Just seeing how happy and successful her two cousins, Abigail, the town's sheriff and Lydia, the schoolteacher, were provided enough reminders of her own inadequacies. She certainly didn't need Mr. Clay here lollygagging about taking up her precious time.
"What are you going to do with this stage area?" He stood with his back to her, hands on his narrow hips looking at the broken-down stage.
Many of the wide wooden planks were warped from getting wet whenever the roof leaked. The stage had been used years ago to showcase local talent in the former monthly talent shows. Now that the old Grange Hall was under renovations her Aunt Margaret had taken to reminiscing about the shows.
Thanks to a generous donation by Alexander Judson, owner of the lumber mill, the roof had been repaired last month. The floorboards were going to be ripped out and replaced next week. At least she wouldn't have to worry about the recent rainfall ruining all of the work being done to the interior of the hall.
A fresh coat of white paint had been applied to all of the walls. The ceiling had been repainted too, and the cracked mirror behind the bar had been replaced with a more ornate one with a scrolled frame. The bar and the stage were the last of the major projects.
Maggie's hope was to have the dance hall open to the public in two weeks time. No decision had been made for the stage area as yet, and the bar would be transformed into a refreshment area. Lemonade and root beer would be served along with tea cookies.
She'd been busy lining up the first of their musicians. A trio from Albany would be arriving early next week. The upright piano from Aunt Margaret's front parlor would be moved here in a few days.
All in all, Maggie was pleased with the way things were progressing. Now she just had to rid herself of this pesky stranger and then she could finish today's chores.
Speaking to the man's back, she inquired lightly, "Mr. Clay, if there's nothing else, I really need to get back to work"
He swished his hand in the air as if to ward off a mosquito. "Oh, don't mind me, Miss Monroe"
"I'm afraid you don't understand. I work better by myself." Her patience wearing thin, Maggie walked toward him.
Just as she was about to tap him on the shoulder, he spun around to face her, startling her. Bluegreen eyes stared back at her.
"This is a wonderful building, perfect for our new venture"
Several minutes passed before she found her voice. "Excuse me, but did I hear you say, our new venture? What would make you say such a thing, Mr. Clay?"
Grinning at her with raised eyebrows, he replied, "I was hired as the manager."
And with that the man turned, striding out of the building. Gathering her skirts she chased after him. "Wait! What did you just say?"
"I believe you heard me, Miss Monroe"
"Who hired you?"
Without so much as a backward glance, he said, "The lovely woman in the big house"
Quickly changing direction, Maggie hurried along to her aunt's. Anger roiled through her. She shook with it. Spots danced in front of her eyes from it.
She headed right up the hill and barged into Aunt Margaret's house like a thousand hounds were nipping at her heels.
Anna was dusting the sideboard in the hallway. Dust rag poised in mid-motion, she asked, "Miss Maggie, whatever is the matter?"
"Where is she?" Sure that by now her face was red and splotchy and frankly not caring a whit, she charged past the housekeeper. She knew where to find her aunt at this time of the day.
"Aunt Margaret! You had no right interfering in my business." Pausing in the doorway to the back parlor she took in the scene spread before her.
Aunt Margaret was lying on the sofa with a blanket spread across her lap. One arm was draped over her forehead while the other lay over her middle. The woman was as white as a ghost.
Long ago suspecting that her aunt's illness was feigned, Maggie forced herself to draw in a deep breath, just in the event this episode might be real, before proceeding into the room.
Slowly, forcing herself to take her time, she walked over to Aunt Margaret. Kneeling on the carpeted floor beside her, Maggie spoke through a jaw clenched in anger. "I know you hired Mr. Clay. I want to know one thing-why?"
Pale, almost transparent eyelids popped open. "You always were the straightforward one"
It really didn't matter to Maggie if her aunt were faking this illness. She would love her no matter what she did. Over the past year this woman had single-handedly brought life back into a dying town.
She even managed to bring Abigail, Lydia, and Maggie here to find true happiness and in the case of the former two, to find true love. Through all of this, though, Maggie didn't want her aunt to interfere in her life in the same manner.
Maggie always thought she was different than her cousins. She was single-minded in what she wanted from life. She wanted to be independent, knowing that if required to, she could live life on her own and provide for herself. After she'd accomplished that, then she would fall in love and get married.
Maggie didn't care that those thoughts weren't popular, but they were hers alone and no onenot her aunt, and certainly not someone like Mr. Clay-was going to change her mind.
Taking hold of her aunt's hand, she looked into those watery blue eyes.
"You can't interfere in my life the way you did Abby's and Lydia's"
"I'm doing no such thing."
"Then why did you hire him?"
"Maggie, several weeks ago as I recall, you told me that you would set up the dance hall and then once it was running you might be moving on."
Closing her eyes, she thought back to the day. It was close to two weeks ago and she'd been mad because she hadn't been consulted about the sign, among other things. In anger she may have intimated at leaving.
"You know full well I would never leave here and yet you went on ahead, without discussing it with me, and hired this man."
"Samuel Clay," the old woman said as if Maggie could forget his name.
