“Now, child, don’t go getting sentimental on me.” Dorcas released Thalia’s hands. “Let’s think of the party. I can’t wait to see our guests.”
“Assuming the snow doesn’t deter them.” Thalia’s gaze went toward the window.
Aunt Dorcas’s gaze followed. “Oh, pshaw! A little snow will only make the scene more picturesque. I daresay every guest will be talking about this event for months. Even Maximilian Newbolt.” Her pale lips curled into a wry line. “Especially Maximilian Newbolt.”
Maximilian. The man who broke her heart. “I sent invitations in plenty of time, but I didn’t see a response from him.” Her voice sounded more hopeful than she meant.
“He wrote that he plans to be here. The letter must have gotten misplaced before you had a chance to see it.”
Thalia tensed. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so blunt, but I wish you hadn’t invited him.”
“But, my dear, he’s a widower now. He hasn’t been out and about in months. Not since our dear little Norma died so tragically. She was such a sweet angel.” Aunt Dorcas looked heavenward. “The world is a bit colder without her.” As though ice touched her shoulders, she shuddered and turned back to Thalia. “But now that she’s gone, surely you wouldn’t deny your cousin’s widower the joy of our Christmas party, would you? After all, for Norma’s sake, we need to tend to him. My regret is that we can’t be more attentive since he lives in Aurora.”
Thalia didn’t answer. Let him stay in Aurora for all she cared. At least since he lived fifteen miles away, they didn’t see him in church or feel obligated to invite him to their home except on special occasions.
Undeterred—or perhaps encouraged—by Thalia’s silence, Aunt Dorcas continued. “Of course, no one could ever live up to Norma. He’ll never find another love.”
Thalia swallowed. Aunt Dorcas didn’t present a threat to Norma, so she never had reason to be anything but sweetness and light to the older woman. Putting such an unkind thought out of her mind, she posed a question. “Do you want Maximilian to find a new love?” Why did she ask such a thing? Maximilian’s romantic affairs were none of her concern.
Dorcas paused for only the slightest bit of a second. “No, I don’t want him to find someone new. I don’t think a remarriage for him is in anyone’s best interest. He may think he’ll be happy with someone else, but he never will. I feel sorry for the delusional woman who thinks she could ever take Norma’s place in his heart. Now you, on the other hand—well, it’s high time you married.”
Searching for an excuse not to face her aunt, Thalia swiveled around. “Does the bow in the back of my dress seem straight to you?”
Aunt Dorcas paused. “Yes, I believe it does. I must say, I like the new style.”
Thalia turned back around. “You mean, old style? This high waist makes me feel as though I’m a member of Napoleon’s court instead of plain old Thalia Bloom.”
“You are neither plain nor old. I might speculate that you’ll have heads turning tonight. And as I said before, it’s about time, too.”
“Oh, Aunt Dorcas, please don’t start up again. You know I have no intention of marrying.”
“Whyever not?”
Thalia tried not to display her impatience. Her aunt had asked many times. How could she tell her that once Maximilian had broken her heart, she couldn’t risk making it vulnerable again. No, better to be a spinster, to serve the Lord through church work and charitable deeds, than to be trapped in a loveless marriage.
Rather than waiting for Thalia to answer, Aunt Dorcas flitted her hand. “What a waste that would be if you didn’t. Josiah Billings has been looking your way. He can hardly keep his eyes off you in church.”
Josiah looked attractive enough, but they had nothing in common. “Oh, please. All he thinks about is baseball.”
“I’m sure as pretty as you look tonight, you can set his mind on other things.”
Thalia decided to turn the tables. “What about you? I’m sure you’ll have Mr. Snead and Mr. Carmichael coming to fisticuffs over you before the night is through.”
“They can come to fisticuffs, but I’m not ready to mother a brood of ten Snead children nor watch every penny Mr. Carmichael earns. In my youth I was the belle of the ball, but I never felt led by love—or the Lord—to marry any of my suitors.”
“Are you sorry about that?”
She answered without missing a beat. “Not at all. I was perfectly happy tending to my brother during his last days, God rest his soul.”
