A Hearth in Candlewood

by Delia Parr

  She set the tray of condiments down. ‘‘Why don’t you take this tray and set out the condiments on the sideboard in the dining room and put out the dishes and silverware, too. Carefully,’’ she cautioned before turning to Liesel. ‘‘If you’re about finished, the eggs can be set out, and once the breakfast meats are ready, take those platters, as well. In the meantime, I’ll fill the pitchers with warm water. You and Ditty can help me take them to the guests’ rooms while Mother Garrett finishes up at the stove.’’

  Without further prompting, Liesel got up from the table and took the condiment tray from Emma. ‘‘I’ll take this. Ditty, bring the eggs and hold the door open for me, will you?’’ She lowered her voice. ‘‘When we finish in the dining room, I’ll carry the pitchers upstairs. Let Ditty help you down here.’’

  Emma nodded, caught another twinkle in her mother-in-law’s eyes, and took several heavy cloths out of the drawer as the young women left the kitchen to carry out their tasks.

  ‘‘At sixteen, Ditty’s already grown taller than most men. She just needs time to grow into her own feet. She means well,’’ Mother Garrett said as she stepped aside to give Emma access to a pot of hot water.

  Emma chuckled. ‘‘I know she does,’’ she admitted as she wrapped the cloths around the handle and hoisted up the pot of water. ‘‘I’m not sure how understanding you’d be if she worked in the kitchen every day.’’

  Her mother-in-law sobered. ‘‘About as understanding as I’d be if a tornado took roost in my kitchen,’’ she quipped. ‘‘Not that you’d favor the idea of burnt meals or replacing the many more dishes she’d break. Or hiring someone else to actually run the kitchen since I wouldn’t have lasted past her first day. Just what were you thinking when you asked the girl to carry that tray just a moment ago?’’

  With a shrug, Emma ignored the question and carried the pot of water over to the pitchers lined up on a worktable. ‘‘We’ve all got our special gifts,’’ she noted as she started to add the hot water to the cold water already in the pitchers. ‘‘I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who works as hard as Ditty does.’’

  ‘‘And Liesel suits me just fine in the kitchen, even if she does tend to eat twice at every meal—once when she’s helping to prepare the food and again when she’s at the table,’’ Mother Garrett countered, although her heavy girth silently testified to the fact that she herself had the same habit, while Liesel remained uncommonly thin.

  Emma looked down at her own waistline and noted that despite her love of breads of any type, she managed to keep a trim figure. She sighed, and the sounds of the young women’s chatter as they worked together in the dining room, as well as her own friendly banter with Mother Garrett, only added to Emma’s sense of contentment. She had never had hired help before, and she again offered a prayer of gratitude for being guided to hire both Liesel and Ditty.

  With the last of the breakfast meats now added to the platters on the kitchen table, Mother Garrett added a bowl of sliced potatoes to the drippings in both frying pans. ‘‘Speaking of gifts, are you really going to have Frances live here indefinitely?’’

  Emma nodded, finished filling the last pitcher, and set the empty pot aside. ‘‘There’s more than enough mending that needs to be done, and she does beautiful handiwork. I think having the bed linens embroidered will add a nice touch our guests will appreciate, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘That depends,’’ Mother Garrett said as she stirred the sizzling potatoes.

  Emma cocked a brow.

  ‘‘When one of her sons shows up, you’re going to be hard-pressed to explain why you’re harboring a . . . a runaway, as she puts it. She’ll be back on the farm before she makes many of those fancy stitches of hers.’’

  ‘‘Nonsense,’’ Emma countered. ‘‘Widow Leonard has a right to live wherever she chooses, assuming she can provide for herself. I can see to it that she can do just that. What other choice do I have? I couldn’t turn her out now any more than I could turn her away the night she came here.’’

  Since she and Mother Garrett had had no time to discuss the matter until now, she was anxious to explain her reasoning, although it was not like her mother-in-law to oppose her on anything she set her mind to doing.

