Secrets of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  Nancy shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I believe it is. I’ve not really gone through what’s there. I . . . well, I didn’t feel up to it.”

  “That’s not a problem, I assure you. If we need anything more, we’ll let you know.”

  “I thought perhaps you might want an inventory of the store, but I can’t say whether one is included.” She looked so weary and tired. Seth wondered at the toll her circumstances had taken.

  “It’s easy enough to hire someone to take an inventory,” John said, nodding to Seth. “Would you be so good as to note that for me?”

  Seth pulled a small notebook from his pocket as well as a pencil. “Happy to.”

  “There is another matter that I’m uncertain how to manage,” she continued.

  “And what would that be?” John asked.

  “A man came to the house. He said his name was Hanson. He said that he had purchased a large supply of goods from my husband and had come to collect them. I told him to come back on Friday, but I’d much rather you handled this matter.”

  “We can certainly arrange for that,” John declared, nodding again at Seth. “Note that as well.”

  “The problem is this,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “Mr. Hanson said he purchased whiskey and rifles from my husband, but I never knew Albert to deal in either commodity. I looked through some of his bookkeeping, but it appears to be in code, so I have no idea if the sale took place or not. If it did, I have no idea where he might have kept such things. I saw nothing of the kind in the store. I even sent the young man who tends my horse back to the store to look. He found nothing.”

  John considered the matter for a moment. “Perhaps your husband had a warehouse elsewhere. He might have stored a great many goods there. Perhaps whiskey and firearms were a new line he was taking up.”

  “Perhaps, but if there was a warehouse, I am completely unaware of it. I can’t even imagine how to go about finding out if it existed.”

  “We can manage that with advertisements in the paper. We’ll do the same for clearing your husband’s name of all debts, should there be any. It’s a fairly simple matter, so you needn’t worry yourself over it. Seth.” John nodded at him, and Seth made another note.

  A knock at the door interrupted their discussion, and when Nancy stood, John and Seth did likewise.

  “I can’t imagine who that is. I have no other appointments.” Nancy left them and soon returned with a gentleman.

  Seth had no reason to immediately dislike the man, but there was something that just put him on edge. The fellow was tall and dark-eyed with a thick but neatly trimmed black mustache. His dark eyes seemed to take in everything at once, yet his gaze quickly settled on Seth and John.

  “John Lincoln. I’m surprised to find you here.”

  “Gerome Berkshire. It has been a long time,” John replied. “This is my new associate, Seth Carpenter. Seth is an old family friend of Mrs. Pritchard’s.”

  “Ah, so that explains your presence.” Berkshire seemed relieved.

  “Well, it does in part,” Seth couldn’t help but add. “We are also here on business.”

  “Business? What business do you have with a lawyer, Nancy dear?”

  Seth didn’t like the stranger’s familiarity. However, before he could speak a word of protest, Nancy answered him.

  “John is handling Albert’s affairs. As you will recall, you were pressing me to tend to them. That crate you saw on the front table is full of Albert’s business papers.”

  “Is it now?” Berkshire’s voice took on a strange tone. “I know what I told you, my dear, but I didn’t intend for you to pay someone else for what I would do for free. You hardly need part with your precious savings in order to set things in order. I can easily manage all of this for you. After all, as a dear friend, Albert often sought my counsel.”

  “Yes, but as a dear friend, perhaps it is better that you refrain.” Seth gave Berkshire a fixed look. “After all, you are mourning the loss of that friend, and as such, it could affect your judgment.”

  “Nothing affects my judgment,” Berkshire countered with a fierce scowl.

  “Even so, I have to agree with my associate,” John interjected. “Personal relationships can often muddy the waters in such circumstances. I’m happy to handle the matter for Mrs. Pritchard. Since you were a close friend to her husband, perhaps you could stop by my office to discuss your business affairs.” He looked to Nancy and smiled. “I am averse to discussing further business in the company of others. Perhaps we could arrange to meet next week—in my office.”

  “Yes, that would be fine,” Nancy replied, smoothing the black fabric of her skirt as she sat down. “In the meantime, I just want to make sure it is all right to move ahead with my plans for the house.”

  Berkshire’s scowl deepened. “What plans are those?”

  Nancy gave a light shrug. “I intend to open my home as a boardinghouse. For ladies only. It will be a perfect way for me to garner income.”

  “Surely you needn’t worry about income. I know Albert was well situated.”

  “But it’s important that I have money continuing to come in. Money that I earn myself. I don’t want to be dependent upon anyone else.”

  “But that is why I’ve encouraged you to let me hire a man to run the store. Surely even you can’t disagree with the sense of that, Mr. Lincoln.” Berkshire completely ignored Seth and continued. “I know a good man who was well acquainted with the store and the type of goods sold. We could easily put him into the position and see the store up and running again.”

  “I believe I’m going to sell the store,” Nancy declared.

  Seth watched Berkshire’s irritation grow by the second. There was clearly something about the arrangement that didn’t set well with him at all.

  “I must advise you, my dear, to do nothing rash. Albert wouldn’t want you throwing away a good business simply because your lawyer was pushing you to do so.”

