The Kissing Tree (6 page)

“Hello, dear.” Her smile was warm and friendly. “You must be Angus’s granddaughter. I had heard tell you were coming to stay for a spell. Miss Georgiana, isn’t it? Why, I remember you when your ma was still carryin’ you on one hip. Suppose you don’t much remember me. I reckon I don’t look as young as I used to.”

Georgiana knew exactly who she was, for indeed she looked the same as she had five years ago. She couldn’t recall Mrs. Swansen ever looking young, per se. She had the same gray hair she’d always had and still wore it in the same style, braided and then wound in a bun at the back of her neck. To her credit, though, she looked as fit and as healthy as ever. Happily, the woman still seemed to possess the same pleasant and kindly demeanor that Georgiana remembered.

“Nonsense, Mrs. Swansen,” Georgiana began, wording her response carefully as to duly flatter the post mistress, “you look the same as I ever remember and not a day older!” The elderly woman’s eyes brightened, and she smiled bashfully.

“Well, you’re still the sweet thing I remember too.” She chuckled softly, and the pleasant sound of it made Georgiana wonder why the woman had never remarried after she lost her husband so long ago. “Angus must be overjoyed to have you back home. And are you glad of it yourself?”

“Yes, I’ve missed him and this town very much,” Georgiana replied thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry your grandmother isn’t here to see you. She so often talked of the day you and your family would return.” Mrs. Swansen shook her head sadly. “Poor Angus, he grieves more than he lets on, you know. Your grandmother was a good woman. She has been sorely missed since her passin’.” She shook her head once more and wiped at a tear before suddenly brightening up again, as though it was her duty to be cheerful. “Oh, I’m sorry to be goin’ on about things, dear. What can I do for you today?”

“I would like to post a few letters, if you please.” Georgiana laid her letters down on the counter.

“Certainly dear, and will you be expectin’ a return reply soon?”

Georgiana smiled. She was sure she would not have to wait long for Dawson’s reply.

“Yes, I believe so,” she predicted.

“Would you like me to hold your mail here for you,” Mrs. Swansen queried, “or would you rather I send any letters home when someone from your grandfather’s ranch picks up the mail?”

She didn’t think it would be of any consequence if Grandfather or any of the other ranch hands picked up her mail. Besides, she didn’t know how often she would get to town.

“It would be fine to send any return mail I receive along home,” Georgiana informed her.

“Good then, your letters will be on the next dispatch. Is there anything else I can help you with, dear?” Ms. Swansen asked sincerely.

“I wonder if you could tell me where I can find the Wallace home,” Georgiana asked hopefully. “My grandfather told me they sold their farm and moved into town several years back. I am particularly interested in Miss Samantha Wallace. We were good friends before my family moved.”

“As I remember it, you two were almost Siamese twins, you were together so often.” She chuckled again, and once more Georgiana wondered why the woman was still single. “When Mr. John Wallace inherited a rather large sum from his grandfather back east, he sold their farm and purchased the bank, movin’ the family to town. Bought the old Grantsville place and fixed it up right smart. Truth be told, he makes a much better banker than a farmer. He never was much good at farmin’. Though, don’t you ever tell him I said so. Good family, the Wallaces. Not high and mighty like the last banker, Mr. Carl Jamison and his wife. That Eliza Jamison put on such airs! She really got my goat. I wasn’t sorry to see them leave town. ’Course they only moved a little south to Westchester. Not far enough, if you ask me.” She paused for a moment as something outside the window caught her eye. “Why, there’s Miss Samantha now, comin’ out of the mercantile with Miss Cordelia.” Her face puckered slightly. “Watch out for that one, mind you. Never could understand how Miss Samantha could stand the likes of her or why she came back to town in the first place.” She shook her head and continued muttering, “Livin’ over at the boardin’ house, orderin’ people around like she’s somethin’ special. Well, I suppose I should just be grateful she didn’t bring that awful mother of hers back with her.”

When Mrs. Swansen had pointed out Samantha, Georgiana was immediately lost in a flood of memories and didn’t hear anything the woman had said afterward.

“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Swansen. You’ve been a wonderful help,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.

