KeepingFaithCole (3 page)

“Fine. And the storeroom?”

“Over here, to the right.” Lucille pointed toward a heavy
oaken door. “In addition to cleaning supplies, I keep extra notions packed away
in the storeroom. Everything is labeled and marked.” She wondered again about
Charlotte’s schooling. “Are you able to read and write?”

“I do both very well.”

“Good, you’ll have no problem locating items if I ask you to
get something from the storeroom.” She’d reached the door, but when she turned
the knob, she scowled. “Sometimes the latch sticks. It’s a nuisance, but I haven’t
been able to get it repaired.” A heartfelt sigh escaped, and Lucille leaned
against the stubborn door. “My father was a very handy man. I swear he could
fix anything that was broken. Now when something breaks down, I have to go
looking for someone who’s got the proper skills.” Someone who wouldn’t charge
an outrageous fee for services.

“I could have Tommy look at it,” Charlotte suggested.

“Do you think he would?” The mention of the cowboy’s name
brought a flush of heat to Lucille’s cheeks, and she quickly turned away, not
wanting the man’s mother to see how flustered she’d suddenly become. She gave
the doorknob another good shake. This time, it turned. “Never mind. It’s a
nuisance, but fixing it would probably be more bother than it’s worth.” Stepping
back, she ushered Charlotte into the tiny storeroom. “Let’s get your cleaning
supplies together now so you can get started. Later, I’ll make a list of the
tasks you’ll be expected to perform each day.”

She thought she heard Charlotte sigh, and maybe so. No one
would blame the woman for feeling a bit perturbed at how she’d been treated.
Little pangs of guilt nagged at Lucille’s conscience.

“Give me that list whenever you have it ready. I’ll get
started now, if that’s all right with you.” Charlotte grabbed the broom, then
bent to pick the dustpan up from the floor.

“Yes, fine.”

Grateful when her mother arrived at the shop a short time
later, Lucille set about her sewing. Even as she worked, she kept a close eye
on Charlotte but resolved to hold her tongue. In some tasks, perhaps the woman
could have been a bit more thorough. For the most part, though, her work was
satisfactory.

“It’s nice to have the floors swept and all those pattern
pieces picked up,” Lucille’s mother commented as she worked on a fancy beaded
collar, her fingers moving swiftly and surely. “Goodness knows, it will give us
more time for sewing. I think hiring Mrs. Henderson was a wise decision.”

“Maybe so, Mama,” Lucille agreed.

With the statehood celebration coming up, the dressmaking
shop was a busy place, indeed. Lucille and her mother had taken orders for a
dozen fancy gowns for the dance. In addition, the little town had lately seen a
spate of weddings, with more to come. Nearly all of Lucille’s friends had found
husbands. Even Bessie Morrow—a painfully-shy wallflower who spoke with an awful
lisp and who had an unnatural streak of white running down the center of her
dark hair—had found a man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
The happy couple had set a date, and she’d bustled into the shop all in a
dither about a wedding dress.

“Since we won’t have so much to do at closing time, honey,
would you mind if I left a bit early today?” Her mother’s voice broke into her
thoughts.

“You can leave any time you like, Mama.” Lucille glanced up.
“Is anything wrong?”

“I thought I’d call on Mrs. Triplett, that’s all. We’ve been
so busy, I haven’t had any chance to speak to her for weeks.”

Widowhood had settled upon Lucille’s mother like a heavy
mantle. Despite her attempts to appear cheerful and her efforts to involve
herself in church and community activities, she’d become a lonely woman, one
who had little to live for. Lately she’d even taken to visiting Emma Triplett,
a tiny black-skinned woman reputed to have
the
gift
and who would, for a price, bring messages from the dead to the
living.

“Mama, you know that woman’s a fraud. I miss Daddy, too, but
it’s wrong to be conjuring up spirits.”

“She’s not conjuring. All she’s doing is listening to what
they tell her and sharing it with those of us who are longing to hear from our
loved ones. She brings comfort, honey. I wish you could understand.”

Comfort and peace of mind, assurances of heaven, and above
all, hope. All of these came about through Emma Triplett’s
gift
. Lucille still considered it wrong, but everyone needed
something to believe in.

“Are you still thinking about going to Denver?” she asked,
adroitly changing the subject. Lucille’s older sister, Matilda, lived in the
big city with her husband and children. Mama had talked about visiting with
them during the statehood festivities, looking after her grandsons while
Matilda and Richard attended various celebrations.

“I plan to leave on Thursday next week. We’ll have all our
work finished by then.”

“It will be good for you to get away, Mama.”

“Matilda thinks I should move in with her.”

Lucille’s head snapped up. “You’d leave Sunset?”

“I haven’t given her an answer, but I’m thinking about it.”

Everything in Lucille’s heart wanted to cry out and beg Mama
to reconsider. She belonged in Sunset. This is where their home had always
been. The
McIntyres
had been pillars of the little
community.

She had church, she had the Ladies’ Charitable Society
meetings to attend. She had Emma Triplett, too, her only link to her deceased
husband. How could she pack up and move away?

What Lucille’s heart really asked was how could Mama leave
her
? The thought of living alone,
running her shop without Mama at her side, and having to manage entirely on her
own left her shaken.

“You have to do what you think best, of course.”

* * * *

For the next week, Lucille tried not to think about the
possibility of her mother actually moving away from Sunset. She tried not to
think about a lot of other things too.

Like how to deal with Charlotte Henderson and her quiet but
surly attitude. The woman showed up each day and she did what was asked of her,
but all the while it was clear that she hated the job. Or maybe she just hated
Lucille.

