Forbidden (10 page)

“I'm never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so thank you for the kind offer. Rhine, are you free to stay and help her?”

“I am. If we finish before you return, I'll lock up as well.”

The look Eddy shot him almost made him burst out laughing but he kept his features even.

“Thank you, Rhine,” Mary said. “Eddy, it's been a pleasure meeting you and I'm looking forward to working with you on our auction. The kitchen cabinets are fairly bare so you should have no trouble finding places to put the dishes.”

“Okay. It's been a pleasure meeting you as well. I'll see you soon.”

Once Mary and the children were gone, silence settled over the interior. Eddy looked at Rhine. He looked at her and said, “The last time we were together I put you in an uncomfortable position by asking you to have dinner with me. I'd like to apologize and hope you'll forgive me.”

Eddy had to admit she hadn't been happy with the inappropriate invitation, even if a part of her wished she'd been the type of woman who would've said yes. “Thank you for that.” There was a sincerity in him that spoke to her. “Let's agree to forget about it and go forward.”

“Thank you. I felt like an ass afterwards.”

“Good.”

He laughed, and then a seriousness came over him that seemed so intense she wondered what he would say next. “And if I had no fiancée? Or is that too inappropriate as well?”

“No. I've asked myself the same question.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Rhine we both know something's in the air between us, so we may as well be adults about it, but there are other barriers as well. Barriers some have lost their lives trying to get around.”

“I know.”

She chose her words carefully. “I value myself too highly to be any man's mistress, so marriage would have to be a given, and we would have to love each other so deeply that the barriers wouldn't matter, but your engagement makes this conversation moot so let's get to work on this crate, okay?”

He studied her for a few long moments and then nodded in agreement.

By noon they were done with the washing and the putting away of the donated items. The sawdust had been swept up and the now-­empty crate taken outside. As promised, he drove her back to the boardinghouse, and when they reached it, she said, “Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

Even though they hadn't revisited their conversation, Eddy could feel it hanging between them like something alive. “Do you visit the orphanage often?”

“Usually two or three days a week. I have a soft spot for Mary and the twins.”

“The twins look to be a handful.”

“That they are. Sounds like you may be there quite a bit, too, what with the auction and all.”

“I probably will. I'm looking forward to it though. You should think about what you might want to put up for bid.”

“I'll do that.”

She opened the door and he made move to come around and help her down, but she shook her head. “I appreciate the gesture but I can get down by myself.”

He sighed and looked off into the distance. When he turned back to her, he said, “My being a gentleman around you isn't moot, Eddy.”

“I appreciate that and I meant no offense. I'm just not accustomed to being fussed over.”

“Understood.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Thanks for your honesty back there—­about us.”

“You're welcome. It needed to be said, don't you think?”

“I do.”

Eddy was sure her attraction to him wouldn't evaporate overnight but hoped their talk would help spur the process along. She ignored the parts of herself that clung to tiny shoots of hope. “If Sylvie gets back in time, we're supposed to be going to the big baseball game. Are you playing?”

“I am, but I wouldn't call it playing. What my team does best is called losing.”

She laughed. “Maybe you'll get lucky this time around.”

“Only if the other side doesn't show up.”

She stepped down to the walk and closed the carriage door. “I'll see you there.”

“Good-­bye, Eddy.”

“
'Bye, Rhine.”

He drove away and a thoughtful Eddy went inside. She had no regrets about anything she'd said and felt better after having shed light on something they really needed to come to terms with.

Sylvie returned by early afternoon and Eddy was glad to see her.

“How'd the birth go? Everything okay?”

“Yes. This was the Pentwater's fourth child and the baby had already made its debut by the time I arrived. Mother and child are doing fine.”

“Good.”

“Everything turn out okay at the orphanage?”

“Yes, and Mr. Fontaine brought me back here. Do you still want to go to the baseball game?”

“Of course. Would you make us some sandwiches to take along?”

“I'd love to.”

L
ater that evening, Sylvie and Eddy loaded their provisions in the wagon bed and set out for the game. Eddy was looking forward to the outing, and to seeing Zeke Williams again now that she'd settled things with Rhine. “Where is the game held?”

“In a field out by the cemetery.”

“Is it usually well attended?”

“Oh, yes, the entire town comes out. It's quite an event. Of course our side always wins but it's still a lot of fun.”

Sylvie was right about the number of people. The field where they parked was filled with buggies and carriages and wagons. There were people of all races and ages, walking and carrying quilts and baskets. Well-­dressed White women wearing straw hats were escorted by men in suits and bowlers. Little children ran here and there, as did a few dogs. She spied Colored couples making their way, and like their White counterparts, the men were in suits and the women wore straw boaters, too. Eddy, who had no hat, hoped her plain blouse and skirt didn't make her appear too shabby, but she had no money for special clothes. She was still bent on California. Every extra penny went into her savings.