Thalia remembered Uncle Tyler. A strange old bird, he proved a handful for his much younger sister. Truly Aunt Dorcas was a saint.
“Enjoy this time, Thalia,” her aunt advised. “This is your night.”
Thalia laughed and looked at the banquet table. Their maid, Eliza, was in the process of setting out food. “Do you think this platter of sandwiches looks good here in the center, Miss Thalia?”
Thalia surveyed the table with a discerning eye. “I think I prefer to keep that spot for the soup tureen. Why don’t you place the sandwiches beside it? Then everything will be perfect.” She smiled. Pleasing scents drifted to her nostrils. Certainly with a table so fully stocked with beef, ham, chicken, and different types of rolls for sandwiches, along with preserved fruits and vegetables, relishes, pickles, pies, pastries, and cakes, no one would go hungry. For the hundredth time, Thalia wondered if hosting a full dinner would have been easier than setting out a buffet.
As the grandfather clock in the front hall chimed the hour, Thalia looked toward the polished curved staircase just visible from the dining room door. “Rose should be joining us any minute.”
“I admit, I thought she would have appeared by now. But the poor thing was so tired from her train ride. And I didn’t think you would ever let her break away from your conversation over tea long enough for both of you to prepare for the party.”
Thalia’s chuckle displayed more chagrin than humor. “I know. It’s just so exciting to have a chance to see her after a whole year.”
Just then Rose entered.
“Oh, there you are, Rose. You must have heard us talking about you.” Thalia smiled. “You look refreshed after your nap.”
“I feel much better, thank you. I don’t usually fret over my appearance, but I hope I look all right for the party. I haven’t seen so many people for so long that I want to look my best.”
“You look splendid.” Thalia compared their outfits. “And the color of your dress looks quite nice with your hair. A little part of me wishes my hair were the same shade of auburn.”
“Oh, no. You look quite striking with those black curls framing your face, Thalia,” Rose argued. “And you chose wisely in your dress, too. That shade of pink brings out the warmth in your complexion. If I weren’t your best friend, I’d think your skin had never seen a drop of sunlight or winter’s blast. Lucky you.”
Aunt Dorcas clucked and shook her head as a guest knocked on the door.
Soon the maid announced the arrival of the new doctor in town. When they entered the drawing room, the three women wore their best smiles.
Aunt Dorcas was the first to speak. “Dr. Stanton. My, but how handsome you look tonight.” She shot a look toward Thalia.
Thalia tried not to send her gaze skyward and back in response to her aunt’s broad hint. Denver’s new doctor was indeed handsome, but he didn’t ignite sparks for her. Not the way Maximilian once did. She shook her head in small, swift motions to shoo the image from her mind.
“Is anything the matter, my dear?” Aunt Dorcas asked.
“Oh no, ma’am. I’m fine.” Without further prompting, Thalia greeted the doctor and introduced him to Rose.
“Am I the first to arrive?” Dr. Stanton asked.
“Yes, but I think I hear Patricia Logan’s voice in the foyer. Dr. Stanton, I must introduce you to Miss Logan. She’s an old school chum of mine.” Thalia ignored Aunt Dorcas’s cautioning look.
A beeping horn got everyone’s attention.
Aunt Dorcas put her hands to her ears. “Oh, those wretched automobiles! They will be the death of everything that’s good in this world.”
Thalia laughed. “You can’t stop progress, especially now with mass production.”
“Maybe, but who in the world would drive an automobile in this weather?” Aunt Dorcas wondered. “Whoever it is must be freezing.”
“I’d venture a guess it’s Natalie,” Thalia said. “She loves to show off her new Cadillac Model 30.”
“If I owned such a fine machine, I might put up with a little cold weather to show it off,” Dr. Stanton said. “You make her out to be quite a character.”
Thalia smiled. “That she is.”
Soon the guests had gathered by the food and fire. Introductions were few since most were acquainted, and as more partygoers arrived, laughter and conversation filled the house. Comments about the snow sounded as brisk as the whirling wind outdoors, and occasionally a guest or two would peek out the window to see its progress, but sparse flakes concerned no one.
