by Carol Cox
She followed him inside. Her mood brightened when she saw a small table set up in the same spot she’d occupied the other day. If she couldn’t question the banker, she could at least spend a little more time at her observation post.
“This is my wife, Myra,” he said. “Dear, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Stewart.”
“Lavinia.” Ellie smiled at the frail-looking woman on the serpentine-back settee. She studied her new acquaintance, startled by the transparency of the other woman’s skin. She appeared a little younger than Lavinia’s supposed age. No wonder her husband thought the two of them would enjoy chatting.
“It’s good of you to take the time to stop in.” Myra’s voice was as delicate as her appearance. “Donald knows how I crave female companionship after being cooped up in my bedroom for days on end.”
“I’m happy to have the opportunity to rest a bit.” Ellie smiled and nodded to Donald as he returned with a tea tray and placed it on the table before them. The afternoon might not be lost, after all. Myra seemed eager for a nice long talk. And getting a woman’s insight might prove to be of more value than a conversation with the banker. She settled into an overstuffed chair that offered a good view of the street.
When she turned her attention back to her hostess, she tried not to stare at the thin hair, sunken eyes, and bony fingers. Her smile dimmed. She had her own problems, but they seemed trivial compared to the challenges this poor woman faced.
“Would you mind pouring? That teapot is a little heavy for me, I’m afraid.”
“I’d be glad to.” Ellie poured the golden brew into two cups of delicate bone china. Noticing an array of cookies on the tray, she tucked two on the saucer before she set it on the table next to Myra.
The cup rattled against the saucer when Myra lifted it, and she grimaced. “My strength isn’t what it used to be, but I want to make the most of the days I can get out of bed.”
“How long have you . . . I mean . . .” Ellie felt her cheeks flame.
Myra smiled, ignoring Ellie’s awkwardness. “I’ve been laid up for several months now. The doctor can’t find anything wrong—nothing specific anyway—but my strength seems to be ebbing away a little at a time.”
Ellie looked down at her teacup, not knowing what to say.
“I take it one day at a time,” Myra went on, as though she hadn’t noticed Ellie’s discomfort. “I have a good husband to care for me, and the Lord doesn’t give us more than we can bear, does He?”
Ellie bit into her cookie so she didn’t have to answer. She felt relieved when the door opened and a woman entered, as stout and fresh-faced as Myra was thin and ashen.
“I saw Donald sweeping the boardwalk. He told me you were feeling well enough to be up and around today, so I thought I’d come over and sit with you a mite.”
Myra’s face lit up. “What fun! It’ll be like a regular tea party.” She turned to Ellie. “Lavinia, this is my dear friend Gertie Johnson. She and her husband own the mercantile. Gertie, meet my new friend, Lavinia Stewart.”
Gertie smiled. “I’ve heard my husband mention you, Mrs. Stewart.”
Myra gestured at the table. “Gertie, would you mind getting another cup for yourself?”
“Not at all. Especially if it means I get to enjoy some of those cookies along with my tea.” Gertie winked and disappeared through the door to the dining room. She returned a moment later and plopped down on a dainty balloon-back chair on the other side of the settee. Ellie held her breath when the sturdy woman lowered her substantial bulk onto the delicate seat, but the chair held firm.
Gertie poured her tea and spooned in a teaspoon of sugar, then looked at Ellie. “Are you a guest here at the hotel?”
Ellie stifled a chuckle. Obviously, Gertie was not a woman who minced words. “No, I’ve rented the Cooper place, and I’m here to look into making investments. My niece joined me recently.”
“Two more women in town! Before you know it, we’ll have the place civilized.” Gertie threw back her head and gave a hearty laugh.
Myra joined in, although her mirth was more subdued. Ellie noticed a sparkle in the frail woman’s eye that hadn’t been there when she first arrived.
