.”
It was true in Scotland that just about everyone could be called Mama M with all the Mac’s and Mc’s thereabouts.
“Now, let’s go to the new boarding house. I have a thing or two to get off my mind, and you can help.” Mama M locked elbows with Millie and tugged her to go back toward the restaurant while Millie began walking the other way to get on her horse.
“I have a few more visits to make today. Would you like to join me? We can talk on the way,” Millie suggested. “I’m visiting the Morgan family next.”
“Och, no. I don’t think I will,” Mama M said. “I’d prefer if we kept my visit between the two of us for now.” She placed her finger across her lips and made a shushing sound. Then she disappeared.
Millie jumped, startling her horse. She held the reins tightly and cooed to the animal, petting his neck. “It’s all right, boy. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She didn’t know if she was doing it for him or to calm herself. “It’s just people don’t usually disappear. But I thought . . . On second thought, we’ll go straight home.”
“Sorry, dear one,” Mama M’s disembodied voice whispered near her. “I only have so much time. I’ll be back. Tell no one.”
Millie was confused about what had just happened. She definitely would tell no one. She wasn’t sure if she should believe it herself.
Edwin
Creede never slept. Working underground during the day was as dark as working there at night, so Edwin’s business had three shifts for meals. When he had first moved there, he’d served from his wagon, then from a tent, then the restaurant. After that was blown up, he’d served from his home and now from the back door of the nearly finished restaurant/boarding house again. This town had been good to him and supported him through it all.
Anticipation pumped through Edwin’s veins. It was almost time for Millie to arrive. She’d come each morning for the past couple of years dropping off scones, muffins, cookies, or some other treat that he could include in the meals he packed for the miners. He could offer meals at a slightly lower price without the yummy morsels, but he knew his customers came back again and again because of them.
He opened the door and checked outside, but it wasn’t the baked goods he looked forward to. Millie created the excitement pumping through his chest. He couldn’t deny it any more. He was in love with the woman—had been for years. He’d tried to hide it, and he probably had done too good a job at that, especially from himself. There was a time when he thought she might be shining on him. He was sorry now that he’d backed away from her then. Somehow he’d always imagined she’d be around for him without him making a commitment to her. It had been unfair and unkind. She deserved happiness. If it wasn’t to be found with him, then with someone else. It was time to find out which way it would be.
Minutes later, just as he expected, Millie arrived carrying a box of goodies.
Her cheeks had a bit of color to them, and her red hair fell in a braid over her shoulder. She fair took his breath away. “Let me help, lassie” Edwin said, reaching for it.
“There’s another in the carriage. Fetch that one, please.” Millie slid her box onto the counter as Edwin went out and retrieved the other.
He wondered what a man did when he wanted a woman to see him differently. When he reached her carriage, he noticed that she’d unharnessed her horse and penned him in the fenced yard behind his house. He liked that. It seemed to be as it should be. She was planning to stay in town for a while today.
“What’s your plan, Edwin?” his mother whispered from beside him. “Millie won’t wait around forever. Fact is, Mr. McCormick stands in a good position to win her hand if you don’t hurry.”
Although Edwin didn’t startle at his mam’s appearance this time, he still found it unsettling. He could hear her. And how did she know what he was thinking?
“I’ve always known what you were thinking. You wear it all over your face. And mothers know everything. True, I’m a tad better at it now.” She tapped her forehead with her finger.
He leaned the box against the carriage. What was it that Millie wanted? He hadn’t a clue. And he definitely wasn’t going to ask his mother.
“So you think it’s none of my nevermind, do you?” She put her fists on her hips. “I birthed you. Three days of agony and twelve hours of screaming. You spent a whole year being sickly.” Her voice was getting stronger with every sentence. “Who was it that sat up with you, bathed your forehead with a cool rag, and cleaned your vomit from the floor?”
Although he hated to admit it, Mam’s ability to guilt him had always brought him low. A few days ago, Edwin couldn’t understand a word his mam said, and now every word was clear. Why was that?
“You stopped listening to me years ago. I guess those things carry over.”
“Well, I’m listening now.” He mirrored her stance with his fists on his hips. Truth was, maybe she knew what he should do.
Mama McRae had opened her mouth to continue but snapped it shut at Edwin’s reply. “Aye, ya are. You’ve made your decision then, I guess. I was to be mute until you did—keeps me out of your business.” She looked at him suspiciously, then said softly, “Be the man she needs.”
Although Edwin knew there was little to keep his mother out of business she was of a mind to tinker in, he was glad to see her and hear her. Who did Millie need?
“Let her see who you are. Not just her friend but her partner for life, the very center of her heart, the match to her soul.”
Edwin felt every drop of confidence melt. He didn’t know how to do any of that. He wasn’t one to be showy or puff himself up. He preferred to stay behind the scenes.
