by Bess McBride
Matthew smiled pleasantly, hoping Gerry could not see the deceit on his face.
“Yes, sir, there’s a few. The Emporium is just across the street. My wife shops there, comes home with ready-made dresses all the time. Running me into the poorhouse with her shopping, she is.”
Matthew, on the point of hurrying from the hotel, turned back with a broad smile to regard Gerry. At about sixty years of age, the clerk’s thick gray mustache and beard framed a face as round as his belly. He smiled readily and had done so when Matthew checked in.
“My sympathies,” Matthew said.
Gerry held up a beefy hand. “I’m joking. She enjoys shopping, and I don’t deny her anything. She’s the love of my life,” he said. Already ruddy cheeks brightened even more, and his blue eyes twinkled.
Matthew swallowed hard and repressed a sigh. He had thought Emily was the love of his life. Would that he could send her shopping and admire the clothing she modeled for him at the end of the day.
“You are a fortunate man,” Matthew said.
“Don’t I know it!” Gerry responded with a self-satisfied nod. “I was a lonely timber man pining for some long-lost love back East. Then Dorothy got off the train here one day. I met her, fell in love, and I never looked back.”
Matthew envied the contented smile on the clerk’s face.
“And you lived happily ever after,” Matthew murmured, momentarily forgetting his task.
“You could say that.”
A couple approached the counter, and Matthew snapped out of his reverie of imagining Emily and himself in such a contented and blissful marriage. He nodded to both Gerry and the new arrivals, and he hurried out the door.
As Gerry had said, The Emporium was just across the street. He rushed to the shop and stepped in.
“Good day, sir. Can I help you?” a petite, birdlike woman asked as she hurried to greet him. The shop was narrow but deep, as the wooden building was sandwiched between two larger red brick buildings. Long wooden counters and shelves along the walls held stacks of colorful cloth. A mannequin stood by the front window, attired in a lovely peach silk gown.
“Yes, thank you,” Matthew said, his mouth suddenly dry. How on earth did one order women’s clothing? “My sister is in need of a few new things. I wish to surprise her. I need them right away.”
“What sort of things does she need?” the clerk asked.
Matthew gestured toward the shop in general. “Whatever it is that women wear,” he said in a deliberately airy manner. “Some dresses, a coat of some sort, undergarments.” His face heated at the last words.
“Oh!” the woman responded, a bright smile lighting her face. “I’m Mrs. Knowles. And you are?”
“Matthew Webster,” he said with a brief incline of his head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Knowles. I hope you can help me.”
“Yes, indeed we can. Can your sister come into the shop? I would need to take her measurements. We have some fine patterns and lengths of material that I think would make exquisite dresses, all in the latest styles.”
Matthew put up a restraining hand. “No, I need something today,” he said.
“Today?” Mrs. Knowles squeaked. “Oh!”
“Yes, in fact, I need something immediately,” Matthew said. “I was told you might have some ready-to-wear clothing?”
Mrs. Knowles, looking crestfallen at the demise of her grand plan to create clothing in the “latest styles,” nodded. “Well, yes, we do have a few things, but we would need to adjust the hem of the skirts to fit your sister’s height.”
Matthew shook his head. “Perhaps tomorrow or another day. For now, I need something immediately.”
“Good gracious, Mr. Webster. Surely, your sister is not without something to wear as we speak!”
Matthew, his patience growing thin, took a deep breath.
“Mrs. Knowles, I know I can rely upon your discretion. It is my sister’s birthday today. I forgot to get her a present, and I do not want her to know. I have to bring something. I was so hoping you might have a few things I could give her today.”
The clerk nodded sagely. “Yes, of course. Although I think a pretty shawl would be more than enough, I understand your dilemma. Let me see show you a few dresses. If they need tailoring, you may bring your sister to see me.”
“Thank you!” Matthew said. “And a pretty shawl would be nice, as well as a coat. And the other things I mentioned.”
