Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (7 page)

“Of course.” She wrinkled her nose delicately. “It sounds as if people took advantage of her kindheartedness.”

“I don't think she saw it that way. In fact I think she looked on it more as an opportunity and a privilege. She truly loves these children.”

A slight frown line appeared above her brow. “But I believe you haven't accounted for two of them, Audrey and Albert. You mentioned in the meeting that they are your sister's children?”

He nodded. “Their mother, my sister Sally, passed away three months ago.”

“I'm sorry. Was she your only sibling?”

He felt a little kick in the gut at this reminder. The memory could still hit him that way, even after all these years. “No, I had another sister, Imogene, but she died when we were children.” Both of his sisters were gone. And he hadn't been there for either of them at the end.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated.

He nodded an acknowledgment of her apology, then moved on. “I knew I wasn't up to the task of raising her kids, not on my own anyway. Miss Fredrick and I discussed it and she generously offered to give them a home. That's part of the reason I helped her find a new place for her and the kids to settle down in. That, and the fact that I wanted to make sure I continued to have some involvement in Audrey's and Albert's lives.”

“Such as providing this escort when Miss Fredrick decided to move.”

He nodded. “But it wasn't just to provide escort—I intend to move there myself so I can be close by. As I said, I want to be a familiar part of their lives. Audrey and Albert are family and I want to be close by should they ever need me for anything.” He was determined to never again be too far away to help someone who needed him.

“It's good that you want to be a part of their lives. But was it so easy to uproot yourself?”

He shrugged. “I don't really have strong ties to St. Louis. No family left there now, and I work for myself doing carpentry and occasional odd jobs here and there. Hatcherville has a brick-making facility that I could hire on with if nothing else works out.” He was determined to do whatever he had to do to take care of Sally's kids.

But Mrs. Pierce wasn't finished with her questions. “Was there a particular reason Miss Fredrick decided to move so far from her established home? Surely, if her household had outgrown her current residence, there were options closer to home. One would assume she already had friends and connections there that she could call on for assistance should she need it.”

“She had her reasons.” Reasons he wasn't going to go into, especially with someone who seemed as straitlaced as Mrs. Pierce. These children needed a clean break from their past, and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that.

To do Mrs. Pierce credit, though, she didn't press or seem unduly put off by his answer, or rather, lack of one. Instead she moved on. “Which brings us back to the question of what you will do if Miss Fredrick is no longer able to take care of the children.” She said this as matter-of-factly as if saying they had run out of flour. “We will, of course, continue to pray that she recovers fully, but even so, with a stroke there is likely to be a long recovery period.”

That was something he hadn't considered. If Miss Fredrick became a convalescent, would her brother put aside this bickering between them and take care of her? And the children?

But that wasn't something to discuss with his hostess. Then it struck him that she might be worried he would try to overstay his welcome. “The house in Hatcherville is already paid for and most of the furnishings from her previous house have been shipped there, so having a place for the children to live won't be an issue.”

He was thinking things through as he talked. “I suppose, if the worst
does
happen, I can hire someone responsible, perhaps a married couple, to serve as the children's caretaker while I keep an eye on them as I'd originally planned.”

“Then you
have
put some thought into this—good.” She stood. “If you will excuse me, there are some things I should take care of before we serve the evening meal.”

He stood as well, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. “Of course. And I want to check in on the kids to see if Miss Jacobs needs rescuing.”

“I imagine she is in her element.”

He agreed. “But still, I don't want to take advantage of her kindness.”

“As you wish.” She turned toward the cupboard, apparently assuming they were finished with the conversation.

Simon headed for the parlor, still trying to figure out Eileen Pierce. The woman was much too rigid in her thinking—that much was obvious. It was also obvious she hadn't been around children much, and her ideas of how they should be treated were of the ivory-tower as opposed to the down-to-earth variety.

But to be fair, she did have some good qualities. It seemed she'd gone to the trouble of learning everyone's names. And her method of settling them when their baggage arrived had been surprisingly effective, proving that there was a place for discipline, as long as it wasn't taken to extremes.

