Daisy removed her envelope from her cloak pocket and coins from her reticule. Memphis cleared her throat. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mackenzie. When you have a moment, my friend has a letter to post."
The young man straightened his back and he removed a nub of a pencil from behind his ear. His eyes widened at the sight of Daisy. “How do you do, Miss?”
Daisy felt her face flush. “Good afternoon.” She put her envelope and coins on the counter. “Actually, it’s Missus. I recently married David Taylor.”
He glanced at her unadorned left finger. “My apologies, ma’am.” He tapped his finger along his chin. “You’ve got a letter. Give me just a moment.”
Memphis pulled the grocery list from her pocket. “Take your time, Mr. Mackenzie. We’ve more shopping to do.”
Daisy followed Memphis toward the smiling face of the mercantile owner. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with my son. How do you do, Mrs. Taylor?” He accepted the grocery list from Memphis. “It’s nice to see you, Miss Griffin.”
Marigold tugged on Daisy’s sleeve. “If I’m good, can I have a candy stick?”
The owner glanced at Daisy. “If it’s alright with your new aunt, I’d be pleased to let you select one. My treat.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mackenzie.” Daisy removed the list from her pocket and pointed at the paper. “If you would provide me with the items I have marked. I need to check with Mr. Taylor before I purchase the rest.”
“Of course.” The owner locked his hands over his white apron. “It will take me a few minutes to fill everything. Then I’ll be back to let Miss Marigold pick out her treat.”
***
Everything about the Montgomery’s Gothic Revival-style house with its pointed arches and window shapes was charming. From the L-shaped porch to the decorative wrought-iron screens designed by Mike’s sister, Maggie, to bright rooms and tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen.
Daisy traced her finger around the hand-painted shamrock on the center of her cream-colored cup. She took a sip of coffee and let out a contented sigh. The afternoon sunlight poured in through the bay windows of the large dining room and highlighted the russet and green tulip-designed wallpaper. Memphis’s future mother-in-law, Tennessee Montgomery, lived up to every story she’d ever heard about the woman. “Your home is lovely. I love the wallpaper. It’s bright and cheerful.” Daisy leaned back in the ladder-back chair.
“There’s nothing more beautiful than flowers.” Mrs. Montgomery’s green eyes sparkled. “When Memphis showed me the quilt pieces you found, we had a good laugh. It was almost as though whoever designed it was inspired by my dining-room wallpaper.”
Daisy leaned forward and spoke softly, “Thank you for helping piece it together. I hope to finish it in time for Christmas.”
“Why not bring it by tomorrow and we’ll work on it together.” Two dimples appeared in Mrs. Montgomery’s round cheeks. “We’re excited to have you here. Maude has written so much about you girls over the years, even though we’ve never met, I feel as if I’ve known you all your life.” Mrs. Montgomery set a tray of cookies on the table and nodded toward the parlor, where Marigold was playing with the kittens. “It’s good to see her smile.”
Memphis nodded. “Even though I still wouldn’t describe her as chatty, she is communicating well and seems content.”
“You’ll be a wonderful mother to the children.” Mrs. Montgomery squeezed Daisy’s hand. “I can already tell.”
Memphis poured more coffee in each cup and paused in front of her future mother-in-law. “Daisy and I have a question for you about child-rearing.”
“I’d be happy to try and answer.” Mrs. Montgomery added cream to her cup.
“I’m afraid David and I have different ideas on the matter.” Daisy let out a deep sigh. “What is your opinion on children as young as Marigold participating in household chores?”
“That’s an easy one.” Mrs. Montgomery tapped her cheek. “From the time mine were toddlers, we gave them small tasks to teach skills and responsibility. By the age of four, the child could make her bed, keep her room tidy, and maybe help set the table. Of course, you can’t expect perfection. I remember fighting the urge not to remake my children’s beds on many an occasion.”
Daisy nodded. “When I lived with my parents, I recall helping around the house and the farm. Life at the children’s home was similar. Mrs. Shelby gave us chores, and everyone pitched in to help.”