Sylvie carried the basket while Eddy grabbed the quilts, and they set out for the field. It was a short walk and once they arrived they went to their side. The White Republicans and their supporters were on the other. Sylvie seemed to know everyone and their progress was halted more than once by greetings and Sylvie introducing Eddy to people she wanted her to meet. The Black Republicans were on the field warming up. Jim Dade was at home plate hitting the ball into the outfield while his fellows scurried to catch it or chase it down. She was glad to see him. She spotted Zeke speaking with Sylvie's beanpole boarder, his cousin August, and Doc Randolph along the sideline. Seeing her, Zeke waved. Smiling and pleased by the recognition, she waved back. Eddy couldn't remember the last time she'd attended such an event. The air was full of excitement and she looked forward to the fun. Over on the other side, she spotted Rhine talking with a group of people. Beside him stood an extremely beautiful dark-­haired, young woman. As if sensing Eddy, he turned and met her eyes across the divide. He sent her an almost imperceptible nod before going back to his friends.

“That's Rhine's fiancée he's standing with,” Sylvie pointed out.

“She's very pretty.”

“Only on the outside.”

Surprised by that, Eddy turned her way and Sylvie added, “Natalie Greer is as spoiled as a pan of milk set out in the sun. I still can't believe she's his choice for a wife.”

Eddy glanced over again, taking in the woman's fashionable attire. At least she now knew what the fiancée looked like. She found it hard to fathom Rhine being with someone like that, but then maybe he saw something in his fiancée others did not. As Zeke, Jim, and the Black Republicans took the field, she put all thoughts of Rhine and his fiancée aside and joined the applause.

The White Republicans were trounced. Their team, made up of businessmen and bankers, were less fit than the carpenters, bricklayers, and day laborers fielded by their opponents. As the winners celebrated the ten-­to-­nothing victory and shook hands with the losers, a grinning Doc Randolph raised a bronze bust of President Lincoln high overhead while his side of the field cheered loud enough to be heard back in Denver. “Why's he holding up that bust?” Eddy asked.

“That's the trophy,” the applauding Sylvie explained. “The winning team gets to display it until next year's game. Doc says he's going to have Zeke build a permanent display for it in his home because the bust will never reside anywhere else.”

As the gathering ending and people began heading home, something made Eddy glance up, and there stood Rhine among a group of people. It was her turn to offer the slight nod. He returned the greeting and Eddy hurried off to catch up with Sylvie.

Chapter Nine

O
ver the next two weeks, Eddy settled into a routine. She got up at four o'clock every morning to prepare breakfast for her two favorite boarders, Gabe Horne and August Williams, and at eight silently served what was left to the oh so important Whitman Brown. True to their promises, the dining room patrons began spreading the word about her great cooking, and more and more people began showing up on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. She was delighted with the positive response and how nice everyone was to her. Zeke was eating there on a regular basis as well, but he respectfully maintained his distance, as if he didn't want to disturb her while she was working, and as if he was trying to gather his courage to approach her about seeing her outside of the dining room. The orphanage fund-­raiser plans were moving forward, they'd set the date for next month and the auction would be held at the mansion. She'd bumped into Rhine a few times at the orphanage and although they both recognized that what lay between them had not dissipated, they chose not to acknowledge it or speak about it and that suited Eddy just fine.

“A couple of the men have asked if you have a sweetheart,” Sylvia said one evening. Vera was in the kitchen as well. The seamstress often ate her evening meal with Sylvia and Eddy.

Eddy, washing dishes, found that amusing. “I hope you told them no, and that I'm not going to be around Virginia City long enough to encourage one.”

“Now, now. Don't be too hasty. Zeke's becoming a regular. You never know.”

Vera said, “I've seen the way he looks at you, but we must get you better clothing, my dear. You've been wearing that same skirt since you arrived.”

Not enjoying having her poverty pointed out, her chin rose. “It's the only one I have.”

“Then we need to fix that.”

“I don't have money to waste on frills.”

“Who said anything about you paying, and having more than one skirt isn't considered frivolous. You're representing Sylvie in that dining room and you need you to be better dressed.”

Keeping a lid on her temper, Eddy looked over at Sylvie, who, glaring at her friend, said, “Forgive her, Eddy. Vera sometimes doesn't think before she speaks.”

Instantly contrite, Vera dropped her head and sighed. “I'm sorry, Eddy. Sylvia's right. I just want you to have the respect you deserve. Everyone's talking about your great cooking.”