“You’ll need to find that courage. You’re a man who left a country for a new one sight unseen. You trekked across that land and found a new home. You’ve built a business with sheer determination. Aye. You have guts. Remember that when you feel your determination slipping. ’Tis simple. Find the way—the path that leads the two of you to the same spot.”
As his mam faded from view, he heard her say, “Could it hurt for me to have a moment or two longer? I didn’t even get to the part about seizing the day.”
Edwin’s heart expanded and clenched at the same time. He missed Mam so much. He loved how she could build him up and chastise him with the same breath. She wasn’t the kind of woman to raise children while sitting on a silk cushion, and she would always say it as it was. She was right—he needed a plan. He’d never courted before. He had been in love, but he’d grown up with her, and they had fallen in love over the years. Although he and Millie were already friends, he knew he didn’t have years for her to notice him, not with Sterling lurking about.
He carried the box into the kitchen.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d run off with my treats. They’re new. It’s a little like making a
meat pasty, but instead of the meat, I used fruit in the middle.” Millie pulled one out, placing it in Edwin’s hand.
A jolt passed through him as her soft fingers grazed his palm. If he hadn’t been holding the little pie, he would have clutched her hand. He’d touched her casually many times before this—nothing. Thinking about marrying her was changing him. He wanted to touch her again—maybe to feel the excitement or maybe to see if she would feel it too.
“Try it.” She barely waited until he had the first bite in his mouth before asking, “Is it good? They’re easy to pack and eat. Will the customers like it, do you think?”
Edwin rolled his eyes with pleasure, savoring the buttery pastry and the pop of sugary sour berries. “They’ll make the heavens sing for sure. I’m wondering how many I could keep for myself. Unless our customers are from Scotland, they won’t appreciate the pasty. You could have saved yourself a lot of work and made a turnover.”
Millie’s smile stretched with sheer joy. “But you and I both know the difference. I thought you might like them.”
Edwin’s chest warmed through. “That I do, lassie,” he said, balancing the deep pie shell in his palm to keep the fruit from spilling out. He thought about what his mam had said about being a partner with her. Although Millie hadn’t told him about her rally, near the whole town was abuzz about it. “I wonder if you’re of a mind to put a flyer about the rally in the bags we sell today.”
Millie blushed. “You know about that?”
“Aye. It’s a canny idea. I’d like to help.” He waited for her answer, but instead, her hands squeezed his, and the warmth he’d felt earlier blasted into an inferno. “Men as well as women will support this idea,” he said. “I left Scotland because I knew I’d never get the chance to be someone there. Freedom called me from across an ocean. This is America where anything can happen. Women and men are partners in building this new state. All should vote.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “They’re in my carpetbag. I’ll bring you some.”
Edwin and Millie stuffed each meal bag with a page. Then Millie left to do errands, and Edwin served his next rush of miners. At the end of cleaning up, his lawyer, Bernard T. Newell, come in and pulled the only table closer to the door and sat down.
The man wore fancy wool suits but always had mud splattered at the bottom. His brown hair fell to his shoulders under a bowler hat. He was about Edwin’s age, he figured, but then Edwin had noticed there were lots of young men, strong and hungry, to work this rugged land. Newell looked like someone you’d hardly notice—Edwin wondered if he did that on purpose. Once when Newell’s jacket blew open with the breeze, he saw a pair of expensive silver pistols underneath. Men don’t buy weapons like that if they never intend to use them.
“You’re early for our meeting.” Edwin looked at the clock. “By about two hours.”
“Well, I’m not really here for you at the moment. The restaurant seemed like a good place to meet with my other clients. Do you mind?” When Edwin shook his head, Mr. Newell took a placard out of his case and tucked it in the window. “Then I’ll be right here when our appointment comes up. Do you have any lunches left?”
Edwin retrieved a bag and delivered it while a man came in and sat next to Mr. Newell. “Two bits,” Edwin said. He nodded to the man as the lawyer dug in his pocket.
After handing Edwin the quarter, Newell said, “This is a privileged conversation. You understand our need for privacy.” He gave a flat smile. The man could put on airs.
“Of course.” Edwin returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning and setting up for the next rush of customers. He hoped this wasn’t permanent office space for Newell’s legal practice. With any luck, the dining room would be a busy place in a week or two.
Clara Hatfield walked just inside the door to the kitchen and cleared her throat and waited until Edwin looked up at her. “Mr. Fontaine would like some help moving furniture.”
“Tell him I’ll be right up,” Edwin replied.
She nodded.
Edwin expected her to leave with that message, but she stayed in her spot.
Finally she asked, “Who is the gentleman with the kind smile?”
At a loss for who she was asking about, Edwin said, “Where did you see him?” “He’s sitting in the dining room. He’s wearing a fine suit, and he stood when I entered the room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a thing before. But it was real nice.”