  Mother Garrett, however, had not finished voicing her concerns. ‘‘I’m not sure what it is that her sons are so angry about that they haven’t talked to each other for the past few months, but causing their mother such heartache by keeping her in the middle of their argument is almost unforgivable. I assume Frances will tell us the tale in her own time. That’s well and good with me. In the meantime,’’ she cautioned, waving her spatula, ‘‘I’m not resting easy, waiting for one of those boys to show up on your doorstep to challenge you. From all I’ve heard—which isn’t much, I admit—one of those sons of hers has more temper than common sense.’’

  Emma walked over to the cookstove and put her arm around Mother Garrett’s shoulders. ‘‘Please don’t be uneasy. If you recall, I’ve had plenty of experience protecting people from men far bigger and a whole lot more powerful than the likes of James and Andrew Leonard,’’ she said. Not long after Jonas died, Emma had stood her ground against his brother, Allan, an influential politician in New York City. She had not hesitated to support her mother-in-law’s decision to remain in Candlewood instead of returning to New York City to the home she had once shared with her oldest son, and Emma did not hesitate to do the same for Widow Leonard now.

  ‘‘If Frances needs a champion, the good Lord sent her to the right woman when He sent her to you. But I can’t condone keeping her whereabouts a secret from them, even though she seems certain they don’t even realize she’s gone.’’

  ‘‘I’ll speak to her about it later today, after all the guests leave,’’ Emma promised. ‘‘Maybe she’ll agree to send James and Andrew a brief note so they’ll know where she is. That way they won’t worry. If not, I’ll speak to each of them at Sunday services. In any case, we have a few days before we have to worry about that,’’ she said before the sound of an approaching wagon drew her gaze to the kitchen window.

  ‘‘It’s a tad early for Mr. Westcott to make deliveries,’’ Mother Garrett remarked without looking up from the cookstove.

  Emma recognized the driver at once, but he was definitely not Adam Westcott, an area farmer who supplied Hill House with milk and butter. Even though her heart dropped to her knees and back again, she gave Mother Garrett a hug and stepped back to remove her apron and smooth back her hair. ‘‘Apparently, I have less time than I thought,’’ she explained. ‘‘That’s not Adam West-cott; it’s James Leonard.’’

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Widow Leonard standing on the bottom step. Turning and offering her a smile, she said, ‘‘It seems you’ve been discovered missing. James is here.’’

  The elderly woman paled.

  ‘‘I’ll have to tell him you’re here,’’ Emma continued. ‘‘Would you like to speak with him?’’

  Widow Leonard held tight to the railing. ‘‘Not yet. Certainly not today. I don’t want to talk to James—or Andrew, either, for that matter.’’

  ‘‘Don’t worry. Just stay here in the kitchen. I’ll take care of everything.’’ Emma started for her office, where she expected to find James waiting at the door where she customarily welcomed arriving guests. She walked slowly but steadily, ready to do battle with a good dose of common sense and the sheer power of faith as her only weapons.

  4

  WITH GUESTS RISING, DRESSING, and some dining already, the boardinghouse was literally coming to life while Emma waited for James Leonard in her office. She listened as he scraped his boots before turning a knob that sounded the bell above her door and announced his arrival.

  She whispered yet another silent prayer all would go well, then unlatched the door that opened onto the side of the wraparound porch. Emma gratefully noted the sun had chased away the chill of the past few days.

  Straw hat in hand, James nodded. ‘�
�I hope I haven’t disturbed you too early,’’ he ventured, but he did not step forward. He was well over six feet tall and carried muscles heavy from years of farming. She found it hard to believe that Widow Leonard, a small slip of a woman, had given birth to this strapping man, her firstborn. A lifetime of outdoor work, however, had leathered his features, and the heavy hint of gray in the hair at his temples put his age at close to fifty, she supposed.

  Surprisingly, his gaze was troubled rather than angry. ‘‘May I come in?’’

  Emma stepped aside and closed the door behind him.

  ‘‘I’ve come about my mother,’’ he explained. ‘‘She’s here, isn’t she?’’

