As Love Blooms (25 page)

“If you’ll wear a dress, you have a deal.” He gave her a lilting grin.

Of course she’d wear a dress to the theater. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit bossy?”

“It comes with the job description.” A flash of humor crossed his face. “And I wouldn’t talk if I were you, Samantha.”

“I’m not bossy.” She smirked. “I’m a revolutionary.” And for his little comment, she’d put on a lovely pair of bloomers and see what Senator Ferrell thought of that.

With her niece Ellie’s favorite doll tucked beneath her arm, Tessa hopped off the streetcar and began the trek to Hannah and Lincoln’s Craftsman brick home. While she and Reese had been cleaning up after their cake war, she’d found the doll beneath the couch. She imagined Ellie was quite distressed about her missing “baby,” so she decided to leave early enough to make a special delivery.

Hannah’s housekeeper, Mrs. Umdahl, opened the door and directed Tessa into the dining room, where Hannah and Ellie were eating breakfast. They both looked up as she entered.

“Look who I found.” She waved the doll back and forth.

“My baby!” The three-year-old launched herself from the chair and grabbed the doll’s skirt.

“Careful, Ellie.” Tessa squatted down to Ellie’s level. “You don’t want to break her.”

“Give your Aunt Tessa a hug, sweetheart.” Hannah set down her coffee cup. “It was kind of her to bring your baby home.”

The little girl wrapped her arms around Tessa’s neck and squeezed hard. “Thank you.” She scampered back to her seat at the table and plopped the doll down beside her.

“If that poor doll survives the year, it will be a miracle.” Hannah nodded toward the empty chair beside her. “Can you join us? Mrs. Umdahl said the muffins are almost ready.”

“I can only stay for a few minutes. I have to get to Como.”

“To see Reese?”

“To garden with Reese.” Would her sisters ever truly take her work seriously?

The housekeeper brought out two plates filled with sunny-side-up eggs, cooked apples, and muffins and set them on the table before Hannah and Ellie.

Hannah looked at the plate and her face paled.

“What’s wrong?” Tessa took Hannah’s fork and pierced the center. Orange yolk oozed all over the place. “See? The yolk’s just the way you like it.”

Without warning, Hannah covered her mouth with her hand and bolted from the room. What was the matter with her? She hadn’t looked sick a few minutes earlier. It was only a runny egg yolk. Why would that make her stomach churn? She hadn’t been that sensitive since—

Realization dawned. Cheese and crackers, her sister had to be in the family way again. Her pulse quickened. What wonderful news! But why hadn’t she said anything?

The housekeeper scooped up Ellie and told her it was time for her bath. Tessa took the opportunity to search out her sister. She found her lying down on her bed.

Tessa found a washcloth in the bathroom, dampened it, and returned to lay it on Hannah’s forehead. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’ve been better. Don’t worry. It’ll pass.”

“Yeah, in about nine months.”

Hannah’s eyes popped open.

“Don’t look so surprised. I keep telling you I’m not a child anymore.” Tessa sat down on the side of the bed. “Besides, it didn’t
take any of my super sleuthing skills to figure out your secret after that little display, but I do have one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why am I the last to know?”

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples.

“I’m not the last, am I?” Why was Hannah keeping this exciting news to herself? Was there some kind of problem with the pregnancy? “Is everything all right with the baby?”

“Yes. I’ve been fine except for this morning sickness.”

“Does Lincoln know?”

“Of course.”

“Does Charlotte?”

Silence.

“Hannah, we’re your sisters. We have a right to know these things.” Tessa stood and closed the bedroom door. “Why aren’t you telling her?”

She laid her hands across her stomach. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Tessa jammed her hands on her hips. “Try me or I’ll tell her myself.”

Hannah sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “That’s blackmail.”

“I know.”

An uncharacteristically long sigh told Tessa that Hannah didn’t have the strength to fight her. “I’m protecting Charlotte. She wants a baby so badly, and I’m afraid my news will hurt her.”

“But she’ll be more hurt that you kept this a secret.” Sure, Hannah had a point, but she wasn’t thinking this through. How could Tessa make her understand? “What if the roles were reversed? Would you want Charlotte to keep this kind of news to herself?”

“No, but I’m not Charlotte, and she’s going through enough without dealing with my condition.”

“You think Charlotte would be jealous? Our Charlotte?”

Hannah shrugged. “Maybe. At the least, she might feel this isn’t fair.”

“But we’re sisters. Sisters share everything. That’s what you’ve always told us.”

