Every Perfect Gift (37 page)

She’d reopened the
Gazette
on the first Monday in December and some of her advertising clients had returned. The Answer Lady column was more popular than ever and was gaining a following outside of Hickory Ridge. Caleb went to the post office every afternoon to pick up the letters that arrived from as far away as Louisville and Birmingham, and every week he took a bundle of papers for delivery out of town. Just yesterday she’d mailed the first of her articles for Blue Smoke to a magazine in Boston. Perhaps one day she’d write more articles for Mr. McClure’s magazine too. If she was frugal, and if her good fortune continued into the new year, the
Gazette
could be running in the black by next summer.

These days her life seemed like a fanciful story, made up to chase away the dark of night. Until the day Ada Wentworth walked into her life, Sophie had had nothing of her own, not even a name. No home. No family. No toys or books, and no companion save Robbie Whiting and the orphanage director’s haughty cat. Even her threadbare dresses had first belonged to someone else.

But all that was behind her now. Now the
Gazette
was hers, the best achievement of her life. Now she had a home, a name. How could she be anything but grateful?

Downstairs the front door slammed shut, rattling the windows. “Sophie? Are you up?” Lucy’s voice echoed in the stairwell.

“Coming.” Sophie grabbed her shawl and hurried downstairs past the freshly cut Christmas tree Caleb had lugged into the parlor last night. Homesickness and childlike anticipation mingled inside
her. On Christmas Eve, after services at church, she and Lucy would gather with Ethan, Julian, Caleb, and Gillie to decorate it. Already Lucy’s cozy kitchen smelled of Christmas spices. Dozens of gingerbread and raisin cookies filled the jars on the counter.

She crossed the empty parlor and found Lucy in the kitchen putting away supplies.

“Good morning.” From her perch atop her step stool, Lucy smiled at Sophie, her eyes bright, her cheeks and nose still pink from the cold. “I’ve never seen Mr. Pruitt’s mercantile so crowded. Christmas shoppers everywhere.” She handed Sophie a sack of sugar. “I guess that’s what happens when folks wait till the last minute. I saw Caleb Stanhope just now, shopping in the ladies’ department.”

Sophie laughed and put away the sugar. She had completed her own shopping just after Thanksgiving: a red woolen shawl for Lucy, a delicate enameled bracelet for Gillie. More modest gifts than they deserved, but after giving Rosaleen her emergency money and writing a check for a new typewriting machine, there was barely enough left for the gift she wanted for Ethan—a polished brass spyglass like Miss Swint’s. The lady photographer had given Sophie the name of a manufacturer in Boston. Of course this one had never belonged to a famous pirate, but she still couldn’t wait for the look on Ethan’s face when he opened it.

She peered into Lucy’s shopping bag and took out a pound of rice and a box of beeswax candles. “I suppose Caleb was shopping for Gillie. She’s so in love he could give her a sack of pebbles for Christmas and she’d be perfectly happy.”

Lucy stood on tiptoe and shoved a sack of cornmeal into the pantry. “Have the Gilmans come to terms with her choice of a husband?”

Sophie set the candles on a shelf. “Mrs. Gilman isn’t exactly thrilled with the match. She thinks Caleb is beneath them.”

“Caleb is a fine man, from what I can tell, and besides, Gillie
is a grown woman. The only opinion that counts is hers.” Lucy finished putting away her supplies and set the teakettle on to boil. “I only hope she doesn’t leave town once she’s married. We need her at the infirmary. Hickory Ridge keeps growing. Doc Spencer is getting older. And who knows how long it will take to replace him, when that day comes.”

Sophie took two mugs from the pantry and poured a pitcher of milk from the jug in the icebox. She filled a platter with cookies and tossed another log onto the fire in the fireplace. “I don’t think you have to worry about Gillie leaving her infirmary. It’s very dear to her heart.”

The kettle whistled. Lucy spooned tea leaves into the teapot and poured the water in, filling the room with the heady scent of bergamot. She pulled out her chair and sat down. “What’s the matter? You look much too glum for this time of year. It’s almost Christmas, for goodness’ sake.”

