Faith of the Heart (6 page)

             
Things were different now. She had a place to live, a business to run, and
maybe
even
a new friend. Humming, she turned and headed for home.                         

**
*

Friday morning Claire rose bright and early. The
neighborhood rooster’s crowing found her already dressed and sipping on a steaming mug of coffee, too excited to sleep.
She had one day to put the final touches on her store before t
he
grand reopening. Carrying her mug into the store, Claire consulted one of her many lists and then made a sweeping survey of the room.

             
Stacks of merchandise sat in the corners. The walls, shelves, and even floors almost sparkled. After days of hard scrubbing and constant work, she was ready to reorganize the
room
and make the store her own. Starting with light
-
weight muslins, she sorted all the bolts of cloth and lined them up from the palest shades to the boldest prints. Pins, scissors, and buttons were neatly stacked nearby. Next she arranged the kitchen utensils
;
coffee pots, tin cups, large spoons, and other cookware were placed together. From the storeroom Claire had unearthed a new shipment of porcelain dinnerware. This she set up on a pretty cloth she’d draped over an empty crate. The effect was charming and she hoped the townswomen would be tempted to buy the delicate dishes.

             
Flour, sugar, rice, cracker,
and pickle crates were lined up on the far wall. Clean dippers hung from nails she
pounded
above the barrels. Penny candy glowed in glass jars on the counter.  Farm implements went on the side wall. Hoes, scythes, axes, and hammers were neatly hung on pegs from the rough wood walls. Bags of seed were stacked on the floor below. The store was finally beginning to take shape, and Claire felt both a sense of satisfaction from her hard work coming to fruition and remorse that Gin and Richard could not see the mercantile in all its finery.

             
By evening the shop was completely redone. Windows were polished, curtains were hung, and the front door had received a brand new coat of red paint. Claire had even managed to sweep the front porch and set out a bench she’d found under a pile of grain sacks. She was as ready as she could be.

The big day was everything Claire could have hoped for. People had been waiting at her front door when she opened at 8 o’clock, lined up outside and complimenting the gleaming shelves as they walked in. Customers continued to stream in all day, never giving Claire a moment’s rest. Many came just to
look
,
curious to see the product
of
Claire’s hard
work
but several were making purchases. Large purchases.
She
spent the day running back and forth scooping rice, cutting cloth, and bagging orders. The lemonade and cookies were such a big hit that Connie was forced to bring in reinforcements by early afternoon.
             
             
             
Ladies gasped at the brightly colored fabrics and delicate dishes, children squealed at the bright jars of penny candy, and the farmers chose seed and tools from their own area of the store. As busy as she was, Claire still managed to listen to her customers
’
requests and comments. She quickly realized she could learn a lot from what they said to one another as they browsed. She tucked those comments in the back of her mind as she waited on her guests.
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
Later that afternoon, as she was
helping Mrs. McNamara choose a piece from the new selection of china, Claire felt a tingling at the back of her neck. She stretched, rubbing her neck, and blushed to see the handsome sheriff gazing at her from across the room. Her heart began to race as she quickly looked away. His slow easy grin made the crinkles around his blue eyes deepen.

He really is very good-looking
she thought with a start. With a couple of strides he was gone, but not before he tipped his hat at Claire, a wide grin
that
show
ed
white, even teeth
.
Claire turned back to her elderly customer, but for a moment found it hard to focus on what the lady was saying.

             
No one had ever had that effect on her, not even her late
fiancée
. Her romance with Caleb had been easy, natural, uncomplicated. They had grown up
together;
they shared the same values, beliefs, and memories. Caleb was an aspiring lawyer who had an interest in politics. He
ha
d planned to run for office in their hometown. He’d be on the city council, become mayor, and eventually might even make it to the governor’s mansion with Claire at his side. Claire had helped him write some of his speeches, excited to participate in her lover’s future. But that life was all gone and Claire was making a new one for herself. She pulled her thoughts back to the present and
to
Mrs. McNamara, who’d finally decided on a new tea pot with a floral design.

             
When
five
o’clock finally arrived
,
Claire was happy to close up shop for the day. It had been exciting
,
and wonderful to see that all her hard work had been a success, but she was exhausted. Shelves needed restocking and receipts needed to be tallied up. A customer had brought in fresh bread and eggs as trade,
so Claire brewed tea and made scrambled eggs and toast for her supper, adding the totals for the day as she ate.

             
Claire continued to pore over her books until she could barely keep her eyes open. After double-checking the locks on her shop and back room, mindful of the cash she had in her bureau and in the store, she stumbled to bed
,
glad for
the pistol under her mattress.
Its
reassuring heft relaxed her as she fell asleep, dreaming of a tall, lanky cowboy sheriff with black hair and very blue eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR
             
             
             
             

             
Setting the broom back in its corner, Connie Rose surveyed the empty café with a satisfied smile. Another busy day was done. Busy but good. Today’s special of fried chicken with biscuits was popular as always and every piece had been sold, right down to the last wing. In addition, four of her luscious peach pies had been sliced and devoured.