She tried not to think much about Charlotte’s son either,
but for some reason getting her thoughts off Tom proved impossible. She didn’t
like him. He was too full of himself. The good-looking cowboy knew every girl
in town drooled over him, and he expected them to chase after him. Well,
Lucille was not running after any fellow, least of all, not a
rough-around-the-edges ranch-hand with no prospects for the future.

On Thursday morning, she walked with her mother to the stage
depot.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Lucille?”

“You know I can’t do that. I’ve still got to finish Kat’s
dress. She’ll be picking it up tomorrow.”

“You could drive to Denver on Saturday morning.”

“I’ll be fine, Mama.”

“I’m worried that you’ll be lonely. Everybody will be
celebrating, honey.” She giggled and bent forward to whisper in her daughter’s
ear. “Did you know Charlotte is going to the statehood dance? With
Abner
Kellerman, of all people.”

“Are you sure that’s not just rumor? You know how women in
town love to gossip.”

Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of the
stage. Within moments, her mother had boarded, waved good-bye, and was on her
way to Denver, leaving Lucille to face the long weekend alone.

With all the excitement going on, she had little time for
loneliness. She worked late on Thursday, even spending the night at the shop
instead of driving back to the farmhouse outside of town. In anticipation of
busy times such as these, Lucille had had the foresight to place an old feather
mattress in the back room of the shop. Anyone who knew her could speak of her
penchant for always being prepared.

She didn’t sleep well. Maybe it was because she was at the
shop, surrounded by frilly laces and glistening satins and silks, or maybe it
had something to do with Bessie Morrow stopping by late Thursday afternoon for
her first fitting, but for whatever reason, Lucille’s dreams were filled with
blushing brides who gathered around to point fingers and call her that awful
name no girl ever wanted to hear.

Old maid.

She did her best to put the troubling dreams out of her
mind, but the memory of those taunting voices returned later that morning as
she thumbed through a pattern book searching for clever new ideas she could
incorporate into Bessie’s wedding gown.

Pushing aside the book with its dog-eared pages, she
wondered if she’d ever have a wedding of her own to plan. She’d always thought
she’d be among the first of her friends to walk down the aisle. Instead, it
looked as though, more likely, she would be the last…if she married at all.

She wanted to get married. Heaven forbid she turn into some
shriveled-up old spinster, feared by children and pitied by the townspeople.
Now that Maddie Marlowe had taken up with that crazy recluse, Cody Bradford,
the position had become vacant.

The tinkling of the bell above the door drew her from her
thoughts. Lucille looked up and smiled as Kat Barron stepped in. Her red-headed
daughter, Kitty, stood close at her side, and in her arms, Kat held Joel, a
rambunctious one-year-old, the spitting image of his handsome father.

“Good afternoon, Kat.” Lucille rose and went to greet the young
woman. Even now, she marveled at how much Kat had changed since her marriage.
She’d once been an incorrigible tomboy, dressed in pants and work shirts and
working alongside the ranch hands. Now, she’d discovered the pleasures of being
a lady. “I’ve got your dress finished. It’s in the back.” She hurried to
retrieve it.

Moments later, dress in hand, she returned.

“It’s beautiful, Lucille.” Kat’s eyes gleamed as she reached
out to touch the elegant ivory silk. Little Kitty’s fingers grabbed the rich
maroon ribbons that trimmed the sleeves. “Careful, darling, don’t spoil Mommy’s
new dress.”

“I’ll have it wrapped for you,” Lucille offered.
“Charlotte,” she called, retreating to the rear of the store again where the
woman stood swiping a feather duster over a row of shelves. Wrapping garments
had been another task added to her list of responsibilities. “Make sure you tie
the strings carefully, all right?”

She hurried back to the sales counter.

“You are going to the statehood celebration, aren’t you?”
Kat asked. She shifted Joel from one hip to the other, then fished a handful of
bills from her reticule and dropped them onto the surface.

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “From what I’ve heard,
the town is going all out.” Lucille slipped the money into the cash drawer. Sunset
had planned quite a celebration. First, the official statehood proclamation
would be read by the mayor. Later, copies of it would
 
be pasted on every wall of every shop in
town. Lucille smiled and glanced toward the place of honor where she intended
to hang a copy of the document once it arrived from the printer.

“You should go.” Kat replied. “It’s the most exciting thing
that’s happened around here in years. There will be music, you know, and
dancing.”

Lucille had once loved both.

Kat bent forward and lowered her voice to a whisper as she
said, “The moon’s going to be full, too. It’s going to be very romantic.”

“I’m not going.” Lucille repeated, casting her gaze
downward.
 

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right. Not while Mama and I are still in—”

“Please, don’t talk to me about mourning.” Kat bounced Joel
in her arms, an interesting counterpoint to the words she spoke. “I understand
the rules and all the conventions people put around death and dying, and I
think it’s wrong. Your father is the one who’s dead, not you, and this is an
historic event. It would be downright shameful to miss it.”

Lucille looked away. “Even if I agreed with you, and I’m not
saying I do…” She turned her gaze toward the rear of the store, then looked
back at Kat. “I don’t have anyone to go with. Nobody has asked me.”

Nobody except Tom Henderson. She kept that fact to herself.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it? What’s
wrong?” Kat’s gentle blue eyes filled with worry. Concern laced her voice.

That Kat should truly care affected Lucille too much to
deny. She broke down, unable to stop tears from falling.

“It just seems so unfair, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t think we deserve
statehood?”

“It’s not about that.” Lucille almost laughed. “It’s about
me, don’t you see? I mean, why can’t I find somebody to love? You’re married.
All our friends have husbands. Victoria, Nellie, Sophie…” She ticked the names
off on her fingers. “And guess who else just ordered a wedding dress! Bessie
Morrow.” Lucille folded her arms over her chest and thrust out her chin. “What
about me, Kat? I want to fall in love. I want to get married, too. Why did I
get passed by?”