by Beverly Long
“There’s a man who has recently expressed some interest.”
Bella loved a story. She propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her open palm. “And how do you feel about that?”
Aunt Freida rolled her eyes. “I’ve known him my whole life. Doesn’t it seem a little odd to you that suddenly we’d be as awkward around one another as if we’d just met?”
She was so not the right person to be asking. She’d screwed up every relationship she’d ever had, always looking for something that wasn’t there. “I have no idea,” Bella admitted. “But I think you should stop worrying about it and go with it.”
“Go with it? Go with it,” her aunt repeated, like she couldn’t quite get her mouth around the words. “Go with what?” she demanded as she waved her plump arms.
Bella stood up. She didn’t know what the what was. But it had to be something pretty special. Her parents had had the what. It had been enough of a what that her father had given up all opportunities of advancement in the Society when he’d married a mortal woman. Why? Because of the what.
She hadn’t had the what with Bradley. “The what,” Bella began, “is the thing that makes your heart race when you hear his footsteps or your skin prickle when he happens to brush your hand.” She started to walk around the small table. Like always, it was easier to think when her legs were moving. “It’s the thing that makes you want to cook him his favorite dinner or hell, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the what that makes you feel like you want to tell the world about him but you’re afraid to even say his name because if you do, it might make it all go away. And you couldn’t bear that.”
She took a breath. And sat down in the nearest chair, right on top of three naked dolls. She lifted her butt and scooted them off to the side.
Her aunt had tears in her eyes. “Is that what you had with your husband, Bella. Did you have the what?”
She didn’t even know if the what was real. She could only hope. “Sure. It was the what, all right.”
***
If it was possible, Aunt Freida’s store was even more crowded and lacking in organization than Aunt Freida’s house. Bolts of fabric were piled on top of one another. Shovels and rakes and other tools hung from hooks on the wall. More of the same were propped up under them. Dishes and pots and pans were stacked high in big wooden crates. Groceries—bags of flour, salt, and sugar, as well as a whole wall of canned goods—took up at least a third of the store. There was a table of nails, wire, and oddly enough, women’s shoes.
In the middle of all of it, was a big, cast iron, pot-bellied stove. It had a flat top—there was a coffee pot sitting on it. As Aunt Freida walked past the stove, she grabbed the coffee pot. With her free hand, she lovingly patted the stove. “Just got this beauty a few months ago. It’s going to make the winter slightly more tolerable.”
Since it could not have been more than forty degrees inside the store, Bella hoped the beauty heated up fast.
Aunt Freida continued on to the rear of the store. Bella followed, staying exactly in her path. How her aunt managed to get through the tight aisle without knocking anything off a shelf was a miracle in itself.
Aunt Freida sat the coffee pot down on the plain wood counter. Then she took off her heavy cloak and hung it on a hook behind the counter. Bella didn’t touch her own buttons. She intended to keep every layer on for now.
“I’ll get the stove going and get us a fresh cup of coffee,” Aunt Freida said, looking amused. “Well, this is my little store.”
It wasn’t Bloomingdale’s but then again, it wasn’t so little either. It was packed, literally from floor to ceiling in most places, with merchandise. Bella was immediately thankful for the two front windows. Without them, the place would have seemed absolutely claustrophobic. It did pain her, however, to see that there was no display in either window. Merchandise was simply stacked up against the glass.
“What do you think?” Aunt Freida asked.
Sometimes honesty was simply not the best policy. “It’s very nice,” she said.
Aunt Freida nodded. “A few months ago some young whippersnapper came into town and opened his own store. He’s just down the street a bit. His name is Saul. He even charges a little less for some things. But he doesn’t have what people need or want. Not like me.”
She could only imagine. It seemed to Bella that Aunt Freida’s store had at least one of everything in it. And it was all piled on top of each other.
