True Heart's Desire

by Caroline Fyffe

  The man who hoodwinked my sister. She didn’t have to say the words for him to know what she was thinking.

  A middle-aged man poked his head out of the other office, taking stock.

  “I’ve got this, Howard,” Miss Brinkman said, giving the fellow a smile. “No need for you to stop what you’re doing.”

  Katie looked up at Rhett through her lashes, her intense gaze making him uncomfortable. She could effortlessly stop his restoration progress. He needed lumber.

  “I’m surprised you’d show your face at my mill, Mr. Laughlin. After the trick you played on my sister. I’d think you’d be too ashamed to come around.”

  “I have no other option but to show my face if I’m to get my restaurant up and running. I’m sure you can understand that.” I needn’t waste my breath explaining. She’s heard the story by now. Either she believes me or not.

  “Yes, I heard about that. And right across from my sister’s place. Feels like you have a vendetta against her. Is that true?”

  “Not at all, Miss Brinkman. My intentions only concern my business.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not sure if I believe that or not, but I’ll have to take you at your word. But be warned, the truth has a way of coming out. If your intentions are to hurt Lavinia in some way, more than you already have, just know you will have the rest of us to contend with.” She drilled him with what he thought must be her most imposing stare. She reminded him of a puppy after you’ve taken away his bone. “And me mostly, Mr. Laughlin. Lavinia and I, being the two youngest, are exceptionally close. We look out for each other.” She arched a brow. “This is a gentle warning.”

  “Yes, my father says the same—about the truth coming out, that is. And I’ll keep your words in mind—what you’ve said about the two of you looking out for each other. That’s a good thing.”

  She took a form from a slot in her desk and licked the tip of the pencil she already held in her hand. “What do you need?”

  “Twelve two-by-four-by-twelve Douglas fir, ten one-by-twelve-by-twelve smooth pine, six one-by-four-by-twelve door-and-window trim—whatever you have will be fine—and a couple bundles of new shingles. When the rain starts, I hear the roof is plenty leaky.”

  “When would you like them?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Her brows dipped, but she didn’t smile.

  “Uhh, at your convenience,” he quickly amended.

  She scribbled his requests on the paper.

  He swallowed, his nerves getting the best of him. “I’d also like to start an account. I’m sure these won’t be the only supplies I’ll need. And paying at the end of the month would be more convenient.”

  She gave a quick glance to the back room where the other man was working. “Howard usually handles the accounts and bookkeeping.” At the moment she looked much like Lavinia as she tried to decide what she should do. If he was indeed good for the money.

  “How can I trust you’ll pay promptly what you owe?”

  He’d known he’d have to bare his soul sooner or later, but doing so to a snippet of a girl was galling.

  “I have savings I deposited in the bank. I’m a man of my word. I’ll pay my debts on time, Miss Brinkman. Check with Henry Glass if you want more information about me or my affairs.” He’d said more than he’d wanted to about himself already and was almost ready to walk out the door without the lumber. “If you’d rather I do business in Dove Creek, I can do that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Laughlin. If you’ve dealt with Henry, who is our close friend, I trust you.”

  She actually smiled. Or maybe, as a rule, she smiled at all her customers. His wounded pride eased a tiny bit.

  But as he finished the transaction and walked outside, he loosed a long sigh. He felt worn-out, and he’d only taken care of one chore on his long list of duties.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Emma sorted through the heavy wooden crate the stagecoach had just delivered. Mr. Buns had kindly pried off the lid before he left for his noon break. Having a man around did come in handy, and now that the two were better acquainted, they’d become friends. Originally from the East, he’d confided in her that he was forty-two years old. He hadn’t said what brought him to Eden, but as the months passed, she was sure he would open up further.

  Corsets, pantaloons, several factory-made dresses, and shirtwaists overflowed from the crate, as she pulled garments out one by one. The Toggery’s inventory was growing nicely, but now, seeing the brimming crate, perhaps she’d been a little too zealous with her monthly order. But she enjoyed pretty garments. She liked folding them, touching them, and mostly helping women who’d depended on their own talents for years try on something store made. Their faces lit up like a Christmas candle. She was doing a good deed for the women of Eden. Until she’d arrived, they hadn’t known what they’d been missing.

