Threads of Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “I believe that would please Ollie. In the meantime if your aunt and uncle remove anything from Ollie’s home without your consent, you’re free to contact the sheriff.” A crooked grin dented one side of the elderly attorney’s face. “You’ve met him already.”

  “Sure have.” Yesterday’s incident came to mind, the one in which Emily got hurt.

  Spying a black velvet-covered box, Jake removed it from the brass casket and opened it. A tiny silver cross hung from a sterling chain.

  “That belonged to your grandmother.”

  “It’s pretty.” Jake wondered if maybe Emily would like it. Might even serve as something of a peace offering.

  The treasure fit into his palm and he pocketed it. Then he closed the lockbox.

  “Mr. Schulz, do you think it would be terribly disrespectful of me to show up at that Memorial Day Dance tonight, seeing as Granddad hasn’t even been laid to rest yet?”

  Mr. Schulz lifted his narrow shoulders and pursed his lips. “Depends how you behave at the dance, I suppose. But simply attending and—” He narrowed his gaze. “Meeting someone special there, are you?”

  “I heard Emily Sundberg talking about it, and I promised her a dance.”

  “Ah . . . ” Mr. Schulz put the weighty brass box back into the drawer, locked it, and tucked away the key. “Then I will say what I think Ollie would say, go and have a good time.”

  “I thought so too.” Jake stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Schulz, and I’ll be in touch.”

  CHAPTER 6

  THE DRESS FIT perfectly!

  Up in her room at the boardinghouse Emily stared at her reflection, pleased by what she saw. Momma and Besta had outdone themselves on this dress. A pale green, it had a loose-fitting bodice, V-neck with horizontal ribbing, and a white lace modesty inset. The trumpet-shaped skirt flowed nicely over her hips, its hem brushing the tops of her shoes.

  “Em, you look stunning. Wait until Andy Anderson gets a glimpse of you.”

  “You think so? Truly?” She willed her sore muscles to make the turn away from the walnut-framed mirror. She’d discovered that if she kept moving, her body didn’t hurt as badly. Once she stopped, it was hard to get going again, and sitting still while Iris had styled her hair had been difficult. “What about my cheek?”

  “The bruise hardly shows. The way we’ve piled your hair and curled the tendrils against your face . . . why, you look like one of Mr. Charles Gibson’s girls.” Iris retouched the locks at Emily’s temples.

  “Really? You think so?”

  “I wouldn’t fib about something like that.” Iris pushed up her glasses. “We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

  Emily managed a nod while taking in Iris’s ensemble. She looked attractive in the bargains she’d discovered while shopping at Schuette Brothers Department Store. The feminine off-white shirtwaist was a dignified mate for the fashionable nine-gored skirt. Around her tiny waist Iris wore a silk sash of robin’s egg blue.

  She swung her slender hips. “Do you think the good deputy will want more than a dance from me? Like a kiss, perhaps?”

  Emily drew in a breath, shocked. “Why, Iris Hopper! The things you say sometimes! We’re respectable schoolteachers.”

  “School ended last week.” A gleam entered Iris’s pale blue eyes before she took Emily’s place in front of the full-length mirror. “This summer I’m going to find a husband. I’m determined.” Scrutinizing her reflection, Iris carefully removed her glasses.

  Goodness, she was serious! Iris never took off her spectacles unless she meant business. “Iris, about Jake Edgerton . . . ”

  “What about him?” Iris pirouetted and came to stand in front of Emily.

  “Jake’s not husband material, not in the way you’re thinking.” She and Iris frequently shared their dreams for the future. Iris wanted a husband who worked all day and came home in time to wash up, eat, and attend parent-teacher conferences. She wanted a man who’d involve himself with their children’s lives and their community. “Jake’s work makes him an unpredictable man. I mean, think of it, Iris. Deputy marshals escort dangerous criminals to federal prisons. They lead posses, carry guns, and frequently kill other men.” Emily folded her arms. “Do you really think that sort of husband will be home in time for supper every night?”

