“You may be worried for no good reason.” Memphis waved her hand. “Even if what you say is true, you’re here now, and I can’t think of anyone better suited to stretch a budget.”
A gust of wind erupted, causing their skirts to snap. “Goodness, the force of this wind is ferocious. Let’s go inside. I can’t wait for you to see the house. It is unique and rather grand on the inside.”
Chapter 11
On making lists…
“A forgotten negative sign or a small miscalculation can lead to
the entirely wrong answer. In life, pay attention to the details.”
- Miss Daisy Leah Murphy.
After spending an hour touring and admiring the house, Memphis agreed that although beautiful, it lacked a welcoming atmosphere. “You wouldn’t believe some of the items Mike and I discovered in the attic of the home he’s restoring. Why don’t we take a look in yours?”
Marigold reached for Daisy’s and Memphis’s hands. “Can I come too?”
“Of course. We’re going to need your help.” She winked at the young girl.
“You are?” The child’s dark eyes widened.
“Yes. I don’t know how to get in the attic.” Daisy tapped her chin.
“Over here, silly.” Marigold ran ahead and opened the center door in the hallway.
Gathering their skirts, Daisy and Memphis followed Marigold up the steep attic steps into a small room with a miniature window and slanted roof. “This reminds me of our old bedroom,” Daisy joked.
Memphis stood in the center of the room and spread her arms wide. “There’s not much headroom. But plenty of storage space.”
Daisy blinked to accustom her eyes to the dark room. A ray of sunlight illuminated dust particles, floating toward numerous crates and chests pushed against an angled wall. “Why don’t we begin with the trunks?”
Marigold skipped toward a large chest and ran her finger along the row of brass buttons nailed into the wooden planks. “Henry will like this one. He has a book about pirates.”
“What’s the name of your brother’s book?” Daisy took the young girl’s hand. “Do you remember?”
Marigold tapped her finger on her cheek. “Treasure Island, but I like ‘Thumbelina’ and the stories in my fairy-tale book.”
Daisy gave Marigold an encouraging nod. “If you’re willing to share your book with me, I’d love to read a story with you. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Marigold grinned, then scowled. “Can we look in the chests first?”
“I like the way you think.” Daisy knelt next to the trunk and opened the lid. “Oh my, dishes.” She unwrapped an octagon-shaped plate decorated with assorted flowers in blue, red and orange and held the plate toward the light streaming through the window. “How beautiful. And look, there’s a tiny bridge leading to the garden at the bottom of the plate.” She pointed at a small orange flower. “This one looks like it could be a marigold and the pink one a daisy.”
“Just like our names.” Marigold clasped her hands under her chin.
“I noticed there was a cabinet built into the wall in the dining room, which would be the perfect spot to display these.” Daisy unwrapped another plate.
Memphis sneezed. “From the amount of dust, my guess is whoever built the house left these behind.” She waved her handkerchief toward another trunk. “That one is filled with fabric, ribbon, and yarn. Come look.”
Memphis carefully unfolded brown paper to uncover patchwork squares of appliqué leaves and flowers in yellow, blue, and green. “There seems to be enough for a complete quilt.”
Daisy lifted yards of calico remnants in complementary dot-patterned calico. She whispered, “This is perfect for Marigold’s room. Her bed covering is a drab blanket.”
“Do you mind if I take this with me? I’m sure I can borrow Mike’s mother’s sewing machine and join the blocks together tonight. Tomorrow we can lay it out with batting and whichever fabric you pick for the back,” Memphis whispered. “It would make a wonderful Christmas surprise.”
“Economical too.” Daisy watched Marigold spin in circles around the room in front of a dusty, full-length mirror. “I brought the crazy quilt we fashioned together last year. The colors are mostly blue, green, and turkey-red material.” She smoothed her dress. “That should work for Henry.”
Memphis lifted bolts of calico and gasped. “What beautiful fabric.” She unfolded a ball gown in bluish-purple and grinned. “From here on out, I’m going to refer to this room as Treasure Attic.”
