Scones and Sensibility (16 page)

I nodded and smiled. “I’m glad you did. But Edward, my heart is crushed inside me!”

“Really?” he asked, still stocking the shelves. “Why’s that?”

He did not think me serious, I was sure. “It is my dearest sister. I’m sure you saw her the other morning, the girl whose beauty is beyond compare.”

“Yeah, I think I did. She was really nice. What’s wrong with her?”

I sighed. “I am not sure. Her heart is broken. She has been treated quite harshly by a boy, and well … I think she is in need of tender words of care.” He did not speak, so I continued. “I know I have not known you long, but I assure you that Clementine has the
highest opinion of you. It would mean the world to her if you, an English gentleman, would give her a few words of comfort that would soothe her troubled soul.”

“Me? Huh. Well, I guess so, if it’ll make her feel better. I don’t want to give her the wrong opinion of things, though, if you know what I mean.”

“Indeed I do. And I assure you she would not.” I said these words, knowing full well that both Edward and Clementine would fall madly in love, despite the fact that neither one, at this moment, was interested. “If you would come by tomorrow morning, I will make sure that freshly baked muffins are waiting upon your arrival. Indeed, it will mean so much to her.”

He smiled and lifted up an armful of puzzles. “All right. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, that’s great … I mean, that is most wonderful.” I turned to the door and remembered the outing Clementine and I planned on making in a few days. “Dear Edward, I was also wondering if you would like to accompany my dear sister and me two evenings from now. As young children we often ordered pizza and ate it by the wild open sea. Then we collected seashells together and made necklaces out of them. I am sure this will help heal her wounded heart. We
would so love the company of such a gentleman as yourself.”

He set the puzzles down and scratched at his most perfect head of hair. “Hmm. I’m not sure if I can do that since I work then. But I’ll see if I can get off if you want. Maybe … maybe her best friend, Tracy, could come along?”

I shook my head fervently. “I am afraid that would be impossible, Edward. I believe she is … is already attached to another young man at the moment.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, well. It would be fun to get out for a bit. I’ll see what I can do about work, okay?”

“I look forward to it.” And though I held out my hand that he may kiss it, he misunderstood and shook it quite vigorously instead. “Good day, Edward, and thank you with all my heart.”

And at that I departed for Fran’s home. Indeed, I could not help but skip with joy at love’s promising future.

C
ould a day be more beautiful? More filled with the fruits of hard labor and goodwill? I could imagine no such day as I pulled into my bosom friend’s driveway and imagined the next afternoon when Mr. Fisk would meet dear Miss Lucy Penny.

“Thank you, Polly,” Mr. Fisk would say, lifting me upon his shoulders. Miss Penny would kiss my cheek and say, “It’s all because of you, dear, that I, at last, found love. How can we ever thank you?”

“But I need no thanks, for it was all a burden I was—”

“Polly?”

I awoke from my daydream and found I had sat myself down in the middle of a patch of the most gorgeous of gerberas, their bright faces encouraging my heart.

“Polly, why are you sitting in the flowers?” Fran looked down at me from her post at her window.

“It seems I have wandered into a dream, dear Fran! May I come up?”

“Course, you know you don’t have to ask!”

I looked at the large maple, standing proud like a gentleman at a ball, and thought how delicious and terrifying it would be to climb its rough bark. And so instead of taking the stairs, I embarked on the romantic adventure of climbing up to Fran’s room. It was something I imagined Anne Shirley would do on Prince Edward Island.

But upon climbing the first five feet, I found that the task was quite a bit more terrifying than delicious. The ground beneath me seemed to spread into a chasm, and Fran’s bedroom window became a pinnacle that could not be reached.

“Fran!” I shouted. “Help me! I mean … I am in need of your assistance, if you please!”

“Polly? Where are you?”

I heard Fran’s faint call of distress over what had happened to her bosom friend and was forced to shout louder than decency allowed.
“Fran!
I am held captive in this large tree. If you could please assist me with a ladder, I would be very appreciative.”

