Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (35 page)

"That's incredibly generous," Cameron said.

"I think so too," Candice said. "I didn't expect it."

"Is that why you've been so happy lately?"

"It's one reason."

"What's another?"

Candice offered a sheepish smile.

"I'm getting ready for a new assignment."

Cameron stared at her.

"You don't mean?"

"I do," Candice said. She took a breath and gave her husband a loving gaze. "We're going to have our family before we have our farm."

CHAPTER 63: CAMERON

Boston, Massachusetts – Monday, September 14, 1925

The restaurant, a former tavern, was a monument to another time. Dim, noisy, and filled with sturdy tables and chairs, the kind that could withstand an occasional fight, McCain's was a place where workers argued politics, ruffians patted backs, and a gentleman from a much better neighborhood had once lost himself in grief.

"Do you think this will work?" Candice asked.

"I should ask you that," Cameron said. "
You
know your cousin."

Candice frowned.

"I know he's lonely. He told me that much last night."

Cameron reached across the table and clasped his wife's hands.

"Loneliness is good. As long as it's a temporary affliction, it's good. It helps blind men see the light and selfish men look beyond their own interests."

Candice smiled.

"I see my poet's back. You've seemed wistful lately."

"I've been hopeful," Cameron said.

"Can't you be both?"

"In my case, I can. I'm wistful about an imperfect past and hopeful about a more perfect future," Cameron said. "I'm going to give our child the kind of childhood I wanted growing up, the kind of childhood every kid deserves."

Candice tilted her head and fixed her gaze.

"I'm glad you feel that way. I had feared that you wouldn't. We hadn't really talked much about having a family. We hadn't talked much about anything."

Cameron smiled.

"Are you saying we rushed into things, Mrs. Coelho?"

Candice blushed.

"I'm saying I should have shown more restraint."

Cameron chuckled.

"You did nothing wrong."

Candice sighed.

"I hope Mother agrees. It won't be long before she does the math."

Cameron squeezed Candice's hands.

"She won't care. She'll be happy to be a grandmother again. She'll be happy that her wayward daughter has finally settled down. Trust me on this."

"OK. I will," Candice said. She turned her head and fixed her eyes on someone or something near the front door. "We should change the subject. Ted is coming."

"Sorry I'm late," Theodore Bell said as he reached the table for four. "I had to deal with a few disgruntled clients this afternoon."

"There's no need to apologize," Candice said. "We haven't been here long."

Ted took his seat and picked up a menu.

"Have you ordered?"

"No," Candice said. "We opted to wait."

"Have you decided what you want?"

"No."

"I would offer a recommendation, but I have never been to this restaurant. I have never been to this
neighborhood
," Ted said. "Why did you pick this place?"

Candice grinned.

"Why does anyone pick a dark, noisy, dangerous establishment in a rough part of town? They want adventure."

Ted laughed.

"You haven't changed."

The newlyweds exchanged knowing smiles.

"I wouldn't say that," Candice said.

"I would," Ted said. "You're still the same girl who used to catch snakes, climb trees, and jump from haylofts. You're not happy unless you're living on the edge."

"That's what my husband says."

"Speaking of haylofts, or former haylofts, what is your mother going to do with the farm now that nature has given it back to God? Is she going to sell it?"

"No," Candice said. "She's going to give it to us. In fact, she already has."

"Really?" Ted asked.

Candice nodded.

"She gave it to us as a wedding present. We're going to use the insurance money to rebuild the house and the barn, try our hand at farming, and raise little monkeys in the cornfields."

Ted smiled, shook his head, and looked at Cameron.

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I think so."

"I hope so," Ted said. "Indiana is a far cry from Rhode Island, though I must admit it has its charms. I spent many happy summers there."

"How often did you visit?" Cameron asked.

"When I was young, I visited often. My mother wanted my sister and me to be close to our country cousins, so she put us on a train every June. She considered clean air and hard work to be the keys to a happy life," Ted said. He laughed. "I didn't care so much for hard work at the time, but I liked clean air. The farm was a nice break from the city."

"Do you like it here? Do you like Boston?"

Ted nodded.

"I do. I like the city, my job, and, for the most part, my present circumstances, but I often wonder whether there is more to life than watching baseball and making a dollar."

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked.

"I mean it's not fun growing old alone," Ted said. "I envy you. I envy my dear cousin. I can see from her face that she has found the happiness she deserves."

"You can find it too," Candice said.

Ted chuckled.

"You always were an optimist."

"I think she's right, Ted," Cameron said. "You can't—"

Cameron started to say more but stopped when the server, a petite strawberry blonde with a pleasing round face, emerald eyes, and a warm smile approached the table. Prudence Williams, waitress, angel of mercy, and hopefully the future Mrs. Theodore Bell, had arrived.

"I apologize for the wait," Prudence said. "We had a little problem in the kitchen. Have you folks decided what you would like to order?"

"We haven't," Ted said. "We just got here."

"Oh. I can come back in a few minutes."

"No," Cameron said. "Please stay. I may need some guidance with the menu."

"OK."

"Me too," Candice added cheerfully.

"Then I'll stay," Prudence said. "Will anyone else be joining your party?"

Candice smiled.

"No. It will be just me, my husband, and my poor, single,
available
cousin."

Cameron laughed.

"You don't look poor to me," Prudence said to Ted. She raised a brow and smiled. "You look like someone who works in a law firm or a bank."

"I work in a bank," Ted said.

The waitress gazed at him with kind eyes.

"I meant no disrespect. I meant it as a compliment. I wish all of our customers dressed as nicely as you."

"Thank you, Miss—"

"Williams. Prudence Williams."

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss Williams. You look nice yourself."

The waitress fidgeted for a second and fumbled her notepad to the floor. She picked it up quickly, flipped to the top sheet, and turned to Candice as if nothing had happened.

