Whirlwind (33 page)

Seeing her suffer like this tore at him.
Lord God, I acted rashly—let me bear the consequences. Please, shield her. She was confused and grieving and I convinced her to marry me. I told her it was the right thing—I confess, Father. But I can’t go back and undo it. Now I’ve spoken harshly and the wounds of those words will leave scars on her tender heart, as well.

Dressed in his robe, he didn’t even have a handkerchief to offer her. Slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes—a fact that sickened him. Brushing away her tears with his thumbs, he agreed in a muted voice, “Nothing would make me happier than to know you’d forgotten it all.”

Arthur started singing in the other room. Millicent eased past him and fled from the room.

Daniel dumped out the coffee and started a fresh pot. He set some water to boil in case Isabelle needed tea to settle her stomach. Millicent murmured her appreciation and took tea and toast in to her sister. She helped Arthur with his breakfast and refilled Daniel’s coffee cup before he realized it was getting low. As she returned to the table, Daniel’s head jerked up. “You’re wearing a new skirt.”

She nodded.

He hated it. She hadn’t wanted a gored skirt; he’d ordered her to agree to having one. She’d indulged in her game of making each day special and wearing her outdated bustle and narrow hoop cage. She’d even had it on just fifteen minutes ago. Only now she’d shed it. He’d been a fool and made a vibrant, loving lady think conforming to a list was more important than the joy of being the woman God made her.

“I found something yesterday.” Her voice sounded a little forced, but she’d asked him to pretend that everything was exactly as it had been. She was trying to act that way, too. “I assume it’s one of your cousin’s odd marvels.” She pulled a strange wooden gadget from behind a trunk.

Daniel walked over and examined it. “The McGaffey Whirlwind. Precisely what does it do?”

“I believe it’s one of those sweeping machine devices.” Millicent lugged it to the parlor carpet. Setting it down, she allowed the large upright wheelbarrow-handlelike stick to rest against her breastbone. “From what I gather, the belt that goes to the bottom and loops around these bicycle pedals up here is supposed to cause suction. I tried it, and it’s woefully awkward.”

“How are you supposed to get it to go across the carpet if your hands are busy cranking the pedals?” Daniel studied it. “I fail to see how this wooden thing is airtight. It would have to be, to create suction.” He pulled it from her, gave it a quick try, and shoved it to the side. “I don’t want you touching any more of my cousin’s follies.”

“The velocipede was lovely.”

“I recall awakening to it smashing you to the stairwell. I’ll take this one down lest the temptation overcomes you. There’s to be a farewell for Mrs. Vaughn and her children tomorrow. I thought to ask you to put together a box for their train ride. I’m sure you’ll create a collection that will feed and occupy the children.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Millicent?” he said, longing to bridge the gap between them. “I thought it would be fun if you made dolls to send to Audrey and Fiona. Maybe sew dresses they could wear that match like the little girls did at church on Sunday.”

“Very well.” She smiled. It was a tentative one, and short, but any glimmer of hope counted.

While Isabelle and Arthur napped at midmorning, Millicent started gathering a variety of things on the counter. It would be a two-day train ride for Mrs. Vaughn—but with five children and the youngest still a little babe in arms, the trip would be difficult. A tablet of paper and a pair of pencils, the sock “balls” she’d made for Arthur on the ship, and two picture books would help keep them occupied. She folded two handkerchiefs into shapes as she had so often for Audrey and Fiona.

“What is this?” Daniel picked up one and gave it a perplexed look.

Millicent picked up the corners of a matching one and gently swished it from side to side. “Babies in a cradle.”

His eyes darkened as he ceased looking at her hands and focused on her face. “You love children.”

It wasn’t a question—it was a statement of fact. She nodded and swallowed a lump in her throat. “About my sister . . .”

He set down the folded handkerchief. “I can’t help worrying, Millicent. Don’t tell me not to.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“I enjoy children. It’ll be good for Arthur to have others around.”

Millicent looked up at him. “It’ll be nice, won’t it?”

He looked at her steadily. “Yes, dear, it will. I’ve determined that with the store doing so well and our family growing, it makes sense to expand into the space next door. I’ve bought it from Mrs. Whitsley, and I plan to have the wall between the upstairs opened.”

