Debra Ullrick (9 page)

“Miss Abigail Bowen, if you will let me by, I will go and help them. That way you’ll get your furniture much faster.”

“Oh, indeed, I shall let you by, Mr. Harrison Kingsley,” she said with a dramatic flare and using her imitation of a British accent. Abby stepped out of his way and let him by.

He met Fletcher just as he hopped down from the wagon he’d ridden in on.

Seeing Harrison and Fletcher side by side, she noticed they both had wide shoulders and trim waists. Fletcher’s physique, however, was lankier than Harrison’s.

Both had powerful arms. Very powerful arms, if the bulge in their muscles when they hoisted the dresser out of the wagon was any indication.

Both were very handsome. Harrison especially, whose grayish-blue eyes had that unique hazel half-moon, and whose hair resembled the color of pecans. Yum. She loved pecans.

Fletcher’s eyes, on the other hand, were the color of molasses, and his hair, a ginger-blond.

Both were tall, Fletcher a bit taller than Harrison, too tall for her taste. She preferred Harrison’s height.

With one on each end of the dresser, Harrison and Fletcher turned and headed toward her, ending her comparisons.

Movement behind them yanked her attention to it. A little girl, clutching her doll, followed them closely behind.

“Where do you want this, Abby?”

“Oh.” She blinked and stepped out of their way. “Um. Uh. Follow me.” She glanced back at the pretty little girl with the ebony hair and whose brown eyes were like her father’s, and smiled.

“That’s my daughter, Julie,” Fletcher answered her unvoiced question.

One of Julie’s shoulders rose, her eyelids lowered and her thumb went to her mouth.

“Hello, Julie. I’m Abby. It’s nice to meet you.”

The girl never looked up.

“Can you say hello to Miss Abby?”

Ebony curls swung with the shake of her head.

Fletcher shrugged his apology to Abby, then the two men moved forward.

Abby rushed ahead of them and on up the steps, glancing back down at the lovely child who continued to follow her father like a puppy.

Upstairs in her bedroom, they placed the dresser where she wanted it, and then headed back downstairs. Before the little girl could follow them outside, Abby called her. “Julie. Would you like some cookies and milk?”

Julie’s eyes widened. She looked over at her father.

“Yes, you may.”

“There are two little boys outside who I’m sure would like some, too. Shall we go see?”

The child gave a quick nod.

She quickly instructed Fletcher and Harrison where she wanted the pieces to go before extending her hand out to Julie.

Julie nestled her small hand into Abby’s, both warming and saddening Abby’s heart with the gesture. But Abby refused to feel sorry for herself and instead wanted to do her best to ease the shy girl’s discomfort. As they headed to the kitchen, she wondered where Julie’s mother was. Without asking the child directly, she decided to inquire in a roundabout way. “That’s a beautiful doll you have there. What’s her name?”

No response.

Well, that didn’t work. She’d try something else. “Does she look like your mama?”

Julie hiked a shoulder.

That didn’t work, either. Abby wasn’t about to give up, though. “Does your mama have pretty brown hair like your dolly does?”

Julie’s only response, another hiked shoulder.

Not knowing what else to say to get the little girl to open up to her, Abby decided to drop the subject. She refused to ask the girl outright and risk upsetting her.

A few steps from the kitchen, Abby barely heard the little girl when she finally spoke, “My mama left us.”

“What do you mean she left you?”

“She took sick and left us. Mama lives with Jesus now.” Sorrow covered her face and warbled through her tiny voice.

Abby stopped and squatted until she was eye level with the child. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry your mama is gone. Do you remember her at all?”

Her curls bounced as she nodded her head. “She was pretty. Like you. Only her hair looked like mine. Papa says I look like her.” Her eyes brightened and her tiny lips curled upward.

“Was she as sweet as you?”

“Uh-huh.” Her head nodded slowly. “She used to make me cookies and give me milk.”

“She did? Well, let’s see if we have some cookies like your mama used to make, shall we?”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a passel of exuberance.

Abby stood. Through the dining room window, she caught a glimpse of Harrison’s boys, still playing and having a grand old time, something they needed desperately. Not wanting to interrupt that, and knowing Zoé would feed them when they were finished playing, she decided not to bother them.

Together, hand in hand, she and Julie walked into the kitchen. Cinnamon and apple, along with yeasty bread, floated in the air.