  “I’ve done nothing of the sort, Mr. Berkshire, I assure you.” John’s tone revealed his offense at such a suggestion.

  “No, in fact, it was my idea.” Nancy easily dismissed Berkshire’s concerns. “Now that we have that settled, would you care for some refreshment? I have coffee and tea, as well as some cake.”

  Seth hoped John wouldn’t leave Nancy alone with Berkshire. To encourage their stay, he piped up. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

  Nancy was quickly on her feet. “It will only take a minute. Please excuse me.”

  “I’ll help you,” Seth said, jumping up before anyone could protest. He moved toward Nancy and pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her from the room. “I wouldn’t want you to carry a heavy tray.”

  He nudged her toward the kitchen and could see by the look on Berkshire’s face that he was unhappy with this turn of events. With any luck, the man would be gone by the time they returned.

  “I hope you don’t mind my imposition,” Seth said, dropping his hand as soon as they entered the kitchen. “I don’t like the way that man acts in regard to you. He seems to feel he has some sort of right to you.”

  Nancy smiled. “Unlike you, of course.”

  Seth chuckled. “Well, we are old and dear friends.”

  She nodded. “The oldest and dearest.”

  “Well, I haven’t time for coffee,” Gerome told John Lincoln. “Please give Nancy my regrets.”

  He got to his feet. He had come to deliver some IOUs he had created to Nancy. His desperate need for funds left him with little choice but to finagle money out of her. But he couldn’t do that in the presence of her lawyer.

  “Of course.” Lincoln got to his feet and extended his hand. “It was good to see you again.”

  Gerome shook his hand and nodded. “You as well.”

  Gerome made his way to the foyer and retrieved his hat. He saw the crate of papers and books and wondered if what he was looking for might also be among them. There was no time to go through the collection, however. Perhaps
he could arrange for one of his men to break into John Lincoln’s office.

  Then another thought came to mind. He pulled the IOUs from his pocket. He’d thought this a rather clever scheme. He had created what looked like hasty, spur-of-the moment agreements, as though Albert had needed a last-minute loan. Gerome had purposefully left his name and all signatures off the paper while making it clear the loan had been on Albert’s part. He’d copied the information twice on the same page, then torn it in half as he’d often seen his poorer cohorts do when lending one another money. He had planned to present them to Nancy and explain that Albert was occasionally short of cash for particular purchases. He knew Albert never borrowed money, but he had been prepared to explain that this was a common practice between the two of them, always taken care of within a few days or weeks. Just a little help between friends. Only this time Albert had died before he could repay the notes.

  Lincoln and Carpenter’s presence made giving Nancy the notes impossible. They might be suspicious. However, if they found the IOUs in the paperwork Nancy provided, they could scarcely say anything about it.

  As quickly as he could, Gerome lifted several of the loose papers on top and planted the IOUs underneath. No one would be the wiser now, and he could appear with his half of the notes and explain the lack of signatures and names was due to the informality and hurried situation in each case. Lincoln was a smart man and might find the notes suspect, but Gerome wasn’t overly worried. Let the fool think what he would. Gerome would appeal to Nancy’s kind heart, and the money would be his soon enough.

  “I still can’t believe my good fortune in getting to room in your boardinghouse,” Clementine Carpenter said as she and Nancy shared their first evening together. She had the same reddish-brown hair as her brother and hadn’t changed much in appearance over the years, being still petite and graceful. “When Seth told me about you opening your home to guests, I was overjoyed.”

  “As was I.” Nancy poured them both a cup of tea. Clementine was her first boarder, but Nancy hoped others would soon follow. She had placed an ad in the newspaper just that morning. “Would you care for cream or sugar?”

  “Just a little cream, please.”

  Nancy added the cream and handed Clementine the cup and saucer. “It seems like a lifetime since I last saw you.” She settled back with her cup of tea. “Are you enjoying being a teacher?”

  “To be sure. It’s all I ever wanted to be.”

  Nancy chuckled. “Except for a short time when you wanted to be a tightrope walker in the circus.”

  Clementine’s eyes widened. “I remember that. We had both seen the circus performers, and I thought it would be ever so daring to walk on a tightrope.”

  “Do you remember how we strung a rope in the hayloft and tried walking on it?”

  “Such a disaster. I’m glad we had plenty of hay to break our falls.” Clementine shook her head.

  Nancy generally avoided talking about the past but found this a rather pleasant exception. They continued reminiscing about their childhoods, laughing over their antics as young girls. Soon the teapot was cold and empty, and Nancy felt lighter than she had in weeks. “Have you been back to the farm lately?” she asked.

  “Oh yes. I make sure to see the folks several times a year. How about you?”

  Nancy shook her head and looked away. “No. I haven’t been back there since I left.”

  “Truly?” Clementine’s tone betrayed her surprise. “You haven’t seen your family at all in that time?”

  “They’ve come to see me here.” Nancy shrugged and nodded toward the teapot. “Should I make more tea?”

  Clementine shook her head. “No, I need to finish unpacking. But I hope we can make a habit of this and pick up where we left off. Minus the tightrope walking.” She grinned and placed her cup and saucer on the tray.