Daisy gasped when her friend held the gown to her chest. “Between you and me, we can remake this into something gorgeous.”
“It’s lovely. But where would I wear something like this?”
“There will be a dance in February.” Memphis waggled her eyebrows. “I happen to know your new husband is a good dancer.”
“It’s a princess dress.” Marigold appeared and ran her tiny hand along the full skirt. “It sure is big.”
“Large skirts were popular when this dress was made. Your new aunt and I are handy with a needle. There’s enough material here to make her and you both a new dress. Would you like that?” Memphis lightly tapped Marigold’s nose.
The young girl’s brown eyes grew round and her dark curls bounced with a vigorous nod. Memphis posted her hands on her hips, surveyed the room, and inclined her head toward the other end of the attic.
Daisy followed her gaze to assorted shapes lining the walls draped with linen fabric. “I believe I’ve spotted our next mission. Should we take off the Holland covers?”
“Before we do, let me check for signs of mice.” Daisy winked at Marigold and stepped closer.
“There’s a little mouse in the story of ‘Thumbelina.’” Marigold positioned her finger and thumb close together. “He’s cute.”
Memphis shuddered. “I don’t know why something so tiny has the propensity to scare me as though it were a grizzly bear.”
Daisy winked at Marigold and reached for the cloth. “Ready?” She pulled on the cover with a quick snap. Marigold squealed and Memphis ran in the other direction.
***
Daisy stood at the sink and gave the supper dish a good scrub.
David nodded toward the children. “You two go brush your teeth and get ready for bed while I help Daisy dry the dishes.”
“Are you going to read us a story, Uncle David?” Henry asked.
“I am. Now scoot and meet us back in the parlor.” David made a quick swipe across a dish. He nodded toward the retreating backs of his niece and nephew. “I wish I could have seen your face when Marigold screamed. Do you really think she squealed as a joke to scare you?”
Daisy giggled. “I do. It was good to see her laugh and enjoy herself.”
“And you said she spoke to you and Miss Griffin?” His Adam’s apple jumped. “She’s typically shy, especially around adults she’s not familiar with.”
“You forget I saw her in action yesterday at the train station.” Daisy handed David another dish. “Maybe being in her own home where she is familiar with her surroundings makes her feel secure. Memphis invited us to go with her to the mercantile tomorrow, and Marigold seems excited to go.”
“By all means, take her. I’ve no objection.” He released a slow smile.
“We were interrupted this morning, so I’m uncertain what your thoughts are about a Christmas tree.” Daisy bit her lip. “I could help the children make ornaments. There needn’t be any expense.”
David’s eyes twinkled. “I may need to prioritize this list of yours. Let me see if I have this right. Move the trunks, assess the furniture to see if they’re sturdy enough, and if so, carry them to the designated room, and find and cut a Christmas tree.”
“You’re an excellent listener.” Daisy inclined her head toward the table. “You certainly won’t need my list.”
David leaned closer. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. “It’s a new-found talent. You see, I have a new wife and find myself ca
ptivated by everything she says and does.”
Daisy felt the heat rise from her neck to the roots of her hair. “Are you sure you’re alright with me using everything? If you’re too busy, I can bring the dishes and pottery down a few at a time. If we are prioritizing, the Christmas tree should be first.”
“I’m teasing. I’ll fetch the trunks in the morning. Tomorrow evening we’ll start checking out this furniture of yours. How about if we take the kids on Friday and pick out a tree? That will give us a full week before Christmas to decorate.” He reached for her wet hand and rubbed it with the dishtowel.
Daisy shivered and glanced at his lips. His perfectly symmetrical mustache twisted slightly up at the corners. Maybe it’s not so bad. He wrapped his finger around a lock of hair. She felt her stomach flutter when his other hand rested on her waist.