“There’s plenty of room for the baby with Arthur and Isabelle and me. It’s quite cozy, being together. We like it.”

“Shhh, Millie. I’m not meaning to indicate that Isabelle and her baby are a hardship or unwelcome; on the contrary, I’m saying I wish for them to feel comfortable to remain with us all through the coming years.”

Millicent studied his features, wanting to believe him, needing to believe him.

He met her gaze and slowly reached up to twirl a tendril of her hair about his finger, then slip it behind her ear. “Remember what Velma said that night Isabelle fell apart? She said three different things were needed to overcome sorrow: time and tenderness and tears. I fear for all the tenderness you’ve given me, I’ve given you tears in return—but give me time, Millie. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

In that moment, Millicent dared to hope that maybe things would work out. Something in her expression must have given away her thoughts because Daniel winked. “Keep praying, dear.”

“I do pray, Daniel.”

“I know. As do I.” He cleared his throat and picked up the babies in the cradle. Swinging them back and forth, he mused, “With two little ones, it only makes sense to have a proper nursery. Did the girls still sleep in the nursery, or were they old enough that they’d moved into a bedchamber?”

“By the time they were five, I had them in a bedchamber, but we used the nursery as a schoolroom and for crafts and any number of projects. Why?”

“I’m curious. All of the little girls who come in here have a favorite color.”

Oddly, the memories didn’t hurt. “Audrey loves lavender, and Fee likes pink. It made decorating their room simple. Alastair’s wife, Cook, the cook for the estate—I never did know her true name—she was quite an artist. She painted a chain of wild flowers around the girls’ room.” Millicent shook her head. “If we do create a nursery, the buttery yellow would be cheerful. Since you’ll undoubtedly want to check in on Arthur whenever the mood strikes, we’ll arrange for a curtain or screen by Isabelle’s bed.”

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll be far more practical to arrange for her room to have a door open directly to the nursery.”

The bell sounded, and they turned around. Orville blasted, “You ordered traps for Creighton. Traps are a feedstore item. I didn’t expect my own flesh and blood to knife me in the back like that.”

Daniel didn’t back down. “While cleaning the mercantile, I found a variety of traps, Orville. Don’t get on your high horse and make accusations when the truth is that you’re trying to carve out another segment of the business you sold me.”

Millicent bit her tongue to keep from cheering and scurried about the store gathering a pair of tin cups, candy, cheese, crackers, jerked beef, apples, and cans of Borden’s milk for the Vaughns’ basket.

“More important, Orville, you told me you were renting the store next door.”

“I am.”

“From whom?”

“What business is that of yours?”

An undercurrent captured Millicent’s attention. She turned and watched as Daniel locked eyes with his cousin. “The elderly widow, Mrs. Whitsley, was the owner of record of the property. I decided I’d like to expand the mercantile, so I went to ask about purchasing the place, and she offered to allow me to buy it today. You lied. You cheated that old widow out of rent.”

“That old bat won’t miss it.”

“I warned you to cease taking advantage of others—particularly women and children, or I’d stop you.” Millicent spun about to keep busy. If she stopped, she knew she’d yield to the temptation to speak her mind, contrasting what the Bible said about the righteous man and about the ungodly man. One of each stood in the store before her, and she thanked the Lord He’d allowed her to wed the right one.

Orville’s tone suddenly altered. “Don’t tell me you’re going to have another drawing! That’s a genuine Whirlwind.”

“My wife”—Daniel’s voice carried a wealth of amusement—“is the only whirlwind I want or need.”

Millicent clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter. Daniel was right—she’d been in a flurry the whole time they’d been talking. The real reason she wanted to laugh, which was far more important—Daniel’s sense of humor had returned.

“A pure gold bracelet and a sixty-dollar bicycle weren’t enough?”

Her knees went weak. Pure gold? Sixty dollars?

“Evidently not,” Daniel said in an utterly bored tone.

“That was always the problem with you. You always had too much money.” Orville left with a bang of the door.

Millicent slumped on the counter. Beneath it was the Lovell bicycle brochure. She’d never ridden a cycle. Never looked at them and figured they probably cost about the same as a baby’s pram or a deluxe child’s wagon with the adjustable parasol. Those ran between five and eight dollars. She had to know the truth. Opening the cover, she bit back a cry. The least expensive child’s bicycle was twenty-nine dollars, and a Lovell Diamond safety bicycle cost eighty-nine dollars! Sound roared in her ears.