Aunt Freida studied her and it made Bella suddenly nervous. Suddenly her aunt smiled. “I haven’t been in Saul’s store for some time now. He knows me and he follows me around like a dog tracking a bird. But you’re a strange face, one he wouldn’t associate with me. Maybe you could go shopping later today and report back.”
Excellent. If there was one thing she was good at, it was shopping. “I’ll take very good notes,” she said.
“Saul’s won’t be open yet but in an hour or so, you better go. By noon, everyone will know that my niece is visiting. Word travels fast in Mantosa.” Aunt Freida grabbed a newspaper off the pile in the corner and twisted several of the sheets. She opened the door of the stove, carefully laid the newspaper inside, and added some small pieces of wood. She pulled out a box of matches from the pocket of her skirt, struck one, and soon heat was pouring out of the stove. Bella got as close as she could without actually standing on top of it.
“What can I help with now?” Bella asked.
“You can watch the counter while I unpack the boxes that came in earlier this week. If it don’t have a price marked on it, then there will be one listed on this sheet.” Aunt Freida pointed at a piece of paper next to a drawer that was filled with coins and paper money.
“If they tell you they have an account, make sure you add their purchases to their card.” Her aunt opened what looked to be a small recipe box. It had to have at least fifty cards inside. A quick look told Bella that they weren’t in alphabetical order.
Oh brother. Organization was clearly not her aunt’s strength. Perhaps jumping in and asking for work had been a mistake.
Bella heard the door, felt a blast of cold air, and saw a woman, all bundled up in a heavy coat and boots, hurry inside. The woman unwound the scarf that was wrapped around her head and Bella saw dark hair, speckled with silver, pulled back into a long braid. The woman looked to be about forty. She wore no makeup but had a natural beauty that told Bella she would always be a pretty woman, no matter what her age.
This was a woman full of sadness. Bella didn’t need the gift of colors to know that—she could tell by the look in the woman’s eyes.
Aunt Freida moved out from behind the counter. “Oh, Elizabeth,” she said, hugging the woman. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” the woman agreed. “But you know how it is?”
Aunt Freida nodded. “Hard to get out when you’re feeling lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon track.”
Aunt Freida definitely had a way with words. Bella looked at Elizabeth, gauging her reaction, and she realized that Elizabeth wasn’t focused on her aunt at all. She was staring at Bella.
“Hi,” Bella said, feeling awkward, hoping like heck there was no egg yolk on her face. She had, after all, almost inhaled her breakfast.
“This is my niece, Bella,” Aunt Freida said, waving an arm in her direction. “Bella, this is Elizabeth Clover. She’s Jedidiah McNeil’s older sister.”
Oh, yeah. Same blue-gray eyes. Same hair. Elizabeth was a very feminine version of her younger brother. “I met your brother yesterday,” Bella said.
Elizabeth inspected the heel of her boot. “I hope he was polite,” she said.
She decided not to tell the big sister that she’d had dreams about the little brother which had prodded her to wake up and decide she needed a lover. “He’s quiet,” Bella said.
Aunt Freida took a step away. “I’ve got to get this coffee going. I’ll be right back,” she said. “You’ve got time to join us for a cup, don’t you, Elizabeth?”
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“I’d love that. It surely is cold. But you’ve probably got ice on your well.”
“I imagine.” Aunt Freida said. “Lucky for me, I filled up my water barrel just yesterday. It’s colder earlier this year than it has been in a long time.”
Aunt Freida walked into the back room and Bella knew that if she’d had her magic still, the first thing she’d have done is whipped up a Starbucks.
Elizabeth continued to stand in the middle of the room. “Can I help you find something,” Bella asked, feeling as awkward as the tallest girl at a junior high school dance.
The woman sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never been a very good liar. I know you met my brother yesterday. He came to see me last night after he’d left your Aunt’s house.”
“Oh.”
“He seemed nervous,” Elizabeth said. “Talking more than usual, about nothing really, while he paced around my front room. It took him twenty minutes to finally tell me that he’d had supper with the two of you.”