It surprised Edwin that his lawyer even had a kind side, but it must be. Maybe the man recognized Clara’s beauty, something she didn’t seem aware of and hid by putting her chin down whenever in company. She was a friend of Julianne’s. They’d bonded when they were both captives a year and a half ago. Now, she was here working for the Fontaines as a maid.
“His name is Bernard Newell. He’s my lawyer.”
“I see.” Clara tucked her chin and left the room.
Edwin helped carry furniture to the bedrooms upstairs. The boarding house could open. The restaurant and kitchen were almost done. The kitchen had two large stoves and a hearth to accommodate more Dutch ovens than he owned. Even the storage room and several ice boxes stood ready for food.
He hoped the lawyer had good news for him. Edwin was ready to turn that page in his life. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
He picked up another mattress to haul upstairs as Millie walked back in. The air in the room seemed to lighten because of her.
“I have the rest of the muslin. I’m going to get the remaining curtains made today.” She made the curtains and then, to add a little decoration, she embroidered a little flower in the bottom corners.
“Thanks for your help, Millie.” Edwin wanted to put the mattress down and sit beside her while she worked. He liked her company. Although Edwin saw Millie for only a few minutes every day, as soon as they opened for business, he’d see her for a few hours every morning.
“It looks busy down here.” Her head ticked toward Mr. Newell. “I’ll finish this upstairs.”
Edwin hefted the mattress to his back. “I’m coming up too.” He hurried up and placed the mattress on the frame and then went to find Millie. She was sitting in the corner room in a wooden chair. Beside her one window had a curtain, and the other was bare.
“You might be the best cook I’ve ever met, Millie. That fruit pasty was brilliant.” He regretted for a moment that he’d blurted that out without so much as a How are you? or Good to see you, until he was gifted with one of Millie’s broad smiles. She was petite and young-looking for her age, and her smile made her look playful and girlish. He caught himself staring and stopped. “I expect to have requests for more tomorrow as the men return for their next meals. I have some left over, so a few customers will get lucky.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks blushed a bit at the compliment. “We should probably put together a list of what you’d like in the meals. Then I won’t be surprising you with whatever shows up each morning.”
“You can make a list if you’d like, but I enjoy it when you surprise me.” His voice sounded low. He could hear the longing in it, but he hoped Millie couldn’t.
“I’m glad. Half the fun is making something new when the idea hits me.”
Several months ago, he’d asked her if she would be interested in cooking for the restaurant when it opened. She’d said she would be. He thought that meant she’d do it. Maybe she meant that she’d think on it. It sounded like she was still only delivering treats instead of working there. Edwin was worried that he’d misunderstood. If so, he’d have to find someone to cook with him. No one would equal the pleasure that Millie could be.
Over Millie’s shoulder, floating within the frame of the uncovered window, was his mam on the other side of the glass. She was moving her fingers by her mouth, then pointing to Millie. Surely she doesn’t want me to sing to her. His mam slapped her forehead and shook her head. Next, she pretended to stir a bowl of something, then pointed to Millie.
Well, she hardly needed to tell
him that. He was going to ask her anyway.
“I asked you a few months ago if you’d like to work here as a cook, but I’m not sure if you still want to.”
Millie’s eyes became round, and her hands stopped mid-stitch. “You don’t want me to cook here?”
“No. I mean, I do,” Edwin said. “You will, won’t you?” Even when he concentrated, his brain twisted and turned, flipping his thoughts and words whenever he spoke to Millie.
“Yes. Just let me know when you’d like me to start. Have you decided what we’ll be serving?”
“I haven’t. I’d like to see what you suggest. For now, I know we’ll have the work meals. I don’t have any idea if we’ll have boarders to cook for or if folks will walk into the restaurant. There have been a couple more eating places open up since the fire, so I don’t know what to expect. I talked with Clint Roberts down at the meat market, and he’s going to help me get what we need while we figure this out.”
“I’ll have to think on the menu.” Millie had begun taking stitches again, and Edwin thought she had a contented look on her face.
“I’d better go get the rest of the furniture in place.” He walked to the door. Before he left, he turned back and said, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with in the kitchen, Millie.”
“I feel the same way, Edwin.”
The sincerity of her expression pierced his heart. The surprise of it left him speechless, but he smiled at her. There were many other things he would like her to feel the same about, especially a shared future. He briefly he saw his mam out the window. This time she was playing imaginary bagpipes with her arm winging out to the side, her lips puckering to blow while her fingers moved on an imaginary chanter. Then she pointed at him.
Now what does she want me to do? Edwin had learned to play the bagpipes from her. It was the one thing that gave him peace during the hard times in his life. He still played when he needed to think or just to feel connected to his history. A bit of pain tweaked him when he thought of how he’d left. His father had begged him to stay, and his sisters had cried. Whenever he thought of them, he played the pipes as well to fend off or embrace the melancholy.