  ‘‘Yes, she is. Please, have a seat,’’ she insisted and pointed to the two straight-back chairs in front of her desk. While he took his seat, she moved behind the desk and took her own. Reassured by his meek demeanor, she assumed his brother was the one with the reputation for having a temper.

  She relished the modicum of authority she wielded sitting behind the massive desk, as suitable for her needs operating the boardinghouse as it was for the former owner, and far superior to a dainty lady’s desk. Rather than trying to justify his mother’s presence here, which would definitely put her on the defensive, she held silent.

  He cleared his throat. ‘‘Let me begin by apologizing to you. Taking in my mother when you already had an overflow of guests must have been incredibly inconvenient, but I’m very, very grateful that you were able to care for her.’’

  ‘‘We can always make room at Hill House for one more. We’re happy to have her with us,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m curious, though. How did you come to look for your mother here?’’

  His dark eyes flashed with guilt. ‘‘I . . . I guess this is my fault. I must have misunderstood her. I thought she said she’d be going home with my brother, so when the storm hit and I lost sight of her, I just assumed she’d left with him. She’d forgotten some of her things, so I took them to my brother’s home first thing this morning. That’s when I found out she wasn’t there like she said she’d be. I headed straight for town, and when I stopped at the General Store to make some inquiries, I was told here would be the most likely place to find her.’’

  Emma nodded.

  He let out a sigh and toyed with the rim of his hat. ‘‘I guess I’m more relieved than anything,’’ he admitted and looked around the room before meeting her gaze. ‘‘If you’ll calculate her bill, I’ll just pay what she owes. I’d like to take her home with me for a few days before she—’’

  Another visitor rang the bell and interrupted him.

  ‘‘I’m sorry. Excuse me just a moment,’’ Emma suggested. She rose, made her way to the door again, and nearly gasped upon opening it.

  Andrew Leonard, all six feet of anger and determination, stood outside and glared at her. ‘‘I’ve come to take my mother home.’’

  She stiffened her back. ‘‘Good morning,’’ she managed. ‘‘Please come in.’’

  He eyed his brother’s wagon, hesitated, then charged past her to get inside without bothering to scrape the mud still clinging to his boots. Belatedly, he removed his hat.

  Before she managed to close the door again, James had gotten to his feet, turned, and faced his brother. They were only a few years apart in age, but anger created a palpable distance between them.

  She sliced the tension that separated the two brothers by walking between them to return to her seat behind the desk. Heart pounding, she folded her hands and rested them on top of her desk. ‘‘Gentlemen, if you’d both be seated . . .’’

  James hesitated, his right cheek twitching. His hand tightened around the rim of his hat and, reluctantly, he took his seat.

  Andrew, however, remained standing. ‘‘Kindly tell my mother I’m here to take her home.’’

  James squared his shoulders. ‘‘As we were discussing, Widow Garrett, I’ll happily settle my mother’s bill before we leave.’’

  ‘‘Apparently my brother is under the mistaken impression that Mother is returning to his home,’’ Andrew argued. ‘‘Regardless of what she may have told you or anyone else, our mother is coming home with me. I certainly won’t begrudge paying whatever it is her lodgings have cost, but I have little time or energy to waste arguing with you,’’ he charged, directing his words to her and away from his brother.

  Emma cast them each a hard look. She had neither the patience nor the wisdom of Solomon, but she had no intention of sending Widow Leonard home with either of these two men until the elderly woman made the decision to do so. ‘‘If and when your mother decides to leave is up to her,’’ she said and deliberately kept her voice soft but firm.

  ‘‘If and when my mother leaves is not up to her,’’ Andrew spat. ‘‘According to my father’s will, she’s to live with one of us, and she’s due, no, she’s past due the time when she should have come to live with me. So I’m afraid she’ll be leaving now. With me.’’

  ‘‘Since I can’t afford for her to stay here any longer,’’ James said firmly, ‘‘she’ll have to come home with me today.’’

