Mitzie was nodding. “I forgot about that. Perhaps you should find something to take your mind off writing an article?”
Hershel leaned forward and pointed his finger at her. “You need Csodálatos szerelem.”
“Csodálatos szerelem? What is that?” Molly asked.
Mitzie sighed and folded her hands, placing them next to her cheek. “Wonderful, romantic love.”
Molly laughed. “I am not looking for wonderful, romantic love. I need to concentrate on my career.”
“But a beautiful girl like you should have a husband. Have a few children.”
Molly shook her head. Her curls coming loose from the chignon. “I don’t see that as being in the cards for me. It sounds like a lovely thought, but there isn’t anyone here in New York that I would even consider allowing to court me, much less marrying. I don’t think we should talk about that anymore.”
“As you wish, but keep your possibilities open. You never know where or when it might happen.”
“Hershel, stop. Leave the poor girl alone.” She refilled her own cup and took a sip of tea. “Did you see the article in the paper today?”
“Which article?” Molly asked.
“The one about the children writing a letter to Father Christmas asking for a mother. It was very sweet. They live out West somewhere.”
“No. I didn’t. Do you still have it?”
Hershel got up and left the room, returning a few moments later with a folded newspaper and handed it to her.
Molly looked at the headline. The New York Evening Journal. Of course, it would be the other paper. Molly looked at the article and her eyes flew open wide. “It says here that a family of four children sent a letter to Father Christmas asking for a wife for their father and a mother for them. Apparently, they lost their mother two years ago. Their teacher forwarded the letter along to the local newspaper and letters have been flooding in and now the children are going to decide who will be their choice. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It certainly is a heartwarming story before the holiday season.”
“No, I mean, this might be it. I’ll need to ask Mr. Davies about it, but this might be the article I’m looking for. May I have this paper if you are done with it?”
Hershel nodded. “Take it, we are done with it.”
“Are you going to write a letter?” Mitzie asked.
“Oh heavens no. I’m thinking that it would be a wonderful human story for the newspaper.”
“There is always hope for Csodálatos szerelem,” Hershel said with a twinkle in his eye.
Molly looked at her watch. “Oh, I need to get home. I didn’t realize it was so late.” She stood and went over to the chair where she placed her bag earlier. When she lifted the flap on the top of her bag it twisted in her hand, the contents spilling out on the chair. She picked up the notebooks, pencils and her leftover apple and placed them back inside.
“What’s this?” Mitzie asked, picking up the small box, handing it back to Molly.
“I forgot about that. I found it on my desk this morning. I don’t know who it is from.”
“Are you going to open it?” Hershel prodded.
“I guess I could.” Molly shoved the newspaper in her bag and stood it back upright on the chair. She then turned her attention to the small package. The box fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Molly pulled the string and removed the paper, tossing them onto the chair. “I wonder what it could be?”
Under the paper was the most exquisitely carved wooden box she had ever seen. It was made of reddish wood and had been sanded smooth. On the top of the box were small hands placed in a circle that resembled a wreath. “Oh my. This is beautiful.” She ran her finger along the carving in the wood. She tugged on the top of the box and it opened revealing a small pair of green and red knitted mittens inside.
“Aren’t those precious,” Mitzie said, peering over her glasses.
“It’s rather odd.” Molly picked up the mittens and held them from her fingers. They were joined together by a gold thread. “They look like they were made for a doll. What a curious gift.”
“There is a piece of paper in the box,” Hershel pointed out.
Molly put the mittens back in the box and unfolded the paper that was nestled underneath them. “To Molly. The smallest hands hold the most love. Happy Christmas, Mrs. Claus.” She looked at her two friends. “Who is Mrs. Claus? I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Ah, a mystery to be sure. What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. It must be a gift from someone local. I just wonder who.” Molly folded the note and put it back in the box. “I wonder what it means. The smallest hands hold the most love.” She closed the box and placed it back in her bag. “I’ll have to think about it. I just don’t know what to do with a pair of mittens so small.”
Molly gave Hershel and Mitzie each a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for tonight. Dinner was lovely, and I always enjoy spending time with you.”
“Be sure to let us know if you figure out who sent the gift.”
Molly nodded and headed home, thinking about how she was going to approach Mr. Davies about her idea for an article.
***
Molly bounced her leg as she waited in her office for Mr. Davies to be available. Her palms were sweaty as she thought about the conversation that was about to happen. She had thought about it all night long. So much so, she had difficulty sleeping.
She spent most of the night going through the article and making notes. On her way to the office this morning she stopped by the newsie on the corner to see if she could get a copy of the Mountain Home Idaho newspaper, but all she found was one from Boise. It was a week old, but lucky day! The article about the children was on the front page as well.
Mr. Davies’ voice boomed down the hall. He was shouting at Arthur about an upcoming article. Molly had never known anyone who yelled as much as he did. He had one volume – loud! It made her nervous.
A moment later Arthur popped his head into their office and rapped his knuckles on her desk. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning,” the four women answered at the same time. Katie gave a little giggle once they were done.
