Whirlwind (23 page)

Snip.
“They weren’t of a quality you wanted to sell. It was a nice solution, and we’ve met several of our neighbors in the past few days as a result.”

He grabbed the scissors again. He’d methodically accomplished all but the last two things on his list for the day and set aside the rifles he planned to display next. Instead of giving his wife a list for today, he’d given her free rein—and she’d run wild.

“The velocipede. What if we put it out front and feature it as a grand opening prize?”

“You mean the velocipede that smashed you to the wall?”

She finished tying the bow with a flourish. “I wasn’t smashed. Just . . . inconvenienced.”

“The same velocipede that landed on your toes the next day? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re favoring your right foot.”

She blushed brightly. “You cannot blame that on the velocipede. The schoolyard is full of boys. Surely one would be proud to have such a fine toy.”

“You think we’ll garner goodwill from our patrons if we foist that contraption on one of them?”

“It’ll be a noontime grand drawing. Only those who are interested will participate.” A puckish smile crossed her face. “Since you’re holding the scissors, why don’t you cut some entry slips?”

“You do it. I’ll go pry that monster from the crate.”

Daniel went back to the storeroom and picked up the crowbar. All day long, he’d opened crates and barrels; but if he turned his back, Millicent tried to open another. Her curiosity was endearing; her will to work, amazing. She’d put together imaginative displays, tied ribbons around posts, nailed a yardstick to Isabelle’s cutting table, and helped him fill the shelves. Working with her was an exercise in exasperation and delight. She couldn’t follow a schedule to save her soul, but she managed to get a lot done and have fun accomplishing it.

She’d worked harder than ten men this week, bringing order to disaster. Early morning until suppertime, she worked side-by-side with him. They went to the boardinghouse for meals. During that time, Millicent had changed. She was still herself, but subdued. He made a habit of taking his son for a stroll after supper so she and Isabelle could have time alone. Several times, he’d suggested that she stay with Isabelle and Arthur, but Millicent had steadfastly refused. According to her, she and Isabelle both needed to keep busy.

He’d done the same thing after losing Henrietta—thrown himself into work as if the physical and mental exhaustion would somehow blunt the grief. In a way, maybe it had. The details and demands of selling a business, immigrating, and taking over another business forced him to focus on something rather than dwell on the emptiness and guilt. More than anything, though, was how Millicent had brought him back when she’d showed him how to be a real father. Hope for a good future had dawned when he knew he’d become the kind of earthly father God would have him be.

He longed for Millicent to have a sense of peace for the girls she’d mothered for years.
I’d give up every last thing I own to know the girls are safe and have Millie be mine.

His thoughts were disrupted by heavy footsteps. Daniel set down the crowbar and turned.

“Orville.”

Seventeen

O
rville lounged against the back door of the mercantile. “Heard you were busy, so I stayed outta the way.”

“Your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Orville shrugged. “Fancy talk like that’s not gonna do you any favors here.”

“Then I’ll be blunt: You—”

“Howdy there, Mrs. Clark.” A sly smile slid across Orville’s face. “Us being cousins, I reckon I’ll just call you Millie and you’ll call me Orville.”

Millicent’s hands plunged into the pockets of her apron, a sure sign she had feelings roiling under the surface. “We looked for you at church Sunday.”

His grin broadened. “So you missed me?”

Daniel wasn’t given to violence, but pitching his cousin out the door seemed like a fine notion.

“Since you’re a stranger, I cannot honestly say so. Your personal belongings are in that burlap bag in the corner.” She pivoted and beamed at Daniel. “Daniel, I’ve cut up three dozen slips. Do you think that will be sufficient?”

Fighting to control his anger, Daniel pulled the velocipede from the packing straw and spun the oversized front wheel. The whirring sound filled the storeroom. “Better make four dozen slips for the drawing.”

Orville reared back. “You can’t give that bicycle away in a drawing! Do you know what it’s worth?”

“He’s right, you know.” Millicent moistened her lips. “It’s valuable. It’ll cause problems.”

“Now you’re talking sense.” Orville smirked. “Tell him.” Millicent wandered over. She never wandered unless Arthur and she were going for a stroll. For once, Daniel didn’t care that his wife wasn’t sticking to his schedule or list—she was up to something. Running her hand along the handlebars, Millicent sighed. “Such a grand prize is bound to cause problems. It’s a
boy’s
toy. We didn’t think about anything for a—Wait! I know!”

