Unforsaken (16 page)

"Are you sure that's a good idea?” Olivia held tight to Sarah's hand when she would have hurried off to join the other children. “She's barely recovered from—"

"She'll be fine,” Eula insisted. “Now, the men will be stopping for dinner any moment, and I want you to fix a plate for Matthew and one for yourself. Find a nice shady spot and enjoy each other's company."

"I can't just waltz over there and invite him to sit with me."

"If you don't, someone else will."

Eula turned and led Sarah to join the other children, leaving Olivia to contemplate the alternative. Mrs. Carter still had one daughter yet unclaimed, but that didn't matter. If she wanted to sit with Matthew Bowen at a picnic, it was no one's business but her own.

With food in hand, she approached Matthew where he stood talking with two other men. She almost turned around, but he caught sight of her and smiled. “I hope that's for me."

"I remember you being partial to blackberry cobbler, and I managed to get the last serving.” She would have felt foolish if he hadn't smiled even more at the statement. “Won't you join me?"

She was painfully aware of the furtive looks thrown their way as they strolled away from the crowd. They settled in a shady spot, and Matt dug into the food on his plate. Olivia carefully balanced her own plate on her knee and inspected everything with her fork. She knew she was being a snob, but since the war many women had learned to make very economical substitutes in old recipes, and just because something tasted liked chicken didn't mean that was what it was.

"Find anything?"

She glanced up at Matt, chagrined that she was so obvious. “I've no stomach for ears or tails."

He laughed at that. “Be glad you weren't in the army. You'd have learn to eat worse than that."

She grimaced at the thought. “Ryan once wrote of boiling acorns instead of coffee."

"We did that all right. Toward the end, the army wasn't furnishing any supplies to speak of, and we had to make do with what we could find or steal."

"How awful."

He shrugged, but she didn't miss the way his smile faded. “That was the least of it."

"I've heard stories.” She hesitated. “I know Ryan died from being wounded in battle, but did he suffer much?"

"Olivia, you don't—"

"Did those army surgeons get hold of him?"

"No,” he answered right away, and she knew it was the truth from the relief in his eyes. There was a lot he didn't want to tell her, but at least he could ease her mind with this one thing. “He died before reaching the field hospital."

"Good,” she said, nodding her head. “That's good. At least his death was merciful."

Silence hung between them and Matt reached out to squeeze her hand. “This is no kind of talk for a picnic. What do you think of your first barn raising?"

"Amazing.” She gazed up at the skeleton of what would be a huge barn and marveled, “All that work was done in one day?"

"You get fifteen or twenty men working steady and you can get the job near finished."

"When will it be finished?"

"As they get to it. One day is about as much as you can ask folks to put their own work aside. I think everyone enjoys the food and visiting with others. I can't believe you've never been to something like this before."

"Mary Ann is the only one who's ever asked me."

He smiled. “Well, it's the least she could do."

"What do you mean?"

"After you let them have the lumber for the barn at such a low price, they probably think you're the salt of the earth."

"I didn't let them—” She hesitated, positive she had never spoken with anyone from the family about an arrangement for purchasing the lumber.

"Oh, I know no one's supposed to know about it, but Bill knows you and I are ... close.” It was his turn to hesitate, waiting for her reaction to the statement. When she said nothing, he went on. “Anyway, building this barn was important to him, and he's grateful you made it possible."

Olivia racked her brain, but she knew nothing had been mentioned to her about the young couple needing to build a new barn. Most likely she would have tried to work something out for them, given the circumstances, but she hadn't known anything about it. She thought back to the conflicting ledger entries and wondered how many other transactions she knew nothing about.

"Don't worry, Olivia. I won't say anything.” Before she could answer, Matt set his plate aside and said, “Look who's here."

"Daddy!"

"Hello, princess.” Matt lifted her onto his lap, and she hugged him. “How's my girl?"

