Lacy: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Pendleton Petticoats Book 5)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lacy stepped outside the telephone office and inhaled a breath of fresh spring air. Warm and sunny, it was a beautiful spring day, one full of hope.

  Easter would arrive in just a few days. She anticipated the holiday, planning to attend church services in town then spend the afternoon with her grandmother. Since the day her father had come upon her and Grant on the reservation, she hadn’t returned, afraid he might insist she stay.

  Walker snuck into town the previous afternoon with Rebecca’s invitation. Apparently, Joe had forbidden him from going to visit his grandmother or his sister, but the boy ignored his orders. When Lacy told her brother what happened and the way Phillip tried to intimidate Grant, Walker assured her he and Tom would come to her rescue if needed. He promised to meet her at Rebecca’s house Easter afternoon if she’d come out for a visit.

  The holiday, her family, and Phillip entangled her thoughts as she started down the sidewalk. She’d only taken a few steps when someone fell into step beside her.

  Startled, she glanced over at Grant and her heart melted at his tender smile.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself, lovely lady.” Grant grinned as he shifted a large box so he could offer her his arm. “Mind if I walk you home?”

  “Not at all.” Lacy covertly glanced around, pretending she looked to see if someone spied on them. “But won’t this get back to your mother?”

  “I don’t really care if it does.” He smiled down at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “If you really want to provide the old biddies she invites to tea with something to talk about, I could give you a big smooch right here in front of Mr. Lawry’s office.”

  A becoming blush added color to Lacy’s cheeks. To conceal her amusement, she looked into the window they walked past. “That won’t be necessary, Grant. Not at all. For all your inappropriate comments and suggested nonsense, one would think you’d been brought up without a speck of comportment or civility.”

  He chuckled. “I just like to say things that make your cheeks turn pink while you struggle to hide your smile. My ‘inappropriate comments and suggested nonsense,’ as you so aptly put it, pleases you no matter what you might say.”

  Grant watched her eyes widen in surprise before a smile broke out across her face.

  “Perhaps, but I refuse to acknowledge if you are right or wrong.”

  “Right or wrong about what?” Marnie asked as they stepped inside Ilsa’s shop. Laila snuffled in her arms while Caterina’s boys chased Sophie around the displays. The chatter of more children drifted out from the workroom. From the sound of the noise, all of Marnie’s brood gathered in the back.

  At the questioning looks on Lacy and Grant’s faces, Marnie lowered her voice. “Lars and Kade stopped by with some disturbing news. Ilsa went to sit with Caterina.” Marnie kissed Laila’s cheek and started to set her down, but the toddler clung to her. “It’s okay, little one. All is well in your world.” Marnie patted the child’s back and rocked from side to side as she stood near Ilsa’s front counter.

  Lacy scooped up Sophie as she ran by and tickled the little girl’s sides.

  “Take Brett and Ben into the workroom, Sophie,” Marnie said when Lacy set the child back on her feet.

  “Yes, Mama.” Sophie turned to Ben and tugged on his sleeve. “Come on!” The three children disappeared through the doorway into the back.

  Grant smirked when Sadie’s voice rose above the others. “You kids settle down. You act like a bunch of knuckle-dragging cavedwellers. Now, sit down before you fall off that stool, Brett. I’ll get you a cookie if you can be patient for one dad-blasted minute.”

  Marnie rolled her eyes. “She still likes to be in charge and boss the others around. Most of the time Sadie is a big help to us.”

  “What was the disturbing news?” Grant set down the box he carried then turned to Marnie.

  “A telegram arrived at the depot office that there was an earthquake in San Francisco and fires broke out all over town. Many people have died and much of the city has been destroyed.”

  Grant and Lacy both appeared stricken by Marnie’s words.

  “That is terrible news. I’ll wire one of my colleagues and see if there is anything I can do to help.” Grant looked thoughtful for a moment then gave Marnie a questioning glance. “You said Caterina was upset. Is it about what happened in San Francisco or another matter?”