“What do you have in mind, dear?” Eager to see what plan she’d concocted, he leaned forward.

“Remember how the ledger shows Orville bought some lovely jewelry? It’s nowhere to be found and hasn’t been sold. That can only mean Orville is safeguarding it until we take care of clearing the dust. Well,” she said, flashing a bright smile, “the dust has cleared.”

“Orville, please retrieve the following items.” Daniel listed off the exact number and type of jewelry, removing any opportunity for his cousin to withhold anything. “My wife will select whichever piece she thinks is best.”

“Oh, thank you, Daniel. And thank you, too, Orville.” Millicent looked at Orville expectantly.

“My wife is waiting.” Daniel leveled him with a stare.

“They’re uh . . . upstairs. I’ll have to get them.”

Daniel wasn’t about to let his cousin wander about unattended. Two minutes later, the small cloth pouch freed from the secret compartment in the false-backed dresser drawer, the men descended the stairs. Tension crackled between them.

Millicent had wheeled the bicycle out by the counter and fussed over creating a bow for it. “Orville, I do hope you’ll come celebrate our grand opening.”

He muttered something under his breath, grabbed the burlap bag, and stomped out.

Millicent rested her hands on her hips and made a disgruntled sound.

“Due to your clever thinking, we have the jewelry.” Daniel set it on the counter. Surely, that would please her.

She ignored the gold entirely. “Even after all he’s done, you’ve forgiven him, so I’ve tried to like him, Daniel. Truly I have. He’s your family, and it’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve determined I don’t like him at all.”

Millicent heaved a sigh. “I don’t blame you one bit. He walked straight through here and didn’t say a word about the handsome job you did painting the store.”

“I’m not feeling particularly well.” Isabelle clenched a handkerchief. “Perhaps I should just stay here with Arthur.”

Daniel glanced at his pocket watch. Quite a group had gathered after breakfast in the living room of the boardinghouse.

Sydney Creighton, Big Tim’s wife, stopped playing her game of peek-a-boo with Arthur. “It’s your grand opening, too, Isabelle! You have to be there! Besides, I only have a few more months to gain experience with babies.” She blushed. “I have to learn to care for them by myself.”

“I’m so excited to show you what Daniel did for your shop.” Millicent took her sister’s hand. “The fabric and notions arrived yesterday just as he promised.”

“Your sister did most of it.” Daniel took his wife’s other hand. “Isabelle, you must be present to discuss your services. We’d best leave now. There are details which require attention before the store opens.”

“I wish it weren’t a school day,” Heidi Orion pouted. “I want to go, too.”

Millicent wriggled loose, and Daniel bristled.
I just said we need to leave.

Down eye-to-eye with the little girl, Millicent gushed, “Your mother tells me Saturdays are very busy, too. What if you have a lemonade stand out in front of the store on Saturday?”

Heidi squealed. “Really? May I?”

Millicent rose and turned to Mrs. Orion. “Since it will bring in more business—especially from the noontime train—Daniel and I insist upon supplying the lemons and sugar, don’t we, Daniel?”

His curt nod seemed to thrill Mrs. Orion almost as much as her daughter. Millicent then took more time to embrace Heidi, Mrs. Orion, and Mrs. Creighton. His throat ached not to roar. “We must be off now, ladies.”

Of all the days to dawdle, this was the worst. Shadows moved faster than the women. It exercised every last shred of his patience to get his wife and sister-in-law down the street and into the store. Once there, Isabelle bit her lip and traced her fingers along the sewing machine, then stood by the dress form. Her shoulders began to shake. “If only Frank were here.”

Millicent embraced her. “He is, in all of the little details for the shop that you dreamed of together.”