She glanced out the window and sipped her tea while the other women visited, keeping her ear tuned for any tidbits of gossip that might prove helpful. To her disappointment, they focused more on the weather and the new stove the banker’s wife recently ordered than anything pertinent to her investigation. It appeared that joining the tea party wasn’t going to give her any clues, but she had enjoyed the visit with Myra and Gertie.
“How are things going at the store?” Myra asked.
Gertie set her teacup on her saucer with a clink. “It couldn’t be better, to hear Walter tell it. He says he’s taking more orders than ever from the mines.” A chuckle rumbled from her ample chest. “I’ll have to take his word for it. You know what a poor hand I am at keeping the bookwork straight.”
Myra pressed her napkin to her lips. “I do indeed.”
Ellie pulled her attention away from the window and watched the two women, feeling an unexpected pang of envy for the easy camaraderie they shared. What would it be like to build close attachments in a town like Pickford, where people could simply be friends without the constant bickering and petty jealousy that existed in the world of the theater?
As if sensing her longing to be drawn into their circle, Myra smiled at Ellie and patted a Bible on the cushion beside her. “Would you mind reading a chapter to Gertie and me, Lavinia?”
“I’d be glad to. Where would you like me to start?” Ellie spoke evenly, hoping a calm demeanor would mask her nervousness. She’d started reading a randomly chosen passage in her own Bible every morning, but she was still very much a beginner when it came to locating a specific chapter and verse.
“I’ve marked the place where I left off,” Myra said, earning Ellie’s undying gratitude.
Ellie opened the Bible to the marked passage in the book of John, cleared her throat, and began to read. Only a few verses in, she realized she was reading the same story the minister had spoken of on Sunday morning, about how a little boy shared his lunch with Jesus to feed a multitude.
Just when she reached the part where the disciples were picking up the leftover food, Myra set her napkin aside and pressed one hand against her chest. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of steam. I’d better go lie down.”
Gertie pushed herself to her feet, all traces of merriment gone. “Let me help you to bed—or would you rather I get Donald?”
“I’d prefer you did it, if you don’t mind. The poor dear works so hard taking care of the hotel and me. I hate to bother him more than necessary.”
Gertie wrapped a meaty arm around her friend’s shoulders and helped her stand. Beside the hefty woman, Myra looked like a tiny chick under its mother’s wing.
Myra smiled at Ellie. “I had hoped we’d have more time to chat. If you’d like to come back, we can continue our visit another day. And feel free to rest here in the lobby whenever you like, whether I’m here or not.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Ellie’s throat tightened as she watched Gertie lead Myra to one of the doors behind the desk, which presumably led to Donald and Myra’s private quarters.
Wanting to be helpful, she busied herself setting the cups and napkins back on the tray. She didn’t know what to do next, so she stood near the window trying to spot anything of interest out on the street, her mind still occupied with the bravery and kindness of one frail woman.
Gertie emerged moments later, closing the door behind her quietly. “I’ve tucked her in, and she’s resting. I believe she was asleep before I even got out of the room, poor dear.”
Ellie could see moisture rimming the other woman’s lower lids and blinked back tears of her own.
Gertie pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and used it to swipe her eyes, then blew her nose and tucked the cambric square back into place. “I have to get back to the store. Walt
er will wonder where I’ve gone.”
Her comment jolted Ellie from thoughts of Myra to her own duties. She hadn’t followed through yet on her plan to question the mercantile owner. Seizing the opportunity, she said, “I’ll join you. I need to pick up an item or two.”
As they crossed the street, she added, “My niece brought home the canned goods and crackers I needed, but I wanted to see if you had chamomile tea.”
“Niece?” Gertie’s face lit up. “You wouldn’t be talking about that stunning redhead who came in this morning?”
The description of her alter ego brought a warm flush to Ellie’s cheeks.
“Now I know who you are.” Gertie’s broad shoulders shook. “You’re the one Amos Crawford has been mooning over.”
Ellie stopped short in the middle of the boardwalk. “Mooning? Over me?”