“You are a generous brother, Mr. Webster,” the clerk said as she led him toward a counter.
Forty-five minutes later, Matthew left the store under the weight of six boxes as Mrs. Knowles held the door open and waved him off with a happy face. He returned to the hotel and staggered past Gerry, who came out from behind the counter to help.
“I see Mrs. Knowles got her hooks into you,” the clerk laughed. “I should have warned you about her.”
Matthew allowed Gerry to take a few boxes. “Yes, she’s quite the saleswoman,” he said, “but very helpful.”
“Let me help you carry these upstairs,” Gerry said with a glance over his shoulder. “We don’t have a porter here at the hotel, but I can step away from the desk for a minute. I did send a boy to the train station to pick up your case, as you requested on checking in, and it’s waiting for you in your room. Are you certain your sister didn’t have a case?”
Matthew shook his head, already forming another lie.
“No, her luggage was lost on the train.”
Gerry clucked and shook his head. “That’s not particularly unusual,” he said. “You notified the station agent, Walter, right?”
Matthew cursed silently. Lost luggage was perhaps not the best excuse he could have given. The station agent was fully aware of Miss Reed’s present predicament with luggage.
“Yes,” he responded shortly. They climbed the stairs.
“Your food should be ready soon,” Gerry said.
Matthew looked at him blankly.
“The food you ordered for yourself and your sister? To be delivered to your room?”
Matthew shook his head as if to rid himself of cobwebs. Normally an organized man, he was making a shambles of the day.
“Oh, that is right. Thank you so much. I had better hurry upstairs then.” He hoped to have time for a bath and shave before the food arrived. What would Miss Reed think of him, presenting himself disheveled as he was?
They stopped outside of Miss Reed’s door.
“Thank you, Gerry,” Matthew said as he took the boxes from him. “I think I can manage now.”
Gerry nodded. “Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Webster.”
“Thank you.”
Matthew waited until the clerk had disappeared down the hall and out of sight before tapping on Miss Reed’s door.
“Who is it?” a small voice asked.
“Matthew,” he said. “I am alone. I come bearing gifts.” Despite the chaos of the day, he smiled whimsically, deriving a certain pleasure as though he were truly presenting a beloved sister with a birthday present.
The door opened a crack, and Miss Reed, wet curls hanging to her shoulders, peeped out before opening the door wide. She had bathed but donned the soiled clothing once again.
Matthew stepped in and dropped the boxes onto the bed.
“There! I do hope the clothing fits. If not, Mrs. Knowles at The Emporium across the street will tailor them for you. I had to guess at the appropriate sizes.”
Miss Reed smiled brightly. “Thank you so much!” she said. She moved to open the first box. “You have no idea what this means to me. Mrs. Feeney’s clothing is like a scarlet letter.”
Matthew understood her reference.
“I can only imagine.” He watched as she pulled the peach silk gown from the box and held it up. Her freshly scrubbed cheeks took on the same hue as the gown.
“Oh, my word,” she breathed as she looked from the gown to him.
“It was ready-to-wear,” Matthew said in a husky voice. He
cleared his throat. “There are a few day dresses in that lot as well.”
He turned. “I must go bathe before our late luncheon arrives. I was not certain I could obtain clothing, and I thought you might be more comfortable eating in your room rather than facing a crowd in the dining room,” he said. “I do hope you enjoy the clothing.”
“Thank you, Matthew,” Miss Reed said again as she laid the dress carefully down on the bed. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back.”
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “I will return shortly.”
He closed the door behind him and moved down the hall to his own room, a replica of Miss Reed’s room. He shed his clothing, bathed quickly and rummaged in his case for a fresh shirt and a dark-brown suit, thinking himself fortunate that he had the good sense to have his clothes laundered in Chicago before he left.
Dressed as quickly as he had ever done, he presented himself to Miss Reed’s room in twenty minutes. A tray had been set outside her door, and he picked it up and tapped on the door, feeling much like a waiter.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“Matthew,” he said.
