“That is one beautiful sight.”
“Thank you,” Neil said. “It’s only one of many around here. God has truly blessed this area.”
Enthralled by the view, Olivia hadn’t realized Stella had stepped up onto the porch until her aunt touched her on the shoulder. When Olivia turned, Stella gave her a smile of encouragement.
Neil opened the screen door, and Olivia, with Stella right behind her, stepped into the spacious foyer, formed by rooms on the right and left. A staircase ran along the right wall, ending at a small landing. On the landing stood a corner table, graced by a tall vase of wildflowers. The stairway then took a sharp left, extending to the second-floor hallway. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling.
“Neil, this is lovely,” Stella said. “It feels like a home instead of an inn.”
“That’s what Grandmother wants—a home away from home for the guests.”
“I suppose that’s where guests check in.” Olivia gestured toward the area beneath the staircase.
“Yes, it is.”
She nodded, since he was behind her. “It gives the impres-sion of someone’s private library.”
He laughed lightly. “I have spent some time back there, reading or writing.”
Olivia could understand why. A lamp, ledger, and telephone sat on a huge desk in front of a big leather chair. Behind the chair and along the paneled walls were shelves, some with decorative items and pictures but most filled with books.
“Grandmother,” Neil said suddenly, and Olivia’s attention was drawn to the movement on her right.
A white-haired woman, using a cane for balance, moved slowly toward them. “Thank you for the nice compliments,” she said. “And welcome to my home.”
A tremor raced along Olivia’s spine. She felt like turning and running. This was not just an inn, but a woman’s home. This was the grandmother—the one who would decide Olivia’s future.
As if knowing what she was thinking, Stella lightly touched Olivia’s arm. The touch served as a reminder that she wasn’t invading this woman’s home under completely false pretenses. She was being interviewed for a job.
The elderly woman’s kind smile formed deep lines in her face, which was lovely and surrounded by wavy, snow white hair brushed back into a roll at the back of her head. She was dressed in a fine pink dress with lace and buttons. A rose-colored shawl lay around her shoulders. She obviously had been a beautiful woman in her younger days. She stood shorter than Olivia or Stella and appeared rather frail, but there was something elegant and confident in her demeanor.
“I could not wait in the parlor,” she said in a slightly breath-less voice, like one who had walked hurriedly rather than slowly across the carpet. “I’ve been watching from the window.”
As soon as Neil finished the introductions, the woman said, “Call me Mama McCory. Everyone does, except Neil, of course.”
Olivia held out her hand. Mama McCory ignored it, handed Neil her cane, and embraced Olivia. The woman’s fragrance was like sweet lavender with a faint aroma of talc or face powder.
At that moment, Olivia thought she knew something of how Neil felt about his grandmother. Her smile was sweet, and her eyes, dark and as intelligent as Neil’s, expressed love and acceptance.
Mama McCory released her and stepped up to Stella. She looked into her face for a long moment, then opened her arms to her. “Shall I call you Stella?”
“Please do. Since early childhood, even Juliet usually ad-dresses me as Stella.”
Although Olivia knew Stella said that in case she erred and called her Stella, she wondered if Mama McCory might think that much too forward.
The older woman stepped back, took hold of Stella’s hands, and held them as she laughed softly. “I can imagine that was adorable when she was a little one.” She looked over at Olivia then. “She’s certainly adorable now. And those eyes are the most beautiful and expressive I’ve ever seen.” She looked at Stella again. “There’s no wondering where she gets them. Eyes like the two of you have are unforgettable.”
“Thank you,” Stella said at the same time Olivia said it softly. Both she and Stella often heard comments like that.
“Now,” Mama McCory said, “come into the parlor. Hedda has gone to fetch our tea.” She took her cane. Neil crooked his arm, and she wrapped her frail arm through it.
When they came to the door of the parlor, he stopped. Mama McCory walked on in. Neil gestured for Olivia and Stella to go ahead of him.