  Marnie sighed. “One of Caterina and Tony’s brothers is in San Francisco on business. He and his wife arrived there a few days ago, planning to make some contacts for their store and take a few days to relax. No one has heard from them, so Caterina isn’t certain if they are well or among the casualties.” Laila had stopped snuffling and fallen asleep. Afraid to wake her, Marnie continued rocking back and forth as she held her.

  “Oh, no.” Lacy said, placing a comforting hand on Marnie’s arm. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Just pray.” In an effort to lighten the somber mood, Marnie glanced at the box Grant set on the counter. “What have you got there?”

  From inside the box, Grant lifted out several copies of Beatrix Potter’s book, The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Lacy accepted the one he held out to her and flipped through the illustrated pages.

  “My sister Eleanor raved about how much her children enjoyed this book. I thought Laila and some of your young ones, Marnie, might enjoy it, too. It’s the story of a widowed mother rabbit and her offspring. She cautions her young against entering a vegetable garden grown by a man named Mr. McGregor, because their father met a sad demise in the garden. Her girls obey, but her son, Peter, is a willful, mischievous boy who wanders into the garden despite his mother’s orders to stay away.” Grant smirked at Lacy. “I can’t relate to him in the least, but it is a fun story and the pictures in the book seem quite good.”

  “It’s lovely,” Lacy said, handing the book back to Grant, but he shook his head.

  “Keep that one for your nephew and nieces. I’m sure they’d enjoy it.”

  “Thank you, Grant. They’ll love it.” Lacy held the book to her chest, treasuring it like a grand prize.

  “I’ve got one here for Brett and Ben, too.” Grant set the stack of books on the counter then dug out a jar full of colorful jellybeans and another of gumdrops.

  He removed the lid on the gumdrops and held it out to Marnie. She took one then Grant offered it to Lacy, she accepted the candy with a smile. Grant took a piece and popped it into his mouth then tipped his head toward the workroom. “Think we should tell them there’s candy out here?”

  “Not until Brett and Ben are ready to go home. Those two are more than a handful without eating any sugar. If we give them a few pieces of candy, they’ll swing from the rafters.”

  Grant laughed and set the candy in the box, out of view lest any of the children run in from the back. “Maybe Lacy could keep it upstairs for now?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Lacy reached out for the box, but Grant picked it up and bowed to her.

  “Lead on, fair lady. I’ll carry this up for you.”

  She grinned at him then walked into the workroom. With a quick wave to the children, she promised to return to visit with them in a moment and led the way upstairs. Grant placed the box on a chair in her sitting area while she set down the book he’d given her.

  “You don’t care about keeping the children away from the candy as much as you wanted to concoct an excuse to come up here with me.” Her look dared him to argue.

  A roguish grin confirmed her suspicions. He pulled her close, holding her tenderly and breathing in her scent that never failed to bring to mind a gentle summer breeze. Unhurried, he tantalized her mouth with a powerful kiss that left her clinging to him for support.

  “Marnie and the children are right downstairs,” she whispered, unable to move away from him even if she wanted to, which she didn’t.

  “And I hope that’s where they stay, but in case they don’t, I’ll give you your gift right now
.”

  Lacy frowned. “No more gifts, Grant. I can’t possibly accept another gift from you.”

  He turned and pulled something furry from the box then held it out to her. She gasped in surprised pleasure and took the toy bear from him, running her hands over the soft fur.

  “It looks just like a real bear cub,” she said, moving the jointed arms and legs. Even the head turned from side to side. “Oh, Grant, it’s the most adorable thing.”

  Grinning, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you sure you won’t take one more gift?”

  “Just this one.” She smiled at him with love filling her eyes. “What’s it called?”

  “This is a genuine teddy bear. They’re named after President Roosevelt. The toys have been around just a few years. I saw Mr. Johnson had a couple in the store while I was getting the candy and books. It looked like something you might like.”

  “I don’t like it at all, Grant.” Lacy glanced at him, hiding her smile just long enough for him to stare at her, confused and a little uncertain. Still holding the bear in one hand, she threw her arms around him, squeezing him in a tight hug. “How could I not love something so cute?”