  Nancy forced a smile. The joy of their earlier discussion faded, and she could feel the heaviness in her heart settle upon her. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  As the weeks went by, Nancy was more than pleased with her business endeavor. The boardinghouse had turned out to be a great idea, and all of her upstairs rooms were quickly rented to an eclectic group of ladies.

  Clementine was proving to be just as even-tempered and delightful as she had been as a child. Nancy enjoyed their evenings together. After their first night of getting reacquainted, they had moved on from the past and now spent their time together discussing the future. Clementine was always one to look forward, thankfully.

  Clementine was also enthusiastic about several causes, especially education for all children—rich or poor, white or black. She also held strong opinions about women being given the right to vote. It was, she contended, absolutely necessary for women to have the same legal rights as their male counterparts. Nancy found it invigorating to listen to Clementine speak on these issues, but some of her other boarders were less accepting.

  The next woman to take a room was an elderly and very private soul, Mrs. Virginia Weaver. Mrs. Weaver was a former Southerner whose husband had passed away five years earlier. She was genteel and frail, and rapidly losing what little he’d left to her financially. In order to better stretch her money, the widow had sold their small house and furniture and had taken a room with Nancy.

  However, though her money was extremely tight, Mrs. Weaver paid Nancy extra to take her meals in her room. It wasn’t a problem, but it did seem odd that a woman who was meticulously counting pennies and had asked for a discount on the rent if she was willing to forgo Nancy’s housekeeping should then turn around and pay extra to eat alone in her room. And Mrs. Weaver could eat. For all her frailty and small frame, she had a voracious appetite.

  Two sisters, Bedelia and Cornelia Clifton, took the third room. Very religious and pious spinsters in their forties, the sisters desired a quiet existence where they could live modestly and see to each other’s needs. Bedelia was the elder and clearly in charge. She ordered Cornelia around, making her wear a shawl even when it wasn’t cold and restricting her from a second helping of cake. The humor in that was that Nancy had caught Bedelia more than once in the kitchen, seeking a second piece herself. They reminded Nancy of a couple of contented hens clucking about their business until Cornelia stepped out of the pecking order.

  The final guest had come just a few days earlier by way of Clementine. Mimi Bryant was a widow in her fifties who had recently taken up teaching again at the same school as Clementine. Her husband had been the school’s director, and upon his death the previous January, Mimi had little choice but to give up their home and return to work. Her husband had been a poor financial master, leaving nothing to his wife save debt. Having taught school prior to marrying, Mimi simply returned to what she knew best and managed a classroom of first graders at the same private institution where Clementine taught.

  It was surprisingly pleasant to have the house full of people. Back in March, when family had gathered for the funeral, Nancy had thought it unbearable to have so many people around. But her boarders were different. Where family had insisted on tending to Nancy and her needs, the boarders looked to Nancy for their well-being. Nancy provided a home, meals, laundry, and cleaning services. It might take a while for them to get used to one another, but Nancy felt confident that her boardinghouse would be a blessing to all.

  From the start, she had established a daily routine. She told each woman she would serve breakfast promptly at six each morning, lunch at noon, and supper at six in the evening.

  Almost immediately Mimi and Clementine pointed out that once the school term started, they wouldn’t be able to leave the school until a little after noon. Nancy told them they could join in late. Bedelia and Cornelia accepted the schedule but did stress that Sundays would have to be altered, as their services would not let out until nearly one. Mimi pointed out that often she was invited elsewhere to share a meal after church. Nancy did her best to accommodate everyone even though she felt control of the situation slipping
away. She had never anticipated that her boarders might protest her plans.

  After some debate, they all agreed that Sunday luncheon would be the responsibility of each woman. Nancy would make sure there was a variety of foods readily available, even going so far as to keep a stew or casserole warming on the back of the stove. Otherwise, the women were free to either eat or not eat according to their desires.

  Now, with everyone about their own business, Nancy tidied the kitchen and pondered what she would serve for lunch. She had a large ham that she could slice up and serve with canned green beans. She’d baked fresh bread just that morning, but given the surprising amount of food these women ate, she would have to bake again that afternoon.

  Even so, the thought brought a smile to her face. She had purpose now. There were people depending on her, and her work kept her far too busy to worry about the strange ledgers she’d found in Albert’s safe or if there was a warehouse somewhere holding extra inventory. Thankfully, John Lincoln and Seth were seeing to those things. Furthermore, Mr. Hanson hadn’t returned, although Nancy had been prepared to send him to John Lincoln if he had. It seemed life was settling into some semblance of order.

  At the sound of someone knocking on the front door, Nancy wiped her hands on her apron, then took it off and placed it over the back of the kitchen chair. She glanced at the grandfather clock as she passed on her way to the front door. It was ten minutes after eleven. Who would be calling at this hour? Perhaps Seth and Mr. Lincoln had come to discuss business.

  Opening the door, she was disappointed to find Gerome Berkshire on her porch. Nevertheless, she forced a smile. “Mr. Berkshire.”