She'd also shown both resourcefulness and concern when she'd turned her porch swing into a rocking chair to accommodate Molly. That soft expression on her face when she'd thought herself alone with the toddler had been sweetly transforming, as if she
did
have some semblance of maternal instincts.

He could forgive her her routines and other rigid nonsense if he was certain that deep down she really did have the kids' best interest at heart.

But how could he be sure?

Chapter Eight

E
ileen moved to the cupboard to take stock of her place settings once more. Mr. Tucker's insistence that the entire household eat at the same time was regrettable, but she would have to make it work. To her relief she did have the right number of place settings, but only because Daisy and Regina had thought ahead and sent her some extras. Not everything would match, of course, and some of the children would be drinking from mugs rather than glasses, but there was no help for it. She cringed at setting such an unharmonious table, but she would just have to put the best face on it she could.

She momentarily considered eating separately. With Ivy and Dovie she had been able to justify keeping her distance. They were boarders and there were boundaries to be maintained. She hadn't wanted to invite familiarity, hadn't wanted to invite the kind of closeness that would make her boarders feel comfortable prying into her personal life. If that made for a lonely life, so be it—she'd had enough of being judged and found wanting.

But
these
were not boarders—Mr. Tucker and the children were guests. Which meant she had obligations as their hostess. And that included presiding over the meals. Besides, she'd told Mr. Tucker she believed the children should be trained in the proper way to behave. She had a duty to teach them, and how better than by example?

Eileen counted the dishes and silverware one more time. She hoped the children would be careful—if any of these plates were broken she had nothing to replace them with.

As she crossed the room, her thoughts shifted from the dishes to Mr. Tucker. What a strong sense of family he had. It was as admirable a quality as it was foreign to her. She had two younger half sisters, but she hadn't been raised with them, and her mother and stepfather had been distant. So this bond he was so passionate about was difficult for her to understand.

But it sounded like something she might have enjoyed.

Perhaps there was a reason these children—and Mr. Tucker—had ended up in her home. They obviously needed some order and discipline in their lives, and that was something she could definitely provide. It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Mr. Tucker seemed to have finally understood that.

And it had not escaped her notice that he hadn't spent any time thinking through his options given the situation. Of course, said situation was recent and he'd had other things to contend with in the meantime.

Still, she received the distinct impression that he wasn't the sort to do much planning. Which might be something he could get by with in the usual way, but this was hardly a usual situation. And one should always strive to do more than merely
get by.

Eileen headed down the hall to the bathing room. She carefully took stock of her towels and the supply of firewood. She'd taken several cold baths lately to conserve the wood, but a good hostess wouldn't expect her guests to do the same. She had a vague idea that little children caught chills easily, and the last thing she needed was to have to deal with sick children.

In this room, at least, she had no need to worry about what her visitors might think of her social status. The washroom was one of the luxuries Eileen had insisted on when she'd first moved to Turnabout as a new bride, and Thomas had indulged her, lavishing on her whatever she wanted. She still felt that sense of being pampered when she walked in here. The floor was beautifully tiled; the water was piped into a receptacle that sat on a low stovelike apparatus for heating. The partially sunken tub, which she had had specially shipped in from New Orleans, was opulently large and carved from a single block of marble. It had taken a whole team of men to move it in here. It was why it was still part of her home and had not been sold off with some of her other furnishings—it would have been too difficult to remove.

She let her eyes scan the rest of the room. To one side, a beautifully carved four-panel screen stood ready to provide the bather with additional privacy. Brass hooks lined the wall for keeping one's clothing off the floor. A door on the far end led outdoors.

Then her gaze came to rest on the less indulgent aspects of the room. She'd had to make a compromise or two in the past couple of years. When her housekeeper had been let go and she had to start doing her own laundry, Eileen had brought the washtubs in here and strung a clothesline across one end of the room so that she could do her menial work in private.

