Sure enough, Colonel Gordon was coming up the walk, and he didn’t look happy at all. “Oh, dear. I was hoping he wouldn’t find out,” Orinda Lou said under her breath.
“Find out about what? Ori, what did you do?”
“Just another adventure. I’ll tell you about it later.”
She walked through the gate that separated the two yards, entered the house through the kitchen door, and found Isabel offering the colonel a seat in the parlor. Nathan hadn’t returned yet, which was just as well as she imagined that would be very awkward.
“Hello, Colonel Gordon. What can I do for you?”
He came to his feet when she entered, then sat when she motioned toward the chair. “Miss Britt, I’m here in an official capacity. I’m sure you know by now that Mr. Perry has been cleared of all charges and was released.”
“Yes, he came by briefly to tell me. I’m glad that was resolved to your satisfaction.”
“It’s always nice to see justice being served.”
Isabel came back in the room, carrying a tray, and offered the marshal some coffee. He took it, but his eyes never left Orinda Lou.
“The most interesting thing happened this morning, Miss Britt, and I’m hoping you can explain it to me. You see, I actually received two telegrams, both from the police in Kansas City. One was to verify that Nathan Perry had been released from prison after he was found not guilty, and that he was free to come and go as he chose and would have no police record. The other telegram was about you, Miss Britt.”
Orinda Lou accepted a cup of coffee from her sister and took a sip before turning wide eyes on the marshal. “Whatever do you mean?”
He set down his cup, fished in his pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ll read it to you. It’s quite interesting. ‘Inquiry as to Orinda Lou Britt. Contacted our office regarding Nathan Perry.’ Now why would you need to contact the Kansas City Police about Mr. Perry, Miss Britt?”
Isabel’s jaw was a little bit slack.
Orinda Lou took another sip of her coffee, then set her cup down as well. “I thought that perhaps a little nudge might help them reply a little sooner.”
“A little nudge? Miss Britt, do you realize that what you did could be considered interfering in a police investigation? You are not an officer of the law. You haven’t even been deputized. At best, you’re a nosy citizen who believes we’re not doing our jobs. I could press charges, Miss Britt, and you wouldn’t be too happy with the outcome.”
“Oh. I admit I didn’t realize.” Orinda Lou looked down at her hands, embarrassed. She’d only been thinking about getting the information she wanted—she hadn’t given a second’s thought to what that might mean for the investigation. “I apologize, Colonel. I was impetuous.”
“Yes, you were, and I’m very displeased about it. I will, however, excuse the matter if you’ll promise me that you’ll never undertake to do my job again.”
“Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate that more than I can say.”
He gave something of a “harrumph” and stood up. “I’ll bid you ladies a pleasant day. I trust you have things to do that don’t involve chasing down criminals or interfering with me, so I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Thank you again, Colonel, and have a good day as well.”
Orinda Lou remained where she was and let Isabel show the colonel to the door. She finished her coffee and poured herself another cup, and was adding sugar when her sister came back in the room.
“What . . . Orinda Lou Britt, I hardly know what has gotten into you lately,” Isabel said, giving up all pretense of being ladylike and flopping on the sofa. “I can’t even believe half the things I’m hearing.”
Orinda Lou smiled down into her coffee. “Well, for starters,” she said, “call me Ori.”
When Nathan returned, clean and freshly dressed, Ori’s heart nearly beat out of her chest to the rhythm of his knock on the door. She peered at him through the window for another moment before letting him in, just taking pleasure in knowing that he was free and was really there.
“Hello again,” she said as he entered the house. “Would you like to come see our progress in the kitchen? It’s almost a miraculous transformation.”
He grinned. “Maybe in a little while. First, I’d like to say hello to you.” He took her hand and pressed a small kiss to her cheek. It was the slightest gesture, but it meant absolutely everything to her. “May I meet your sister?”
“Of course. She’s in the parlor.”
Isabel set down the novel she was reading when Nathan walked into the room. “So you’re the infamous Mr. Nathan Perry,” she said, offering him her hand. “Piano tuner by day, bank robber by night?”
“Something like that.” He chuckled. “I can see your sister in you, Mrs. . . . I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
“I should have given it to you. I’m Isabel Andrews.”
“Mrs. Andrews, then. It’s a pleasure.”
She waved him toward a chair, and Ori sat nearby. She kept her hands clasped on her lap, trying to stay composed when what she really wanted was to laugh and giggle and throw herself into Nathan’s arms. That wouldn’t do at all—she really would scandalize her sister that way. But then, scandalizing her sister was always fun . . .
“What’s your prognosis here?” Isabel nodded toward the piano.
“Another three-quarters of a day to finish the strings, and then a day, perhaps two, for tuning,” he replied. “Despite the little interruption we’ve experienced, I think we’ll make good time.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I told Orinda . . . er, I told Ori when I arrived how much I was looking forward to playing it.” Isabel stood up. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just realized that I have an urgent need for red thread. In fact, it’s so urgent that if I don’t leave for the store this very minute, something terrible is sure to happen.”