  After taking possession of the Toggery last fall, Emma had immediately knocked out a sidewall and enlarged the building by fifty percent. The new space was a dedicated women’s department, with clothing of all kinds. Some items factory made, some tailored by her dear friend Elizabeth Smith, others on consignment made by a local seamstress who had a knack for beauty. Her sister Lavinia had contributed three attractively crafted hats, one bonnet and two small tulip-shaped felt. One blue and one green. Her store wasn’t on par with those in Philadelphia by any stretch of the imagination, but she was getting there, slowly but not so surely.

  Emma sighed and pushed away a nub of anxiety in her belly. The signing of the contract that bequeathed the Five Sisters Ranch fifty percent to the Brinkman girls and fifty percent to Blake Harding was swiftly approaching. If any of the girls decided to back out or leave Eden before that, they’d each receive a fifteen-thousand-dollar payout. With that amount of money, she could open a shop in Paris or live in New York in style. She glanced around at the vacant room.

  Is Eden the best fit?

  Things’ll pick up. We’ve just come out of winter. I must give the women a chance to get to town before I begin to worry. Many don’t even know I’m here. Leaning on her elbow, she blew some stray hairs out of her face. Anything of value takes time . . .

  But how much time? In the months since she’d taken over, the Toggery’s expenditures had surpassed the monies coming in. First with the renovations and then her ordering new items every single month. Her business wasn’t moving in the correct direction.

  She lifted a soft pink corset and turned the garment over in her hands. What would Father think? This was his store prior to my inheriting. Back then, surely the place was always in the black.

  Concerning accounts, and ordering, she received enough censuring expressions from Mr. Buns to know what he thought—but for the most part, he kept his comments to himself. Action was needed to get more females into Eden before all was lost. She’d not pour good money after bad. The store would survive on its own or not at all. She’d made that promise to herself the first week she’d had to rein herself in with the order.

  The bells above the door chimed. Expecting Mr. Buns, Emma placed the corset back into the crate and swished around the counter, coming face-to-face with Rhett Laughlin, the fake doctor who had assisted Lavinia in her moment of need.

  She pulled up short. “Oh!” Her cheeks tingled with warmth. Mr. Laughlin and Lavinia were alone in her room. The only two in the whole empty hotel. Was there something her sister wasn’t telling? She acted much too embarrassed if the man had only assisted with her eye.

  She and Lavinia were two of the three middle sisters. Two peas in a pod, they liked to say quietly, for only their ears. Preferring to do each other’s hair rather than their own. They held hands in a thunderstorm, their heads together whispering comfort. And when feelings were hurt, who rushed to apologize first was a toss-up. They thought alike over almost everything. They weren’t the older, more responsible sisters like Mavis and Belle, philosophizing an
d theorizing about everything under the sun, Emma thought with a half smile, her heart warming. And they weren’t the needy-but-lovable baby like Katie, flighty at times and sometimes immature. She and Lavinia were their own little set, and Emma liked it that way.

  She straightened her shoulders, trying to look taller. “May I help you, Mr. Laughlin?”

  She actually flinched when her voice wobbled, but hoped he hadn’t noticed. He was tall and muscular. Unlike the day he’d arrived, his face was free of whiskers and tanned—sun-kissed, she thought. The messy hair she remembered from the day of Belle’s wedding had been trimmed and perhaps even combed.

  He glanced around the quiet store. “I’m in need of some garments.”

  A customer! Even one that had shamed her sister. For that thought, she asked the heavens for forgiveness. Would she be considered a turncoat if she were kind to him? And sold him some trousers?

  “What can I show you?” she said, keeping her tone all business and her expression stern. Perhaps she could sell him some things but not develop a friendship. She’d not want to hurt Lavinia.

