A Hearth in Candlewood

by Delia Parr

  With a shake of her head, she shoved all those worries aside and thought about the Mitchell sisters, who would be arriving within the hour. Adapting from the Sewells’ more formal stay to the very down-to-earth days ahead with the Mitchells meant more than a shift in attitude or mood. Mother Garrett’s menu changed. Ordinary crockery replaced the china at mealtimes. Emma dressed more casually, wearing gowns much like the dark gray cotton one she wore today, and let her braid hang free instead of coiling it into a bun. She also spent more time with her guests, especially outdoors.

  She did need to be careful, though. When the Mitchell sisters were in residence, Emma was sorely tempted to shed her prim image, letting her urge to be spontaneous and carefree match the sisters’ daring lifestyles.

  For a woman like Emma, who had spent most of her life indoors working in the General Store from dawn to dusk, rediscovering the wonders of nature with her guests, however, was one of the greatest gifts she had received since coming to Hill House.

  Unfortunately, between restoring and operating the boardinghouse, she made little time for appreciating this gift unless the Mitchell sisters were here. Anticipating their arrival, she opened her eyes, scanned the view from the front porch, and realized summer had faded. The scent of autumn was heavier now, promising the crunch of crisp apples and days when the air would be heavy with the smell of farmers making fresh cider. For the first time, she noticed some of the trees were trading bonnets of deep green for crimson, persimmon, and gold, while others remained evergreen.

  Beyond the rooftops of homes and businesses clustered in the center of town, the deep blue ribbon the Candlewood Canal had worn all summer had turned murky from use, but the sky itself was crisp blue, decorated with a bouquet of white clouds stretching to reach the sun before it slipped below the horizon.

  Her heart filled with wonder. Her soul trembled with the awareness of His presence in all that surrounded her—a presence that eased all of her fears about the future. ‘‘Be not afraid,’’ she whispered, and the stirring of the trees carried her words back to her. She closed her eyes again, slipped her hand into her pocket, and dozed off with her keepsakes held tight.

  ————

  ‘‘There she is, looking like a lady indeed!’’

  ‘‘Miss Em-ma! Yoo-hoo! Miss Em-ma!’’

  Startled, Emma snapped awake and blinked the sleep from her eyes. Disoriented for a moment, the instant she saw her guests approaching the gate, she bolted to her feet. She had not even heard the buggy approach or depart but spied it now heading back down the lane. ‘‘I must have really needed that catnap,’’ she muttered, then waved to her guests as she descended from the porch.

  The Misses Mitchell were leading the other guests—no surprise there. The two sisters never walked when they could ride nor stopped talking until they were asleep.

  Unless they were gardening.

  Indeed, they were chattering with one another as one sister unlatched the gate and stepped aside for the other to hold it open for the Cross family.

  Their straw bonnets, as plain as their homespun beige gowns, and the burlap bags, which they carried instead of reticules, represented the only bow to conventional attire the spinsters allowed—and only while traveling beyond the confines of the home they still shared with their parents in New York City. Once they reached Hill House, the gowns they wore would be packed away, except for Sunday services, until they were ready to travel back home.

  Only a year or two shy of turning forty years old, Opal and Garnet Mitchell were identical twins who preferred to wear their curly brown hair cropped short, just covering their ears, men’s trousers, suspenders, soft flannel shirts, and boots. Since they were both built exceedingly thick through the middle, they might easily have passed for brothers, not sisters, when they were dressed like men, at least from a distance. Up close, their flawless complexions, gentle blue eyes, and outrageously long eyelashes made them decidedly female, if the dainty pins each of them wore faithfully on their collars did not give them away.

  As Emma approached the group of people in the front yard, she greeted Diane Cross and her husband, who seemed to be having trouble breathing, and their son Steven. Out of concern for Mr. Cross, Emma directed them into the house before welcoming her newest resident guests. She glanced at the two women standing side-by-side, took note of the pins they wore, and gave the woman standing on the left a hug first and then the other. ‘‘Miss Opal, it’s good to see you again. And you, too, Miss Garnet. Welcome back to Hill House.’’

