Authors: Lauraine Snelling
Amethyst (46 page)
October 12, 1887
Dear Aunt Colleen,
We have three boxes of new books at school. They arrived today. Pa says I must call him Mr. Chandler at school just like all the others. It seems strange to do that. I was wondering, do you think you could come home for Christmas? I will be Joseph in the Christmas pageant, and I wish you could be here.
I have a real horse of my own now. Pa bought it for me. His name is Big Red. He has a blaze down his face. I would call him Blaze, but Pa says we don’t want to confuse him, since there’s already a horse named Blaze here. Ada Mae rides with me, and now that Virginia is no longer going to school, Emily has the other horse. Pa takes one and goes earlier than we do. We could take a wagon, but soon the snow will come, and we will turn the wagons into sleighs again.
Please come home to see us.
Your friend,
Joel Chandler
Amethyst wiped her eyes.
Come home to see us
. He must have forgotten how long the train ride was. But she could do that. She had more than enough money now to buy a train ticket, and she still had her two gold pieces. She had cashed in the ticket that her father bought. If she stopped to think about it, she was on her way to being wealthy, according to the standards she used to have. If she were to go back to Medora, she would stay at Pearl’s and bring presents for everyone. Should she tell Mr. McHenry that she was thinking of coming?
Making different lotions wasn’t much different than baking different kinds of cakes.
The light that poured into her mixing room, as she finally decided to call it—laboratory sounded too formal—made it a joy to work in there. Using rose petals, lavender, bee balm, mint, and other fragrant flowers either singly or together, along with the ingredients in Mrs. Sampson’s receipt and others she read about and had Mrs. Grant order, Amethyst experimented with many combinations. She often forgot meals and needed to be reminded to sleep. With no one demanding anything of her, she played with her bowls and ingredients, added orange or lemon peel and spices such as cinnamon and ginger. Whenever she found something she really liked, she asked the servants to test her lotions to see which they preferred. Some of her creations ended in a jar in the kitchen to be used up so that she didn’t waste anything, and the servants had softer, smoother skin as a result. When she read in an herbal book about the healing properties of a strangelooking plant called aloe vera, she ordered that and squeezed the clear gel contained in the succulent leaves into her potions. When it took away the pain of a burn one cook suffered, she bought more plants and added it to a special lotion with mint and lavender and called it her healing lotion. Witch hazel joined her bottles of ingredients for the same reason.
Mrs. Grant invited her friends to sample the lotions that she and Amethyst liked best, and soon more and more people were inquiring when and where they could buy some. Amethyst delighted in their enthusiasm.
One evening, after a pleasant social at which she had explained to a group of businesswomen what she was doing and then had invited everyone to try two fragrances—lavender and bee-balm mint—that she and Mrs. Grant had chosen to produce for their first release, she sat down and answered the letters she’d received from her friends in Medora. The number of those who had written surprised her.
October 24, 1887
Dear Joel,
Thank you for writing to me. I am glad school is going well. I knew Mr. Chandler would be a better teacher than Mr. Finch. It must be a bit difficult when the teacher is your own pa. How good that the school has new books and that you like to read and study. I remember reading to you when you were little. Now you can read to me. Give everyone my best wishes.
Love,
Your aunt Colleen
October 24, 1887
Dear Pearl,
Your letters are so dear to me. I miss all of you more than I can say. Since you know what life is like here in Chicago, you understand what a shock it is to me and how I have struggled to fit in. Mrs. Grant is so good to me. We have two stores now that plan to sell our goods. Mrs. Grant says women are going to love our lotions and soaps, and has big plans for our company. She is like a whirlwind that never stops.
How I would love to show you my mixing room. When you enter, it is like walking into a flower garden filled with the most wonderful fragrances. I am learning to add color with some dyes that don’t have a bad effect on skin. The pink is especially nice, but it is the fragrances that I love the most.
I never dreamed I would be able to do things like speaking to a group of people or discussing orders and packaging with the buyers from the stores. While Mrs. Grant is in charge of that part of the business, she wants me to understand and take part in all aspects. She has found the most charming bottles for our lotions, and she says it won’t be long before we need help to prepare the lotions and fill the bottles. I will send you some as soon as I can.