  “Well, I . . . ” A shadow of doubt crept over Iris’s narrow features. “I hadn’t considered his occupation just yet, other than to find it quite fascinating.”

  “Then perhaps you could write a piece on Jake and submit it to the Chronicle.” Emily winked. “A great excuse to converse with him alone, and the editor at the newspaper said he’d especially consider articles from the community’s teachers anytime.”

  “Hmm . . . what a clever idea.” Iris set her forefinger on her lips, thinking.

  “After the interview, you may discover for yourself that Jake’s not husband material.”

  “I’ll have a clue then, won’t I?”

  “More than a clue, I’d say.”

  Iris’s broad smile revealed two crooked eyeteeth, and Emily found her expression endearing. It seemed to confirm Iris’s unconventional nature. Who else would have accepted a rejected, former tomboy as a best friend when they were fifteen years old? No one else but the sometimes prudish, sometimes pert and zany Miss Iris Mae Hopper.

  “You’re brilliant, Em. I adore the idea of interviewing Deputy Edgerton.”

  “Yes, I know how brilliant I am.” With a laugh Emily glanced back into the mirror. If only Andy Anderson would be so impressed with her.

  After another final inspection of their attires Emily and Iris collected their hats, shawls, gloves, and reticules and left for Manitowoc’s community building. They passed a saloon. Its doublewide front doors stood open to let in the mild evening air, but already raucous singing accompanied by a slightly out-of-tune piano emanated from the establishment. It wasn’t even dark outside yet.

  Emily decided they’d walk home another way and perhaps make the trek with their boardinghouse mates.

  At last they reached the community building. Inside, Emily heard the musical ensemble playing a lively tune. She and Iris followed the melody to a large recreational room, used for multiple purposes. Tonight it had been decorated with brightly colored paper flowers and streamers for this month’s big event. The Memorial Day Dance.

  Emily scanned the room for Andy, and her gaze lit on him almost immediately. He stood in the far corner of the hall in his dark brown suit. His loud chortles reached her ears and made her smile. Andy had a way of making everyone smile.

  “Andy looks awfully handsome, doesn’t he, Em? But, alas, it appears he’s been imbibing.” Iris clucked her tongue.

  “You are sounding and more and more like your grandmother every day.” Emily squared her shoulders. “Everyone knows Andy is the jovial sort—without help from beer, wine, or what have you.”

  Iris stepped closer to her. “I saw one of his friends pocket a flask.”

  “Then that man should be removed from the hall.”

  “It was a woman, Em. The blonde over there, wearing the black and white dress. However, I dare say her hair is likely bleached. No real hair is that color. And that dress . . . so immodest!” Iris took a step back. “And I do not sound like Granny!”

  Emily said nothing but watched as Andy pulled the buxom blonde onto the dance floor. The muscles in her chest constricted painfully. But then Andy began a jig when he should have been waltzing, and Emily laughed at his antics.

  “Oh, he’s just putting on.” Relief poured over her.

  “Hmm . . . ” Iris didn’t sound convinced.

  Another man cut in, and Andy sauntered over to the linen-covered food and beverage table.

  “Now’s your chance, Em. Go say hello to him.”

  “Should I?”

  “Yes, go.”

  Nervous flutters filled her insides as Emily walked toward him. Besides being a childhood friend to both her and Eden, Andy had served aboard several o
f Poppa’s clippers and steamships, impressing her father with his ambition and ability to work hard. If Poppa said Andy Anderson had potential, then it was true.

  “Hello, Andy.” Emily held her breath.

  “Oh, hi.” He ladled berry punch into a glass cup and barely gave her a glance.

  “I’d been hoping that maybe . . . well, that you’d ask—”

  “My friends are waiting. Got to go.”

  Andy wheeled away from the table. His rejection stung. Did Andy find her repulsive? Had she grown three heads? Were they horned?

  The band began playing another tune, and more couples filed onto the dance floor of the rapidly filling hall. Emily fought back tears as she saw Andy pull a well-endowed brunette into his arms. As they waltzed nearer, Emily felt her chin begin to quiver. Blinking, she turned away and started toward where she’d left Iris.