  Emma drew several long breaths to allow for a quick prayer. ‘‘In truth, gentlemen, your mother will not be leaving at all. She’ll be staying here a bit longer. You see, she’s not here as a guest, as you’ve both presumed. She’s living here now as a member of my staff.’’

  James’s eyes widened. ‘‘Your staff? You mean to say you’ve actually hired her to work here?’’

  ‘‘Don’t be absurd,’’ Andrew charged. With his face flushed and his eyes bulging, he looked like a pot about to boil over on Mother Garrett’s cookstove. ‘‘In addition to the fact that she’s far too old to be working, there’s little of value—’’

  ‘‘Actually, she’s quite skilled with the needle, and she’s agreed to share her talent with all of us here at Hill House,’’ Emma interjected. ‘‘Like other members of my staff,’’ she continued, unwilling to give either man the opportunity to argue with her, ‘‘she’ll receive room and board, along with a small stipend, in exchange for her valuable services.’’

  ‘‘I want to speak with my mother. Now,’’ Andrew demanded as he took a step forward.

  James rose from his seat so fast his chair nearly toppled to the floor. He caught the chair with his free hand and set it right before he locked his gaze with Emma’s. ‘‘I was here first. I’ll speak to my mother first.’’

  Emma locked her knees together to keep them from shaking and managed a smile. ‘‘I do apologize to both of you. I know you’ve both traveled a long way this morning, but unfortunately, I don’t allow my staff to have visitors when they’re working. Your mother’s free time is from noon on Saturday until eight o’clock on Sunday evening. During that time, she can stay here and receive visitors or she can return home, much the same as the other members of my staff often do. Until then, I’m afraid I must ask you both to leave. I really must get back to my guests,’’ she announced and rose from her seat.

  Andrew took another step forward and effectively blocked her way. ‘‘You have no right to keep me from seeing my mother, and I will not allow gossipmongers to label me as an ogre for putting my aged mother out to work when that’s most definitely not the case.’’

  ‘‘Nor will I,’’ James added, although he did not move from his position on the opposite side of her desk.

  Emma swallowed hard. If it was indeed true that the two brothers were not speaking to each other because of some unexplained disagreement, at least they were now united against what they perceived to be a common enemy—her. Neither man, unfortunately, seemed willing to budge, which meant the standoff would continue and she might be forced to spend some time trapped behind her desk.

  Unsure of exactly what to do next, Emma simply held her ground, quite certain neither one of Widow Leonard’s sons would resort to violence to get his way. For several long heartbeats, she heard her pulse pounding in her ears. When she glimpsed the sampler hanging on the wall next to the window,
she let out a sigh and prayed each man would be swayed by her words.

  ‘‘You might do well to remember something,’’ she began and nodded toward the sampler. Each of the men paused and then, following her direction, glanced at the sampler and back at her.

  ‘‘ ‘Honor thy father and thy mother,’ ’’ she whispered. ‘‘I stitched that sampler many, many years ago. How I wish my dear mother were still here, that I might love her and honor her wishes, regardless of how old she had become or how old I had grown to be. My mother passed to glory long ago, but you’re both blessed to have your mother still here. It’s neither my place nor my intention to question why your mother has chosen to come and work here, but she’s not a child. She’s eighty-one years old. She has a sound mind and a right to decide her own future.’’

  She paused and looked from one man to the other. ‘‘I pray someday she might want to return home to live with both of you from time to time. Until then, please honor her wishes to stay here at Hill House. And honor her request not to speak with either of you today. Perhaps you might like to speak to Reverend Glenn instead. As you know, he’s living here at Hill House now. I’m certain he’d be willing to discuss the merits of the fifth commandment with both of you.’’

  James was the first to relent and step back from her desk. His shoulders were stiff with annoyance, but his gaze had softened. ‘‘I’m not sure why my mother is being so difficult, but I trust you will provide well for her here, at least temporarily. Tell her . . . tell her to send for me when she wants to come home.’’

  When she nodded in reply, he walked past his brother and let himself out.