  Relieved, he released a sigh and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad to know that. Now, before Marnie sends that herd of hooligans up here to find us, let’s go back downstairs. We might as well take the candy with us.”

  Lacy set the stuffed bear on a chair and grinned while Grant picked up the box of treats. Together, they walked downstairs.

  “Who wants a gumdrop?” Grant asked as they stepped into the workroom.

  Marnie’s haggard sigh drifted from the front of the store over the elated cheers of the children.

  An hour later, Grant left nine excited children in Marnie and Lacy’s capable hands. He’d taken the candy back upstairs to keep the little ones out of it, but they’d eaten enough he was sure none of them would want any supper.

  A grin crinkled the corners of his eyes as he thought of the scowls Marnie cast his direction when Sophie and Laila buried their little fists in the jar of jellybeans. It would be awhile before he worked his way back into her good graces.

  Entertained by his thoughts of the children’s antics, he nearly tripped over the small trunk blocking his front door. Curious, he picked it up and stepped inside, carrying it into the parlor.

  Although all the lights were on in the room, Imogene was nowhere to be seen. After hanging his hat and suit coat on the hall tree, he wandered down the hall to the library and found his mother asleep on the settee with a book in her hand. Quietly, he pulled an afghan over her and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  At least he could eat his dinner in peace.

  He reclaimed the trunk and carried it to the kitchen where Betty sat at the table, flipping through a magazine.

  “Good evening, Betty.”

  She jumped to her feet and tipped her head to him. “Good evening, Mr. Hill. May I serve your dinner?”

  Grant set the trunk on a chair and smiled at the woman. “No, you may not, Betty. Sit yourself back down and enjoy the peacefulness while Mother naps.”

  Betty grinned at him. Instead of returning to her chair, though, she took a plate from the warming oven and set it on the table. She poured a glass of milk and set it, with a dish of bread, by his plate.

  Ravenous, Grant took a setting of silverware from the drawer and retrieved a dish of butter then sat down.

  Betty made herself a cup of tea while Grant bowed his head in thanks for his meal then dug into a beef casserole. She set a fruit cup by him with canned peaches before regaining her seat.

  “What mischief has my mother been about today?” Grant asked between forkfuls of the meal. At least when Betty was around, he didn’t have the need to eat out as much. A small amount of guilt pricked him that she cooked dinner most every night, just not bad enough to suggest she quit.

  “Her friends came for tea again this afternoon. Unless she goes to Mrs. Bradshaw’s house, they most often come here. I do believe your mother is quite proud of your home and enjoys entertaining her friends.”

  “And what do the bunch of ol’ gossiping biddies talk about?”

  Shocked by his question, Betty choked on her tea and coughed into her napkin as her eyes watered.

  Grant grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. “I know nothing good or helpful comes out of their little gatherings. You might as well tell me who they’re plotting against now.”

  Betty dabbed at her eyes and released a sigh. “If Mrs. Hill finds out I said anything, she’ll have my head.”

  Grant held his hand up and gave his mother’s maid a solemn look. “I promise whatever you say will remain in the strictest confidence and Mother will be none the wiser.”

  “You might not promise that when you hear what they’ve been discussing.” Betty studied Grant a moment, resigned to telling him what she’d overheard. Even if he hadn’t asked, she’d considered the need to inform him of Imogene’s plans. “I didn’t hear all of what was said, since I run back and forth bringing them more cakes and tea. The gist of the conversations have centered on how to get rid of Miss Williams.”

  “What?” Grant’s stricken look combined with his elevated voice caused Betty to motion for him to be quiet.

  “For gosh sakes, Mr. Hill, don’t wake her up.” Betty and Grant both sat perfectly still, listening to see if Imogene stirred. When no sound emanated from down the hall, Betty continued. “Mrs. Bradshaw claims Miss Williams is violating some code or rule about working off the reservation. Your mother tends to believe everything the vile woman says. All four of them penned letters to the reservation agent yesterday, letting him know of her work in town and that she moved into the apartment above Ilsa’s shop. Your Mother hopes he’ll haul her back to the reservation and that will be the end of your interest in her.”