Dovie and Ivy knew it was in here, but she never did her laundry while they were around. Just because she had been reduced to doing her own housework didn't mean she had to put herself on display while she played the part of washerwoman.

Of course some of that would have to change now. The sheer volume of laundry the residents in her house would generate would dictate that the clothes be hung outside to dry. She'd have to speak to Mr. Tucker about stringing an additional line for her.

And she had to stop waiting until problems fell in her lap and start planning ahead, just as she had pressed Mr. Tucker to do. What other issues related to her new houseguests was she likely to encounter?

It was time she found a quiet place and thought through the possibilities so she would be prepared.

* * *

At dinnertime, Dovie recruited the children to help set the table. Eileen no longer owned the elegant wrought iron cart that her housekeeper had once used to transport the dishes and food from the kitchen to the dining room, so it was necessary to hand carry everything. Eileen didn't take an easy breath until everything had been transported without incident.

As they prepared to take their seats, Dovie looked around the table. “The little ones will need risers on their chairs,” she said thoughtfully.

Risers? Eileen looked at her chairs. Entertaining children in her dining room had never been a consideration before. What could she use to improvise?

But before she could formulate a plan, Mr. Tucker spoke up. “I'll take care of finding or making something to serve the purpose tomorrow. For now, if you or Mrs. Pierce will hold Molly in your lap, I'll hold Joey in mine.”

Apparently reading the panic in her face, Dovie quickly spoke up. “I'll be glad to hold Molly, if Eileen will allow me the honor.”

Grateful for the woman's offer, Eileen gave a regal nod. “Yes, of course.”

“Then that leaves you to serve everyone's plate,” Mr. Tucker said, smiling her way.

Eileen hesitated, then stood. She supposed if she had to choose between server and nursemaid, she preferred the role of server. The memory of how Molly had felt snuggled up against her flitted through her mind, but she shoved it away. Such things were not for her.

As Fern no doubt agreed.

“So how shall we do this?” she asked. “Would it be better for you to pass up your plates for me to serve? Or for you to each bring me your plates to fill?”

“I would suggest they bring you their plates,” Dovie answered. “Less handling and confusion that way.”

She nodded, seeing the logic in that. “Very well. Children, take your plates and line up. And do take care to hold them straight so nothing slides onto the floor.”

Eileen served the first two plates without incident. Then it came to the third child, Rose. She placed a generous slice of ham on the plate then ladled up some of the butter beans.

“No!”

Eileen froze, startled by the little girl's vehemence.

“Rose doesn't like for her food to touch.” Fern said. The older girl's lips were pinched in disapproval, as if Eileen had been sloppy, or worse yet, had done it on purpose.

Why did Fern seem to dislike her so much? But now was not the time to worry about that.

“My apologies.” She set the plate with the offending contents aside and picked up her own. She very carefully dished up the ham, squash and butter beans so that very little liquid made it to the plate and then placed them so nothing touched.

Rose studied the plate suspiciously, then smiled, nodded with a thank-you and moved to her chair.

The next three children were served without incident, and Eileen began to breathe easier. She wasn't sure why she'd been so nervous; this was a simple task after all.

Then Harry stepped up for his portion. Just as she put the last spoonful of vegetables on his dish, it happened—Harry dropped his plate. The food splattered everywhere, including the bottom of her skirt. And the plate—one of the precious few remaining from her good china service, broke into three pieces.

Eileen stared at the mess, unable to move, horrified by the extent of the disaster. It wasn't the mess; it wasn't even the possibility that her dress was stained. That broken dish meant someone would not have a plate to eat from for this meal or any subsequent ones while her newfound guests remained in residence.

She turned her gaze on the offender, prepared to scold him for his clumsiness. Then she spotted his stricken and mortified expression and the words dried in her throat. Their eyes locked for a moment and Eileen found herself searching for the right words to defuse the situation.

She managed to drag out a smile and keep her dismay out of her tone. “No harm done.”