  She wove her way into the men’s section, smiling over her shoulder to be sure he followed. An assortment of different types of men’s work clothing as well as some dressier items were staked on displays or hung on racks. “I’m sorry, my clerk, Mr. Buns, is not here at the moment. But I can assist you with whatever you might need.”

  Mr. Laughlin’s face turned a ruddy hue. He didn’t seem like the type who would be introverted around women. But perhaps he was not what she and her sisters expected. Perhaps they’d pegged him in the wrong hole.

  “Would you rather come back when Mr. Buns returns? He’s worked here for years and has much more experience than I do.” To break the awkwardness, she lifted a linen hankie from a stack on a middle-of-the-room display and let the sensation in her fingers ground her runaway nerves. “He usually only takes half an hour for lunch. I expect him back any moment.”

  He did his own nervous fingering of a folded cotton shirt.

  “No, ma’am. I have things to accomplish when I’m finished here that take manual labor. Best I pick something now before I get sweaty so I can check this chore off my list.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about being called a chore. “All right. Tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I need some town clothes to wear when my new restaurant opens. I hope that will happen quickly, but there is considerable work to be done, and some details that will take time.” His gaze strayed back down to the shirts folded beneath his fingertips on the display shelf.

  She felt her eyes brighten. “The old vacant building across from the hotel? Yes, I’ve heard.”

  “I thought you might have.”

  “To be truthful, Mr. Laughlin, I believe what you’re doing is a great service for Eden. Not only cleaning up an eyesore, but adding commerce. I agree with your opinion that more women will follow men who’ll come to Eden in hopes of winning the hand of a Brinkman. Please forgive me if I sound supercilious, that is not my intent. I just hope you’re right, for my business’s sake.” She laughed softly. “I’d like to entice more women here, and faster.”

  He chuckled. “Interesting. A Brinkman after my own heart.”

  She jerked her gaze away.

  “I only meant that we’re thinking along the same lines,” he quickly amended. “And that I must not be as crazy as my hopes might sound. I’m not going to sit and wait for opportunity, but foster growth and profit along.” He smiled. “We should sit and have a talk someday soon. If we worked together, the outcome would be more abundant and swifter. Don’t you think?”

  Heat infused her face. This conversation was completely inappropriate. She needed to change the subject. “What were you thinking, in terms of clothing?”

  His smile disappeared. “A white shirt and new pants. I need a set and another for whomever I hire. I haven’t yet found anyone.”

  “Oh? How are you going about looking?” she asked, tipping her head so she could guess what size he wore. Surely larger than large. They’d had a few men who’d fit that description.

  “I haven’t even begun. Does Eden have a newspaper?”

  “Less a paper and more a notice sheet. Comes out once a month around the first, or second, or third. If you can wait that long, I’m sure the proprietor will be happy to run a notice for you—at a cost, of course.”

  “Of course. But I’ll need someone sooner than that, I hope.” He glanced around and his gaze landed on her bulletin board by the door. He raised his brows.

  “You’re welcome to post a note there, if you’d like. I don’t have as much foot traffic as I’d hope, but I’ll also put out the word. See who we can find. Are you looking for a man or a woman?”

  “Preferably, a man. But if I can’t find one, I’m not against a woman.”

  Emma was beginning to feel sympathetic toward Mr. Laughlin’s plight. Everyone who’d heard the accounting of what had happened on Belle and Blake’s wedding day had jumped to defend Lavinia’s honor, when in all reality, Mr. Laughlin had been a victim too, so to speak. He’d only tried to help. At least, that was all she’d been told. If there was more to the story, she hadn’t been privy. But there is that feeling that Lavinia isn’t telling me everything . . .

  She left the folded work shirts and went to some finer-quality garments hanging on the wall rack. The problem was, she didn’t know if there were any large enough to fit Mr. Laughlin. “I think this fine fabric blend of cotton and linen is lovely. It’s durable, looks nice, and will wash and wear well. The only thing is”—she reached for the largest one she had—“I don’t think this will fit you.”