  Disturbed by his mother’s scheming, Grant set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. His father didn’t raise any of them to be prejudiced or cruel. He’d hired staff for managing their home, but always treated them kindly.

  The reasons behind his mother’s behavior left him angry and confused. With each passing year, she seemed to become more contrary and haughty. She’d never been hungry, never had to do without, never known a moment of discomfort. What right did she have to sit on her self-proclaimed throne and pass judgment on anyone?

  Furious, Grant reined in his temper and tried to keep his face impassive. He took another bite of his dinner, although it now tasted like paste. “What else did they say?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, they’re planning to corner her at the ball Saturday. They mentioned getting Lacy alone and doing something, although I don’t know what.” Betty stared at her teacup before raising her gaze to Grant’s. “Your mother also asked me to send a telegram to Florence Lawrence and invite her to accompany you to the ball.”

  Grant’s fork clattered against the china plate when he dropped it. He groaned and swiped a hand over his face in despair.

  Betty’s soft giggle caught his attention and he glanced at her.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t send it. The last thing you need is that woman here along with your mother.” Betty grinned as she recalled Grant’s last encounter with the flamboyant, brash young woman Imogene Hill continued to proclaim would be the perfect bride for her son.

  A smile kicked up the corners of Grant’s mouth and he released a relieved sigh. “Whew! You had me worried for a moment, Betty. You mean Flo Low hasn’t trapped herself a husband yet?”

  Betty giggled again and shook her head. “She has not, sir. In fact, when we last saw her, she spoke in detail with your mother about you. Her interest was as apparent as the fact her hair is not naturally that intriguing shade of vermillion.”

  “There are many things about that woman that are fake, starting with her smiles and ending with that flaming red hair.” Grant chuckled as he buttered a slice of bread. “With a name like that, it does make me feel a little sorry
for her. I wonder what her parents were thinking when they named their children Florence and Torrence?”

  “I don’t believe they were, sir.” Betty sipped her tea then looked to Grant again. “What will you do about your mother’s plans?”

  “Let her go along with them, for now. If the Indian agent comes looking for Lacy, I’ll have a word or two with the man. I don’t believe there are any laws or rules she has broken, but I’ll check with Lars and Kade to be sure. They’d know the best thing to do if something did come to light.”

  Betty nodded her head and looked at the trunk Grant had yet to open. “Did you order something?”

  “In a roundabout way.” Excited, he ate the last bite of his meal and carried his dishes to the sink. He washed his hands and carefully dried them before setting the trunk on the table and opening the lid.

  Betty sucked in a gulp as he lifted out a sapphire blue satin gown, trimmed with sequins and French lace.

  Cautiously draping it over a chair, he lifted a pair of gloves from the trunk, along with a rose-adorned plume for the wearer’s hair. A pair of dancing slippers, in the same rich shade of blue, completed the matching accessories.

  “Is that for Miss Williams?” Betty dared not reach out to the beautiful gown, afraid she might get a spot on the expensive fabric. The smooth satin fairly called out for her fingers to touch it.

  “It is. I asked Agnes to send this, since the two of them are about the same size. Although I would have happily paid Ilsa to make Lacy a gown, she refused. I finally talked her into wearing one of Agnes’ cast-offs. You know my sisters have more clothes than a dozen women could ever use.”

  Betty agreed and watched as Grant removed a letter from the bottom of the trunk.

  “I assume you’ll want to take this over to Miss Williams right away.” At his nod, Betty rose from the table. While he read the letter, she washed her hands, and repacked the gown and accessories in the trunk. She allowed her fingers to linger, just for a moment, over the rich fabric before she neatly folded it and settled the gown in the trunk then latched the lid. In the event Imogene caught them by surprise, she at least wouldn’t find the trunk open and jump to any conclusions.