Mama McCory went to an armchair. “I like a chair with arms,” she said. “That makes it easier for me to get up. Please, sit on the couch.”
After they sat, Neil took a chair across from them, on the other side of the coffee table.
“Oh, this is Hedda,” Mama McCory said when an older woman, wearing a long apron over her dress, came in with a silver tray and set it on the coffee table. She introduced Stella and Juliet.
“Very nice to meet you,” Hedda said and straightened. She smiled at Juliet. When she looked at Stella, her breath seemed to halt for a moment. “Have we met before?”
Juliet watched Stella study the woman then smile demurely. “I can’t say. Where do you think we might have met?”
Hedda shrugged. “You’re not from Sunrise, are you?”
“No,” Stella said, still looking at her and smiling as if waiting for another question.
Olivia knew she and Stella both would have found some-thing like this funny at any other time. Stella was probably finding it humorous now. She simply played the part of a modest woman being questioned by the hired help.
As if realizing that herself, Hedda’s cheeks pinked and she turned to face Mama McCory, who said, “Thank you, Hedda.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.” Hedda hurried from the room.
“Would you like for Juliet to pour?” Stella asked.
“Please,” Mama McCory said.
Olivia looked at the silver tea set and the china cups. She’d been taught etiquette as far back as she could remember. She knew the routine. She wasn’t concerned about asking if anyone preferred sugar, one lump or two, cream, or just taking it plain. She knew what to do with napkins and cookies.
Removing her gloves, however, she felt self-conscious, wondering what kind of interrogation might follow. If a servant asked a personal question, what might Mama McCory ask?
eight
Neil saw Juliet hesitate only slightly after pouring his tea last. Hoping she would get the signal to keep it plain, he said quickly, “I’ll have one of those small cookies, please.”
She laid a cookie on the side of the saucer, picked it up, along with a napkin, and walked over to him.
The tea sloshed over the rim of the cup and into the saucer when Juliet handed it to him. He looked up at her. He hadn’t enough breath to say it was his fault—his hand was the one that shook. Earlier, when his grandmother had said Juliet had beautiful eyes, he had thought that was one of the few times she had erred like that. One shouldn’t say crossed eyes were beautiful, no matter what their color.
Neither of the women had seemed insulted. Now he knew the reason why. Speechless, he stared up into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. They were a deeper green and even more stunning than her mother’s that had so impressed him.
He looked down quickly, holding a firm grip on the saucer, hoping it wouldn’t crack under the pressure. If he wasn’t careful, both his grandmother and Stella might think he was so taken with Juliet that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
But that was what his grandmother was supposed to think, wasn’t it? No doubt she would notice the color he felt rise to his face. She was an observant woman, but who could tell if the color in one’s face was from some romantic emotion or from what one was feeling—humiliation and surprise?
The sound of a cup lightly touching a saucer and the faint sound of a voice and laughter on the front lawn, wafting through the open windows where the breeze stirred the lace curtains, was
enjoyable. Stella appeared perfectly at ease. Juliet appeared tense. He would have thought it strange had she not appeared so.
Stella commented on the tea and cookies being quite good, and Juliet agreed, then blotted the sides of her mouth with a napkin and laid the cup, saucer, and napkin on the tray.
For a while, Mama McCory and Stella commented on the good weather they’d been having. Stella then mentioned the piano between a window and the corner. “Do you play?” she asked his grandmother.
“Not often. I have rheumatism so bad in my hands anymore. Sometimes when my fingers allow, I’ll pick out a tune. But it’s an effort, and my fingers don’t flow over the keys like they once did.”
To Neil’s surprise, Stella asked his grandmother, “Would you like Juliet to play something for you?”
Neil watched his grandmother’s eyes light up as she looked at Juliet. “Oh, would you, dear?”
After a moment, Juliet rose from the couch and walked to the piano. She sat with the straight back and grace of a young woman who had been trained to play in a drawing room. That reminded him of many young women he’d known, some who played well and some who played poorly.