  Opal pouted. ‘‘You’re just no fun anymore.’’

  ‘‘She knows to look for the pins to tell us apart,’’ Garnet quipped.

  Emma grinned.

  Opal’s eyes twinkled. ‘‘What if we switched pins?’’

  ‘‘No! You promised you wouldn’t! I’d never be able to tell you apart.’’

  ‘‘We won’t. My sister’s just teasing, aren’t you, Opal?’’

  ‘‘Of course I am. I had enough fun on the packet boat. Not a single passenger between New York City and here thought to tell us apart by our pins. Of course, Father did make them for us so he and Mother could tell us apart,’’ Garnet offered, as if Emma had not heard the same tale every time the sisters came for a visit.

  To hear the sisters tell it, Mr. Mitchell was a jeweler by vocation, and he had fashioned the pins for his twin daughters with his own hands within days of their birth. By avocation he was a gardener and operated a small nursery next to their home, where Opal and Garnet developed a love for gardening and honed their skills.

  Each of the sisters hooked an arm with Emma and started toward the house, but Emma quickly braced to a halt and looked back over her shoulder. ‘‘Mother Garrett! I almost forgot. She should be with you.’’

  ‘‘We let her off at the General Store,’’ Opal offered.

  Garnet patted Emma’s arm. ‘‘She won’t be long. We told her not to hurry on our account. We’ll keep ourselves busy until supper.’’

  ‘‘Diane Cross is lovely. Just so sweet. She loves gardening, too, so we thought we’d all take a peek at those rose gardens of yours before supper. And we want to see how the mulberry trees did over the summer this year, too,’’ Opal said. ‘‘We’ve brought something special to add this time.’’

  Her sister scanned the front porch and smiled. ‘‘The hydrangeas we planted in the spring look like they’re doing well. We’ve brought some tulip bulbs to plant for you.’’

  ‘‘There’s no time to waste, you know,’’ Opal added. ‘‘The almanac calls for an early frost this year.’’

  ‘‘You know you don’t have to bring something new for the gardens every time you come, but I’m not going to complain because you’ve made Hill House look so beautiful. You’ll want to change first, won’t you?’’ Emma asked.

  ‘‘We’re like the militia,’’ Opal noted. ‘‘Always ready.’’

  Her sister grinned. ‘‘And always prepared.’’

  Simultaneously, Opal and Garnet lifted the hem of their skirts and poked out a leg.

  Emma laughed out loud.

  The two sisters were wearing their trousers and boots under their gowns.

  ————

  By five o’clock, Reverend Glenn, Mr. Cross, and both of his sons were sitting together on the patio. Butter was resting on the stone floor in between the two older men, while both Matthew and Steven Cross attempted to lure Liesel and Ditty into prolonged conversations as they served refreshments. Opal and Garnet, dressed in their trousers and shirts, along with Diane and Aunt Frances, were wandering about the terraced rose gardens. Each sister pointed or gestured occasionally to indicate which rose bushes were in need of a final pruning before the first frost or to describe how to prepare the gardens for winter.

  Emma had accompanied the women for a polite period of time, then excused herself and returned to the patio, where she could keep one eye on all of her guests and the other on the door to the dining room to watch for Mother Garrett’s retur
n.

  By six-thirty, Emma was frantic. The guests were all gathered back together again on the patio. Both Cross boys had been paying so much attention to Liesel and Ditty that the poor girls had pleaded with Emma for permission to retreat to the house for a spell to escape even the slightest appearance of impropriety and Emma’s strict guidelines for redeeming themselves. The light refreshments were long gone. Supper was a mere half hour away, and Mother Garret was as scarce as a rose would be in the gardens come winter.

  With one heartbeat, Emma was concerned that, despite Liesel’s assurances to the contrary, supper would be ruined and she would disappoint her guests. In the next heartbeat, Emma almost relished the notion of Mother Garrett being late for a meal for a change, then rejected the idea as petty. She was halfway across the patio to check the kitchen again when Mother Garrett emerged from the dining room with Mr. Atkins in tow.

