A Hearth in Candlewood (13 page)

With everyone seated around the dining room table, Emma caught the minister’s gaze and smiled. All was well. Mrs. Sewell had not chosen to wear her daffodil bonnet to dinner, and Emma confidently ladled corn chowder into bowls for the guests.

Conversation around the table was spirited, and the young Sewell sisters seemed especially taken by the tales Reverend Glenn shared about his early days as a minister, when he rode circuit before settling down to a permanent ministry in Candlewood. Mother Garrett’s veal roast captured rave approval, but it was the arrival of dessert that had her guests nearly in a swoon.

Ditty set substantial portions of apple crisp still warm from the oven in front of each of their guests, while Liesel followed behind her to pour generous dollops of cream on top of the dessert. To Emma’s surprise, Mother Garrett left Liesel in charge of the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

Beaming, Mother Garrett accepted well-earned accolades for her efforts in preparing the meal and started in on the apple crisp Liesel had brought in for her.

‘‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come to work for us in Utica?’’ Mr. Sewell asked between bites.

‘‘You should know better than to ask,’’ his wife protested. ‘‘Mother Garrett wouldn’t leave her daughter-in-law.’’

‘‘No, I wouldn’t, but I might be persuaded to send my receipt for the apple crisp home with you this year.’’

Emma narrowed her gaze. She had heard Mother Garrett’s offer with her own ears, but she still did not trust what she had heard. Mother Garrett was as prone to share her recipes as a hen was to lay purple eggs.

‘‘It’s little enough to do,’’ Mother Garrett insisted. ‘‘I don’t believe we have had any other guests who have enjoyed my efforts more than all of you.’’

‘‘I do believe you have been accorded a distinct honor, Mr. Sewell,’’ Emma said. ‘‘I don’t think I can recall Mother Garrett sharing any of her receipts before.’’

He grinned. ‘‘Then I’m doubly grateful.’’

‘‘Have you plans for the afternoon?’’ Emma inquired.

Mrs. Sewell shook her head. ‘‘Not beyond the patio . . . I do hope you still have your subscriptions to
The Ladies’ Repository
and
Godey’s Lady’s Book
for your guests.’’

‘‘The magazines are in the library. I’ll bring them out to you on the patio, if you like.’’

‘‘Don’t bother yourself. When we’re ready, the girls and I will pick out the issues we’d like to read. What time is supper?’’

Emma covered her mouth with her napkin to cover a grin. Although her three sons had practically eaten nonstop from about the age of eleven to adulthood, few of her guests who had barely finished dinner would be concerned about the next meal.

‘‘The days are getting shorter. Will six o’clock suit you?’’ Mother Garrett asked.

Abigail nodded. ‘‘Perfectly well. Reverend Glenn, would you join us on the patio? We’d enjoy hearing more of your stories, and perhaps you could remind us about the time for services tomorrow morning, too.’’

‘‘I will indeed,’’ he replied.

Emma opened the double doors to the patio for her guests and followed Mother Garrett into the kitchen, where Liesel and Ditty were just finishing washing up the dishes from the first two courses. ‘‘I’ll take over here. Take the trays into the dining room and clear the rest of the dishes. Carefully,’’ she cautioned.

Emma grabbed an apron for herself and tied it at her waist, too anxious to speak to Mother Garrett to bother changing into one of her work gowns. ‘‘Speaking of services tomorrow, I was wondering . . . Are you wearing your new bonnet?’’

‘‘Not very likely. I’ve gotten the stains out of the flowers, but with Frances feeling poorly today, I don’t expect she’s gotten to repairing it. Though, to my mind, she’d feel better if she stopped worrying about seeing her sons tomorrow. Why?’’ Mother Garrett asked as she started wiping down the cookstove.

Emma shrugged, though seeing Andrew and James tomorrow at services lay heavy in the back of her mind, too. ‘‘I was just curious. I mean, what if someone else was to have a bonnet exactly like yours? Would it bother you overmuch?’’

Mother Garrett laughed. ‘‘Don’t be a ninny. No one else could possibly have a bonnet like mine.’’

Emma cleared her throat and plunged ahead. ‘‘Actually, Mrs. Sewell does. She was wearing it today.’’

‘‘My bonnet? She was wearing my daffodil bonnet?’’

Emma nodded. ‘‘I’m sorry. I know how much it meant to you to have a bonnet that was so unique.’’

Huffing, her mother-in-law shook the cleaning rag in her hand. ‘‘I have a mind to march myself right back to that millinery shop first thing Monday morning and get some of Mr. Atkins’ coins back—after I have my say.’’