“I have . . .” Ori began, but Isabel cut her off.
“And I’ll expect the two of you to join me tonight for dinner at the Brody Hotel. Mrs. Brody invited me to come over especially, and that will give us the chance to get to know each other better, Mr. Perry. Now if you’ll excuse me, red thread waits for no one.” Isabel disappeared down the hall, and before Ori had even thought of something to say to Nathan, she swept back up the hall and out the front door with her hat and her reticule.
“Your sister feels very passionately about her thread,” Nathan said, a smile on his face.
“You know how it is—you get the wrong thread once, and it does something to your soul. It scars you in some way that it’s impossible to recover from.” Ori pressed her hands to her mouth and then lowered them again. “Oh, Nathan, I can’t even tell you how glad I am to see you. Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “I won’t lie—it was difficult, especially that first day. When I left Kansas City, I believed I’d never live behind bars again, and it was all I could do to remain calm and wait. You helped me with that, though. You made it bearable.”
“I wasn’t even there that much. You’re giving me far too much credit.”
“It wasn’t so much you as the thought of you, the memory of you.” He crossed the room and took the seat next to hers, then reached out and grasped her hand. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you’ve come to mean to me.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a question I’m supposed to answer,” she replied. “I think you’re just supposed to tell me. It’s more ladylike that way or something.”
He laughed. “I enjoy your sense of humor, Ori. In fact, I enjoy everything about you, including how you hang your stockings to dry in the kitchen.”
She gasped. “What . . . how did you know?”
He laughed again. “Your curtains are rather sheer, and I caught a glimpse through the window as I came up the walk.”
“You mean . . . you knew I had laundry in there the whole time, and you never said?”
“I did know. I just didn’t expect it to c
ause you so much alarm.”
“Stockings . . . and other things . . . can be embarrassing,” she said, sure that her face had never been so red in all her life.
“Ah. I didn’t realize there were other things. I only saw the stockings.”
“Are you sure?” She squeezed his hands tightly. “That’s all you saw?”
“I promise. That’s all I saw. I might ask you to loosen your grip just a bit if you would—I’ll need full circulation in my hands if I’m to keep working on your piano.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She let go. “I’m just so relieved.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You’re something else, Ori. You really are.”
“You’ve said that before, but I’m not entirely sure what I am. You might have to explain it to me.”
He reached out and stroked the side of her cheek. “You’re everything beautiful and wonderful and unexpected. And after dinner tonight, I’d like to sit on your front porch and watch for lightning bugs.”
“I’d like that,” she said, her whole face tingling at his touch. “I’d like that more than almost anything else I can imagine.”
Chapter 12
“What a nice establishment,” Isabel said as they took their seats in the Brody Hotel dining room. “Everything is so clean and fresh.”
“The rooms are, too,” Nathan replied. “I’ve been very comfortable here.”
The waitress came over and took their orders, then disappeared into the kitchen.
“I feel a little bit bad ordering roast chicken without Ronald here,” Isabel said. “It’s his favorite.”
“I imagine he misses having you at home,” Nathan said.
Ori flicked a glance at her sister, wondering how she would respond, but Isabel merely said, “If he does, I imagine it’s good for him. Now, tell me about yourself, Mr. Perry. What do you do when you’re not robbing banks and tuning pianos?”
The conversation was light and lively all through the meal, and Ori relaxed. She’d been worried that her sister would disapprove of Nathan—after all, he had been in jail when Isabel arrived for her visit. But they seemed to be getting along well and with good humor, and Ori realized that she’d needed her sister’s support in this more than she’d supposed. Perhaps her visit wasn’t as ill-timed as she first thought.
After they’d eaten every last crumb of cake on their plates, Nathan walked them back to the house, and Isabel made herself scarce again. Her excuse this time was much more plausible—she said she wanted to write some letters. Ori took Nathan’s hand and led him over to the porch swing, where they sat and looked up at the stars.
“I can’t imagine a single night more perfect than this,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “The meal, the weather, the company—I don’t believe I’ve ever been so happy.”
“Really? Even though just this morning, you were in prison?”
“Were. I’m not anymore.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Are you happy, Ori?”
“I’m almost happy. There’s one thing I need in order to be completely happy.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I want to see those lightning bugs you mentioned.”
He laughed. “I have no control over those. I only know that they ought to be here—their actual appearance is up to them.” He touched her cheek with his free hand. “I did a lot of thinking over the weekend.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I didn’t have any books with me, you see, and they don’t get much theater in jail. I had quite a bit of time to myself.”
“Sounds like the perfect time for introspection,” she replied. It was getting a little hard to breathe—her heart was pounding so fast, it was as though it had forgotten how to work properly altogether.
“It really was. In fact, I recommend it to anyone who is seeking to understand the deeper meaning of life.”
“And what is that meaning?” she asked.