“And that's all I need them to talk about.” She dried the last dish and walked out of the kitchen door. She'd always had a temper, and rather than treat Vera to piece of it she took a seat outside. She didn't need reminding about her meager wardrobe. Every morning when she got out of bed and had to don the same skirt and blouse she'd washed out the night before, she told herself it didn't matter, but it did. Before the death of her parents, her father had provided well for his family. There hadn't been money to waste on luxurious things, but she'd had nice gloves and shoes to wear on special occasions. There'd been books and oranges for Christmas. The only nice thing she still possessed was her mother's locket. Sylvia paid well, but Eddy still had to use some of it for her room and board, and as she'd noted before, every extra penny went into her California fund.

When she went back inside the kitchen, Sylvie and Vera were no longer there, so she began putting together the dry ingredients for the morning's biscuits.

“Eddy?”

She turned to see Vera in the doorway. “Yes?” Her voice was cool.

“I came in to offer my sincerest apologies for hurting your feelings. As Sylvie said, I don't think sometimes, but I truly would like for us to be friends. Can you forgive me?”

Although Eddy had a temper, she wasn't one to hold a grudge, and Vera did appear sincere. “You're forgiven.”

“Thank you. I would like to propose something, and I want you to hear me out.”

Eddy waited.

“When I visited San Francisco a few weeks back there was a seamstress shop that provided little tea cakes and candies to its customers while they waited for their fittings. Although I am the leading seamstress in Virginia City, I'd like to up the ante a bit, just to keep the competition on their heels. Would you have the time to make me tea cakes maybe once or twice a week? I'd pay you of course, but I'd also like to pay you by making you a few skirts and blouses.”

Eddy scanned her face. It was very apparent that Vera was trying to broach that last part as delicately as possible. Eddy had her pride, but she wasn't a fool. She was as tired of wearing her well-­worn skirt and blouse as Vera was of seeing her in them, so she smiled. “I'd love to. How many cakes do you think you'll be needing?”

R
hine spent his evening at the city council meeting. This one was open to the public and it had been a boisterous one. The proposal to implement the vice tax came up for a vote. Natalie's father Lyman cast the deciding tie-­breaking vote that sent the proposal down to defeat, thus giving victory to men like Rhine, McFadden, and the other saloon owners. A round of shouting, threats, and fist shaking from the measure's supporters followed, but it didn't change anything. After the meeting adjourned, Rhine was glad to return to the noisy but less angry confines of his saloon.

Kent nodded a greeting as Rhine approached. “How'd the meeting go?”

“We're still in business, that's all I can say. What are we serving tonight?”

“Lamb. Jim's in the kitchen. Wants to talk to you.”

The hungry Rhine nodded and headed for the kitchen. He found Jim inside peeling and slicing potatoes for the Saratoga chips the customers were so fond of.

“Evening, Jim. Kent said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes. We have to change the Thursday menu.”

“Why?”

“Fishmonger Granger's promised his entire Thursday catch to little Miss Eddy, so no more fish fry for us on that night.”

Rhine was confused. “What? Why?”

“Because she's serving fish on Thursdays now, too, and folks are buzzing about her food like bees on flowers.”

Surprise replaced the confusion. “Is that the reason we've been low on attendance the last two weeks?”

“That would be my guess.”

So the beauty was not only haunting the edges of his mind, she was costing him customers.

Jim added, “Not sure if there's a way to change Granger's mind, but in the meantime I'll switch to quail or chicken for Thursdays, unless the farmers have promised her all those, too.”

“Let's hope not. Anything else?”

“No. That's it.”

“Okay. Is there something I can eat?”

Jim dished him up a plate of lamb, potatoes, and carrots from the pots on the stove and Rhine took it up to his office.

While eating, he pulled out his ledgers. Poring over the numbers of the past two weeks, he saw that the Union's profits were down about three percent. It wasn't a number that would make him close the doors but it was enough to make him wonder just what Eddy was cooking over at Sylvia's. He'd seen her a few times at the orphanage, and when he did, he was respectful and did his best not to dwell on her admission that she'd asked herself what might happen between them had he not been engaged. She surprised him with how blunt and direct she'd been that day, but then again, she'd been surprising him since the day she woke up in his bed and stubbornly tried to make it to the washroom under her own power, even though the desert had left her with none. It wouldn't be long before the men were lining up to eat at Sylvia's just to catch a glimpse of her, if they weren't already, and he was honest enough to admit that bothered him far more than the cut in his profit, because the attraction between them still lingered. He felt it and sensed she did, too, but it had to remain unrealized because he'd already chosen Natalie. He'd had dinner with her and her parents before the city council meeting and promised to escort her to Vera Ford's seamstress shop in the morning to view pictures of wedding costumes. He wasn't looking forward to it but she was his fiancée and it was what she wanted, so he'd go along and smile. It made no sense to be pining for Eddy because, as she said, the subject was moot. He just wished he knew how to make the pining stop.