“Ethan wants to go home to Savannah. Reclaim his family’s land. I can’t blame him for that.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “People don’t realize how important home is, until it isn’t there anymore.”

Lucy touched her shoulder. “You’re missing the Caldwells.”

Sophie’s eyes burned. “Yes. This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent apart since I was a child. It hardly seems like Christmas without them. But I suppose I have to grow up sometime. I’m not a ten-year-old orphan anymore.”

“I don’t think Mr. Heyward is headed for Georgia anytime soon. He told me yesterday that half my roof is about to cave in. He can’t take the old one off until warmer weather, and then who knows how long it will take him to put on a new one? I’d say you’re safe until at least next spring.” Lucy’s eyes glittered like copper pennies. “But I wouldn’t wait too long to say yes to his marriage proposal.” She lifted the tea strainer and poured the fragrant brew
into their cups. “After all, Ethan Heyward is the handsomest man in Hickory Ridge. When Blue Smoke reopens next spring, there will be a whole passel of young women parading through here, looking for a husband.”

Sophie nodded and stirred milk into her tea. Very soon she would have to gather her courage and make a choice. But not yet. “We saw Sheriff McCracken at Miss Hattie’s last night. He says Mr. Crocker’s trial is scheduled for the end of January. Both Ethan and Julian will need to be here for that.”

“Will you have to testify too?”

“I’m not sure. Ethan says it’s possible Mr. Crocker could admit to everything and avoid a trial altogether. Supposedly Mr. Crocker has a lawyer, a cousin from Birmingham, coming from Alabama to talk to the judge next week.”

“My stars. I hadn’t heard a word of this. That’s why I love having a newspaper reporter under my roof. Keeps me up-to-date on all the goings-on around here.”

The parlor clock chimed. Lucy got up and bustled about the kitchen. “It’s ten o’clock already, and I still have a ton of things to do. I need to bring that box of decorations down from the attic and wash my good cider glasses and find Aunt Maisie’s crystal candle-holders. I use them only for special occasions.”

“I’ll help you.” Sophie finished her tea and brushed cookie crumbs from her fingers.

“No, you won’t. You’re a paying guest—the only one until spring. I don’t want to run you off.”

“I don’t mind. I’d rather keep busy doing something useful so I won’t miss my family quite so much.”

A wagon rattled along the street and drew up outside the Verandah. Lucy parted the curtain and peered out. “It’s Mr. Heyward with a load of planks. I didn’t expect to see him here so close to Christmas. That man sure does love his work.”

She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Sophie. “Take this out to him. It’s cold as a banker’s heart this morning.” She winked. “Unless you can think of some other way to warm him up.”

Sophie blushed and took her coat from the hall tree in the parlor. “The tea will do nicely, thank you.”

Lucy laughed and propelled Sophie out the door.

Ethan looked up, his handsome face lit with pleasure. “Good morning. I figured you’d be out shopping for Christmas like the rest of Hickory Ridge.”

She shook her head and handed him the steaming cup of tea. “I had to ship presents home to Texas anyway, so I took care of everything all at once.”

He took the tea and sipped it gratefully. “Makes sense.”

“What are you doing here this morning? Lucy wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I know it, but I got to thinking about the rotten boards on the back porch and figured I’d replace them before somebody falls through and breaks a leg.” He gestured toward the wagon that was piled high with new boards and a box of carved posts. “Then I figured as long as I was replacing the boards, I might as well build a new railing too.”

Ethan drained his cup and handed it back to her. He picked up one of the delicately carved rail posts. “I borrowed Sage Whiting’s shop, and we made these. I think Sage enjoyed the chance to escape his desk for a while.”

“I’m sure he did.” Sophie ran her fingers over the satiny wood. “They’re beautiful. Lucy will love them. But, Ethan, I’m not sure she can afford this—not after all the other repairs she’s already made. And not when she still has the roof to replace.”

“I don’t expect payment. It’s my present to her. She’s my first customer since I left Blue Smoke, and I’d like to do something to show my appreciation. Besides, it’s good advertising for my new company.”