As a ladder was brought I was met with the voice of Bradley Baker from below. “Polly, is that you?”

Attempting to remain dignified while perched in the tree, I grasped tighter to the limb. “Yes, it is I.”

“Well, do you need me to help … I mean, rescue you?”

“Rescue me? Indeed, the idea is a romantic one, though completely unnecessary.”

At that moment Fran came to my aid with her father behind her. They made quick conversation as my hands splintered and my dainty muscles cried out for relief.

“Please,” I called out. “If someone would assist me, I would be most grateful.”

“Oh, sorry Polly,” Fran called up. “We’ll get you down in a second.”

“I’ll see you later, Polly,” Bradley said. “Maybe next time it’ll be my turn to rescue you.” And off he sauntered.

“Ooo, rescue you, huh?” Fran called up to me.

“Please do not, Fran. He hoped only to assist me, I believe,” I said as I was placed on solid ground with the help of Mr. Fisk’s protective arms. “Thank you,” I said.

“So he likes you, huh?” Fran lifted both eyebrows up and down.

“If so, I am afraid he will be sorely disappointed.” I straightened my dress with trembling hands. “Now if you please, I would like to sit down somewhere.”

“So, why were you climbing up the tree?” It was dear Mr. Fisk, who graciously handed me a cool cup of lemonade to refresh me.

“The tree is much too glorious, and I was filled with such overwhelming temptation that I began to climb its knobby bark. But the branch whereon I sat is much higher than it appears from below. Though I cannot say that temptation will not get the better of me again, I will not dare attempt climbing a tree for a long while.”

Mr. Fisk laughed. “Just be careful.” He then bustled into his office and promptly shut the door.

Fran and I retired to her room.

I sat upon a small stool, rested my head in my hands, and looked out through the window, much like I imagined Anne looking out over Green Gables. “Oh Fran. What a day filled with love. I have been quite busy, you know.”

“Really? Did you see Lucy again today?”

My excitement could not be restrained, and I ran to clasp her hands as she sat on the bed. “Indeed I have. And that very same lady accepts your father’s
invitation to afternoon tea on the morrow!”

“Really?” Her face was distorted with complexity. Though her mouth was turned up in the elegant smile that I had come to adore, she turned her eyes to the bedspread, pulling delicately at a stray string. Her nervousness over her father’s meeting with Miss Penny was understandable. I sought to reduce her fears to nothing but coals.

“Upon my word, Fran, do not fret over your father and his betrothed. Is that what troubles you, dear friend?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Fran said, breaking the string off in its entirety. “It’s just …”

“Just what, dear Fran? I am your bosom friend, to whom you can spill the depths of your heart and I will not speak it, even unto death.”

She smiled. “I know, Polly. It’s just that … this is all kind of hard for me.”

“Hard for you? But Fran, how?”

Her face flushed and she stood, pacing the floor. “How? Well, my mom left us, Polly, remember? And I’ve had to spend the last three years watching your parents hug and kiss while I’ve been stuck eating chicken cordon bleu and wishing that maybe someday my dad would love someone—”

“And that time is now, Fran!” I declared. “For tomorrow, your father and Lucy will be united in love’s eternal bond! There is no more need to be disheartened.”

Fran sighed. “Forget it.”

“Forget what, Fran?”

“Nothing.” She paused and pulled something from her pocket. It was a picture of a very beautiful woman. “That’s her. That’s Ruthie Carmichael.”

“Really?” I arched my shapely eyebrow and studied the photograph. She was endowed with a face shaped like a heart, large green eyes, and coal-black hair. “She resembles an animal from the feline race, I’m afraid.” Fran’s face fell downcast at once. “But still,” I continued, “though the lady, if that is what she may be, is not equal in beauty to Miss Lucy Penny, her eyes are sufficient enough and her smile appears to be honest.”

“Yeah, and she seems really nice, too, Polly.”