Bent over the open oven door, Veronique drew out a pan of cookies, turned around and screeched when she saw them. The pan of cookies nearly flew from her hand. “You gave me such a fright,
mademoiselle.
”

Abby giggled. “I’m sorry, Veronique. I didn’t mean to.” She turned her attention on to Julie. “Julie, this is Miss Veronique Denis. Veronique, this is Miss Julie Martin.”

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you.” Veronique curtsied, and Julie tried to mimic her but it came out rather awkward.

“Nice to meet you, too, Miss Dee—” she paused, frowning “—Miss Dee-niece.” She smiled, rather pleased with herself that she’d pronounced Veronique’s last name correctly.

“Should we see if Miss Denis’s cookies are anything like your mama’s?”

Julie nodded, sending her curls bouncing yet again.

“What kind do we have today?”

“Oatmeal. With apple chunks and walnuts,” Veronique replied.

Julie tugged on Abby’s skirt and cupped her hand. Abby leaned down and the girl spoke in her ear, “She talks funny.”

Abby whispered back into her ear loud enough so that Veronique could hear. “She sure does talk funny. That’s because she’s from France.” Abby winked at Veronique, who tried to look upset but failed.

“Where’s France?” Julie asked.

“It’s way across the ocean. A long ways away from here.”

“Oh,” was all Julie said.

Abby grabbed two glasses and two plates from off the shelf and set them on the table while Veronique retrieved the milk from the cellar. After the glasses were filled with milk, she settled Julie on the sturdiest one of the kitchen chairs, and sat down to join her. “Veronique, would you like to join us?”

“No, thank you,
mademoiselle.
I have to finish the bread.” She smiled at Abby and Julie and turned back to the wad of dough on the breadboard counter.

Julie slid from her chair and turned two chairs sideways. She climbed back on her chair and looked over at each one. “Bobby and Billy need cookies and milk, too.”

Abby didn’t mean to but she stared at the little girl. “Are Bobby and Billy your imaginary friends?”

Julie frowned. “No. You said two boys might like to join us. When I didn’t see them, I thought you invited my brothers, Bobby and Billy.”

Before she could stop them, Abby’s eyes went wide. “You have brothers?”

She shook her head and the sadness was back. “Not anymore. They live with Jesus now, too.”

Abby couldn’t believe her ears. This little girl and her father had lost so much. She was surrounded by people who had endured more heartache than anyone should ever have to.

Abby’s thoughts went to Harrison’s sons. “Were your brothers twins?”

Julie’s curls wiggled as she shook her head. “Bobby was ten and Billy was eight. I’m four.” She held up four small fingers.

Same age as Harrison’s sons.

“Bobby and Billy went fishin’ when they weren’t ’pose to. Papa said they fell in the pond and drownaded.” Julie tilted her head. “What is drownaded?” Julie looked at Abby with expectant eyes.

Abby peered over at Veronique. Veronique turned the palms of her hands upward, pinched her lips and shook her head. With a look of empathy, she turned back to kneading her bread dough.

How on earth was Abby going to answer that one?

“Julie, are you being a good girl for Miss Abby?” Much to Abby’s relief, Fletcher chose that moment to step inside the kitchen. Harrison was right behind him.

Harrison looked at the table and then at the empty chairs. “Where’s Graham and Josiah?”

“Who’s Jos—Jos. Who’s Sigha and Grrahm?” Julie asked.

“My sons.”

Julie looked over at Abby.

“They’re the two boys I told you about, Julie. But they were having so much fun playing in the mud, I didn’t have the heart to bother them,” she said more for Harrison’s sake than Julie’s.

Julie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like mud.” She looked over at the empty chairs and shook her tiny finger. “Billy. Bobby. Don’t you go playin’ in the mud, or you won’t get any cookies.”

“Billy? Bobby?” Fletcher’s voice caught, his face paled. His gaze swung to Abby’s, then back to his daughter.

Abby didn’t know what to say or do. All she knew was she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. This was a conversation between father and daughter, not her, or anyone else. She sent Harrison a silent look to get her out of this situation.

“Abby, do you have time to show me how you want the parlor furniture situated?”

She pressed her palms on the table and rose quickly. “I’ll be happy to.” Abby glanced at Veronique, who worked her dough faster and harder than necessary. She tossed the huge lump into a bowl and covered it with the decorative, empty flour sack they’d washed and now used for a towel. With a quick glance at Abby, she rushed from the room.

Her focus slid to Julie, who seemed completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere in the room. Julie took a drink of her milk and a bite of her cookie, swinging her legs crossed at the ankle as if all was right in the world.