He didn’t answer for a minute. Then he said, “The meaning of life is to love and be loved, to find those who need a hand and offer one, and to fill the world with peace and joy.”
“That’s beautiful. I thought you said you didn’t have a way with words.”
“Well, you realize it took me a couple of days alone in a jail cell to come up with that much.”
She laughed and snuggled into his arm. “Imagine what you could do with a month.”
“I’d rather not imagine that, thank you.” He paused, then whispered, “Look.”
She looked where he was pointing and saw five little lights flickering in the air, soon to be joined by countless others. She’d seen lightning bugs before, of course, but these were the most magical lightning bugs there had ever been because she was seeing them with Nathan.
“I just don’t know what to do.” Mrs. Andrews entered the parlor and sat on the chair nearest the door. “I’ve never been so confused.”
Nathan looked up from the pin he was tightening. “Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs. Andrews?”
“For starters, you need to call me Isabel. And then you can tell me why men are such idiots.”
He finished tightening the pin and reached for the last length of wire. He was so close—it felt good to have accomplished so much honest work. “Isabel it is. I’m afraid I can’t tell you why men are idiots, though. We just are.”
She laughed. “You do have a way of putting me in better humor. Let me be more clear with my question. When I left home, I wrote my husband a note on his pillow telling him that I wasn’t sure I could return. I spelled out all the reasons and was fairly organized about it, actually. But now I get this letter from him asking me why I left.” She shook the piece of paper in the air. “How did he not understand what I said? I was as straightforward as I could be.”
Nathan thought about that as he guided the string across the body of the piano and back again. “Maybe he’s trying to sort out his own feelings, and doesn’t know how to do that,” he suggested.
“I don’t see what’s so complicated about it. Does he want to be married to me, or doesn’t he? I would think that he’d know his own mind.”
“That would make the most sense.” Nathan wound the end of the string through the last pin and hammered it into place. “I’ve been working on pianos for most of my life. I learned when I was fifteen, and they’ve become somewhat of a passion of mine. I spend most of my time tuning the strings—playing the notes over and again and tightening the pins until they’re just right. The more you play a note, the faster that string relaxes, and the sooner it needs to be tightened to ring true.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re preparing to give me an insightful analogy, or you’re telling me a really boring story.”
Nathan laughed. “Both, most likely. Now, I’ve never been married. I’ve been on the road for years, doing what I love, and then of course there was the unfortunate jail incident. But people tend to tell me things while I’m working on their pianos, or I overhear things because they forget I’m there, and the one thing I hear over and over again is that relationships need to be fine-tuned. Just like strings lose their true tones when played, feelings can grow numb if they aren’t revitalized.”
“You’re pretty smart for a piano tuner,” Isabel said with a grin. “And that wasn’t a bad analogy.”
“Thank you.” He gave a little bow. “Now, let me show you the part of this process I enjoy the most.”
He flicked the highest string with his finger, then reached around and pushed the corresponding key to make sure of what he was hearing. Then he picked up his pliers and turned the pin ever so slightly until the note sounded absolutely true.
“It helps that he has perfect pitch,” Ori said, coming into the room and taking a seat.
“A valuable skill for a piano tuner, wouldn’t you say?” Nathan gave that pin another tap with his hammer to set everything in place, then moved on to the next.
“And he gives excellent marriage advice, too.” Isabel rose
. “I have another letter to write, but I’m not sure what to say. How do I tell Ronald that I want to fine-tune our relationship?”
Nathan thought about that while he tested the next key. “Tell him you want to be courted again.”
Isabel smiled. “I’ll do that. Thank you.” She left the room with a swish of skirts.
Ori leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “That first note already sounds so much better. Thank you for what you’re doing. Not just for the piano, though—I overheard what you said to Isabel. You were very good with her.”
He shrugged. “I overhear a lot of things.”
“I imagine you do.” She settled back in her chair and watched him tune the next string. “Um, you’re a little sharp there.”
“What?” He hit the key again. “No, that’s right on.”
“Humor me.”
He shook his head, but grabbed his pliers and made the adjustment.
“See?” She looked very pleased with herself. “Isn’t that better?”
“All right, Miss Britt, you’ve bested me,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “You’d better stay nearby and make sure I don’t bungle up any more of your notes.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I will.”
Chapter 13
Mr. Brody nodded as he looked around at the small building situated next to the general store. “I believe this will suit your purposes well, Mr. Perry.”
Nathan turned on his heel, imagining what the place would look like once he was done setting it up to his satisfaction. A work bench would go along that back wall, with a lathe, and while the space was compact, he would have the ability to put up displays and so forth. “I agree, Mr. Brody. Thank you for coming to see it with me.”
“It’s my pleasure. I know how difficult it is to conduct business in a new town when you know so few people.”
Nathan turned around again, happy with the way it was coming together in his mind. “What do you think of ‘Perry’s Pianos’ on a big sign right over the front door?”
Gunsmoke and Gingham Page 7