I handed her back the picture. “Yes, you mentioned that just yesterday.”

“I actually really like her. She makes my dad happy and, I don’t know, I just like her.”

I fiddled with my dress, disbelief over these words silencing me. “But really, you can’t mean it, Fran. You like her more than Lucy? I mean, you hardly know this Ruthie at all!”

“Well, I don’t know Lucy either. I’ve only seen her.”

“This is true. But not only have I, your bosom friend, recommended her to you, but you will meet her tomorrow, Fran. Unless of course you want me to cancel the meeting.”

Fran shrugged her shoulders. “I thought about that, but I guess it’s too late now.”

“Indeed. It would not be ladylike or gentlemanly to cancel the arrangement when she is so looking forward to it. And I do not think it wise to sever all connections to Miss Penny. The arrangement for the morrow should be kept, and though I see clearly that you are fond of this Ruthie Carmichael, I think you and your father will find Miss Lucy Penny of much more elegance and kindheartedness.”

“All right. But you know, Ruthie’s coming in just a few days. I guess my dad wanted her to come as soon as she could,” Fran said.

“Heavens,” I declared, wiping my brow with my handkerchief. “How time steals away when in the midst of bringing lovers together. Believe me, Fran,” I said, grasping her hand, “though I adore my task, I do not wish its trial upon you. But do not fret! I am fully convinced in both my heart and my soul that
Miss Penny and your dearest father are a match the very angels in heaven ordained before time began.” I glanced at my pocket watch and arose. “But no more of this. I have it all under control. Until then, dear Fran, would you care to accompany me to the beach, where we shall see Mr. Nightquist and Miss Wiskerton unite together in love’s perfect harmonic accord?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

We departed thence, and arrived at the beach to find dear Mr. Nightquist silhouetted against the setting sun, attempting to tame an unruly kite. A blanket lay on the sand behind him, surely meant for he and Miss Wiskerton to dine upon.

My heart leapt in my chest.

“He has come, as I knew he would. Such a faithful man the world has never seen,” I declared from our cozy spot beneath the creaking planks of the boardwalk. I sought the cover of darkness so as not to distract the couple, but rather observe them.

Mr. Nightquist began to unravel the long white tether attached to the kite and looked about him.

“Where is Miss Wiskerton?” Fran asked from her post beside me.

“She will be along, I promise you.” And like a vision,
though a large one, Miss Wiskerton emerged into the soft evening light in a white dress that gently caressed the soft sand at her feet.

Fran and I watched, neither of us uttering a word at this sacred moment.

They shook hands cordially and Miss Wiskerton bowed her head shyly and held out the dish that contained the chicken Marsala. I imagined the words, “Dear Miss Wiskerton, how lovely you look this summer’s eve. My heart jumps in delight at this moment.”

The flying of the elegant kites began, and my heart joined them, soaring in the sky. But alas, I was torn away from the scene by Fran’s earnest tugging on my arm. “Come on, Polly. I think we can go now.”

“Just a moment longer, perhaps? A more handsome couple the world has never seen. Don’t you agree, Fran?”

“Yeah. But it’s almost dinnertime, and I told Dad I’d be back. Besides, I thought I heard the bell from your house ringing.”

I grabbed her hands and giggled. “Of course, my dearest, you are the voice of reason. I am grateful to you for keeping me upon the ground, for surely I would fly up into the clouds any moment. The lovers
are well, and I must attend to other matters on this most glorious night.”

Upon arriving at my small cottage, I plucked a single lily from the garden and swept into the kitchen, placing the fragrant flower in a thin, delicate vase and setting it in the middle of the dining table. Mama sat beside Papa, and Clementine gazed out into the evening sky, her spirits much improved.

The moment was one of pure bliss, with everything right and beautiful in the world. I let my dainty hands caress the flower’s velvety petals. “Is it not gorgeous? Ah, what a full and magical day I have had. Isn’t each new day as new and sparkly as a diamond, as perfect and innocent as newfound love?”