The swinging door to the kitchen squeaked. Henry appeared wearing his nightclothes and robe. He lifted a book. “Marigold said Aunt Daisy read her a story already. Now it’s my turn to pick.”
David blew out a breath. “We’ll meet you in the parlor.” He pulled her to his chest and whispered, “I’m starting to hate that kitchen door.”
Chapter 12
On keeping a positive outlook…
“Even the greatest mathematicians may need to rework problems.
If you get the wrong answer, keep trying.”
- Miss Daisy Leah Murphy
Daisy gave the built-in hutch another good buff with an old flour sack and stood back to admire the glow in the dark mahogany. The slight aroma of beeswax and linseed oil filled the room. “Now the hard work is done. Are you ready to help me place the dishes?” Daisy patted the shoulder of Marigold, who was rubbing a self-appointed area of the large chest.
“Yes.” Marigold hopped to her feet.
“Where should we start?” Daisy tapped her finger on her chin.
Marigold pointed at the large oval serving platter. “With the big one.”
“Excellent suggestion.” Daisy set the tray in the groove in the middle of the bottom shelf and positioned her hand on her hip. “It’s going to be beautiful. Why don’t you point or tell me what we should put out next?”
“The plates.” Marigold nodded happily.
The creamy background of the dishware against the dark wood sparkled and made the assorted colors of the hand-painted flowers appear more vibrant. Daisy reached for the last plate. “Whoever built this house certainly loved this shape.”
“What’s it called again?” Marigold’s face puckered. “Not a circle,” her voice dropped off.
“An octagon,” Daisy nodded. “There are some circular dishes we still need to place. Pick a shape and I’ll place them next.”
Marigold climbed on the chair next to the table and studied the assorted cups, saucers and bowls. “This one.” She lifted a saucer.
“Very good.” Daisy smiled. Maybe I’ll make a geometry lover out of her yet. She traced her finger along the rim of the cup and then flipped it upside down. “What about this one?”
“Another circle,” Marigold beamed.
The swinging door from the kitchen squeaked. David appeared. “There you are. Mrs. Miller told me you girls have been working in here all morning.”
Marigold jumped from the chair and extended her arms proudly. “I’ve been helping.”
“I can see that.” David reached in his pocket for his handkerchief and wiped a bit of polish from his niece’s chin. “You wash up for lunch while I speak with Aunt Daisy for a moment.”
Marigold’s boots tapped across the floor and the door squeaked as she disappeared into the kitchen. David met Daisy’s gaze. “Listen, I know we grew up differently, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a four-year-old to work. If you need help, ask Mrs. Miller. That’s why I pay her.”
Daisy’s mouth flew open. “Raised differently?”
“I mean no offense. It’s not your fault. You didn’t have family to care for you after your parents passed away.” David rubbed the back of his neck.
Daisy huffed. “I see. You believe, since I grew up in an orphanage, I’m some sort of crazed individual who abuses young children?”
David’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean it like that. Marigold’s made so much progress recently. I don’t want anything to interfere with it.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the closed door. “Why not let her play and enjoy herself? Mrs. Miller is more than happy to help.”
“First of all, Marigold was enjoying herself. As far as help goes, have you ever tried to polish furniture with a four-year-old? It would be easier to do the work by myself.” Daisy crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
David shuffled his feet. “Forgive me if it seems I’m overreacting.” His brow furrowed. “I didn’t bring you here to be a scullery maid. I don’t care how many hours it takes. I will provide for my family. Even if it means keeping a housekeeper so you can dedicate yourself to Marigold.”
“Marigold loves Mrs. Miller and she is wonderful, but after she marries next month, I can handle things here. A housekeeper is an unnecessary expense.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t appreciate your accusation of mistreating your niece. Why don’t you talk to her about her morning? You and I can discuss our next steps this evening.”
***
Daisy twisted the napkin in her lap and stared between David and his niece. He’d made no effort to speak to Marigold about her day. Instead, he quickly devoured his soup and sandwich. “Marigold, tell your uncle about what we did this morning.”