“Do you mind expanding on what the disagreement is?” Mrs. Montgomery patted Daisy’s hand.
“When David came home for lunch, Marigold and I were polishing the woodwork and setting out dishes.” Daisy giggled. “Let me rephrase that. Marigold had a dry towel and was attempting to help.”
“Nothing wrong with that. She probably was having fun too. My oldest daughter, Molly, loved helping around the house, especially in the kitchen. When our adopted daughter, Maggie, came to live with us, she didn’t speak much at first but loved following our sons around.” Mrs. Montgomery glanced at Marigold, who was rolling a ball of yarn across the polished floor to the delight of the kittens. “She was the same age as Marigold. There was a point where I thought Maggie might grieve herself to death. My husband noticed how she perked up around our sons. It was his idea to teach her about the smithy. Within a few months, she declared she was going to be a blacksmith.”
“She’s talented.” Memphis smiled. “I’ve found I have to be careful admiring any of her projects. Once she thinks I want something, she sketches out a design, then hands it off for Mr. Montgomery to hammer it out.”
Mrs. Montgomery tapped her finger along her cheek and studied Daisy. “This is all new to you.” She nodded toward Marigold. “You’ll find your rhythm. My belief is chores are part of life and help to build a good work ethic. Think back to your childhood. How did work affect you?”
“When I was little, we owned a cranky rooster.” Daisy shuddered. “I’ve hated gathering eggs ever since.” She picked up a cookie. “But I enjoy the benefits an egg brings to the table.”
“You summed it up nicely. Work can be unpleasant, yet necessary to enjoy the good things in life. Trust your instincts. The whole family will benefit from committing to help each other. Work combined with love and a good routine makes for a happy and secure child.”
Marigold appeared at the table, cradling a calico kitten. “Aunt Daisy, can we take this one home? Mr. Montgomery said it was fine with him ’cause he’s got lots of them.”
Chapter 14
On holding a grudge…
“When Shakespeare wrote, ‘Pray you now, forget and forgive,’
I wonder if he really meant it?”
- Miss Daisy Leah Murphy
David stomped his boots in an effort to remove the dust from the sawmill. The familiar aroma of freshly baked bread welcomed him.
His housekeeper moved a large pan off the burner. “Afternoon, Mr. Taylor.”
“The aromas from this kitchen were calling my name. Did you make chicken and dumplings?” David removed the lid from the pot and breathed in the savory stew.
“So you see.” His housekeeper slid another loaf of bread in the oven.
David pushed open the door leading to the dining room and finding it empty, circled through the parlor and back to the kitchen. “Where is everybody?”
“Daisy took all the children, mine and Mr. Johnson’s, to nativity practice. They should be along here any minute.” Mrs. Miller poured him a cup of coffee. “You may not realize it yet, but your new wife is exactly what you need to make this house a home.”
David stared into his cup. “I guess you overheard our …conversation this afternoon.”
A chair skidded across the wooden floor. Mrs. Miller sat at the table. “Quite frankly, it was all I could do not to interrupt.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “I believe you misunderstood my meaning when I said Daisy and Marigold were working hard in the dining room. It did my heart good to hear them laughing, singing, and carrying on.”
&n
bsp; A muscle in David’s jaw twitched, and he met his housekeeper's gaze. “I’m happy Marigold enjoys Daisy’s company, but a four-year-old shouldn’t be expected to do anything except play and simply be a child.”
“Hm.” Mrs. Miller pursed her lips. “You may find this hard to believe, but my family was wealthy before the war. I grew up in a beautiful home in the South, surrounded by servants. After we lost everything, I was grateful to fall back on things our cook and housekeeper taught me when I was a child.”
David shook his head. “Surely you weren’t four when you learned those skills?”
Mrs. Miller inclined her head toward the cast-iron stove. “One of my first memories is sitting on a stool watching our cook make supper. It was before I started school, so I was three or maybe four. She would tell me stories and laugh and sing. Eventually, she let me roll out dough, snap beans and that sort of thing.”