‘‘I have visions of Mrs. Sewell swimming all the way up the Candlewood Canal to Utica, if she has to, just to confront the owner of that boutique to do much the same thing.’’

Mother Garrett shook her head and sighed. ‘‘She’s our guest, after all; there’s no need to upset her. I suppose it wouldn’t do much harm not to tell her about my bonnet.’’

‘‘Except that so many people saw you on Main Street wearing it,’’ Emma argued. ‘‘I’m worried someone might say something to you or to her after services tomorrow.’’

‘‘I’ll think of something. I might even talk to Frances about it before I take to my bed. I have a notion she might have a solution, even if I don’t.’’

Before Emma could reply, the sound of breaking dishes and a pair of yelps sent both of them charging into the dining room.

Surrounded by broken china, Liesel was helping Ditty back to her feet, unharmed but shaken by her mishap.

‘‘If that young woman doesn’t grow into her own feet soon, you’re going to have to replace your entire set of china,’’ Mother Garrett whispered.

‘‘Again,’’ Emma groaned, heading back to the kitchen to get a broom to sweep up the mess.

14

B
E NOT AFRAID.
O
UR
L
ORD,
the Creator of all the universe, will be your strength. Be not afraid. God, our all-knowing Father, will not desert you. Be not afraid. Entrust Him with your worst fears. Give Him your pain and suffering. And trust Him with the deepest of your heartaches. Be . . . not . . . afraid.’’

The echo of Reverend Austin’s sermon resounded in Emma’s mind as the services concluded with a hymn, and she tucked his words close to her heart to ease the fear that she might be forced to leave Hill House. When she turned to file from the pew in the front of the church, she caught a glimpse of Zachary Breckenwith. For just one quick moment, the interest simmering in the depths of his eyes when he glanced at her was undeniable. With her heart pounding, she looked away, only to find Mr. Langhorne staring hard at her. Unnerved, she stepped back in the aisle to allow first Reverend Glenn, then Mr. Sewell to proceed ahead of her, with her guest taking care that the retired minister did not stumble and fall. Mrs. Sewell, Madeline, and Miriam followed next, then Mother Garrett, and finally Widow Leonard.

As Emma’s heartbeat returned to normal, she dismissed that most curious look in Zachary Breckenwith’s eyes, certain she must have misunderstood his professional concern for her as interest in her on a more personal level. He was her lawyer, nothing more. Mr. Langhorne’s hard glance, however, only reinforced her own fears that she was on the verge of losing Hill House and a new, more irrational fear that Mr. Langhorne might have discovered her current dilemma and that he would use that knowledge to his own advantage.

Emma hooked her arm with Widow Leonard’s and patted her arm as they walked together down the aisle, anxious to distract herself from her troubles. ‘‘You did amazing work on Mother Garrett’s bonnet. Thank you,’’ she whispered.

‘‘I’m a tad proud of it myself. There wasn’t much I could do about the color, but replacing the bird’s nest with those butterflies changed the look of the bonnet just enough, I think.’’

‘‘Mother Garrett was happy, and Mrs. Sewell didn’t seem overly bothered that the bonnets were the same color. I think you’re a dear,’’ Emma managed before whispering hello to other members of the congregation as they walked toward the rear of the church.

Once outside, they ventured across the grassy courtyard facing the church. Emma spied the other members of their party at the far corner near Mr. Henderson’s outlandishly ornate carriage, where Mother Garrett and Mrs. Sewell were already holding court as ladies stopped to admire the finery they wore on their heads.

Widow Leonard slowed her steps. ‘‘Andrew is here, you know.’’

‘‘No, I hadn’t seen him. What about James?’’ Emma asked as she scanned the crowd of people congregating about the courtyard.

‘‘He wouldn’t be here now. He might have come. I can’t say for sure that he didn’t, but once he saw that his brother was here, he would have left. I’m certain of that. Let’s join the others. If Andrew decides to seek me out, at least I won’t have to see him alone.’’

‘‘No, you won’t,’’ Emma reassured her, ‘‘but the longer the troubles between your sons remain, the harder it will be to resolve them.’’ Troubled herself by the notion that any mother might be afraid to be alone with one of her children, for any reason, Emma stayed close to the newest member of her staff.

When Andrew did appear, he was not alone. His wife, Nora, was at his side. Andrew’s gaze was set as hard and determined as when he had come to Hill House, but Nora looked a bit torn, perhaps. Emma sensed an ally in her, a sign that there was hope for a reconciliation; if not now, at some point in the future.