T
he following morning, as Eddy stood in one of the nicely decorated back rooms of Vera's shop with her arms outstretched, she felt like a scarecrow as Vera's assistant, an Irishwoman named Shanna McKay, used her tapes to take Eddy's measurements. First had come ankles to waist, then waist to shoulders, followed by across her back, shoulders, and bosom. Once that was accomplished, soft cotton fabric was laid against her chest and she was told, “Just trying to get a look at what blouse material we want to use.”

“Something sturdier than this. It needs to hold up to my day.”

Shanna replaced it with another sample. “If you had your way, you'd be wearing denim from head to toe. Don't you want to look nice?”

“I'm a cook, Shanna. Nothing looks nice adorned with food stains.”

“Miss Vera said she wants you to look like a lady of means.”

“Well since I'm not, I'd prefer something practical.”

Vera entered on the heels of that. “Is she giving you a hard time, Shanna?”

“Not really.”

“Which means of course she is.”

Eddy smiled. “I need practical wear, Miss Vera. Gravy stains are hard to wash out.”

“Understood, dear, so let's do practical and pretty. You might want to go walking with Zeke or another gentleman at some point, and you'll be glad to have something nice.”

Eddy concurred but in reality thought she'd do more walking back and forth to the market than anywhere else. She was glad when Shanna finally put away the tapes and then heard, “Come back tomorrow, Eddy. I should have the fabrics cut out and we can do some fittings. We don't want her looking like she's wearing a potato sack, do we Miss Vera?”

“Certainly not.”

Eddy sighed. “I'll come by after breakfast.”

“Good. Now let me get back to my other customers, who are, by the way, Rhine Fontaine and his fiancée Natalie Greer.”

“Ah.” Eddy didn't want to see him with his fiancée, but since there was no way around it, she left the fitting room and walked out into the shop's main room. Her plan was to acknowledge them and quickly be on her way, but fate had other plans.

“Miss Carmichael?”

Eddy looked up into those emerald green eyes and silently chastised herself for still finding them and him so mesmerizing. “Mr. Fontaine.”

“It's a pleasure to see you again.”

Eddy offered an almost imperceptible nod. She'd seen him at the orphanage a few days ago.

“Miss Carmichael, my fiancée Miss Greer.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Eddy said.

The woman smiled falsely but gave no verbal reply. Vera's face took on a distinct coolness in response to the obvious slight, but Eddy let the rudeness roll off her back. Women like Greer thought it beneath them to exchange pleasantries with women like her, and it wasn't as if it was the first time Eddy had encountered the attitude.

Fontaine appeared perturbed as well before turning his attention back to Eddy. “Your cooking skills are causing such a stir my customers are deserting me.”

“Just earning my wage, Mr. Fontaine.”

His eyes never leaving Eddy's, he told his fiancée, “Miss Carmichael is the woman Jim and I rescued in the dessert. She's also spearheading this year's fund-­raiser for Mary's orphanage.”

Greer offered nothing in response.

Needing to distance herself from all that he was and the tiny shoots of hope that refused to die, Eddy said, “I have to get back to Miss Sylvia's and start dinner. I can't steal more of your customers if there's nothing for them to eat.”

He chuckled, and his smile made the shoots inch higher. To save herself, she turned to the fiancée and employing the good manners the woman obviously lacked, said, “A pleasure meeting you, Miss Greer.”

The blue eyes flashed dismissively, and Vera's jaw tightened in reaction.

Head held high, Eddy walked to the door. “Good-­bye, Miss Vera, and thank you.”

“You're welcome, honey.”

“Ms. Carmichael?” Fontaine called gently.

Eddy turned back.

“My apologies.”

Eddy realized he was apologizing for his fiancée's lack of grace, and she found that so endearing there were no words. A quick glance at Miss Greer showed her red-­faced. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Eddy didn't know or care. “Thank you,” she replied softly.

“You're welcome.”

With that, she pulled open the door and stepped out into the sunshine.

O
n the drive back to the Greer home, Natalie said, “Thank you for embarrassing me.”

“I was about to tell you the same thing.”

“I shouldn't have to converse with a woman like her.”

“Is that why you were so rude?” A big part of Natalie's problem was that her parents had never pointed out unbecoming behavior, so if they were to be married, it was left to him. “I'm a Republican and after we marry, more than likely we'll be entertaining people of color in our home. You'll be expected to be polite. Do you think you can do that?”

“Why, you're genuinely upset with me,” she said, sounding surprised. “She's just a Colored cook, Rhine. I don't have to converse with Coloreds or servants.”

“She's a human being, Natalie—­just like we are.”

She blew out a breath. “Oh all right. I doubt I'll ever see her again, but if I do, I'll try and remember that.”

“Thank you.”

“Although I still don't see why,” she pouted, and hooked her arm into his as he held the reins. “It's not like she means anything to either of us.”

Rhine was silent for the rest of the drive.