Abby then turned her attention onto Fletcher. As if he understood her discomfort, he walked to the table and sat in the chair she’d just vacated. “Hurry up and finish your milk and cookies, sweetheart, so Papa can finish unloading the rest of the furniture.”

That was the last words she heard as she and Harrison left the kitchen together. More upset than she’d been in a long time, she wondered how much more her heart could take, and why God was allowing so many children to cross her path. And not just any children, either, but motherless ones. Didn’t He know how hard this was on her? And didn’t He care? At that moment, the urge to scream at God, to kick something, to punch something, bombarded her until she thought her heart would burst from the overflow of pain attacking it. She brushed at a tear that had slipped out.
Why, God, why?

“Are you all right, Abby?” Harrison asked from beside her.

She stiffened, remembering that she wasn’t alone. She drew in a long breath and forced a smile onto her face before looking up at him. “I’m fine.”

Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Sure you are. Care to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about,” she answered with a fake lilt to her voice.

“If you say so.”

She hadn’t fooled him, but neither did she want to talk about it. David had made it perfectly clear that a woman who couldn’t bear children wasn’t a desirable woman, much less a human being.

While she knew that she and Harrison would never be anything more than business acquaintances, she didn’t want him to know she was one of those undesirable women. It would change everything, and she rather liked that he treated her with respect. As if she were really someone. Since he would be leaving in a few months’ time, he need never know the truth about her. She would enjoy the fantasy she had created in her mind just a little longer.

Chapter Seven

T
he way things had gone the day before, Harrison couldn’t wait to get to Abby’s house to see if she really was all right. All afternoon she had been quiet, subdued even. Every time he had inquired about it, she plastered on that same phony smile and acted as if everything was fine. Well, she hadn’t fooled him. Not one little bit.

Unlike Boston, the June mornings here were nippy. One would think because of the high altitude and being that much closer to the sun that it would be warm, but that was not the case. Not that he’d experienced so far in the few days he’d been here.

He made his way down the winding, steep incline toward town. A chipmunk darted out in front of him, followed in hot pursuit by another. Birds sang in the pine and aspen trees that surrounded the road like tall pillars. Gnats swarmed the air just several yards ahead in front of him. All of this he found enchanting. This place was nothing like Boston.

The day before, he had rented a furnished, fourteen-room house up in the trees on the side of the mountain from a sweet elderly lady who was thrilled to know someone would be living in it, even if it was only for three months.

He’d been fortunate to hear from Lucy at her diner that Mrs. Morrison was looking to rent her place. Lucy had also informed him that the woman had taken a smaller house in town because with her age, it was just too hard in the winter to travel the half mile up the trees. Didn’t seem that far to him. But then again, he wasn’t an old woman living alone, either.

“Siah. That mine.” Graham’s voice shattered Harrison’s thoughts. He yanked his gaze down at his sons sitting next to him in the buggy and at the carved Indian in question.

“Na-uh. It mine.” Josiah yanked the wooden toy from Graham’s hand.

“Josiah, give that back to Graham. You have the cowboy. You can’t have them both. You boys need to learn to share.”

“But I want Indian. Gam can have cowboy.”

“Which one did you bring? The cowboy or the Indian?” he asked, not understanding why when they each had a cowboy and an Indian that they didn’t bring both of them so they wouldn’t fight.

Josiah dropped his head. “The Indian.”

“Well, if that’s what you brought, then you need to give Graham back his cowboy.”

Josiah pursed his lips and his brows puckered.

“Now, Josiah.”

The cowboy smacked against the palm of Graham’s hand when Josiah grudgingly handed it over to him. He crossed his arms and protruded his lips in a pout. For a brief moment, Harrison closed his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration.

Both the cowboy and the Indian had been carved to straddle the wooden carved horses they’d brought with them. Did the difference between the Indian headdress and the cowboy hat matter that much to his boys? A toy was a toy as far as Harrison was concerned. Then again, he’d never had to share any of his. What little he’d had as a child, anyway.

Harrison swatted a horse fly that had plagued them persistently on their journey down the mountain to Abby’s house.

He hated having to bring his sons to work. Over the past eight months or so, he’d had to do just that a few times because his nannies had resigned. Make that more like making a hasty retreat with only a moment’s notice. All he could do now was hope that someone would answer the ad he and Staimes had placed on the bulletin boards all around town late yesterday afternoon. And answer it soon.

“Whoa.” He brought the horse to a stop in front of Abby’s mansion.