Dovie set Molly down in the chair and bustled over. “Harry, why don't you let me help you clean up this mess while Mrs. Pierce finishes serving the others.”

Grateful for Dovie's intervention, Eileen took a quick glance at the others in the room and saw expressions displaying various degrees of wariness. Were they worried there would be repercussions?

She took care to smile at the next child in line. Keeping her expression and movements calm and unruffled, she mechanically placed the food on Tessa's plate and each of the others that followed, making sure she said something to each of them. But her mind kept spinning over what she would do to replace the broken dish.

By the time she filled the last plate, the mess on the floor had been cleaned up and she handed Harry the plate she'd fixed earlier for Rose. Hopefully the boy wouldn't mind that the food touched.

And she still hadn't come up with a solution to being short by one plate.

Time to make a graceful exit—or as graceful as possible given the circumstances. “If you will excuse me, I have something to attend to. Please go on with your meal without me.”

Her announcement was met with an awkward silence and some of the wary glances returned. Her gaze snagged for a heartbeat on Mr. Tucker's frown, but then she turned to make her exit. Leaving her guests to their own devices seemed preferable to making a spectacle out of her lack of a place setting.

But before she could get away, Mr. Tucker spoke up. “Mrs. Pierce, whatever it is you need to take care of, surely it can wait until after we eat.” His gaze practically demanded she stay.

But she ignored both the gaze and the words. “I'm afraid it cannot.” And with that, she left the room without a backward glance.

When Eileen reached the kitchen, she looked around as if a plate would appear out of thin air. The only thing that seemed remotely appropriate was the meat platter, but it was big enough to serve a full-grown turkey. Even the saucers were on the side table in the dining room, awaiting time to serve the pecan pie.

She gave a mental shrug. That was irrelevant. The fresh food was back in the dining room and she didn't plan to go back out there before the others were done eating.

Eileen moved to the sink and wet a rag. She lifted her hem and began scrubbing at the food spatters on her skirt with firm, even strokes. Too bad she hadn't been wearing the black skirt. She no longer had so much clothing that she could afford to discard something merely because it was stained.

Her stomach rumbled—she'd had a very light lunch. She supposed she could always open one of the jars of vegetables she'd put up from her garden. But after the savory meal she'd just dished up for the others, she had very little enthusiasm for such fare.

Perhaps she would just wait. Once the dishes were washed and the children were put down for the night she could come back here and snack on whatever leftovers were available.

The door opened behind her and she quickly dropped her skirt. Then she turned around with hastily mustered dignity. Mr. Tucker stood in the doorway, looking oddly diffident.

She managed a haughty look. “I will thank you, sir, to knock when entering a room with a closed door.”

“My apologies, ma'am. I guess I'm just not used to knocking before entering a kitchen.”

He was quite right, but she ignored both that and the hint of amusement in his tone. “And just what are you doing following me in here? Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the children?”

“The better question is, what are
you
doing in here. After we said the blessing I told the kids I'd check on you. They all think you're angry with them, or at least with Harry.”

It seemed she was failing in at least one area of her duties as a hostess. “Please put their minds at ease.” She brushed at her skirt, keeping her expression politely distant. “You may assure them it is only that I prefer to take my meals in private.”

“Nonsense.”

She stiffened. Had he just called her a
liar?

“You were all set to eat in the dining room before Harry's accident.”

He had her there, so she held her tongue.

“Accidents happen—” his voice had taken on a more cajoling tone “—especially when children are involved. But as adults we need to be understanding and forgiving. They shouldn't be made to feel that they've been found lacking.”

Time to put an end to this. She tilted up her head and gave him a direct look. “Again, I apologize if they misread my mood. Was there anything else?”

Her words only seemed to intensify his irritation. “Reassurances from me won't help the situation—they need to see it for themselves. You can't really want to have the children think you don't care for their company.”

Why couldn't the man just drop the subject and go away? “The children have you and Miss Jacobs to help build their self-esteem. My function is to provide shelter, and perhaps also provide them with instruction on matters of propriety and taste.”