Where would a girl who grew up in a mining town learn to play the piano? But she had been in the city, too, at college. Maybe she had learned from Stella who did not fit his picture of a miner’s wife. Perhaps she and her husband had been incompatible, like he and Kathleen.
He had no idea what to expect, but he certainly didn’t expect what happened after a long moment of Juliet’s sitting there, poising her hands over the keyboard. She began playing “In the Good Ol’ Summertime.”
His grandmother couldn’t conceal her pleasure. She began to nod and in her thin, somewhat trembling voice began to sing along. Stella chimed in. That woman had a good voice. Juliet didn’t sing; she just continued to play while staring at the wall beyond her as if she were playing classical music in the finest of drawing rooms.
After finishing the song, she rose from the bench. His grandmother motioned for her. “Come here, dear.”
Juliet walked over to her.
His grandmother’s eyes were teary. Grasping Juliet’s hand, she patted it affectionately. “You couldn’t have played anything I liked better. That was one of my and my husband’s favorite songs, oh, seven or eight years ago when we first heard it.” She smiled wanly and let go of Juliet’s hand. “He died six years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Juliet said and touched her shoulder.
“Oh, don’t be sorry about the song. Sometimes I get teary thinking about Streun McCory, but I like to remember our times together. A lot of people change the subject when I say his name, as if he should never be mentioned. I don’t feel that way.”
“I can understand that,” Stella said. “I’ve lost loved ones, and I, too, prefer to recall the good times.”
Mama McCory nodded and looked fondly at Stella. “You and I could have some good talks. But for now,” she said, “would you like to see more of the house?”
Both women reacted warmly. Neil was glad his grandmother mentioned it. For a moment, he seemed to forget this was a time for Juliet and her mother to discover if this job was right for Juliet.
For a couple of moments, when he’d looked into Juliet’s eyes, then watched her play and saw the pleasure on his grandmother’s face, he too had forgotten this was about a job. Instead, he had delighted in the feeling that his grandmother liked this young woman he brought home for her to meet.
“I’ll leave the tour to you women,” he said. “I’ll just duck out and see what’s going on with Samuel and his family.”
First, he went into his study, opened his safe, and took out a small box. He whispered a prayer, “God forgive me if I’m wrong.”
❧
“I don’t climb stairs anymore,” Mama McCory said, leading Olivia and Stella from the parlor and into the hallway next to the part of the stairs that formed the landing. “Those rooms are in use now anyway.” Lifting her cane, she pointed to the room on the left. “That’s my bedroom,” she said. “Next to it is now part of the dining room. We tell guests to use the hallway on the left to reach the dining room. We’ll go this way.”
Olivia and Stella followed her past the parlor. She gestured to her left. “We had this wall put in since this is our family area. Over here is Neil’s bedroom,” she said when they passed a closed door to the room next to the parlor. “The one next to it is his study.”
She opened the door to that one. Olivia liked it upon sight. There was a patterned love seat and an ornate desk smaller than the one in the foyer. The wall was paneled halfway up to a chair railing. Above that was light beige wallpaper with a hint of a maroon-striped pattern. The curtains were maroon. It had not only a masculine look, other than the love seat, but it had a masculine smell, like that musky fragrance of Neil and leather and furniture polish.
“He has a telephone in here, too,” Mama McCory said with a sense of pride.
“I’m sure he needs one,” Stella said. “His being a doctor. A lot of the homes are getting them now, but I don’t have one in my cabin in Canaan Valley.”
Mama McCory was somewhat familiar with Canaan Valley, and they talked briefly of places they all knew. “Hedda and I used to go down there. I’d go to that bakery on Main Street, buy some of their muffins, and come back and try to figure out what all was in them.”
Stella laughed as they reached the kitchen. “I used to work in that bakery. I could tell you a few things about ingredients.”
“Oh,” Mama McCory said, “we must talk.”
Hedda apparently overheard. “That may be where I saw you.”