  ‘‘I’m sorry I’m late, but I knew Liesel could manage until I got back. I’ve brought a guest with me,’’ she gushed. ‘‘I thought Mr. Atkins might enjoy the company of some younger people as much as he would a good meal.’’

  He blushed. ‘‘Mother Garrett insisted I come to supper. I hope it’s not a problem.’’

  ‘‘Not at all. Why don’t you join the menfolk while I help Mother Garrett set out supper?’’ Emma suggested, taking hold of her mother-in-law and ushering her into the house. ‘‘I thought you promised not to do any matchmaking,’’ she whispered. ‘‘That’s what you were doing when you invited him to supper, wasn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Of a sort,’’ she admitted and started for the kitchen.

  Emma followed her mother-in-law but kept her voice low.

  ‘‘After promising me you wouldn’t? And after what Liesel and Ditty both did? Are you seriously thinking that either one of them—’’

  Mother Garrett stopped and turned to face Emma. ‘‘Yes, I’m matchmaking, but not that kind,’’ she insisted.

  Emma rolled her eyes. ‘‘Is there any other kind?’’

  ‘‘Of course there is. Yes, Mr. Atkins needs a wife, but he needs help in that store of his even more. The minute I met young Steven Cross, who sorely needs a job, I knew I had to bring Mr. Atkins here to meet him. All I’m trying to do is match them up and solve two problems at once. I can always worry about finding a wife for Mr. Atkins later.’’

  When Emma’s jaw dropped, she snapped it shut. ‘‘You just met Steven this afternoon. Don’t you think you should know him for more than twenty minutes before leaping to the assumption he might be suitable as Mr. Atkins’ employee?’’

  Mother Garrett cocked a brow. ‘‘Did he or did he not clear the backyard behind that cabin of theirs for his mother so she could put in a winter garden?’’

  ‘‘He did, but—’’

  ‘‘Does he or does he not help take care of his ailing father, a man who has trouble drawing an even breath?’’

  ‘‘He does, but—’’

  ‘‘Then enough said. Any young man that devoted to his parents is good enough to introduce to Mr. Atkins. Am I right or am I not?’’

  As usual, Mother Garrett’s insight proved far more simple and direct than Emma’s. ‘‘You’re right.’’

  Mother Garrett grinned. ‘‘I know, but it’s sweet to hear you say it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have supper to set out.’’

  And set out supper she did.

  Hearty servings of cornbread and gravy, baked beans thick with molasses and chunks of tender pork, along with an assortment of pickled cucumbers, red cabbage, and corn relish left little room for dessert. The guests, however, finished every single one of the apple fritters dusted with sugar and nutmeg, while Emma polished off two more pieces of Diane’s amazing rye bread.

  Including Liesel and Ditty, who joined them at the table at Opal and Garnet’s insistence, there were eleven all told around the dining room table, twelve if you counted Butter. The Mitchell sisters had everyone so enthralled, there had not been a single lapse in conversation. After supper, Steven left with Mr. Atkins to go to the General Store, where the young man would be starting work on Monday. Soon after, the buggy returned as Emma had requested to take the rest of the Cross family home. Reverend Glenn and Aunt Frances, tuckered from a long day, retired to their rooms. While Mother Garrett supervised the cleanup, Emma escorted Opal and Garnet out to the front porch so they could sit awhile before taking to their beds.

  The air was cooler now, and few lights from Main Street filtered through the trees to disturb the darkness. Soft light filtered from the windows behind them, however, providing just enough light to be able to distinguish one another’s features.

  ‘‘It’s so good to have you both back,’’ Emma murmured. ‘‘I wish you could stay longer than a few days. By the time you finish with the rose gardens doing whatever it is you do to prepare them for winter, there won’t be any time left to spend visiting together.’’

  Opal nudged her sister’s chair. ‘‘We were hoping you’d say that, weren’t we?’’

  ‘‘We’d like to stay a full week this time, providing you have the room,’’ Garnet suggested. ‘‘We were hoping we might visit with Mr. Breckenwith while we are here, too.’’

  ‘‘I’m delighted! Yes, I do have the room.’’

  ‘‘Provided you let us pay for our rooms for the extra days,’’ Opal added.