“Well, it’s very generous. She’ll be thrilled.”

“I hope so.” He pulled on his heavy gloves and began unloading the wagon, sliding the new boards onto the frosty ground. “I brought you a present too.” His blue eyes caught hers and held. “I know it’s still a week until Christmas, but I couldn’t wait.”

He looked so hopeful and so earnest, like a young boy smitten for the first time. Her heart expanded with love for him. How could any woman resist such a sweet show of affection? “If you chose it, I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

He left his task, clasped her hand, and led her to the rear garden where a tiny gazebo stood amid a tangle of winter vines. He took a small, elaborately wrapped package from his coat pocket and pressed it into her hands. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

She placed a hand on his sleeve. “I have something for you too. Wait just a minute. I’ll go get it.”

He drew her close, his arms solid and strong around her, his breath warm against her cheek. “Later, Sophie. Stay right here with me. It’s the only present I really want.”

She stepped into his embrace and lifted her face for his kiss, oblivious to the cold mist that began to fall. He settled his lips on hers in a tender, lingering kiss that left her breathless and wanting more.

At last they drew apart, and he smiled down at her. “Open your present.”

She fumbled with the paper and ribbon. Inside a small velvet box, a fine gold locket on a matching chain winked in the dull light. “Oh, Ethan, it’s exquisite.”

“I had it made for you in Baltimore.” He took it from her and turned it over. On the back, their initials were engraved, entwined among delicately carved flowers and vines. “You know my heart. I hope this will turn out to be an engagement present—something you will wear every day of our life together and pass along to our
granddaughter someday. But even if you decide not to marry me, I want you to keep it as a reminder of how much I love you. How much I will always love you.”

Her eyes and her heart too full for words, she turned her back to him and lifted her hair. He fastened the locket around her neck, his gloved fingers lightly brushing against her skin. She released a long sigh.

“You do love me?” he asked. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

“Of course I haven’t,” she whispered.

“Just don’t keep me waiting too much longer,” he said, drawing her close again. “The suspense is killing me.”

THIRTY-TWO

“Sophie. Wake up. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Sophie burrowed further into the feather mattress and willed herself to stay inside this beautiful dream where Ada was calling to her, gently rousing her from sleep. Ten minutes more beneath the warm covers and she would rise to help Lucy finish her holiday preparations. Later they would dress for the evening service at church. Sophie was looking forward to it.

“Sophie?”

Sighing, she opened one eye and looked out the window at a leaden sky. The icy rain that had lashed the Verandah all night had turned to snow. Soft flakes drifted past the window and formed lacy patterns on the windowpane.

She threw back the covers and felt around on the floor with her feet, searching for her shoes as the last vestiges of her dream dissipated, leaving her feeling melancholy. How she missed home. Ada’s voice had seemed so real it was almost as if she were standing right there beside the bed.

She found her shoes and shoved her arms into the sleeves of her woolen dressing gown.

A knock sounded at her door.

“In a minute, Lucy.” She reached for her hairbrush and gave her hair a couple of hasty strokes. “I’m barely awake.”

The door opened. She looked up. Her hairbrush slipped from her fingers and clattered onto her dressing table. “Ada?”

“Darling.” Ada Wentworth Caldwell rushed across the room and embraced her. “Happy Christmas.”

Sophie blinked, overcome with happiness and astonishment. “You’re here? I was . . . I thought . . .”

“Lucy let me come up to wake you.” Ada’s wide gray eyes shone with love and amusement. “Apparently you were sleeping quite soundly.”

“I heard your voice, but I thought it was just a wishful dream.” She clasped both Ada’s hands, her questions tumbling out. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? When did you get here? Did Wyatt come? How are Wade and Lilly?”

“Wyatt saw how much I was missing you, and he gave me this trip as a Christmas present. We’ve only just arrived. He and the children are still at the depot collecting our baggage, but I could not wait another moment to set my eyes on you.” Ada laughed and drew back, eyes appraising Sophie. “You look wonderful. Being in love agrees with you.”