“Molly, I just wanted to thank you for helping with that article. You did a good job. Not as good as if I had time to finish it, but good nonetheless.”
“Th—th—thank you,” she stammered. “I was glad to help.”
He gave her a little wink before leaving and she could hear him whistling down the hall.
“He’s so handsome,” Katie giggled.
“I guess so,” Molly said. Arthur was handsome, and he knew it too, which is why Molly wasn’t attracted to him. She wanted someone with less of an ego. Molly listened, and all was quiet in the office apart from the sound of the ticker tape machines. The stock market had opened just a few minutes ago and the machines were busy punching the latest figures.
This was her chance. She picked up her notes and the newspaper that Hershel and Mitzie gave her and headed towards Mr. Davies’ office. She stood in the doorway waiting to be acknowledged. When it didn’t appear to be coming, she knocked twice on the door frame.
“Was there something you needed, Miss Griffith?” he asked, not looking up from the desk. He looked so small against it that she wondered why he had chosen a desk so large when he was so tiny.
“Yes, I was wondering if we could talk about the article I wrote for the paper yesterday?”
Eddie scoffed. “I thought we had already discussed this? Yes, it was adequate, but we aren’t looking to promote right now.”
“What if I had a story for you?” she said, as she offered the papers to him.
He looked at the paper and then looked at her. “A story?”
“Yes; there is this family in the Idaho Territory. These children wrote to Father Christmas for a mother.”
His eyebrows went up. “How is that a story?”
“It’s heartwar
ming. A feel-good story for the holidays. Children who sent a letter for a mother and got just that for Christmas. Besides, the Evening Journal had the article, and I know you want to do better than them.”
“The journal, you say?” He grabbed the paper from her hands and browsed the article. “How did we not know about this? I’ll have to talk to Mr. Greenly. He is supposed to be on top of anything that goes out over the wire.” He eyed her suspiciously. “It must be a slow news day if the Journal is publishing this rubbish.”
“It isn’t rubbish. Apparently, the entire nation is captivated by this story and just think if you had the exclusive scoop on how they find their momma for Christmas. The readers would be totally captivated.”
Mr. Davies scratched his chin. “And what does that mean for you?”
Molly smiled. She wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to calm her nerves. “I just thought… well …”
“Out with it, girl. I don’t have all day.”
“I thought I could go and write that story,” Molly blurted out. She clutched her skirt tighter as she waited for Mr. Davies to explode.
Instead he threw his head back and laughed. A hearty laugh from inside his belly. Molly saw several people poke their heads out of their offices to see what was going on. She felt her cheeks flush as she turned back to her boss who was wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Oh, that’s a good one. You want me to send you out to Idaho, so you can write about these… these children.” He waved the newspaper in the air for emphasis.
“Yes,” she responded firmly.
“You must be out of your mind, Miss Griffith. What did you not understand from yesterday? You are a secretary, and I want you to continue to be a secretary.”
“But you just said my article was good, and this… this will help you sell more papers. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Yes, it was, but that doesn’t mean you can be a journalist overnight,” he said, looking her straight in the eye with a resolve that made her bones shake.
“I’m looking for a chance to prove myself,” she answered, trying to keep her face straight even though she was shaking with fear and anger.
“I can’t just send you out on assignment.”
“I know you need a story like this for the paper,” she repeated. “You may not realize it, but I do hear when the senior editor comes by. And he says that the department needs a good story, and I know this one is it.”
He sighed. She knew she had him there. The senior editor had been down a few times this past week, expressing his concern that sales were down because they didn’t have any stories that captured the readers’ attention. It was just the same old news – politics, shopping and the stock market. Molly was sure it was one of the reasons Mr. Davies had been so surly the last few days.
“Let me do this. I will go out for a few weeks, interview the family, help them on their journey and then come right back. You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll be back, and we can publish right after Christmas, or even better, Christmas Day.”
“I should have Arthur or one of the other journalists go and do this.”
“Oh no. They would never be able to relate to the children. You need someone with a…”
“More motherly touch?”
“Exactly.” He crossed his arms as she continued. “If I write this story, and you don’t like it, I promise I will never broach the subject again.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “You won’t drop it unless I say yes?”
She nodded.
He sighed again. “You are persistent. Ok, fine. But only for a few weeks. Then I want you back here with the article right before Christmas. And like you said, if it’s not worthy of publication, then we will not speak of this again.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. She let out a squeal and jumped up and down. “Thank you, Mr. Davies! I won’t disappoint you.”
“You better not,” he said to her as she danced from the room. She ran to her desk to get her supplies and let the girls know what was happening. They were thrilled and scared for her. Travelling alone would be exciting and dangerous at the same time! How brave Molly was, they said.
There was so much to do in such a small amount of time, but she was determined to make this work. She couldn’t let her dream slip through her fingers, now that she saw it waiting for her.
She quickly grabbed her belongings and headed to the street. The first stop was the telegraph office to send word to the Mountain Home newspaper letting them know of her arrival.