Everyone who promised to attend arrived. Everyone except Maximilian. Thalia felt relieved yet somehow disappointed. Fighting conflicting emotions, she told herself she didn’t want to see him again. Not now. Not ever. Why, she was even glad he didn’t have the nerve to show up at her party.
Thalia was surprised to hear a knock almost a quarter hour after the person she considered to be the last guest had arrived.
“Ah, a latecomer,” Aunt Dorcas noted.
In her mind, Thalia ran down the guest list and came up with only one missing name.
No, it couldn’t be. Maximilian couldn’t have decided to appear after all.
Chapter 2
Scat, cat!” Almost dropping the package he held, Maximilian Newbolt shooed a solid black stray so it wouldn’t cross the flagstone pathway, sugared with snow, in front of him. He felt relieved when the animal meowed in his direction but went on its way. The last thing he needed was even more bad luck, especially in front of Thalia’s house. Prideful about his new Studebaker, he’d driven it in spite of snow-dusted roads and threatening clouds. He’d already gotten a flat tire on the way to the party and had escaped muddying his new overcoat only by inordinate care. Now snow fell with vigor. How many more pitfalls must he sidestep?
He rubbed the white rabbit’s foot he carried in his pocket for luck. Tonight would determine his future. He would keep looking for signs until it became clear whether he should stay in Aurora or seek his fortune in California. His cousin Jake’s offer to buy an orange grove together tempted him. Working outdoors with his hands would prove quite a contrast to managing the mining company, wasting away with paperwork in his drafty office, never seeing the light of day during winter’s deep freeze, only to return after a long day to a house that was empty except for his loyal servants. But even the most dedicated staff, paid to wait on him hand and foot, couldn’t—and shouldn’t—replace true love or family.
His life had become cold and empty. As cold and empty as his heart. He remembered the day he discovered Thalia didn’t love him. Could he change her mind? Or would God send a sign—a sign he was destined for California?
He scratched his itching nose. Surely that was a sign of impending company. Wonder who would soon be visiting him? Not that he had many visitors. The flurry of caring friends ceased a couple of months after Norma’s untimely death. Not that they weren’t sympathetic. His unwelcoming attitude had discouraged kind overtures. He couldn’t put up a front of the truly grieving widower after such an unhappy union. The fact filled him with guilt.
Even now, with his official period of mourning over, he still felt reluctant to get back into the social scene. When he first received Thalia’s invitation, he had almost responded with regrets. But his valet, Addison, had encouraged him to go. Sad how he talked to his closest servant more than anyone else these days. Indeed it was high time for him to renew his old acquaintances, whether he wanted to or not.
Which acquaintances would be at the party? The Blooms’ Victorian-style house, with fussy white gables prominent against bright pink, boasted quite a few carriages and even a couple of automobiles parked in front. He recognized most of the conveyances and could gauge who appeared on Thalia’s guest list based on the fact. He wondered if he could pick back up with the old crowd now that Norma was no longer at his side.
He knocked on Thalia’s front door. Muffled voices coming from indoors sounded animated. As he awaited an answer, he regarded the falling snow. “I hope we don’t get a blizzard,” he muttered, and knocked on the first wood available, which happened to be the front entrance, in hopes of warding off such a plight.
The Blooms’ maid opened the door, a look of irritation on her young face, probably because he had seemed impatient with his knocking.
He hoped a pleasant smile would put her in a better mood. “Good evening, Eliza.” Shaking snow from his wool coat and stomping on the woven mat, he stepped inside and was greeted by warmth. “I see the party’s in full swing. I hope I’m not too late. I had a flat tire on the way.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Newbolt. You aren’t too late. Miss Dorcas has been expecting you.” She took his coat and hat.
Miss Dorcas? What about Miss Thalia? He let out an “oh” without worrying if his disappointment showed. Darting his gaze to Eliza, he anticipated a comforting look but received none.