Gertie let out a loud peal of laughter. “I should say so. He comes in at least twice a day, asking if anyone’s seen you. And he has a spring in his step I haven’t seen before, as if he’s a boy again . . . or thinks he is.” She winked and dug her elbow into Ellie’s ribs. “Just the other day, I caught him eyeing an ivory comb. I knew he wouldn’t buy a thing like that for himself, so I asked him who he was thinking of giving it to.”
“What did he say?” Ellie asked, captivated by Gertie’s tale, in spite of herself.
“He snapped the lid shut and turned as red as . . . as that cabbage over there.” Gertie indicated the vegetable in a basket beside the mercantile’s door.
Ellie stared at Gertie, not totally comprehending the knowing look the other woman gave her. Realization dawned. “Wait a minute. Are you suggesting he intended to give that to me?”
Gertie snorted. “Well, he sure wasn’t planning on giving it to me.”
“I’m hardly the only woman in Pickford,” Ellie sputtered. “Surely there are others he might be interested in.”
“Maybe, but Amos has never done anything like this in all the time I’ve known him. It only started since you came to town. I haven’t seen a man look that moonstruck since Walter was getting ready to pop the question to me.”
Ellie clutched the satin ruffle at the neckline of her dress.
“You know how it is, having been married yourself. And Amos is a good man. You could do a lot worse. You don’t want to spend the rest of your days all alone, do you?”
Ellie forced her answer through lips that had suddenly gone dry. “It’s too soon to think of that. I still have the memory of my dear Oliver to keep me company.”
Gertie gave Ellie another nudge. “Maybe so, but memories can’t keep a body warm on a long winter night.”
From the heat in her cheeks, Ellie feared they matched the red cabbage in the basket by the door. “Indeed,” she muttered. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
The bell over the door jangled when they entered the store, where Walter bent over an assortment of papers scattered across the counter. He straightened at the sound and smiled at Gertie. “There you are. I wondered where you’d gone.”
“Myra felt up to having company, so I popped in for a quick visit. And while I was there, I made a new friend.” She tilted her head in Ellie’s direction. “You’ve already met Mrs. Stewart, I believe.”
Walter acknowledged Ellie’s presence with a nod.
Gertie reached for an apron hanging on a hook behind the counter and tied it around her plump midsection. “I didn’t mean to leave you shorthanded.”
“You didn’t.” Walter scratched the top of his head, leaving wispy strands of hair standing straight up. “There isn’t much going on at the moment. I thought I’d catch up on the inventory.” He swept up the papers he’d been working on, tapped them on the counter to square the edges, and stowed them out of sight. Resting both arms on the counter, he looked at Ellie. “What do you think about Pickford? Are you getting settled in?”
“I’m enjoying my stay immensely. People have been very helpful, and the weather is certainly nicer than what I’m accustomed to. If things work out businesswise, I wouldn’t be averse to making it my permanent home.”
“Especially now that you’ve got someone to keep you company.” Gertie snickered. When Ellie’s eyes widened, she added, “I meant your niece, not Amos.” Still grinning, she turned to her husband. “That was her niece who came in here this morning.”
Walter’s face brightened. “I can see the resemblance now. She was telling me something about your future plans. What was it . . . ?”
Ellie opened her mouth to repeat what she’d told him that morning, then snapped it shut again. How much should Lavinia know about what Jessie had said?
Good heavens! Keeping her identity under wraps wasn’t going to be enough. She would have to exercise constant vigilance to keep track of what Jessie knew that Lavinia didn’t, and vice versa.
She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Maybe she ought to start keeping two sets of notes, one for Jessie and one for Lavinia, to keep everything straight. She felt a touch on her elbow and opened her eyes to find Gertie peering at her, a look of concern crinkling her face.
“Are you all right? You seemed to take a little turn there.” She put her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and led her to a wooden chair next to a potbellied stove.