  He took the shirt and held it to himself, a doubtful tilt to his forehead. “I don’t think so either.”

  “That’s the largest we have.” But I do have a sister who worked for a tailor for years. As long as I don’t let on who Lavinia is altering for, she’s always willing to help.

  “We’ll let out the seams and lengthen the arms. We’ll doubly reinforce the seams so the garment will last. But all that will take a little time.” If I can get the alterations accomplished at all. Elizabeth sewed new garments for the shop; she didn’t usually do alterations, but she might if Lavinia said no.

  He carefully inspected the shirt.

  “Do you like the texture?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not knowledgeable on fabric and what’s nice and what isn’t. If you say this will be durable, that’s all I need to know. I’ll take your word. I’m most interested in getting something that fits.”

  “Well, this will when I get through with it, but I’ll need to take some measurements . . .”

  She glanced around at the still-empty store. She’d hoped Mr. Buns would have returned by now. He was overdue by five minutes. She normally wouldn’t care, but . . .

  Mr. Laughlin appeared as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “Have you always been in the restaurant business, Mr. Laughlin?” she asked to fill the void. “You certainly don’t look the type. My sister mentioned your case of knives. Frightened her to death, thinking they were for surgery. Now we know the truth.”

  He chuckled low. “I shouldn’t have scared her like that, but she did ask me what I had inside. I bought them in San Francisco when I made the decision to come to Eden and open a restaurant. And no, I’ve never been in the restaurant business before. This is a first for me.”

  The bells chimed again and a rush of warm air flowed into the shop as Elizabeth Smith came whooshing into the room. Since Elizabeth had come to town with her son, Johnny, in hand, she’d fit right in. Especially with Henry. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if they had an announcement sometime soon.

  Elizabeth pulled up short, much the same way Emma had, when she spotted Mr. Laughlin.

  “Elizabeth.” Emma stepped to the side as if Mr. Laughlin couldn’t be seen behind her. “Look who’s here purchasing clothing. Mr. Laughlin. Have the two of you met?”


  Elizabeth’s face turned three shades of scarlet, and Emma almost laughed. For some strange reason, she was feeling generous toward this tall, quiet man. He had helped Lavinia’s eye, after all, just under false pretenses. She didn’t feel the need to make him more of an outcast than he already was.

  “No. We haven’t. But Henry has told me all about your plans, Mr. Laughlin. Having a new eatery in Eden will be a blessing. I, for one, am looking forward to more choice.”

  Emma held out a hand. “Mr. Laughlin, Mrs. Smith.”

  Mr. Laughlin politely nodded, and then smiled.

  Emma was surprised at how handsome he was becoming in her eyes as they got better acquainted. She admired his clear, blue eyes and the way he’d been a bit skittish around her, and soft-spoken. His attractive good looks reminded her greatly of two special brothers back in Philadelphia. Memories of the wool shop surfaced. She’d loved helping women choose what wool they needed, straightening the shelves, and doing anything else that needed doing. But mostly, she’d loved the proprietress, the brothers’ mother, like her own mother. Tamping back her melancholy, she smiled.

  “And here are our Levi’s and slacks for men.” She moved around the display. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Dark trousers, please. I think that best with a white shirt and apron.”

  A lopsided grin appeared and transformed his face. Emma blinked and glanced away. Mr. Laughlin was quite attractive when he wanted to be.

  He shifted his weight. “Unless you have a better idea. I’m not much for imagination and am open to suggestion. If either of you ladies has a better notion, don’t be shy.”

  “No, that sounds perfect to me.” Emma pulled her cloth measuring tape from her pocket and handed the implement to a flustered-looking Elizabeth. “Let’s get these measurements done. Do you have time, Elizabeth? You’re so much better at this with all your experience.” She stopped, her brows lifting. “But did you need something specific, or are you in to visit? I didn’t ask.”

  “I just stopped by to tell you I saw Belle earlier this morning, and she said she was coming in later today. She wanted me to pass that along so you wouldn’t go out.”