“My pleasure, dear, and do tell Angus I hope he’s doin’ well,” Mrs. Swansen called after her.

Georgiana paused before stepping into the street, suddenly unsure of herself. She had been gone a long time. Even though they had been such good friends for so many years as children, Georgiana had left without even saying a real good-bye.

When her mother had told them they would not be going back, she had written Samantha a letter explaining what was happening and that she would always be her best friend, no matter how far apart they were.

She had never received a letter in return.

Georgiana had continued to write letters anyway, had sent letters to Ridge too, but it was as though her friends were no longer there.

Now, as she stood watching Samantha speaking so animatedly to the woman standing next to her, Georgiana felt a profound sadness overcome her. Maybe Samantha had never valued their friendship as she had.

“Oh, Sammy,” she spoke quietly to herself, “I’ve missed you so.”

At that same moment, Samantha looked across the street and their eyes locked momentarily before she turned back to her companion. Georgiana let out a sigh of despair. Suddenly, Samantha looked at her again and realization washed over her features. She immediately dismissed her companion and walked in earnest across the street. Georgiana timidly descended the steps and began walking toward her as well.

“Georgie . . . Georgie, is that you?” Samantha called out, and Georgiana smiled and nodded affirmatively. The rest of the distance between them was closed quickly as both young women ran and excitedly threw their arms about each other squealing and laughing in delight. “Georgie, I can’t believe it’s really you!”

“I’m home at last!” Georgiana exclaimed. “Look at you, Sammy. You’re beautiful!”

“Me? Look at you. I knew you’d grow up to be the picture of perfection.” Sammy leaned slightly away and observed her closely.

“Oh, Sammy, it’s been so long. Are you still angry with me?”

“Angry? I was never angry,” Samantha’s smile waned slightly. “Only hurt that you never wrote. What happened to you?”

“Never wrote? Why, of course I wrote you letters—dozens of them. After the first year, I stopped writing as much, but I still sent you letters on your birthday and at Christmas.” A puzzled look crossed Samantha’s face.

“I’ve never received any letters, not one. Your grandmother gave me your address, and I wrote to you too. When you never wrote back, I thought maybe you had made too many new sophisticated companions in New York and no longer needed a backward, small town friend like me,” she explained, a hurt and bewildered expression on her face.

“I don’t understand,” Georgiana said, looking as upset and dazed as Samantha. “What could have possibly happened to all those letters? Moreover, how could you think I could forget you so easily? We were sworn sisters, remember?”

“I remember,” Samantha answered softly. “But you moved so far away, and I could imagine all the wonderful things around you. I didn’t blame you, really. If I had moved to such a brilliant city, with all the fashionable ladies and dashing young men, well, I might have wanted to forget too. Besides, with your father dying like he did and your mother so lonely, you deserved it!”

“I never wanted it!” Georgiana declared, frustrated as buried feelings surfaced. “I begged to stay, and then I begged to be allowed to return.”

“I’m sorry,” Samantha apologized. “I should have kept writing.”

“No,” Georgiana said. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You did the right thing. You moved on.” She glanced at the woman on the boardwalk who was glaring impatiently in Samantha’s direction. Samantha seemed to understand what Georgiana was inferring.

“No, Georgie. I didn’t replace you. I can’t explain what happened—why I never received your letters or why you didn’t get mine. But I still always thought of you as my dearest friend.”

“Me too,” Georgiana affirmed. Both girls hugged again.

Suddenly Samantha’s face brightened. “Let’s not dwell on the letters right now. I want to know everything that has happened to you since we saw each other last.” She grabbed both of Georgiana’s hands affectionately in her own. “What have you been doin’ all these years? Do you just love living in the city?”

“Well, if I must confess the truth of it, I’d much rather be living here in a small town.”

Her friend gave her an incredulous look. “But all the parties and glamour, the museums and exhibits, surely they are exciting,” Samantha exclaimed, releasing Georgiana’s hands and clasping her own at her bosom, a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Yes, they’re exciting, to be sure, but . . .” Georgiana tried to think of how to explain to her friend how she felt. “I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . well, maybe it has more to do with living with my Aunt Cecelia. She has all the warmth and comfort of a frozen porcupine.” Both girls giggled.