Bella remembered the strangled I’ll be there. “I’m not sure he was crazy about eating with us,” she said.
Elizabeth smiled. “He’s let work become too important and sometimes he forgets the need to be social with others.”
Warmth spread from Bella’s stomach and settled in her chest. This morning she’d been thinking about getting very social with the good sheriff.
“I said something that bothered him,” Bella admitted.
“What was that?”
“I mentioned that the people in the stage had been talking about him. He didn’t like that.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth’s cheeks turned pink and she looked five years younger. “He didn’t mention that. He’s a very private person. I guess that’s what surprised me when he seemed to want to talk about having supper with you and Freida.”
“So you decided to check me out?”
“Check. You. Out?” Elizabeth smiled and this time it reached her eyes. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
The door chimed, opened, and Jedidiah McNeil filled the doorway. He stared at his sister, his face full of concern. “I thought that was your rig. Is something wrong?”
She shrugged, looking rather amused. “No. I just thought a trip to town would do me good.”
“You haven’t been to town in over a year,” he said, his tone wary.
Elizabeth looked at Bella, her face very serious. “My husband died thirteen months ago. It was in the middle of the fall harvest.”
Bella’s heart broke for the woman. “That must have been horrible for you.”
She nodded. “Jedidiah told me last night that you were a widow, too. I guess you would understand better than most.”
She hated this. She really, really hated this. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I think it’s wonderful that you came to stay with Freida. Family is important at a time of loss.” Elizabeth looked at her brother. “If I hadn’t had Jedidiah, I’m not sure I’d have made it.”
Jedidiah McNeil looked like he wished for a hole to swallow him up. “I’ve got to get to the office,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “You want me to see you home first?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Now that I’m here, I think I’ll pick out some material. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about a new dress.”
Bella heard a noise behind her and Aunt Freida came out of the back room. “Morning, Jedidiah,” she said. She walked over to the stove and sat the coffee pot on top of it. “If you’re interested in a dress, Elizabeth, I’ve got a few ready-made ones on the rack in the corner. They been going fast, you know, with tomorrow night being the big dance and all. I’m glad I picked one out for myself before I…uh…put them out for sale.”
Elizabeth cocked her head. “You got yourself a dress for the dance?”
“Yes.” It appeared as if the word had been pried out of her aunt’s mouth.
“I didn’t know you knew how to dance,” Jed said. He looked genuinely puzzled.
Aunt Freida straightened up, adding another inch to her already tall frame. “I’ll have you know, Jedidiah McNeil, that my Herbert and I were very good dancers. And just maybe I’ve missed having music in my life?”
It was a question but she said it like it was a challenge. “Christ, Freida,” Jed said, irritation now showing in his gray eyes. “You can’t blame me for asking the question. I meant no harm.”
“You’re just damn surprised this old woman got asked by a man to go to the dance on Saturday night.”
Jed frowned. “What man?”
Bella remembered her aunt’s hesitation. “You don’t have to tell him,” she said quietly.
Evidently not quietly enough because Jed’s jaw stiffened and he shot Bella a look. The meaning was clear. She might be family but he’d been Freida’s friend for years. Aunt Freida saw the look too and stepped forward.
“Not that it’s any of your business Jedidiah McNeil, but if you must know, it’s Thomas Bean,” she said, her tone just shy of belligerent.
To his credit, the sheriff didn’t react. He nodded, like he was considering the information. Then Bella caught just the hint of a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t think he plans to bring along his mother, do you?” he asked, ever so innocently.
Elizabeth took four very quick steps toward her brother and shoved the heel of her hand into his shoulder. “Shush,” she said, with all the authority of an older sister warning a younger brother.
He rolled his eyes but he didn’t say anything. Bella understood. She had an older sister, after all.
“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Freida said. “I’m not going.”
“Why not?” Bella asked.
“I’m just not.” Aunt Freida started to fiddle with cans of vegetables and fruit and, oh ick, meat. She stacked and rearranged and generally just created more disorder.