In keeping with Eliza’s prediction, it was not Thalia but Dorcas, in a dress of filmy white, who greeted him first. “Oh, Maximilian, I am so glad you decided to join us.” She motioned for him to enter the parlor.
“Yes, thank you for the invitation.” Excitement and cheer gladdened his spirit. Maybe accepting the invitation had been the right thing to do after all.
A survey of the room, filled with men and women dressed in their best, rewarded him with a glimpse of Thalia. The instant he recognized the figure in pink, his senses tingled with anticipation. Shiny hair the color of a deep, cloudless night crowned a face fairer than any statue of Venus. He’d anticipated that seeing her again now that he was a free man would be difficult, but he hadn’t realized how much of an effect she still had on him. Why did she have to be such a marvel, a marvel with an unyielding heart? His mouth dropped with awe and yearning before he gained enough awareness to compose himself.
“What’s the matter?” Dorcas prodded.
He shook his head and regarded the elder Miss Bloom. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Desperate to deflect questions, he handed his hostess the package containing a small but dense fruitcake. Its sweet aroma penetrated its wrapping of cheesecloth tied with a green ribbon. “I had my cook bake this fruitcake just for you. It’s her Christmas specialty. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I remember Ginny’s fruitcake. So dark and moist, just the way I like it. Norma always served it at Christmas.” Her eyes grew misty, but she kept her voice cheerful.
“I know. That is a fond memory for me, too.” One of the few, although he decided not to reveal that to Norma’s aunt. “Do enjoy the cake. Ginny retired as of yesterday.”
“Really? Is she ill?”
“No, thankfully. Her son’s wife just gave birth to their ninth child, and he invited her to live with his family. I can’t believe she took him up on it.”
“My, I’m sure with all those children, they could use two extra hands.”
“I’m sure.” He sent Dorcas a half smile. “I even offered her a raise in salary to stay, but she respectfully declined.”
“So you’re eating cold sandwiches until you find another cook?”
“Oh, I have another cook.” He grimaced at the memory of burned toast and undercooked potatoes. “She’s quite inexperienced. Breakfast and lunch weren’t especially good today. But she’s young and her family needs the money, so I don’t have the heart to fire her.”
“She’ll improve.”
“I hope so. Although I must say, I look forward to sampling some good food tonight.”
Dorcas gave the cak
e she held a little squeeze. “Maybe you should have kept this for yourself. Really, Maximilian, you didn’t have to bring a thing. It’s gift enough for me knowing that you have finally gotten out of that lonely house of yours. Norma would want you to enjoy life now that your time of mourning is well over.”
“That’s comforting, especially coming from you.” He smiled and darted his glance to Thalia long enough for his treacherous feelings to return. He felt compelled to move toward her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a moment to speak to Thalia.”
“Oh, but you shouldn’t have to chase your hostess. She’ll make her way over to you soon enough.” Dorcas surveyed the party guests as if desperate to find someone. Soon she smiled and tapped his forearm. “Now who do I spy but Bryant Emmet? He’s someone you need to meet. He just moved here, and he’s very interested in the mining business.”
Discussing business at a lively party didn’t appeal to Maximilian, but he knew from experience that there was no arguing with strong-willed Dorcas Bloom.
Thalia looked across the room and caught her aunt chattering with the latecomer. A guest whose silhouette she would have recognized in the darkest alley.
Maximilian.
Almost spilling her punch, she recovered her composure. Maximilian’s form was unmistakable. Tall and slender but not skinny. Dark hair gleamed under the light. Despite the ins and outs of fashion, he remained clean shaven—a wise choice considering his fine yet manly features. She took in a breath then swallowed. She wanted to greet him, but again, she didn’t.
“Who’s that you’re looking at so hard, Thalia?” Josiah wanted to know. With curious eyes, he peered in Maximilian’s direction. “Oh, Newbolt came, did he? It’s been a long time since he’s been out and about. Can’t say I missed him much.” He chuckled and shook his carrot-topped head. “Look at him talking to your aunt, standing there as though he’s king of the world. And look at how he’s dressed. He’s quite the dandy, isn’t he?”
Mountain Christmas Brides Page 34