  “May I have this dance, Miss Sundberg?”

  Emily halted, looked up, and, to her horror, realized she’d all but walked into Jake Edgerton’s outstretched arms. She instantly sensed he’d witnessed Andy’s dismissal—again.

  Dodging his gaze, she tried to speak, but her throat clogged with unshed emotion.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Jake’s right arm encircled her waist, his left hand held her right, and, as they stepped to the music, Emily caught the most pleasant scent, something akin to citrus and cedar wood, most likely a tonic his barber used. She’d noticed immediately that his sandy-blond hair had been trimmed and slicked back in a stylish manner.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Em.”

  She barely heard the compliment but tried to glimpse Andy over Jake’s shoulder. Each time she caught sight of him, Jake would take a turn. Finally Emily realized he did it on purpose.

  And she had behaved extremely rudely!

  At long last her gaze traveled up Jake’s raven necktie and clean-shaven jaw to meet his gaze. She mustered an apologetic smile.

  “Well, that’s more like it.”

  His dark eyes reminded Emily of Momma’s velvety chocolate pudding, and she found it impossible to look away.

  “I’d venture to say you’re the most beautiful young lady here tonight.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t have to try to make me feel better, Jake.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” His eyes turned to polished ebony.

  Something sparked inside of Emily as Jake drew her closer, holding her a breath away from impropriety. Emily’s hand seemed to have a will of its own as it inched up his arm and came to rest on the shoulder of his black wool jacket.

  He began to hum to the music. His easy pitch caused Emily to relax.

  “Casey would dance with the strawberry blonde”—he sang so closely to her ear that it tickled—“and the band played on.”

  A little laugh erupted.

  “I know this song by heart.”

  “Oh?” Smiling, she pulled back slightly to view his expression.

  “Mm-hm.” He dipped his head. “It’s the only modern tune the boys back home learned how to play. You see, there’s a group of fellas that play for the Fourth of July picnic and such, but they’re not able to get together and practice very often on account they all live in different parts of the county.”

  “A pity.”

  “I’ll say! Particularly when we’re forced to hear the same three numbers for the entire afternoon.”

  Another laugh bubbled up inside of Emily. She glimpsed Jake’s smile before he brought her close to him again. The tempo slowed and a buttery warmth spread throughout her being.

  “He married the girl with the strawberry curl,” he sang, “and the band played on.”

  The world seemed to slow. They stopped dancing. Emily watched Jake’s dark eyes fixed on the tendrils surrounding her face. They were lighter than her natural auburn. Perhaps in this dimness they might look strawberry blonde . . .

  Her breath caught when his gaze found hers once more. A light of intensity, perhaps even certainty, lurked in the depths of his eyes.

  Then he chuckled lightly.

  Emily realized the band had stopped playing. People began mingling noisily around them. She gave Jake a smile, unsure what he found funny. Maybe something concerning the story he’d just shared. Perhaps he simply enjoyed dancing with her just now. She enjoyed dancing with him very much.

  Taking a step backward, Jack gave her a short bow before placing a kiss on her fingers. That same spark ignited deep inside of her.

  “Thank you for the dance, Miss Sundberg.”

  “My pleasure, Deputy Edgerton.”

  All at once a throng of people came between them, some heading for the food and beverages. A growing sense of awareness engulfed Emily. Funny, but while dancing with Jake, she hadn’t given Andy Anderson another thought!

  As the evening wore on, Emily danced with everyone, it seemed, except Andy. She’d waltzed with Mr. Saunders, an accountant. When the band played some ragtime, she’d done a fairly good two-step with John Bjornson, who worked at the hardware store, and two-stepped again with Matt Smith, the son of a minister at one of the Protestant churches nearby. But now she needed to catch her breath.

  Unlike Iris who hadn’t stopped all night.

  Emily shook her head at her best friend. Iris gave her a wave before spinning in her partner’s arms. Then Emily searched the hall. No sign of Andy. She strolled outside where people had gathered in small groups to catch their breath, cool down, or enjoy a cigarette. Several couples stood arm in arm, their heads inclined as they whispered to one another. Oh, how Emily wished she and Andy could share romance beneath the moonlight in just that way. If Andy would kiss her, perhaps she’d forget all about Jake Edgerton.