"Yes, Samuel Clay"
Pushing up on one elbow, Aunt Margaret smiled. "I think he'll be perfect for the job"
"Fire him."
"I can't do that"
"Why not?"
"Because I need to be sure that you're going to stay committed to refurbishing the dance hall. A manager will keep you on task."
"I don't need anyone looking over my shoulder and double-checking every little thing that I do "
Sighing, Aunt Margaret replied, "I know you don't, but what you do need is someone who knows this business. And that someone is Mr. Clay."
Laying her head back against the sofa arm, she closed her eyes. "Make this work, Maggie. Do it for me."
And with those last four words she was dismissed. Choking back her frustration, she smoothed down the front of her skirts and left the house.
On the walk back to the hall, Maggie began to worry that all of her carefully laid plans would end up by the wayside. Knowing that men liked to take charge, she stiffened her shoulders preparing for battle.
Up for the challenge of dealing with a partner, for this was how she was going to think of Mr. Clay, Maggie set about deciding on the final color for the slab of thick wood which would serve as the refreshment area counter. She wanted the new wood to blend with the old and hoped that Alexander would be able to mix up a medium color stain. Then she would have to rush off to the mercantile to place an order for the linen tablecloths and napkins she'd picked out last week.
The teacups, dessert plates, and glasses were supposed to be arriving today. She still needed to find a place to store them where the workers wouldn't break the fragile items. Walking through the large room, Maggie pushed open a door that stood near the back.
Wiping a few cobwebs off of her face, she peered into the room. This would be a perfect storage area. She could have one of Mr. Jules' workers bring the boxes in here. Perfect. Backing out of the room, she turned her attention to the windows. They would need some sort of adornment and she knew just the person to
consult with.
Grabbing her bonnet from the hook near the swinging doors, Maggie set off to visit her cousin Lydia. Careful to avoid the mud puddles, she picked her way across the street, taking the well-worn path that led to Lydia's new home.
Lydia had married the mill owner, Alexander Judson, last month. With two simple words, "I do," she'd become a wife and a mother. A widower, Alexander had been left with a son and a daughter to raise. Near as Maggie could tell her cousin was blissfully happy in her new life.
Even though most people suspected Maggie was envious of her cousins, she wasn't in the least. Maggie had her head and heart set on running a very successful business. Right now the most single-minded desire she had was to get the dance hall opened.
When she arrived at Lydia's the sounds of humming greeted her. Peering through the open window at the front of the home she caught a glimpse of Lydia. Her cousin was happily bustling about the kitchen. If the sweet homey smells wafting from within were any indication, Lydia was busy baking.
After a light knock on the front door, Maggie let herself in. Bowls and pans littered the small counter space in the kitchen. The smell of chocolate permeated the air.
Turning at the sound of her footsteps, the batter-laden spoon Lydia had been licking clattered in the sink. "Maggie! What a nice surprise! I didn't expect to see you standing there"
Lydia smiled, coming to greet Maggie with a hug. With a twinkle in her green eyes and wisps of fine red hair curled about her face and along the nape of her neck, Maggie thought Lydia looked radiant.
"I need some advice."
"I hope this advice has to do with a man. It's time you settled down. You're too serious about this dance hall, Maggie. I'm worried about you"
Taking her by the hand, Lydia pulled Maggie along into the kitchen. "Sit," she directed, pointing to a chair at the head of the table.
Doing as she was told, Maggie pasted a smile on her face, trying to hide her annoyance. She was tired of her family inferring she needed a man to be happy. Just this morning, before she'd gone and hired that man, Aunt Margaret had made mention of the fact that Maggie would be in need of an entire wardrobe if she were to be the hostess for the hall. And bright colors were specifically suggested.
What she would choose to wear remained to be seen. There hadn't been a moment to spare this week, and her first concern was getting the hall finished by the self-imposed deadline.
Accepting the cup of tea Lydia was handing her, Maggie said, "Actually, I'm getting ready to put the finishing touches on the hall and I need your advice on curtains."
Sitting in the chair opposite her, Lydia smiled. "All right, where are these curtains going to be hung?"
"I was thinking of doing some type of sheer panels on all the windows. That way the patrons won't feel as if they are in a fishbowl. And, people strolling by the building would still be able to see inside. Hopefully they'll want to come inside and join in the fun."
Nodding, Lydia added some milk to her tea. "I like the idea. I saw some creamy white-colored sheer material at the mercantile last week. If Mr. Jules still has it, you should buy the entire bolt from him."
"I'll add the material to my list." Maggie was silent for a moment and then she said, "Aunt Margaret hired a manager for the dance hall."
Eyebrows raised, Lydia looked at Maggie. "Are you serious?"
"I am. She up and hires this man without so much as consulting with me. A perfect stranger! He rode into town this morning. I was working with Cole earlier; we were trying to hang the sign out in front of the hall and this man practically runs me down."
"And just how did he come to be hired by our aunt?"
"Apparently she took to heart a comment I made last week about getting this latest project done and then leaving."
Alarm showed clearly on Lydia's face. "You're leaving?"