"Daddy, when am I'm going to come home?” she whined. “I miss my kitty, and my—"

"Sweetie, don't fuss at your father. We'll go visit you kitty now that you're feeling better."

"Well, little lady, what if I said you could come home tonight?"

"Tonight?” The word was a mere breath on Olivia's lips and she suddenly felt light-headed, as if all the blood had left her head. “But she can't—"

"Carter's oldest girl said she'd be happy to look after her for me."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from swearing out loud. Her throat was so tight she could barely speak. “How nice of her. Of course I'll have to get all her things—"

A picture flashed through her mind, a picture of herself packing dolls and dresses into boxes and sitting alone in an empty room. She was being silly, she knew, but she wished he had mentioned this to her earlier.

"What's wrong, Livvy?” Sarah slid down from her father's lap and put her arms around Olivia's shoulder. “You look so sad."

Blinking hard against tears, she managed a smile. “Oh, it's just that I'll miss you. Very much."

"You could come with me!” Sarah's face lit up at the notion. “You could live with me and Daddy on the farm."

"Honey, Miss Olivia doesn't want to live out in the country.” Matt brushed a wisp of hair out of his daughter's eyes. “She'd hate living on the farm with us."

"No, I wouldn't” she countered, realizing she'd played right into his hands. “It's just that—"

"It's just that we'd have to get married for her to do that.” His explanation was directed more at her than Sarah.

"Oh, Livvy, please. Marry Daddy and live with us."

"Can I think about it?"

Sarah nodded. “You'd better hurry."

"Why should I hurry?"

"Mrs. Porter told Aunt Eula you'd better hurry up and get married before you
have
to."

Olivia carefully leafed through the pages of the ledger, scanning the entries for any mention of Bill Fleming's lumber purchase or any payment arrangements. She had meticulously maintained the records just as her father had, never failing to record every purchase, every sale. Every transaction was recorded by herself or Rodger.

Perhaps it was an oversight. With the ginning season in full swing, Rodger had been especially busy and might not have gotten around to recording everything. Even such a large order.

That was what troubled her the most. Sam Pate would never let a stick of lumber out of the mill without orders from her or Rodger.

Or Rodger.

She didn't want to believe her own cousin was capable of dishonesty, but he was the only one besides herself who had access and authority to release such a large order without payment upfront.

As if her thoughts had somehow conjured him up, Rodger knocked on the open door of her office and stepped into the room. “You'll be pleased to know your windows have been repaired and you won't be cramped in here with me any longer."

She looked up at him, still puzzled. “Rodger, do you know anything about Bill Fleming buying lumber on credit?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't find anything about it in the ledger."

"Oh, yes, I remember now.” He lowered his voice and admitted, “I've gotten a little behind on this month's books, but I'll have everything completed before the month's end."

She smiled and decided to play her hunch. “Why don't we make a gift of that? What with the two of them just starting out and all, he'll barely make ends meet as it is."

Every bit of color drained from his face and his knuckles turned white on the back of the chair. “Why would you do that?"

"I know I'm being sentimental, but they're a sweet couple, and I hate seeing anyone struggle."

"Olivia, you can't just—"

She watched him struggle, wondering just what he knew about the missing lumber. “Unless, of course, this is another one of your ventures you've forgotten to mention to me."

He was still pouting over her dismissal of Michael Sullivan's interest in a partnership between the gin and his textile mill. A mill that wasn't even completed, let alone making a profit.

Rodger drew himself up slowly, her meaning clearly registering on his face, but he managed to answer without hesitation. “If you start giving lumber away, we may find ourselves needing an investor, and the offer won't be so sweet. Things are already on shaky ground."

"We're doing fine, and you know it."

"Olivia, surely you must be aware of what people are saying about you and Matt Bowen."

"I am, and I told you I don't care what they say."

"Then why go out of your way to prove them right?” He held his hand up to stay her reply. “Please, hear me out. Not everyone listens to rumor and innuendo, but your little display on Saturday only confirmed what you've so adamantly denied."