Please tell everyone that I think often of my friends in Medora and I miss you all. I hope Mr. Hegland has found more buyers for his furniture. He should talk again with Mrs. Grant. She would find enough buyers to keep him busy from morning until night. He’d have to hire help. Please write whenever you can; I so enjoy your letters. Give Carly and Joseph hugs and kisses from me.
With a heart full of love,
Your friend,
Amethyst
October 24, 1887
Dear Mr. McHenry,
I am sorry it has taken me so long to answer your last letter, but I do appreciate hearing about your ranch and the seasons changing in Medora. There aren’t too many trees to see turning reds and gold here. But out in the backyard the gardener still has roses in bloom, and fall flowers are in their glory.
Our business is growing. We now have two fragrances of lotion, two of soaps, and our own special wrapping and labels. Mrs. Grant says that I am a natural businesswoman, but sometimes I would like to bake in the kitchen instead.
Amethyst stared at what she had written. Why was it so much easier to answer other letters than his? Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes for a moment and remembered his visit. Such a surprise when the maid informed her she had a gentleman caller waiting in the parlor….
“What is his name?”
“I don’t know, Miss O’Shaunasy. He just said he was a friend of yours and wanted to surprise you.”
Amethyst started to ask her another question but instead stopped briefly in front of the mirror to make sure her hair had stayed where it belonged and no crumbs from breakfast remained on her face. Then she made her way down the stairs to the parlor.
“Why, Mr. McHenry.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” The sun glinting through the stained-glass panes of the front windows painted him in a rosy sheen. But his smile held—held what? A hint of insecurity? Surely not Major Jeremiah McHenry, albeit retired.
“That you accomplished.” She motioned to the sofa. “Please have a seat, and I’ll order coffee.” Realizing the leaping of her heart might show in her eyes, she smiled again and reached to pull the bell rope. When she turned around, he was still standing, holding a package rather stiffly. Oh, of course, he would never sit until she did. The thought that she was no longer the servant twitched the corners of her mouth. She seated herself, grateful she wore a rich green gown with mother-of-pearl buttons down the tucked bodice rather than her working clothes.
“You look lovely.” He sat on the edge of the chair and handed her the package. “I thought this might remind you of home.”
As if I need further reminders
. Just having him here made her ache to see Pearl and her little ones, Joel, and the others. One thing she was learning was how to keep all her emotions from showing on her face. “Thank you.” She unwrapped the embossed paper carefully to find a suede-bound book inside. When she opened the page, a dried bluebell greeted her.
“From your place?” She remembered a swath of bluebells on the rise behind his cabin.
“Yes.”
“How can I help you, miss?” the maid in her dark dress with white mobcap and apron asked from the doorway.
“Coffee, please, and a plate of those lemon cookies, thank you.”
“Right away, miss.” She left without a sound.
Amethyst glanced up to catch a questioning look that McHenry immediately erased. She rolled her lips slightly to keep from smiling. Today the shoe was on the other foot, and she was enjoying every minute of it. “Tell me. What is the news from Medora?”
“Jacob Chandler returned from his visit to Pennsylvania to visit a friend who was dying. Mr. Dumfarthing left money in his will to build a church in Medora and to pay Reverend Chandler’s salary.”
“Really. How remarkable.”
“Indeed. Caught everyone, including Jacob, by surprise. The meeting to confirm our acceptance, ah, you would have enjoyed it. They’ve chosen a place for the new church at the bottom of the bluffs on the northeast corner of town, just a couple of blocks from the Catholic church. We’re talking of using local rock for the exterior walls. Will make it look like part of the land.”
“Will there be a steeple and bell?”
“Of course. And Jacob suggested the altar window be stained glass in memory of Evan Dumfarthing. Carl Hegland will make the altar, and he plans to carve the front doors.”
“It will be beautiful. What a change from using the schoolhouse.”
“Mr. Dumfarthing donated money for books and supplies for the school too. And money for expenses if any of the area children choose to go on to school.”
“Bless that man.” She smiled up at the maid who returned with a silver tray. “Thank you, Susan. Would you please invite Mrs. Grant to join us for coffee?”
“Of course. I’ll bring another cup.”
“Do you still drink it black, or would you care for cream or sugar?”
“Black, thank you.”
“How is Joel?” She lifted the ornate silver coffeepot, filled his cup, and passed it to him.