Walter disappeared into the back of the store and returned with a glass of water. “You sure you’re all right, Mrs. Stewart?”
Ellie squirmed under the couple’s kind ministrations. Letting her mind wander off in all directions was going to get her in trouble. She needed to keep a steady focus if she hoped to carry off her masquerade.
Walter excused himself to go help a man in rough miner’s clothing find a pair of boots.
Irene Peabody, the banker’s wife, waved imperiously from the notions table. “When I was in here the other day, you had a wide selection of Clark’s O.N.T. thread, but now I don’t see the color I wanted.”
With her back to the woman, Gertie made a face only Ellie could see. “Duty calls. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll just sit here a few minutes more, if I may.”
“Take as long as you want. If you need anything, just let me know.”
While Gertie tried to find thread in a shade to suit her demanding customer, Ellie took the opportunity to survey the store at leisure. The mercantile’s wares were all displayed neatly in their designated sections, and yet . . .
For a business Gertie declared was booming, the store didn’t appear to be as busy as one would expect. There wasn’t an overabundance of merchandise on the shelves, either, and she spotted a number of empty spaces where it appeared stock hadn’t been replenished.
But Gertie said they were taking in some sizable orders, so maybe it wasn’t possible to judge the store’s prosperity by the amount of merchandise on display.
At a table next to the far wall, a lanky man with a faded red bandanna around his neck sifted through an assortment of spurs. At the other end of the store she saw two of the mine owners she’d met at the meeting, one of them thumbing through a well-worn catalog. Browsers aplenty, but nothing to indicate the store was doing a land-office business.
The bell jingled, and Ellie’s heart lurched when Steven Pierce came into view.
Walter emerged from the back at that moment with a pair of boots in his hands. He nodded to Steven. “Be with you in just a minute.”
“No rush. I just needed to pick up another spool of that one-inch rope.” While the miner checked the fit of the boots, Steven gazed around the store. His eyes sparkled when he saw Ellie. “Mrs. Stewart, how are you this afternoon?”
Ellie rose as quickly as her wrapped limbs would allow and walked over to join him, admiring the way the cut of the jacket complemented his manly form. “What a nice surprise. We seem to be making this a regular meeting place.”
Steven chuckled. “What did you think about the owners’ meeting? Did it raise any questions in your mind?”
Ellie recogni
zed the hopeful look in his eyes and felt a stab of guilt. He wanted to clear up any doubts she might have so she would feel free to make her potential investment a reality. She wished she really did have the money to ease his worries.
She offered a confident smile. “No, I don’t believe so. Everything seemed very straightforward.” She nodded toward the far end of the store and lowered her voice before adding, “Some of the other owners seem like a rather rough-and-tumble lot.”
Steven followed her gaze and smiled. “Don’t let the external trappings fool you. They may seem a little rough around the edges, but that’s more a matter of them blending into the setting—something like a chameleon taking on the color of its surroundings. Tom Sullivan, for instance, has already had a successful business career in San Francisco before moving to Arizona.”
He nodded toward the man looking through the catalog. “As far as I know, Ezra is the only one who’s had very little education. The others may not have a college degree, but out here, people tend to educate themselves instead of going through formal channels. Why, just the other day, I saw Brady Andrews reading a copy of Plutarch’s Lives.”
Ellie’s eyes widened. “Really? I would have imagined he’d be much more interested in the inside of a saloon rather than the inside of a book.”
One corner of Steven’s mouth quirked up. “I have to admit, each of those would probably hold his interest equally.”
Ellie returned his smile, enjoying the warmth as they shared their little joke.
Walter returned from the back room, carrying the spool of rope on his shoulder. He set it down on the counter with a thud. “There you go. Anything else?”
Steven pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. “I have a list. Just a few odds and ends, but I can get them myself. You don’t need to go to the trouble.”
Walter shrugged. “Suit yourself, but it isn’t like I’m swamped right now.” He pulled a rag from under the counter and started dusting the back shelves.