“My brother and I had chores too. I especially hated milking the cow.” David caught the small dimple on the side of his housekeeper’s thin face. “Mrs. Miller, you know how much I respect your opinion. Give it to me straight.”
“All right. I understand your concern for Marigold. But you cater to her every whim, and she’s a bit spoiled. A few chores won’t hurt her and might be just the thing she needs to give her confidence and keep her from being so self-focused.” Mrs. Miller brought her cup to her lips and met David’s gaze.
He swallowed. “I promised my brother to care for the children like they were my own. The problem is, I have no idea how to go about it.”
“You’re doing a fine job. The thing to remember is, no one is a perfect parent. Seems to me the Lord has sent you the help you need by way of your new wife.” She patted his hand.
David pulled on his ear. “Maybe after we spend more time together, I’ll feel more secure about her taking care of the children.”
“My plan is to stay until the middle of January. If I see anything to cause concern, I’ll let you know.” Mrs. Miller removed a loaf of bread from the oven. “Take some time and talk about your concerns with Daisy. She seems both practical and patient.”
David chuckled. “Practical, yes. Not sure about patient. You should have seen the way she huffed and puffed at me this afternoon.”
“Hm. You were lucky she didn’t walk out the front door.” Mrs. Miller said.
David stiffened. He opened his mouth, then shut it. “Was I that bad?”
“You told me to give it to you straight.” Mrs. Miller glanced out the window toward the setting sun. “It’s a shame nothing is blooming this time of year, or I’d tell you to pick some flowers to go along with your apology.”
***
After dinner, Daisy washed the dishes and David dried. “I want to apologize again for the way I reacted this afternoon.”
Daisy scrubbed a pot with more force than necessary. “What exactly are you apologizing for? Referring to my upbringing or aligning my motives to a wicked stepmother?”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?” David stared.
“Is it?” Daisy posted one hand on her hip.
A muscle jumped across David’s jawline. He met her gaze. “Obviously, I’ve made a mess of things.” He stacked the last dish and put them in the cupboard.
Daisy removed the last pan from the dishwater and watched a soap bubble float toward the kitchen window. The full moon illuminated the field behind the house. Daisy’s mouth twitched at the sight of dozens of tumbleweeds blowing across the fields.
If I weren’t afraid I’d step in a hole or on a snake, what I wouldn’t give to walk into that field and not look back.
“Planning your escape?” David inclined his head.
“Yes.” Daisy blinked rapidly. “I was actively considering it.”
David’s eyebrows flew up. “Your answer was supposed to be no. That you already love it here and wouldn’t consider leaving your handsome husband.” He reached for her hand. “You’ve already seen one of my character flaws. Sometimes I speak without thinking. I can only promise to try not to be so quick to pass judgment in the future.” He gestured toward a chair. “Will you sit for a moment?”
Daisy sat on the bench at the worktable and watched as he positioned himself on a ladder-back chair beside her.
“This is my fault for rushing you into marriage. I wish circumstances were different and we could have spent time getting to know each other like most couples.” David pinched the bridge of his nose. “Despite my reaction this afternoon, there is nothing in your character which remotely compares to a wicked stepmother.” He leaned forward and clasped both of her hands. “You are a brave, caring, intelligent and lovely young woman. My hope is you are also forgiving?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m afraid one of my character flaws is I tend to hold a grudge.” One side of Daisy’s mouth lifted.
David chuckled. He pressed her fingers to his lips. “If that’s true, perhaps we should start over and pretend we just met?”
“How do you do, Mr. Taylor?” Daisy released a slow smile.
David pulled her to her feet and ran his finger along her cheek. “Mrs. Taylor, you are so much more than I deserve.”
Daisy studied the dark circles under David’s eyes. “Since I was seven years old, I dreamed of having a family and home again. I want us to have a good marriage, to be able to work together, and trust each other.”
“I want the same thing.” His eyes darkened.
“Do you think you could carve some time out of your schedule for us to spend time together without the children?” Daisy’s cheeks burned.