Emma took full advantage the moment Andrew and his wife approached them, smiled, and said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘‘We were hoping you’d be here. I do hope you can join us for dinner at Hill House. I’m quite certain Mother Garrett has made more than enough, haven’t you?’’ she asked and caught her mother-in-law’s gaze. She made a slight grimace of apology for not checking first, but her grimace tightened when she realized Liesel and Ditty had both gone home to spend their time off with their families.

‘‘Unlike other people, I always prepare for the . . . unexpected,’’ her mother-in-law replied with just the barest hint of sarcasm in her voice. ‘‘We have more than enough.’’

‘‘Then do come,’’ Emma gushed, taking hold of Widow Leonard again and stepping forward. ‘‘We have a carriage for our guests and Reverend Glenn, of course, but we usually enjoy the walk home while the weather is so pleasant. You can meet us at Hill House or walk along with us.’’

Andrew’s glare darkened, and his wife edged closer to him. ‘‘I’d prefer to speak to my mother here and now, if you please. She is free on Sundays—or have the rules changed since we last spoke?’’

‘‘Of course I’m free to speak with you,’’ Widow Leonard said. ‘‘After dinner would suit me fine.’’ She looked up at Emma. ‘‘May I impose on your hospitality and ask that we have use of the library after dinner so we can speak privately?’’

When Emma nodded, Widow Leonard looked back to her son but held silent.

‘‘Please,’’ Nora whispered. ‘‘Having dinner won’t take up that much more time.’’

He paused and shifted his weight from foot to foot. ‘‘I know the way. We’ll be along . . . presently.’’

————

The presence of the Sewell family made all the difference at dinner. Between the girls’ good-natured banter, Mr. Sewell’s tales of his business adventures, and Mrs. Sewell’s detailed accounts of her shopping mishaps, there was little room for the stilted awkwardness Andrew’s presence at the table might have induced or for Emma to worry about either Zachary Breckenwith or Mr. Langhorne.

Anxious about what might occur after dinner, Emma ate little, save for a buttered muffin and a serving of applesauce. As dinner concluded, she clung to the message from Reverend Austin’s sermon. She rose and opened the double doors to the patio.

While her guests debated whether to spend the afternoon on the patio or brave the steps to inspect the new gazebo, Emma ushered Widow Leonard, Andrew, and Nora to the library and closed the door that led to her adjoining office. ‘‘You’ll have the privacy you need here,’’ she said, hoping the masculine flavor of the room would help put Andrew at ease. ‘‘I’ll be in the kitchen helping Mother Garrett. Please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to have or need.’’

‘‘You might want to help in the kitchen, as well, while I speak to my mother,’’ Andrew suggested to his wife.

‘‘I’d like Nora to stay. She’s family. And I’d like Emma to stay, too,’’ Widow Leonard insisted.

‘‘She’s not family,’’ Andrew argued. ‘‘I cannot and will not discuss—’’

‘‘You must,’’ his mother countered. ‘‘We’ve tried discussing the matter on our own.’’ Her eyes misted. ‘‘You can see for yourself what good that did. If not for yourself or for me, then do it out of respect for your father, God rest his soul. Emma has a good heart and she knows her way around business matters. I trust her to be able to help us, and you should, too.’’

In the awkward silence that ensued while Andrew made up his mind to stay or to leave, Emma opened the heavy drapes on the window before she closed the door to the center hallway. Sunlight warmed the dark paneling on the walls and danced on a pair of glass-enclosed bookcases on either side of the stone fireplace. She quickly rearranged several leather chairs to create one sitting area instead of two by placing them in a circle, chose one for herself, and sat down.

Moments later, Widow Leonard took a seat to Emma’s right.

Without saying a word, Andrew escorted his wife to the chair on Emma’s left before taking the last chair next to his mother.

‘‘Thank you, Andrew,’’ his mother said quietly.

‘‘I want you to end this nonsense, Mother, and come home with us. Today.’’

Nora held silent, nodded, but worried at the edge of lace that trimmed her sleeve.

‘‘Why?’’ Widow Leonard asked. ‘‘Because you’re embarrassed that I’ve run off, or because you’ve come to tell me you’ve reconciled with your brother and I can come home to you both?’’

His nostrils flared. ‘‘James has nothing to do with this.’’

‘‘You’re wrong, Andrew. James has everything to do with whether or not I return home to live with either one of you. Ever.’’ She drew in several quick breaths as she held his gaze. ‘‘A woman’s heart can be broken in many ways,’’ she murmured and folded her trembling hands together. ‘‘To lose a husband is a heavy burden.’’