“I don’t know,” Stella said. “I haven’t worked there in several years.” She changed the subject. “I love this kitchen. And I see you have all the modern conveniences.”
Mama McCory nodded. “It’s amazing we ever ran an inn without them.” She sighed. “But nobody knew any different. I remember when we used wood in the stove instead of coal. And when we used to have to go to the well for water instead of it being pumped into the house. And when electricity came. . .”
“Even I remember that,” Olivia said.
“Yes,” Stella said, “it’s amazing the progress that has been made in just a few years.”
Mama McCory agreed. “Telephones—did you see the one in the foyer? Why, I can pick that up and talk to my friends anytime I want. Well, to those who have one.”
Olivia got the impression that might be Mama McCory’s favorite convenience until she added, “And inside bathrooms. Of course, we’re more fortunate than most. For a long time I’ve felt it my Christian duty to share what I have with others.”
Stella asked, “What do you think about the automobiles?”
“Oh, don’t get me started.” Mama McCory huffed. “They are a nuisance—noisy, smelly, don’t go half as fast as a horse. They won’t last.”
Olivia didn’t bother to say that horses could be quite smelly, too. Her father had a roadster and loved it. She hadn’t minded riding in it, but she preferred taking a leisurely ride in an open carriage and taking in the views. Also, horses didn’t tend to break down or get stuck in the mud like those horseless carriages.
Just then Neil made his appearance. “I think the cities are adjusting to the horseless carriage,” he said. “But in a town like Sunrise, with the mountain roads and steep inclines, horses do a better job.”
He smiled, and Olivia thought, Is that my husband-to-be?
“If you ladies have finished your tour, you might enjoy seeing more of the grounds,” he said.
“They haven’t seen the dining room,” Mama McCory said. She touched Stella’s arm. “If you two would like to stay over, you’re welcome. We can set up a cot for Neil in his study, and you two could take his bedroom.”
“We do need to get back down to Canaan Valley.” Stella’s voice held regret. Olivia wondered if she was pretending or if she would really like to stay here.
Olivia liked Mama Mc
Cory. She would love to be her companion. Olivia could understand why Neil loved her enough to try and give her hope in her final months.
The dining room was spacious. A long table sat in the center of the room. Four smaller round ones were placed around the room and extended to the area next to Mama McCory’s bedroom. There was a fireplace, and windows on two walls.
After they thanked Mama McCory and bade her good-bye, they walked down to the stable, where Bart said the horses had been fed and watered. Neil asked if they might walk around the grounds a bit before returning to town.
I’m supposed to feel this way, Olivia told herself. This is acting practice, so I should experience what it’s like strolling along between my mother and my fiancé. She was much more aware of that than how the flower gardens looked or the bench beneath a sugar maple.
“Mama McCory seems lonely,” Stella said as they walked into a grove of apple trees where the remaining leaves shook in the breeze.
Olivia knew how those leaves felt—much like her heart did when the sleeve of Neil’s shirt lightly brushed against the sleeve of her dress.
“Yes,” Neil said, answering Stella. “That’s one reason I want a companion for her.”
“Is Hedda not a companion for her?” Stella asked.
“To a great extent. But Hedda has her husband, Bart. They aren’t here every day, and they go home at night. They would like to retire, but out of friendship and loyalty, they’ve stayed on. I can get temporary and part-time help, but none have ever stayed very long. Hedda is her friend,” he said, “but Grandmother needs someone she feels is. . .family.”
He stopped and seemed to examine a small green apple. “I could tell Grandmother liked you both.” A long moment passed, and it felt like even the wind was holding its breath. Finally, he said, “Juliet, do you think you could accept the job?”
Olivia looked at Stella, who after a long moment nodded and said, “I think Mama McCory is delightful. I am in agreement if my daughter is.”
Olivia knew her options. This job was a good opportunity, with the promise of more money than any job she had been able to find in the area. But there was the thought of being married to Neil, even if it was in name only—at least in fake name only.
A Bride Idea Page 5