"I'm sorry. I should take your orders," Prudence said. "What can I get you, ma'am."

"I think I'll have the fish chowder and a bowl of fruit," Candice said. She handed her menu to Prudence. "Did I mention that my cousin likes poetry?"

Cameron beamed.

"No," Prudence said.

"Well, he does. He's partial to Wordsworth and Keats."

"You like Keats?" Prudence asked Ted.

Ted nodded.

"I have his complete works."

Cameron watched with interest as the banker and the waitress locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. He laughed to himself. He hadn't seen a mutual admiration society form this quickly since he and Candice had introduced themselves at the farmhouse.

"He likes the symphony too. He likes the Pops more than he likes the Red Sox, cherry pie, and pinochle rolled together," Candice said. She turned to Ted. "Isn't that true?"

Cameron silently praised himself for insisting that Candice run the show. He had nothing on his wife in the matchmaking department.

"Ted?" Candice asked. "Isn't that true?"

"It's true," Ted said. He continued to gaze at the waitress. "I do like the symphony."

"I
love
the symphony," Prudence said. "I've loved the Pops since I was a little girl."

"Do you see them often?"

The server shook her head.

"I see them maybe twice a year. I try to see the free concerts."

"Perhaps you could join me this weekend," Ted said. "I have an extra ticket to Saturday's concert and don't know what to do with it."

"I'd love to go," Prudence said.

A man yelled from a distant counter.

"Prudence! We need you back here."

The waitress turned around and faced the man.

"I'll be right there."

She returned to her customers.

"I apologize," Prudence said. "I forgot I have a job to do."

"That's all right," Ted replied.

"What can I get you this evening?"

"I'll have the pork chops," Ted said.

Prudence turned to Cameron.

"How about you, sir?"

"I'll try the corned beef," Cameron said.

Prudence scribbled on her pad and then slipped the pad in her apron pocket. She collected the remaining menus, looked at the married couple, and gazed once more at Ted.

"I'll bring your order as soon as I can."

"Take your time," Ted said.

When the blushing waitress finally pulled her eyes from the banker, turned around, and made a beeline for the kitchen, Candice stared at her cousin. She broke into a giggle.

"Order?" Candice asked. "I could have sworn we gave her three."

"She misspoke," Ted said.

"No, she didn't," Candice replied. She smiled. "That's the beauty of it. She didn't misspeak at all. She meant every word. All she's thinking about now is pinochle, pork chops, and the Pops."

Cameron chuckled.

Ted tilted his head and gave Candice a suspicious glance.

"Did you plan this?"

Candice laughed.

"Can I take the Fifth?"

"No," Ted said.

Candice laughed again. When she finally collected herself, she reached across the table, put her hand on her cousin's arm, and looked at him with affection.

"Happy birthday, Ted," Candice said. She took a breath. "I hope it works out."

CHAPTER 64: CAMERON

Key West, Florida – Friday, October 2, 1925

As they headed northeast on Olivia Street, toward the residential district, the cemetery, and the marina, Cameron felt compelled to share a bit of trivia. He had done so often since he and his wife had arrived in the southernmost point in the continental United States.

"Look over there," Cameron said. He pointed to a Spanish Colonial that hid behind some palm trees on Whitehead Street. "Do you see that house?"

Candice shielded her eyes from the morning sun.

"Do you mean the white one?"

"Yes," Cameron said.

"I see it."

"That will be Ernest Hemingway's house."

Candice gave him a playful glance.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I am. It will be his home in six years."

"How do you know? How do you know you haven't somehow altered Hemingway's life?" Candice asked. "You've made a mess of things in 1925, Mr. Coelho. You've changed history. I wouldn't be surprised if Hemingway settled in Des Moines."

Cameron sighed.

"Where did you get that mouth?"

Candice smiled.

"I suspect from my father."

Cameron chuckled.

"Just don't pass it on. My life is exciting enough."

Candice shot him a hot glare.

"Just for that, I'm giving you twins."

Cameron stared at Candice until she broke into a laugh. When he saw that he had made his point, he pulled her close, kissed her head, and continued down the street.

The couple had come to Key West on September 30 after spending several more days in Boston with Theodore Bell and the woman who was sure to become his wife. They had come to Florida to see an iconic community in its storied prime and catch a charter sailboat that would take them to Cuba, Mexico, and South America.

As they walked toward the boat, a fifty-foot sloop called the
Rum Runner
, Cameron thought about his journey, the effect he had had on the past, and the impact he could have on a future that was still being written. It was a lot to think about for someone who just months earlier had worried only about finishing a dissertation.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," Candice said. "Are you thinking about something I'll have to draw out of you with feminine persuasion?"

Cameron laughed.

"No. It's nothing that serious."

"Then what is it?" Candice asked.

"I was just thinking about the future," Cameron said. "We've had so much fun playing honeymooners that we haven't talked much about this fall, next year, and beyond."

"Are you having second thoughts about the farm?"

"No."

"Be honest, Cameron. If you are, I can tell Mother to sell it. We don't have to live in Griffin. We can live anywhere."

The Rhode Islander gazed at his Indiana wife.

"I
want
to live on the farm."

"You want more though," Candice said. "You want to do more than till fields and tinker in a shop. Am I right?"

"Yes," Cameron said.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I want to build a school."

"A
school
?" Candice asked.

Cameron nodded.

"I want to build and then operate a boarding school for kids with more drive than money. I fear a lot of children are going to be left behind in the coming years."

"Your dream sounds expensive," Candice said.

"It is."

"Where are you going to get the money to build this school? Did you stash some cash in a mattress?"

Cameron chuckled.

"No. I stashed it in an interest-bearing CD."

Candice giggled.

"I'm afraid to ask what that is."