“Dear?”

Weakly, she pushed at the brochure. “I didn’t know they cost so much. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He tucked it back into the stack. “You’re not fretting over that, are you?”

“Of course I am!”

“When I woke up to find that velocipede pinning you to the wall, it almost ended up being kindling. At least with the drawing, it made someone happy. And Phineas knelt in this very spot and declared his love for Annie with that bracelet.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

“Yes. So don’t entertain any worries. I hold no regrets whatsoever.” He picked up a bottle from the counter. “Dear, Mrs. Vaughn’s hair isn’t half as luxurious as yours, but I don’t believe she needs Baxter’s Curative for Baldness.”

Millicent knew he’d closed the topic. The sudden hope she felt about their marriage led her to be a little sassy. “Daniel, it’s not for Mrs. Vaughn; it’s for her baby.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of Daniel, and Millicent flashed him a smile. “I’ll put most of this back. Honestly, Daniel, I had to stay busy. If I didn’t, I would have wanted to chase Orville out of the store. Unmitigated gall—that’s what he has. Accusing you of trying to cheat him! There’s not a more honest or generous man to be found.”

“Thank you.” The bell clanged. “Look, dear. It’s Mrs. Orion and Miss Richardson. May we help you ladies?”

Linette set a basket on the counter, then reached up to tug her hat down lower over her mannishly short hair. “We’re hoping we can help each other.”

Mrs. Orion set down a tray of baked goods. “Have you noticed Gooding doesn’t have a bakery?”

“Seeing what you have there makes that a crime,” Daniel said. “Don’t you think, Millicent?”

Feeling completely inadequate for burning bacon and ruining coffee, she nodded.

“I could use a little help at the boardinghouse, but not enough to hire someone—that is, unless I start baking. Linette brings her little sisters to school each morning, so she could stay in town for a while each day.”

Linette blurted out, “If we bake stuff, will you sell it?”

“With all of the bachelors around and the train stopping in, baked goods should sell quite well.” Mrs. Orion fished a slip of paper from her apron pocket. “I’ve surveyed newspapers. Bread goes for thirteen cents a loaf. We could provide it to you for eleven cents.”

Daniel placed the paper facedown on the counter. Milli-cent grabbed the pencil and handed it to him. He was about to exercise his generosity again. “You’ve identified a keen need, but our arrangements should be such that it’s financially worthwhile.”

Linette’s shoulders drooped.

“Your prices are based on paying full price for the staples.” Daniel scribbled down some figures. “It’s only fair for you to purchase them at wholesale cost if you’re selling the finished product here. It’s wrong for me to profit twice from your labor. Here are the prices upon which you need to calculate your costs. I must insist, though, that any arrangements we make remain completely confidential. In the business world, that is an absolute.”

Mercy turned to Linette. “I won’t breathe a word. Will you?”

Linette shook her head.

They all paused while a stranger came in to buy a book and a box of crackers. Once he left, Daniel said, “Your business proposal couldn’t have come at a more auspicious time. Millicent was just preparing a basket for the Vaughns to take on their trip. A loaf of bread—”

“And the cookies,” Millicent added. “See how God provides?”

After the women left, Daniel said, “You’re right. God provides. I worried that the aroma of cooking might be difficult for Isabelle.”

Arthur’s wake-up song drifted down to them. Millicent looked at the heavily laden counter. “I’ll be back to take care of this in a minute.” As she went upstairs, she tried to devise something simple she wouldn’t ruin for lunch.
It’s a pity man does not live by bread alone. That would have solved everything.

Almost an hour later, a man entered. Daniel greeted him. “May I assist you?”

“I heard you had a good selection of jewelry.”

“The jewelry case is here. Are you interested in a brooch, or perhaps earbobs?”

Daniel showed him the stock, and the stranger pulled a face. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind. The one locket there is passable, but not quite right. Have you anything more, perhaps a ring?”

“I’ve shown you all we have in stock. We had a grand opening drawing and gave away a gold bracelet. Since then, I’ve sold four other bracelets and a few other pieces of fine jewelry. I’ll be getting more in—probably tomorrow. If you have anything particular in mind, I’d be happy to special order it.”