“Ummm,” she murmured, closer now to the door. “I’m not quite dressed.”
“Oh!” he said. He looked down at the tray in his hand, feeling quite foolish. Perhaps he should not have ordered the food until they were both bathed and dressed. The pandemonium of the day had truly forced him into poor decisions.
“Someone knocked on the door earlier. Said he was leaving a tray of food?”
“Yes, I have it here,” Matthew said, uncertain of what to do.
“Oh, really? It’s probably getting cold then. You can bring it in, but be forewarned—I’m not completely dressed.”
Matthew threw a harried look down the hall but no one was about. He leaned closer to the door and whispered.
“Miss Reed, I cannot enter your room if you are not dressed. Shall I take the tray to my room and await your convenience?”
“Well, you could, but I’m not sure I’d be dressed anytime tonight if I don’t get your help. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t get the blouse buttoned in the back.”
Matthew drew in a sharp breath and scanned the hall quickly.
“Yes, all right, let me in, Miss Reed,” he said hastily.
She opened the door, a vision in a lovely ivory shirtwaist blouse, trimmed in antique lace, and a rose taffeta skirt. Around her shoulders she had draped the shawl Mrs. Knowles had selected for him, a beautiful paisley confection in shades of blue and rose. Her hair, still damp, continued to drape over her shoulders in an unruly fashion.
He set the tray down on the dresser and turned to her.
Miss Reed’s cheeks, as rosy as her skirt, glowed, and he drew in a steadying breath.
“How may I assist you?” he asked.
She pointed to the back of her neck.
“The blouse—I can’t get it buttoned.”
Matthew stepped around behind her. With unsteady hands, he slipped the paisley shawl from her shoulders, pushed her hair aside and fastened the remaining buttons at the back of her blouse. She had managed to fasten the buttons at the neck and waist of the blouse, so he had little left to do. To his regret.
“There,” he said in a throaty voice.
“Thank you,” Miss Reed murmured as she dropped the shawl to the bed. “And thank you again for the clothing. There were some pieces I didn’t know what to do...” She pressed her lips together and shook her head as if responding to an internal dialogue.
“Pieces?” he queried.
“What?” she asked, suddenly moving across the room to examine the tray of food. “I’m starving. Coffee?” she asked, picking up a small porcelain pot.
“Yes, please,” Matthew said, certain that she prevaricated but unsure about what. “Do the skirts need hemming?”
Miss Reed looked down at her garment, clearly bemused.
“No, they fit fine. I can walk in them.”
She poured him a cup of coffee, and they each took a plate.
“I did not think the rooms would be so small,” Matthew said as he searched for a suitable seating area.
“We can eat at the desk,” Miss Reed said. “There’s an extra chair against the wall there. How’s your room? Is it the same?”
Matthew waited until she sat and then seated himself.
“Yes, identical to yours.”
Miss Reed bit into her food.
“I am pleased to see that you have an appetite,” Matthew said. “I was not sure what I would do if you continued to fast.”
“I couldn’t eat in there,” she said with a grimace. “My stomach was in knots, not knowing what was going to happen to me. Again, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, Matthew. If there is anything I can do to pay you back, I’ll do it.”
Matthew shook his head. Ironically, he now found his own appetite diminished as he surreptitiously watched her eat while making a pretense at his own food. She pushed back her hair when it fell in her face. Nut brown, with soft tendrils that framed her face, he now knew it to be as silky as it looked.
“I am afraid I did not acquire any sort of pins and such for your hair,” he said. “Will you require some? Miss Knowles did send one hat to match the coat she selected. A charming confection of brown and blue.”
“Pins?” she asked. She put a hand to her hair. “Oh, that’s right. I have to put it up, don’t I?”