Suddenly snatching up Georgiana’s left hand, Samantha made a quick observation. “Well, you’re not married, but do you have a beau? The men there must be ever so dashing and cavalier, not boorish and clumsy like boys out here. Is there someone special you are seeing?”

Georgiana blushed slightly as she thought of Dawson.

“There is someone,” Georgiana confessed. That was all she managed, but the small revelation still made Samantha squeal with delight and give her yet another hug.

“Is he handsome? I bet he’s just divine to look at. Oh, Georgie, I am so excited for you. What is his name?” While she and Samantha talked, they had slowly drifted over to the side of the street. Now they both stood in front of the mercantile, oblivious to everyone around them.

“Ah-hem.” Georgiana looked up when she heard a woman loudly clear her throat. “I’m awfully sorry to interrupt your little . . . well . . .” She didn’t finish whatever she was about to say, nor did she look to be very sorry. Instead, she wore a somewhat peaked expression that disturbed her otherwise flawless features. Her skin had the look of ivory, which was complemented by perfectly formed strawberry curls that hung in ringlets from under her hat. Before she spoke again, she sighed loudly as if about to scold a child she was tired of correcting. “Samantha, dear, we haven’t finished discussing our plans for the social. I have a twelve o’clock appointment at Miss Matilda’s salon, which I absolutely cannot reschedule. If I’d any idea I would be standing on the boardwalk frittering away my valuable time, I would not have agreed to a meeting today.”

Samantha instantly appeared to be flustered. This woman was obviously the domineering factor in their friendship, but Samantha quickly regained her composure.

“I’m sorry, Cordelia. Of course we may finish our discussion, but first let me introduce you to a dear friend of mine.” She grabbed Georgiana’s arm and pulled her a little closer. “This is Miss Georgiana McLaughlin, my bosom friend from long ago.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss McLaughlin.” The woman nodded and smiled politely as she said it, but again Georgiana got the impression her civil attitude was more forced than genuine.

“Georgie,” Samantha said, turning to her, “this is Miss Cordelia Jamison. We are planning the town social together for next month. It is going to be a glorious event. You can’t miss it,” Samantha coaxed. “Surely you’ll still be in town?”

Georgiana did not overlook the way Miss Jamison’s eyes had narrowed slightly when Samantha mentioned the social. She wondered if the woman shared any relationship with the previous bankers since they shared the same surname. Samantha began coaxing her again, and Georgiana turned her attention back to her friend. “Of course it will probably be nothing compared to what you’re used to,” Samantha added apprehensively, “but, Georgie, I know you’ll have fun. Please say you’ll come.”

Georgiana smiled warmly at Samantha.

“Samantha, dear, don’t pester her so,” Miss Jamison piped in. “I am sure Miss McLaughlin will have returned to wherever it is she came from, long before the social. She is probably extremely anxious to get back to her home and her
city friends
.”

Miss Jamison had purposely emphasized the last two words. Samantha looked stricken. Georgiana had more than an inkling that she wasn’t going to befriend this Miss Cordelia Jamison, no matter how long her visit lasted. She ignored the woman’s last comment and gave all her attention to Samantha.

“Oh, Sammy, of course I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Georgiana smiled at Samantha assuredly and added, more for Miss Jamison’s benefit than Samantha’s, “I’m actually on an extended visit until my grandfather can hire some more permanent help. The social will give me something to look forward to.”

Samantha threw her arms around Georgiana’s neck excitedly. As she did, Miss Jamison made no pretenses to hide her disgust this time. Pulling away, Samantha clasped both Georgiana’s hands again and squeezed them gently.

“We’ll get together soon so we can talk,” she said excitedly. Leaning forward, she whispered, “I want to hear all about this man of yours.”

“Samantha,” Miss Jamison began tapping her foot irritably on the ground, “we really must—”

“Yes, yes . . . I know.” Samantha winked at Georgie, giving her hands a final squeeze before releasing them. “I’ll see you soon.”

As Georgiana looked into her friend’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling came over her. It had been so many years since she’d felt so endeared to another girl her age. They had been apart for so long, but after sharing only a smattering of words and a few fond affections, she could already feel the time gap closing shut.