  She wandered to the wood plank fence, dividing the community’s property from a resident’s. Leaning on a thick round post, she heard Andy’s fun-loving laugh and directed her gaze toward the sound of it. She smiled, staring across the way. He stood with the same two women he’d danced with earlier, only now three more had been added to the mix. A couple of Andy’s buddies stood with him . . . and Jake too.

  Emily straightened, feeling a tad betrayed somehow. But what did she care if Jake conversed with Andy, his vulgar friends, and those . . . hussies.

  Turning her back on them, she stared into darkened yard next door. Lord Jesus, why does Andy find those women he’s entertaining more appealing than me? Aren’t I just as pretty? I certainly dress and behave more respectably. I’ve worked so hard to be respectable.

  She detected a presence beside her and turned to see that Jake had crossed the way. Like most men at this late hour, he’d removed his suit jacket.

  “Emily Sundberg, standing in the moonlight . . . ” He leaned on the fence. “You’re a fetching sight to behold.”

  “Apparently not fetching enough.” Folding her arms, Emily flicked a glance to where Andy stood, waving his arms in animated gestures as he, perhaps, told one of his amusing jokes.

  Jake leaned his back up against the fence post and said nothing for several long moments. “Your father said Eden’s away at school in New York.”

  “That’s right.” She noticed he’d changed the subject. “Eden is oh-so sophisticated now that he attends Columbia University.” Emily couldn’t stave off a grin. As much as she teased her twin, she felt proud of him. “He’ll graduate next year, as he took off time to work onboard a ship, gaining experience about the shipping industry in general. Just like my poppa did.”

  “I’m impressed. I reckon he’ll be a part of your family’s shipping business then too.”

  “That’s the plan.” Emily’s gaze snuck away to watch Andy.

  “And you’re a schoolteacher . . . ”

  Her gaze bounced back to Jake. “Yes.” But he knew that already.

  “I’m impressed with your achievements as well, Em.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” Emily resumed watching Andy and wondering over his behavior yet once more.

  “I’m not just saying it to be nice. I mean
it.”

  “Thank you.” Unfortunately the complimentary words didn’t carry the momentum needed to reach her wounded heart.

  “Say, look, I have something for you.”

  “For me?” Curious now Emily gave Jake her full attention.

  He reached into his vest pocket and retrieved a small black box.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  Bemused, Emily worked the tiny clasp that secured the box’s lid. When she opened it and saw the silver necklace, a sort of dread fell over her. Why was Jake Edgerton giving her a gift of jewelry?

  “It’s lovely.” She ran her finger over the delicate cross. “But I can’t accept it.”

  “I insist. That necklace once belonged to my grandmother.”

  “I don’t know what to say . . . ” Emily looked up at Jake, wondering. “Why are you giving me such a keepsake?”

  “I thought you should have something of Granddad’s since I heard how you and your family befriended him over the years. I plan to give trinkets to your mother and grandmother and firearms from Granddad’s collection to your dad and brothers. As kids we dreamed of shooting those weapons.” He grinned. “I thought you’d appreciate jewelry more than a pistol. Was I mistaken?”

  “No.” She smiled and relaxed. “How very thoughtful of you, Jake. But it’s not necessary. Mr. Ollie was our neighbor.”

  “I know, but when I saw this, I thought of you at once.” He removed the necklace from its boxed cradle, and then stepped forward and set the silver chain around her neck. He bent so close to clasp the chain that his jaw brushed against Emily’s cheek. Accident—or on purpose?

  “Hold still.”

  At his whispered command a delicious batter of warmth poured over her being for a second time that evening. Emily couldn’t understand her response to his nearness, and she actually enjoyed the fact that he seemed to take his time securing the clasp.

  “There.”

  Another whisper and her knees weakened. He stepped back, and she felt almost disappointed.

  “It looks lovely on you, Em.”

  “Does it?” She felt flustered.