The child clasped her hands together, her eyes bright. “We had fun. Aunt Daisy let me polish the furniture. Then we learned about shapes. Did you know our new cups are circles?” Her brow furrowed. “I forgot what to call the other shapes.”
“Ovals and octagons.” One side of Daisy’s mouth lifted. “Your uncle thought maybe we were working too hard this morning.”
“Well, it was hard work.” Marigold extended her arms. “But it was fun.”
Daisy raised one eyebrow and took the first bite of her sandwich.
David studied his young niece. “Thank you for helping. Why don’t you take some time and play in your room with your blocks or your doll this afternoon?”
Marigold’s chin dropped to her chest. Her lips quivered.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” David leaned forward. “I thought you loved playing in your room?”
Tears pooled in Marigold’s dark eyes. “I want to go with Aunt Daisy and Miss Memphis to the mercantile and visit Mrs. Montgomery.”
David gave Daisy a sheepish grin. “That does sound like a lot of fun.”
***
While an exhausted Marigold napped, Daisy and Memphis worked to pin the batting and back piece of fabric to the quilt Memphis had sewn together the previous night. “It took no time at all. Mrs. Montgomery helped me pin them together, and with the use of her Singer, I finished sewing the squares together in an hour.”
Daisy ran her finger along the stem of a yellow tulip and offered a half-smile. “It’s going to be the perfect design for Marigold’s room.”
Memphis frowned. “What’s wrong? You seem a bit downcast.”
“Even though he apologized, I’m miffed at something David said to me about Marigold.” Daisy swallowed. “I gave her a cloth while I waxed the furniture. She made more of a mess than she helped, but she was enjoying herself. David seems to think she’s too young to do chores.”
“Goodness, you are brave to let a four-year-old help you with such a task.” Memphis laughed.
“One comment especially bothered me. David referred to me as being raised ‘differently.’ I was only seven when my mother died, but I remember helping her around the house and enjoying myself. I have fond memories of Mrs. Shelby and some of the other volunteers making games out of our chores as well.” Daisy met her friend's gaze. “His comment makes me feel like Cinderella’s wicked stepmother.”
“I imagine it would. Did you tell him how you feel?�
�� Memphis raised one eyebrow.
“I certainly did.” Daisy crossed her arms. “Now I’m second-guessing myself. I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I already love the children. I don’t want to make a mess of things.”
Memphis patted her shoulder. “This afternoon, when I take you by the house to meet Mrs. Montgomery, let’s ask her opinion. She’s raised seven children of her own and is a wealth of knowledge.”
Daisy put her hand over her heart. “I’ve been so frustrated this afternoon I almost forgot. I’m excited to finally meet Mrs. Shelby’s friend, the infamous Tennessee Montgomery.”
Chapter 13
On difficult problems…
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You won’t always get the answer on your own.
The ability to admit what you don’t know is an important skill.”
- Miss Daisy Leah Murphy
Daisy’s mouth twitched at the sight of tumbleweeds bouncing merrily across the dusty street. She was pleasantly surprised with the mild weather so far, and if not for the occasional wind burst, there was no need for a heavy coat. Marigold skipped along the boardwalk, holding both Daisy’s and Memphis’s hands.
They paused to admire the store’s large picture window reminding shoppers of the upcoming holiday. Various wooden tops and blocks were positioned strategically in front of a small cradle holding a china doll. Tins in assorted sizes promoting the best spices, flour and cocoa aligned the opposite side next to a sign advertising pipes and tobacco products.
Daisy’s eyes wandered to the shaving soaps and accessories. She followed Memphis through the double doors and blinked until her eyes became adjusted to the dark room. Her gaze wandered from the floor-to-ceiling shelves lining the walls to a pot-bellied stove, surrounded by several chairs, a coal bucket, spittoon and checkerboard.
Memphis nodded toward the far corner. “The post office is in the back if you want to mail your letter.”
A Bride for David Page 6