"We ate dinner together with at least one hundred other people looking on."

"You were just a little too cozy, and as you said, everyone was looking."

She rolled her eyes. “Good heavens, Rodger, you make it sound—"

"Folks will be reluctant to do business with you. Even Yankees will think twice before dealing with a woman of questionable virtue."

"Is that what you think?"

"No, I believe you,” His voice lacked conviction. “But my opinion means nothing, and I would be shirking my responsibility by not addressing the matter."

"What responsibility?"

"Olivia, try to understand.” The patience in his voice grated on her nerves. “There have already been several occasions on which I was called to act on your behalf as your nearest male relative."

"Only because of foolish laws that allow a woman to own property but not to sell it. You acted on my behalf out of necessity, not responsibility."

"The law doesn't see it that way.” He folded his arms across his chest and drew a deep breath before saying, “I cannot allow you to run this business into the ground. If you don't stop carrying on with Bowen—"

"Rodger Kirk, it will be a cold day in hell before you
allow
me to do anything.” She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “And don't ever give me an ultimatum like that again."

"You're not giving me much choice, Olivia."

"Just what do you intend to do?"

"If necessary, I can take the matter to court. I will be appointed trustee over all holdings in your name, and see that things are done properly."

"I don't believe you.” Fear and anger surged inside her, and she fought to remain calm. “You can't do something like that."

"Yes, Olivia, I can, and many wonder why I haven't done so already."

Olivia knew she shouldn't let Rodger's carrying on upset her so, but she couldn't forget the look on his face. He'd been serious, she had no doubt, but what troubled her most was his confident expression. Somehow, he
knew
he could take charge of her holdings and “see that things were done properly."

If he didn't sell the business out from under her, he would probably squander the profits. Without the gin, she would be a penniless old maid, forced to teach piano lessons or take in sewing just to survive.

She had to know if what he said was possible, and if it was, she had to do whatever she could to protect herself. If there was nothing to fear, she refused to worry needlessly. One visit to the courthouse was all it would take.

"Olivia, my dear, how nice to see you."

"Thank you, Judge Stone.” Olivia smiled as the older man grasped her hands and welcomed her inside his office. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

"Don't think a thing about it,” he assured her. “It's always a pleasure to see you."

Barton Stone had been her father's friend and attorney as long as she could remember, and she could trust him to tell her the truth and advise her wisely.

"Well, I need some advice."

"Of course, of course. What seems to be the trouble?"

She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “I need to know if my control of my business and property could be revoked, just because I'm a woman."

"Olivia, how much did you know about your father's business before he died?"

The question caught her off guard. “Not a great deal, but I've managed well enough. That's not what—"

"Ian Chandler was one of the shrewdest businessmen I've ever known. If he spent a nickel, you could bet he'd get back a dollar in change.” Judge Stone adjusted his eyeglasses, as if trying to see her more clearly. “It was never his intention for you to run the business."

"Yes, I'm certain of that.” She didn't flinch at the harsh statement, a fact she couldn't deny if she tried. The only mention of her in her father's will was a brief clause that named a modest monthly allowance to be given to her brother or husband, if she had one, for her needs. “Heaven knows, I wish my brother had returned from the war and taken over himself."

"But he didn't. Your father's death left everything to him, and his death left everything to you.” He shook his head at the irony, and Olivia could only guess that her father never knew of Ryan's will. “It also left you sadly without guidance."

She struggled to remain polite. “Surely you haven't been listening to gossip about me.

The old man's face grew pink, but she didn't wait for his answer. “I can't believe you think so little of me."

"It's not that, my dear,” he insisted. “But an unmarried woman should never allow herself to become entangled in such a ... sordid predicament."

"Rodger seems to think it might affect the business."

"I'm afraid he may be right. It's unbecoming for a lady to conduct herself so ... freely.” He paused. “Always, she must stay clear of scandal and not allow the slightest stain on her character."