“Don’t be naïve, Tessa. Of course there will be things from time to time we’ll each choose not to share, and this is one of those times. I’ll tell her eventually, but if I can keep this to myself for a little longer, maybe Charlotte will discover she’s expecting a baby by then too.”

“I haven’t said this often, but you’re wrong. Dead wrong.” Tessa placed her hand on the doorknob, her heart hammering in her chest. A surge of protectiveness on Charlotte’s behalf seemed to overtake her. “You don’t want to hurt Charlotte, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. She’ll be as excited about this baby as I am. It might take her a little time to get there, but she will. Deep down, I think you already know that.” She pulled the door open.

“Tessa?”

“What?”

“You won’t say anything about my news?”

“It’s not my news to tell.”

Guilt jabbed her. This was one time she wasn’t sure staying silent was a good idea. Would her own silence only add to Charlotte’s pain?

Lord, please help my
stubborn sister see the error of her ways.

To Sam’s surprise, James said nothing about the bloomers she wore. In fact, he’d complimented her on her fetching hat. When his driver reached the corner of Fifth and Saint Peter, James signaled him to stop in front of Saint Paul’s Orpheum Theater.

Sam sucked in her breath when she saw the playbill in the display case.
Mon Amour
? Her French might by rusty, but she was fairly
certain
mon amour
translated to
my love
. Surely that was simply a coincidence.

“I hope you like operettas.” James held the door for her. “This one is a comedy, and it stars Miss Amelia Stone and Armand Kalisz. I hear they are quite the musical treat.”

Similar to its sister theater in Minneapolis, Saint Paul’s Orpheum welcomed patrons with a posh foyer. Stepping inside took Sam back about ten years. She remembered visiting it with a young Lincoln to watch her first vaudeville performance. Today, however, her escort was considerably older.

Inside the theater, they selected a seat in the middle, not far from the front. She heard a woman gasp as she passed, which made her chuckle. It was always fun to shake things up a bit. If she weren’t with James, she might have spoken to the woman about how things were changing in America for women. In fact, the vote for women’s suffrage should be coming up before the legislative session ended.

Sam turned to James. “By the way, how did you get away from the legislature today?”

“The finance committee is meeting later this afternoon and into the evening, so I suddenly found myself free for an extended lunch. Unfortunately, the committee has some things to hammer out, which could mean a very long night for me.” He captured her gloved hand. “But enough of that. We’re here to celebrate
amour
.”

As if on cue, the lights dimmed and the curtains rose. With her hand still clasped in James’s, Sam settled back to enjoy the operetta.

It began with a young composer, played by Mr. Kalisz, who had written an operetta that critics felt lacked depth of feeling and soul. The morning after the first production, a young prima donna, played by Miss Stone, called to order a new opera. Each time she visited, she sang different styles of songs she wanted the composer to write for it, and he began to fall in love with her. At last he was inspired by her to write an ardent love waltz called “Mon Amour” and finally won her heart.

James squeezed her hand as the two lovers kissed, leaving no doubt he’d carefully chosen this production, and her heart leapt at the thought. She ached to give in to her feelings, yet her head told her to hold back. But why? What was keeping her from enjoying James’s attention and, more importantly, his advances?

James leaned close as the lights came up. “
Mon amour
, what kind of song must I sing to win your favor?”

His tone was light, but she turned to see his eyes were full of sincerity. Her chest constricted. What indeed was she looking for?

Her husband would not have wanted her to spend the rest of her life alone, and another chance at love might not come again. She did love James as a friend and had for many years. That love would blossom if she gave it half a chance, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

“I’m still not ready, James.”

“I know.” James stood and pulled her to her feet. “Samantha, I won’t give up easily, but I’m not sure you’ll enjoy my singing as much as the composer enjoyed hers.”

Sam wasn’t so sure about that. Every time he said her name, her resolve to hold back weakened a little bit more.

 21 

Memorial Day dawned warm and sunny, and Tessa pictured a perfect day. That is, it would be perfect if Reese were her companion rather than Edward. Oh, she enjoyed Edward’s company for the most part, but now the thought of being with him instead of Reese rubbed her like sandpaper. Still, it was for a good cause.

Yesterday Reese had told her that Mr. Chattingworth had expressed his support of the conservatory project. Since he’d seen Tessa speaking with Catherine Chattingworth at the vacant lot garden the other day, he’d surmised Tessa might have had something to do with garnering that support. Mr. Nussbaumer had confided in Reese that he was short only a vote or two of the plan passing the park commission on Monday. After today’s soiree, she hoped to seal the deal for Mr. Nussbaumer, so she guessed that she could handle one more outing on Edward’s arm.