"Of course I'm not leaving. I was having a bad day. She hired Mr. Clay because she wants to make sure the hall gets finished."
"Hmm. This is getting very interesting indeed."
"He came back to the hall a couple of hours later and was looking around like he owned the place. And then he ever so casually announces that he's going to be the new manager."
Rising from her chair, Lydia gathered their cups and saucers. "Hmm"
"I'm so close to being finished distractions are the last thing I need right now."
The cups and saucers clattered in the sink. "So this stranger is a distraction."
Maggie spun around in her seat. "I didn't say that. I don't know the man"
"Yes, but perhaps you might want to get to know him."
"Lydia there isn't any time in my life for such foolishness. The dance hall requires my full attention."
Maggie never ceased wondering about her cousins and how easily they were distracted from their tasks by the men in their lives. To her the only thing that mattered was making a success out of the business. Even if she thought Mr. Clay was a handsome man, there wasn't time for dalliances.
"Well, I think you should just ignore this stranger. Time is going to be flying by, Maggie, and before you know it your dance hall is going to be full of patrons"
"I can't very well ignore him, Lydia, not when I'm going to be seeing him every day."
"Then I trust you'll just learn to get along with him."
"From what I can tell he's nothing more than a pompous dandified man"
Thoughtfully, Maggie rose from the chair and walked with Lydia to the front door. "I don't wish to cause undue stress for Aunt Margaret. She seems to be getting better. The headaches come less frequently and her coloring has been good. And she is making more and more appearances in town these days."
"These are good signs, Maggie. They mean that our being here has helped her get better."
"Whatever the reason, let's hope her good health keeps up"
"Indeed." Giving her a quick hug, Maggie headed back to town, planning to stop by the mercantile to buy the material Lydia suggested.
Flicking the stub of the cigar on the ground, Sam squashed the remaining ember out with the toe of his boot. Then tugging the bottom of his vest into place, he continued to meander down Main Street. Mothers with their children in tow bustled along the walkways going about their errands.
The rainstorm that had plagued the region earlier today was long gone. Bright sunshine and blue skies had replaced the dark clouds. He was so busy admiring the crystalline skies that he wasn't watching where he was going and bumped right into a woman.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I apologize." Reaching out he caught her arm to steady her.
Looking into the woman's eyes it would have been hard to miss the sharp stare being returned.
Giving a slight bow, he said, "Why, Miss Maggie Monroe, please forgive my clumsiness. I'm afraid I was so caught up in looking at the scenery of your lovely little town that I wasn't watching where I was going."
"Please, let go of my hand, sir."
Ever so slowly he let her fingertips slip from his hand, enjoying the blush spreading over her face. "I was just heading to the post office to collect some items that I had shipped here"
If the train containing his two trunks had been on time, his belongings should be ready and waiting for him to pick up. He hoped so because he was more than ready to change out of the clothing he'd been in for the past two days.
"Might I suggest that you hurry along. The postmaster usually closes for the lunch hour."
Her comment brought a smile to his lips. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Miss Monroe?" Pulling his watch out of his vest pocket he flipped open the lid. "It's not even close to noontime yet." Snapping it shut, he returned the watch to its pocket.
"Oh for pity's sake, move out of my way. I prefer not to waste my time lollygagging about when I've better things to be doing."
Putting on a sad face, he said, "Why, you wound me with your harsh words."
Rolling her eyes, she looked up at him. "Mr. Clay, I can see that you're not in the least bit wounded, n
ow please let me go on with my business."
Stepping aside he let her pass by. This woman sure had some spunk in her and he had to say that he didn't mind that one little bit. He watched as she hoisted her skirts up to her attractive ankles and climbed the three steps leading to the mercantile. The bell above the door made a tinny sound as she went inside.
Pausing in front of the window, Sam contemplated the wisdom of following her. While doing so he caught sight of his reflection. A stylish bowler hat topped his blond hair and his neatly trimmed muttonchops defined the smooth planes of his face. Even dressed in day old travel worn clothing he still looked better than his father had on his best day.
When Samuel had struck out on his own over two years ago he didn't fathom the vastness of this country. And he hadn't regretted one minute of his life since then. He'd traveled up and down the East Coast by rail, in a stagecoach, and on horseback. He'd eaten in some of the finest restaurants this side of the Mississippi.
He'd more or less wasted the time away managing to grab a saloon job here or there. And now he had to make a go of his life here in Surprise or else he'd be back to farming the land. This little town had a great deal of potential. Surprise had nearly tripled its population in less than a year. This town was brought back from the brink of extinction.
Because of the rarity of this occurrence, the town had been featured in several of the larger newspaper publications. Sam saw immense opportunity for the right businessman. The advertisement in the paper had spoken to him almost as if it had been placed there for his eyes only.
He was a perfect fit for the job of manager of a dance hall. Apparently Margaret Monroe Sinclair had thought so too. She'd barely spoken to him and then hired him right on the spot, saying he was the perfect match for Maggie.
WOMEN OF SURPRISE 03: Making Over Maggie Page 2