Matthew cocked his head. “I believe so,” he said. “I know Emily had to put her hair up when she was about eighteen years old. She hated that day, having enjoyed a fairly hoydenish childhood. I hated it as well, but only because I could no longer pull her blonde hair as I did when we were younger.”
Lost in reminiscing, Matthew looked up to see Miss Reed staring at him.
“Forgive me,” he said hastily. “My thoughts wandered.”
“Tell me about Emily,” Miss Reed said.
Matthew pressed his lips together, his appetite well and truly gone now.
“There is not much to tell,” he said with a heavy sigh. He stared at the food on his plate. “Emily lives next door. An only child, as am I, we spent many hours together as children playing. We were inseparable. At some point during our teenage years, I came to believe that Emily and I would marry, though I never gave it much thought. I believe our families expected the same thing. I never said anything. It just seemed to be the natural progression of our lives, our future.”
He sighed heavily again.
“Two weeks ago on the eve of my trip to Chicago, I proposed to Emily. She rejected me, stating that while she loved me like a brother, she could not envision me as a husband. The next day, I boarded the train. I have not seen or heard from her since.”
In the silence that ensued, Matthew looked up to find Miss Reed watching him with a sympathetic face. He cleared his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Is there any chance she’ll change her mind?”
“I am afraid not,” Matthew said. “If nothing else, Emily has always known her own mind. I have never imagined a future in which she did not play a part. I feel bereft somehow.” He laughed without mirth. “One would think I had lost my best friend.”
“Well, it sounds like you did,” Miss Reed said.
Chapter Twelve
Sara lost her appetite and wiped at her mouth with the linen napkin.
So, Matthew was in love...and from the sounds of it, heartbroken as well. She supposed it was too much to hope that such a handsome man had been waiting around for her to show up. She looked at him from under veiled lashes.
His chestnut brown hair, freshly washed and now drying, gleamed. Parted on the side and immaculate as always, Sara wondered what he looked like upon awakening in the morning with tousled hair. Long dark sideburns, the color of his thick eyebrows, tapered to just below his ears and gave his face an angular but elegant look. His aquamarine eyes watched her now, and she turned away to look
toward the window so he wouldn’t see her disappointment.
“Yes, I suppose you are correct, Miss Reed. Emily has always been there, first as my childhood playmate, then the woman I planned to marry.”
Sara drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It shouldn’t have mattered to her if some stranger was in love with another woman, especially a stranger from the past. She hardly knew Matthew. But something bothered her, something other than the fact that she was lost in time. She recognized the feeling as jealousy.
“I’m sorry,” Sara murmured, unable to come up with anything particularly profound.
“Thank you,” Matthew said quietly. “It is a relief to speak of it to someone. I have not told anyone since I left Seattle. My parents will be most disappointed to hear we are not to marry, if they have not heard from Emily already, though I doubt she would mention my proposal to them. She knew their hopes for us.”
“Are you close to your parents?” Sara asked, a lump forming in her throat. She missed her mother and had never known her father, a youthful infatuation of her mother’s who had long since disappeared.
“Yes, I am,” Matthew said. “I am an only child. My mother could not have more children, and she doted on me.” His smile was gentle as he spoke of his mother.
“And you?” he asked. “Are you close to your mother? You stated she is ‘single.’ Is she widowed?”
A tear slipped down Sara’s face, and she wiped it away and blinked back the rest.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I was very close to my mother. She passed away a year ago. She’d been sick for a long time.”
“Oh, my dear Miss Reed, I am so very sorry.”
Sara gritted her teeth and smiled tremulously.
“She wasn’t a widow, no. My parents weren’t married. I never knew my father.”
Matthew drew in a sharp breath before falling silent.
Sara dragged her eyes back from the window and looked at him. His lips were pressed together as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Are you shocked?” she said, her grief evolving into anger. “Don’t be. That’s my business, not yours. My father abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant, but she didn’t abandon me. I’m proud of her and always will be. She’s the greatest role model I could ever have!”