Realization dawned.
Millicent knew. She knew her sister was struggling because Frank wasn’t there and they’d planned for this moment together. She’d lagged to give Isabelle time.
“Well said. Pastor Bradle will come to say a blessing outside before we open, but I’m going to say a prayer of dedication now.” He tucked an arm around his wife and braced Isabelle’s arm, then bowed his head. “Gracious heavenly Father, we give you thanks for your providence and strength. As we open today and every day hereafter, let us not only serve the material needs of our neighbors, but help us to minister to their hearts and souls, as well. We ask your guidance and direction as we now dedicate this store and Isabelle’s shop. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”

“Amen.” Millicent gave her sister a squeeze, turned, and gave Daniel an impulsive hug. Suddenly realizing what she’d done, she blushed and pulled away. “My list. You’d better give me a list. Otherwise, I’ll wind up doing . . .” Her mouth snapped shut.

Returning her embrace felt so natural—but he’d caught himself in time. “Your list is on the counter.”

“Never thought I’d be thankful for that list, but I am,” Millicent muttered under her breath as she scurried away.

Isabelle bit her lip and ducked her head.

Daniel didn’t share her sense of mirth. Undoubtedly once Millicent read the list, gratitude wouldn’t be among the sentiments she felt for it. He pushed a bolt of fabric in a half inch to buy a few seconds before addressing his sister-in-law. “Isabelle, women notice how mindful a dressmaker is of the latest fashions. You’ve said you could promote the trend of gored skirts in Texas.” She nodded, so he stated, “I’m hiring you to sew one for Millie.”

“You don’t need to hire me! She’s my sister.”

He’d written
AGREE WITH ME
at the top of Millicent’s list in bold letters. Had she read it? If so, would she comply?

“Isabelle, you ought to be working on something so customers can see how talented you are.” Millicent gave him a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look. “I do need a black skirt.”

Isabelle recoiled. “Absolutely not. It’s bad fortune and bad faith for a bride to wear black. Celadon to match your eyes.” She started looking through the bolts of cloth. “But you’re not hiring me.”

“Then you’re not sewing me a new skirt.” Daniel declared, “Isabelle will choose the color and accept the commission.”

“Fine.” Millicent grabbed his hand and pulled him away. “Daniel, the list said to hang the bracelet for the drawing over the counter, but I’d rather hang it in the window. It’s sure to garner more attention there. I’ll need your help, though.”

They went to the window, and she immediately turned loose of his hand. “It wasn’t my intent to disagree with you, but this is a more noticeable place to display the bracelet.” Pulling the bracelet from the pocket of her apron by a length of red ribbon, she stared at it and sighed. “I’m still trying to adjust to living by your schedules and lists. I know you prioritize and put what’s important first, but I’ll never manage if you expect me to agree with everything you say all day.”

“Do your best.” A realist, he’d known she wouldn’t agree with everything. “If there’s a problem, we’ll discuss it in private.”

Tension drained from her shoulders. “Very well. Then I’ll see to the buttonhooks as you—Oh! Daniel! We’re going to need a sign to tell about the drawings.” In a flurry of skirts, she was gone.

She’d tried to adhere to his list, yet off she flew when this notion overtook her.
I never had to trouble myself with these issues when I was married before.
Just as quickly, his mind shot back,
Henrietta didn’t have the fire, intellect, and spirit Millicent does.
They did need a sign. Though he usually kept track of details, that one had slipped past him. What would it hurt if he tended to a few more last-minute chores so she could see to that task? After all, she was covering for his lack of foresight and planning. For the first time, the term
helpmeet
started to make sense to him.

At eight o’clock sharp Pastor Bradle stood out front and said a prayer. Afterward, he turned to Daniel. “So the drawings are for boys and girls. Are you limiting the age of entrants?”

Leaning on her cane, an old woman declared, “I’m a girl, no matter how many wrinkles I have!”

The pastor chuckled. “Daniel, this is Mrs. Whitsley. Her grandfather founded Gooding. She’s got more vim and vigor than most girls do at twelve. Before you answer her, I’m going on inside to be out of the range of her cane!”

Daniel looked to his wife and escorted her into the shop. “What say you, Millicent?”

“I say everyone who desires may have an entry slip. Put your name into whichever drawing you wish.”

The telegraph operator entered the store, and Millicent inhaled sharply. “I don’t know what I did with your breeches!” She turned toward Daniel. “Daniel, I can’t recall what I did with this gentleman’s breeches. I don’t even remember what I did with yours. I—” Her voice died out and she went crimson as customers started to laugh.

“The jeans we special ordered are in the stockroom.”