What the heck? How was Freida ever going to know if she and Thomas had the real what? The woman had surely planned to go. She’d bought a new dress.
Suddenly it dawned on Bella why her aunt was backing out. ‘You don’t want to leave me alone?” she asked.
Aunt Freida shrugged. “That doesn’t hardly seem the right way to be treating family.”
This was wonderful. She was a fifth wheel in a time when people didn’t even have four wheels. It was even worse than her friend Tara’s last dinner party. It had occurred shortly after she and Bradley were no longer a thing. There’d been six darling couples and her. The table would have set twelve comfortably—thirteen was a squeeze, and just why did every set of china come with twelve plates?
“Please don’t change your plans because of me, Aunt Freida,” Bella said. “I’ll be quite happy at your house, with a good book.”
“No…I really couldn’t—”
“Jed,” Elizabeth said, interrupting Freida. “Who are you taking to the dance?”
The man turned as red as the handkerchief wrapped around his neck. “I’m working.”
Elizabeth seemed to consider his response. “Well, I suppose there’s always Earl Bean?”
Bella tried not to flinch. “Really, I don’t mind staying home by myself.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Aunt Freida said. “Thomas will under—”
“Jed.” Elizabeth poked her finger into her brother’s chest.
The store was so quiet that Bella could hear her own heart beating. Jed yanked his hat lower onto his forehead. “Oh, Christ, fine. I’ll take her to the damn dance.” He looked and sounded miserable.
Elizabeth and Aunt Freida looked satisfied.
Bella bit the inside of her lip and knew that when she got the chance, she was stepping on Jedidiah McNeil’s foot. Hard.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jed had just finished his monthly accounts when the door of the sheriff’s office swung open so hard that it hit the wall behind it. He was half out of his chair, with his hand on his gun, when he realized it was his deputy and that the man was grinning like some fool
.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” Bart said. His tone was agreeable, like he was discussing the weather, not like he was insulting Jed’s person. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, tapping the toe of his right boot.
Jed knew he’d trust the man to ride beside him on any given day but there were times when Bart Schneider was simply an idiot. He sat back down in his chair. “It’s cold outside, Bart. Shut the damn door.”
Bart did so and then plopped down in the chair next to Jed’s desk. “You’re a sly one, Jedidiah,” he said.
Jed didn’t bother to answer. Bart clearly had something to say and Jed knew from past experience, there’d be no need to encourage him, nor any way to stop him.
Bart leaned forward in his chair. “Not that I blame you. She’s a pretty thing with curves just where a man likes them.”
He wanted to play dumb, to ask who Bart was talking about? But given that he’d spent the better part of the morning trying to forget about Bella Wainwright, he didn’t trust himself to manage his way through that conversation. “I assume you’re talking about Freida Stroganhaufer’s niece?”
“Oh, yes indeed. I fairly had to fight my way through the crowd at the Mercantile. But once I made it to the front counter, I introduced myself with pleasure.” Bart patted his chest. “Nothing prettier than a woman with black eyes that twinkle.”
“I didn’t notice her eyes,” Jed lied.
Bart raised a pale blonde eyebrow, which exactly matched the hair on his head. “I suppose you did manage to notice that when she smiles and you see all them nice, white teeth and those pretty pink lips, that it makes you feel good to be alive?”
When she’d smiled at him last night, he’d almost dropped a load of firewood on his toe. And then this morning, he’d lost complete control of his senses. Now he was going to some damn dance. “I don’t have time for things like that.”
“But suddenly you’ve got time to go dancing?” Bart asked, his tone now taking on a truly perturbed tone. “I thought you planned to be busy watching over the jail.”
Jed closed the notebook that he’d been working in. “Do not start with me, Bart Schneider. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I couldn’t say no without getting both Freida and my sister all riled up. And on any given day, I’d rather have you pissed at me then either one of them.”