Josiah leaped off his seat and took a giant step.

Harrison grabbed a handful of the back of his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going, young man? Sit down.”

Indecision tumbled across Josiah’s face.

“Now.” Harrison used his sternest voice, and it worked. “You will be spending time with Miss Denis this morning. I want you to mind what she says. If I hear any report that either of you have misbehaved, you will be disciplined. Do you boys understand?”

They both nodded.

“Very well. Now, wait there until I come around and get you.”

Harrison helped them down. Grasping their hands in his, the three of them walked up the steps to the front door. He raised the lion-head door knocker and tapped it thrice.

Seconds later, the door swung open. “Good morning.” Abby’s voice was bright and cheery and her smile appeared genuine, unlike the day before. Relieved to see her doing better, his own lips curled upward.

Her gaze went down to his boys. “How are Josiah and Graham doing this morning?” She squatted down and studied the toys in their hands. “What do we have here? A cowboy and an Indian? Oh, and horses, too. What are their names?”

“My horsey’s name is Little Eagle and this is Big Feather.” Josiah held up his wooden Indian. “Daddy helped name ’em.” His son smiled up at him.

“My horsey is Bucky. And my cowboy—” he held up the cowboy for her to see “—is named Daddy.” Graham tucked the cowboy to his chest, but his eyes were fixed on Harrison. “I name it Daddy ’cause I love my daddy.”

Harrison’s heart melted and swelled with love for his sons. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for either one of them.

“Well, I think your father and you two boys did a fine job of naming them.” She turned those smiling eyes of hers up at him, and theirs locked for a brief but meaningful moment. “Now, shall we go inside? Miss Denis has lots of fun activities planned for you this morning. Are you ready to have some fun?”

Their eyes brightened, and they both nodded.

“Very well, then. Shall we?” She rose and offered each of them a hand. Graham and Josiah slipped their hands into hers, and they preceded him inside. How well the twins looked with her. As if they were a family. That thought stopped him cold. They weren’t a family. And never would be. She had her life here, and he had his back in Boston. Love, and especially marriage, were not on his agenda here.

* * *

The night before while lying in bed, as she had so many times in the past, Abby struggled with her feelings of unfairness about how she could never bear a child of her own. She confessed her anger and asked God’s forgiveness for it and for her poor attitude concerning the whole thing. Josiah, Graham and Julie were all delightful children, and even though they were a painful reminder of what she could never have, right now they needed her, of that she was certain. So, putting her own feelings aside, she would be there for them as much as possible.

Making sure the boys were settled in with Zoé instead of going to the parlor as was their usual routine, Abby led Harrison to her office. The day before, before the furniture was delivered, Colette had cleaned it from top to bottom.

When she and Harrison stepped inside, she stopped and gazed up at him, wondering what he thought of the furnished room they would be sharing for three months. “Well, what do you think? It looks quite lovely with the new furniture, does it not?”

She followed his perusal of the room. The dark-stained oak desk with the three squares of a lighter shade of oak in the front and on each side outlined with a gold, leafy vine design looked regal in the bright, airy room. The three floor-to-ceiling, matching cabinets behind it and the matching bookshelf alongside the massive desk added to its appeal.

The sculptured oak chair with the black, padded-leather seat and arm rests behind the desk reminded her of Queen Anne furniture, as did the two chairs situated in front and off to the side of the desk. Only they were padded with a burgundy and gold material that resembled hundreds of miniature checker game boards.

A blue, gold and burgundy Victorian rug, one of the few perfectly salvageable pieces that had been left behind, the two new carved burgundy bench settees, cream-colored sofa, two end tables and the coffee table that matched the desk filled the other side of the office.

Knowing he’d finished viewing the whole room, she looked up at him with eager anticipation.

“Very nice, Abby. I fear, however, that it makes my office back home look quite shabby. I must say, you have excellent, excellent taste in decor.”

Abby beamed under his praise. “How very kind of you to say so. Thank you.” She clasped her hands together. “Well, would you like some coffee or tea while we wait for Fletcher to arrive with our bid?”

“No, thank you. But if you do, please do not let me stop you.”

“I’m fine. I thought while we were waiting that we could start putting together our order for the things we will need for the business.”

“Very well.”

Abby grabbed everything she needed and motioned for Harrison to sit on the sofa. They went over everything they needed and had the list almost completed when Colette entered the room. “Excuse me,
mademoiselle,
but Mr. Martin is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Colette. Send him in.”

“
Oui,
Miss Abby.”