  Garnet nodded. ‘‘We insist.’’

  Emma shook her head. ‘‘There’s positively no way I can allow you to pay for your rooms. Without both of you, there wouldn’t have been a rose garden in the first place, and you’d both be daft to argue the point because what I know about gardening in general and roses in particular would fit through the eye of a needle.’’

  ‘‘But—’’

  ‘‘In the second place, you visit twice a year but spend all your days working in the garden, except for the time you go riding in the morning. I think it’s time you stayed for a few days just to enjoy yourselves.’’

  ‘‘But we love taking care of the gardens for you,’’ Opal countered.

  Garnet nodded. ‘‘It’s little enough to do for you, considering all you did for us.’’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘‘You were like an angel. If you hadn’t helped us, I don’t know what would have become of us.’’

  Memories of their first meeting surfaced, along with the memory of Aunt Frances’s arrival here, and brought a smile to Emma’s heart. Three years ago, both Opal and Garnet had appeared at her kitchen door late at night, drenched to the skin by a day-long downpour and badly shaken. Stranded some miles from town when one of their horses pulled up lame, they had lost all but the clothes on their backs to the same pair of bandits who had been responsible for a rash of robberies in the area.

  Dressed as men, without a coin between them, the two sisters had been turned away at the tavern, as well as the hotel. Alerted by Mr. Emerson at the hotel, the sheriff at the time, Robert Lindlow, had detained the sisters for questioning. Once he realized the two women were indeed victims and not the bandits, he had released them and suggested they might find shelter at Hill House, although he had not had the decency to take them there. He had not been reelected, either, and Emma was quite certain Sheriff North would never have turned Opal and Garnet out the way his predecessor had done.

  She smiled at the two sisters. ‘‘I hardly think offering you shelter here when Hill House was nothing more than a shadow of what it is today qualifies as angelic. Be that as it may, if you hadn’t come here, I would never have discovered two wonderful new friends. Please allow me to invite you to stay for a few days as my friends,’’ she insisted.

  Garnet sighed. ‘‘At least let us do something for you in return.’’

  Emma grinned. ‘‘I was hoping you’d say that. Take me riding with you.’’

  ‘‘Riding?’’ they cried in unison.

  ‘‘Yes, riding. You do intend to get horses from the livery and go riding for several hours each morning, don’t you?’’

  Opal’s eye
s widened. ‘‘Would you really want to come with us?’’

  Emma chuckled. ‘‘I really would. I haven’t been on a horse in years, but I’m sure the livery can provide me with a sweet, gentle mount who won’t mind a rider who’s a bit rusty.’’

  ‘‘We’re serious riders,’’ Garnet cautioned. ‘‘If you want to ride with us, you’ll need to wear trousers and a sensible straw hat instead of a bonnet.’’

  Emma swallowed hard, then dismissed concerns about appearing in public dressed in trousers. Just this once. ‘‘I’m sure if I sort through some of the clothing guests have left behind, I’ll find something suitable.’’

  Opal grinned. ‘‘We like to leave early, at first light.’’

  Emma groaned. ‘‘I don’t suppose we could compromise and leave at eight?’’

  ‘‘Seven.’’

  Emma cleared her throat. ‘‘Seven-thirty, and Mother Garrett packs a picnic so we can ride most of the day.’’

  Opal and Garnet clapped their hands and took turns describing where they would like to go with Emma. The more she listened, the more excited she became about exploring some of the land she had been studying on her map.

  And the less she worried that the gossip surrounding the runaway chickens might quickly pale once the very prim and proper Widow Garrett, proprietress of Hill House, paraded down Main Street on horseback wearing men’s trousers.

  25

  OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Hill House was a flurry of activity. Once Liesel and Ditty left to return home for the weekend, work for nearly everyone was nonstop, from predawn to well past twilight. Sleep was little more than a few hours of rest at night, leaving not a moment for Emma to think about resolving the dispute between James and Andrew Leonard. She did, however, make time to pick out a gift and send it to Warren and Anna, along with a note, so it would arrive in time for their sixth wedding anniversary, which was in but a few weeks.