Chapter 4
Mountain Home, Idaho, 1890
December, Two weeks before Christmas
“My legs are cramped, Father,” Emma said. “Can I get out and walk?”
Nathan Parker had just pulled in front of the mercantile. His four children were huddled under a blanket in the back with hot stones to keep them warm. He hadn’t planned on bringing them to town, but Mrs. Baxter wasn’t available to watch them, and Emma insisted it would be fun for everyone to go together.
He knew Emma felt obligated to take care of her younger brothers and sisters and that was a lot of responsibility on her young shoulders. That was why he hired Mrs. Baxter after his wife, Margaret, had passed. Mrs. Baxter’s children were grown, and she doted on his children. She even planted the idea that he should get married again and give the children a mother.
So, when Mrs. Baxter wasn’t available this morning, he bundled all of the children up and everyone rode to town to deliver the last of the fresh vegetables to the store. Once Nathan tied off the horse, he walked around to lift the children over the side of the wagon. Little Susan with her arms outstretched gave her father a hug as he lowered her to the ground. Forrest scrambled over the side and jumped to the ground. Nathan reached for Harry next and put him on the platform next to Susan. Susan held his hand to stop him from wandering off.
“Emma, push those rocks over to this side of the wagon. I’ll heat them up for the ride home.” Emma nodded and pushed the cool stones towards him before he assisted her out of the wagon. He walked around to the back of the wagon and took out a basket of beets that he handed to Forrest.
“Oh look, Father!” Emma said, pointing down the street, “I see the smoke from the train. Can I go watch it come in? Please, Father?”
“I want to go too,” Susan cried.
Nathan thought about it for a minute. “You can go there and come right back. It won’t take long for me to deliver these vegetables and then we need to get some supplies. Right back, you understand?”
Emma nodded and grabbed Susan’s hand running towards the station down the road. Nathan watched them until he could see them standing on the platform. Emma turned and waved, and he waved back before returning to getting the vegetables into the store.
“Hello, Nathan. Boys.” Mrs. Victor greeted him. She was a petite woman, but what she lacked in height she made up in personality. The Victors had been married for over 40 years and ran the mercantile/post office together. “Where are the girls?”
“They went to see the train,” Forrest volunteered, handing her the basket of beets.
“Trains are very exciting,” she said to him. “I’m not surprised they wanted to go see it.” She turned her attention back to Nathan. “Did you bring the rocks to put in the fire? Thomas just stoked it.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Why don’t you boys come with me? I just received a brand-new shipment of penny candy. Would you like to pick out a piece?” The boys nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, then. We will go over here while your father brings in the rest of his goods.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Victor.” Nathan said.
She guided Forrest and Harry behind the counter. “My pleasure. I enjoy the company of your children.”
Nathan nodded and went to get the rest of vegetables and the rocks for the ride home. When he was done putting the last crate of vegetables on the counter, Mrs. Victor came over to inspect everything. She picked up a few beets, some of the greens
and a squash. When she was satisfied with the quality of the vegetables in the boxes she said, “I’ll get these divided and over to the restaurant.”
“I found a box of apples as well, if you are interested. I have that on the wagon.”
“Fruit would be wonderful. We are down to the last of our apples and the only thing they are good for is cider or vinegar. I’ll total this up. Do you have a list of what you need?” Nathan handed her a slip of paper scribbled with his supply list. “I’ll start gathering what you need. Boys, why don’t you stay by the wood stove and keep warm?” As he headed out to get the box of apples, Nathan heard her call for her husband.
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Victor to gather up the supplies and put them in one of the empty vegetable crates. As she was tallying the costs, her husband came in with a bag of mail.
“This arrived for you, Nate. I think it is more letters.”
Nathan groaned. The week prior Mr. Victor showed up at the house with three large bags. When Nathan had no ideas why they would be receiving so many letters, Mr. Victor explained about the children’s letter to Father Christmas being published in newspapers all around the country. Letters were now pouring in from women all around the country, wanting to be the next Mrs. Parker.
Nathan hadn’t even opened the sack. Just the thought of it was too overwhelming. He truly loved his wife, and had no intention of remarrying, but he had his four little cherubs to think about. And this was the second time in a week someone mentioned marriage to him. He might consider it, but it would be in name only. A mother for the children and a companion for himself.
He knew that having a wife would make it easier for the entire family. In her final days, Margaret had made it clear that she had wanted him to remarry. And even though he said he would to appease her, he knew it was a lie. He just couldn’t see himself with anyone else but her. He thought he could get away from the idea and be a fulfilling parent to his children.
Emma was so excited to see all the letters that had arrived, and Nathan was sure he would be excited about this bag as well. She wanted to dive right into them. Susan just wanted someone who was pretty, liked dolls and would braid her hair. The boys, well he wasn’t sure what the boys wanted, and Harry was too young to think of such things.
A Cozy Mitten Christmas (The Ornamental Match Maker Book 9) Page 3