Abby smiled at how formal Colette, Veronique and Zoé were in the presence of others. Even though she’d told them they didn’t have to be, and that they were family, she had to admit, it made her feel as if they respected her—something she found quite nice.

Fletcher stepped into the room. “Morning.” Was it just her or did she detect apprehension in his voice and on his face?

Harrison stood and the two men shook hands.

“I wonder if I might have a word with you before we begin,” Fletcher asked Harrison.

That surprised Abby. What could the two men possibly have to talk about that didn’t include her? Well, whatever it was, it was none of her business. Or was it? Did it have something to do with the Royal Grand Theater, the name she’d finally decided on? Whatever it was, if they wanted her to know, they’d tell her. No sense in getting fidgety over something that may or may not have anything to do with her or the business.

Harrison glanced down at her with a question on his face, too. Best not to read anything into that, either. “Excuse me, Abby. We’ll be right back.”

Abby rose. “No, you gentlemen stay here. I’ll run and get us something to drink. It’s warming up outside rather fast. Would either of you care for some cool tea?”

They both liked that idea, so she scurried out of the room, retrieved the tea from the cool cellar and headed back to the office. Two feet away from the door, she overheard, “I don’t know how to break the news to her.”

What news? She stood outside the door, waiting and listening to see if they would say more, but their voices were too low, so she stepped into the office and set the beverage tray on the coffee table. “Here you go, gentlemen.” She handed each of them a glass. “Would either of you like sugar or lemon in your drink?” Both declined. After adding lemon and sugar to hers, she sat down beside Harrison. “Shall we get down to business? Do you have your bid ready?”

Fletcher and Harrison exchanged a look, a rather disturbing one at that.

“Something’s not right. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Her stomach twisted into knots while waiting for them to answer.

“I want you to know—”

“Allow me.” Harrison cut Fletcher off.

Fletcher nodded.

“Remember when we talked about the repairs and the cost?”

She swallowed, wondering just how much they were going to be. While she had plenty of money, she still had a lot to buy, and she didn’t want to spend it all on this place. After all, she needed money to live on until the business took off. “Yes.”

“There is no easy way to say this, I’m afraid. The repair costs are massive.”

She tilted her head, furrowing her forehead. “I don’t... I didn’t see that much that needed fixing.”

“To the untrained eye, there isn’t. I mean no offense by that. But unless you were a carpenter, you wouldn’t notice certain things.”

“Like what?”

“Here, let me show you.” Harrison handed her Fletcher’s itemized bid.

Abby’s eyes trailed down the long list of repairs. With each one her eyes grew. By the time she got to the bottom figure, her eyes had all but popped out of her head. The amount was ten times the amount she’d calculated they would be, but that wasn’t what bothered her. She stood, walked over to the window and draped her arms around her waist.

Behind her, she heard Fletcher say he’d be back later. Without saying goodbye to him, she stared out the window.

* * *

Concerned for Abby, Harrison stepped up alongside her. “Are you all right?”

She gazed up at him. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed.

“All right. I admit it was quite a shock.”

“I know it’s an exorbitant amount. One you probably weren’t expecting. Perhaps I can help.” How, he didn’t know. Until he received his inheritance, his funds were limited, and he couldn’t even take out a loan at his bank.

“It’s not about the money, it’s about the time. All those repairs are going to take much longer than I expected. It’s just disappointing is all. But—” she turned her beautiful face upward toward him “—God will take care of it. He always does. As far as I can tell, Fletcher’s figures are reasonable considering all that needs fixed around here. I think we should hire him. What do you think?”

The woman amazed him. She’d just had a huge blow and yet here she was as bubbly as ever saying God would take care of it. Well, he hoped for her sake that her God did. “I think you’re right.”

“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together. “Then let’s not delay another minute. Let’s go find him and see when he can get started. The sooner he does, the better. What should we have him start on first?” Not waiting for his answer, she continued. “The upstairs can wait. We need to have him work on getting the foundation fixed first. Then... Oh, why don’t we wait and see what he says? Then afterward, if you don’t have plans, would you and the boys like to have lunch with me?” He had never met a woman that could talk as fast as she could. Her excitement was contagious.

“Mademoiselle,”
he imitated the three French sisters, “lead the way.”

Abby laughed, a sound as pleasing and soothing as a fine musical instrument.

Without thinking it through, he reached for her hand and looped it through his arm. The connection sent a warmness flowing through him. He gazed down at her, wondering if she felt it, too.