“I’m so far behind at the mill. It’s difficult for me to take time off during the week. What do you think about spending some time together in the evenings after the children are in bed? We can sit and talk. Or why not pick out one of the novels you were telling me about? We can read it together.”
“I would like that.” Daisy glanced at his lips. “I know how much you love Henry and Marigold. Please know I would never do anything to hurt them. Even though I’ve only been here a few days, they’ve already captured my heart.”
David put her hand on his chest. “You’ve seized mine.”
The swinging door to the kitchen squeaked. Henry and Marigold appeared wearing their nightclothes. Henry bounced on his toes. “Uncle David, Marigold says Mr. Montgomery’s going to give her a kitten. If she gets a cat, can I have a dog?”
David’s mouth fell open. “Let me talk to your Aunt Daisy about it first. You two go ahead and wait in the parlor. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Daisy raised one eyebrow. “I can already tell what you’re thinking.” She wagged her finger. “Didn’t you promise not to be so quick to pass judgment?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. “Please tell me you didn’t tell Marigold she could have a cat?”
“No, I didn’t.” Daisy gave a cheeky grin. “I told her she would have to talk to you about it first.”
Chapter 15
On perseverance…
“Even to the most gifted student, math can be challenging and occasionally frustrating. When life gets hard, stay patient, be resilient, and meet the challenges.
It will be for your betterment!”
- Miss Daisy Leah Murphy
Over the next several days, Daisy worked on unpacking and polishing treasures from the attic. This afternoon, she situated matching chairs close to a circular table and positioned a sage-colored cloth on top, followed by a table lamp. Henry helped by sliding two side chairs across the room closer to the sofa creating a U-Shape in front of the fireplace.
Daisy set a basket containing Marigold’s blocks on a child-sized table and chairs centered between the seating area. Posting her hands on her hips, she gave a satisfied sigh. Dark green magnolia leaves fashioned together with pine and velvet ribbon made a festive display above the parlor windows. Sprigs of rosemary aligned the mantle, giving the room an aroma of minty herbal tea. She ran her finger
through Marigold’s dark curls. “What will your Uncle David think about our decorations?”
“He’ll like it.” Marigold scurried to the corner and spread her arms wide. “This is where we’ll put the tree.”
“Excellent idea. Is that where you put it last year?” Daisy picked up a bucket she’d found in the basement and set it next to Marigold.
Henry’s face puckered. “We didn’t have a tree last year.”
Daisy offered a half-smile. “It will be our new Christmas tradition. Now, all we need is a tree and decorations.”
“What kind of decorations?”
“Since you don’t have school tomorrow, I thought maybe you’d like to help me make some?” Daisy’s finger went to her cheek. “Years ago, when I was your age, my mother, brother and I made ornaments from dough.”
“Dough? You mean like bread?”
“Yes, but this kind is not for eating.” Daisy picked up Henry’s slate and chalk from the side table and drew a star. “We’ll prepare the dough, twist it into shapes and bake. Once the ornaments are dry, you and Marigold can hang them on the tree with ribbon.”
Henry peered at the slate and grinned at Daisy. “Sounds fun.”
“Mrs. Montgomery gave me a recipe for gingerbread cookies too.” She patted Henry’s shoulder. “She told me her sons eat them quicker than she can hang them on the tree.”
The screen on the back door slammed and the clip-clop of boots shuffled into the foyer. David paused and whistled. His eyes darted around the parlor. “Everything looks festive, except for the empty bucket. How about everyone grab their coats and we’ll go find a tree to fill it?”
***
The horses plodded along, creating a relaxing rhythm as they traveled toward home. Daisy glanced over her shoulder at the smiling faces of Henry and Marigold dwarfed by the bald cypress filling the buckboard.
“The tree seemed much smaller in the woods. I hope it will fit in the parlor.” Daisy studied the five o’clock shadow and the set of David’s square jaw. He leaned forward, clucked at the horses, but seemed lost in his thoughts. “Is something bothering you, David?” She laid her hand on his arm and spoke softly.
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