             
Recalling Miss Secord’s comment about her tight corset, Connie chuckled aloud in the empty room. Yup, pie could do that. She secured the locks on the front and rear doors and climbed the back staircase to her cozy private rooms. Lighting the oil lamps she turned slowly to survey her parlor sanctuary. Cabbage rose wallpaper in shades of pink and maroon covered the walls. An overstuffed chair and ottoman were strategically placed facing a large window. Her latest sewing project, a basket of quilt squares, sat nearby. The Franklin stove emitted waves of warmth and a bit of soft light. In the far corner sat her pride and joy, a polished walnut highboy where her collection of rose patterned pitchers and teapots gleamed in the soft light.   

             
She plopped down on the chair and eased off her kid boots. Massaging her tired feet , she gave a sigh of pleasure . Removing the pins from her dark brown hair and running her fingers over her scalp she felt the tension leaving her head and neck. Leaning back she closed her eyes.
I can rest for fifteen minutes, then I need to rinse out some petticoats and get to bed
, she realized.
Tomorrow is my turn to open up the café and I have to get the sourdough bread in the oven first thing.
       

             
Right before she swept the floor she set a batch of sourdough starter to proof. Tangy and fragrant it would bake up into tasty bread and rolls that her customers always raved about.

             
Rousing herself Connie stepped into the tiny bathing room. Removing her clothing, she washed quickly and slipped into a fresh cotton nightgown that made her sigh again. It was such a good feeling to be warm and safe in her
own home. Even though this was her third year of owning the building she still appreciated the luxury of comfort, privacy and security that being independent could provide. She did not take this freedom lightly. Long hours of hard work and determination were beginning to pay off. Having come from a large, noisy and unhappy family had made this little home all the more precious.

Rinsing out the articles and hanging them on a line stretched across one wall, Connie crossed though another doorway into the compact bedroom. Whitewash walls and lavender curtains gave this room a soft and feminine look. Turning back the matching quilt and snowy sheets, she fluffed up the feather pillow. Her thoughts jumped back to the rope bed and tattered blanket she had shared with a younger sister back home. That sister had married at 15 just to get away from the unhappy home. Now at 18 she had three children and an unhappy marriage of her own. Connie made a mental note to write her sister a letter of encouragement.

       Padding out to the parlor Connie locked the door to the stairs and blew out the lamps. A soft glow from a glowing candle guided her safely back. After climbing into bed she blew out the candle on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to her chin.

She prayed.
Dear Heavenly Father, forgive me for the sins I have committed today.I was cranky toward my cook, Doris  ,and cross with the new waitress ,Mae .Please give me patience and strength. Thank you for all the blessings you’ve sent: my café, this home, my friends Tom and Claire, and especially Percy Simonson. Watch over my family in Council Bluffs help me to find a way to reconnect with them and protect our streets from the ruffians that raise such havoc. In Christ’s name
I pray..Amen.

             
The room, cool, quiet and dark, should have allowed Connie to drop off immediately but instead she found herself staring at the ceiling. Events of the day kept replaying in her head; bits of customers’ conversations, sights and aromas of the many meals she carried, the endless cups of coffee she poured. And, disturbingly, the flutters she felt when Percy was in the room. No man affected her that way before and she was around men all day. Handsome men like Tom Maxwell, important men like the banker Mr. Dawson, and cowboys and ruffians alike. None made her knees wobble like the deputy.

Percy had come into her restaurant twice today, she recalled, smiling in the dark. Once for breakfast and once for hot coffee and a plateful of her oatmeal raisin cookies he was partial to. She smiled again at the delight in his face as he bit into the first one, still warm from the oven.  Eyes crinkling with delight, he was reaching for another while his mouth was still full. All in all he tucked away six large cookies and two huge mugs of coffee laced with heavy cream and sugar.

Connie’s joy was seeing people relish her good food at her own restaurant. Now days Doris did most of the cooking but the recipes were Connie’s. Her insistence on fresh ingredients, some grown in her yard out back, and absolute cleanliness in the café and its kitchen, along with her bubbly personality, made Rose’s the best diner in town. The hours were long, the work exhausting, but she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she wanted to be.

Sunlight streaming though gauzy curtains awoke Connie just before her delicate clock chimed. Jumping out of bed and letting out an unladylike yelp at the cold floor, she burst into song. 
Amazing Grace
poured from her lips as she pulled on her underclothing and then a bright yellow calico dress.

Brushing her long hair, then twisting and pinning it into a neat bun at her neck, she glanced again at the dainty porcelain clock. The first customers would be arriving in under an hour and she still had loaves to form and biscuits to cut out from her famous dough. Yanking on her stockings and shoes she flew down the stairs and raced for the kitchen. Another day of baking, serving and hopefully seeing Percy awaited her. It truly was amazing grace that she had this life.

An hour later the café was filled with the delicious aromas of coffee, eggs, bacon and sourdough bread and biscuits. Customers sipped, ate and laughed as Connie raced back and forth bringing plates and refilling cups. Being busy was wonderful. People were enjoying themselves and she was earning money. Soon she could pay off her loan and that obstinate banker Dawson would have to eat his words when she owned her place free and clear. Years earlier he balked at giving her a loan. Puffing out his chest like a bantam chicken he proclaimed women should stay at home and raise children. Well, she was showing him.