Sophie's Dilemma (37 page)

‘‘You will after you’ve been at this as many years as I have.’’

‘‘Thorliff asked me to start writing a column for the paper with simple suggestions on health issues for families.’’

‘‘What a good idea.’’

‘‘Speaking of machines, he wants to buy a new printer. That one my father gave him is too slow for all the editions he is putting out now.’’

‘‘That’s a big expense all right. If you need more money to do that, I can contribute some.’’

‘‘He wouldn’t ask you.’’

‘‘I didn’t wait to be asked. I’d rather invest in my children than in the bank.’’

‘‘But if Astrid goes away to school, that will be a big expense.’’

‘‘The cheese house has done very well these last years. We’ll be all right.’’ She kept how well to herself. Even with all the expenses, the growing total in her bank account was a constant source for her gratitude. ‘‘God has blessed us far beyond any of our hopes or dreams.’’ She kissed the top of Inga’s head as the little girl wriggled and then slid to the floor. Inga would tolerate being held only so long before she needed to be moving again. She reminded her grandmother of a happy bee that zipped from flower to flower, never staying long at any.

‘‘So Mr. Gould’s son is indeed coming here to work all summer?’’ Elizabeth asked.

‘‘Jonathan, yes. The girls are all atwitter.’’

‘‘Astrid said he would have to prove himself.’’

‘‘I know. Instead of being awed by his family’s wealth, she figures he is most likely spoiled rotten and will be nothing but trouble.’’

‘‘Leave it to Astrid.’’ Elizabeth reached forward and snagged her daughter as she danced by. ‘‘Come, little one, we need to be heading on home. I’m sure the waiting room is full up by now. I’m looking forward to having Astrid help again this summer. She learns so quickly. Thelma’s good with the housekeeping, but she never has gotten over her squeamishness at the sight of blood. She fainted when we were treating the burn victims.’’

‘‘I could help you out when things get too busy, you know.’’

‘‘Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?’’

‘‘Thanks to your insistence on the surgery, I feel better than I have for years.’’

‘‘I’d be happy to have you help me. Especially as we get nearer to this one being born.’’ Elizabeth stood and arched her back, rotating her shoulders. ‘‘Come, bring your coat, Inga. We need to go home.’’

Ingeborg held the child’s coat as she slid her arms into the sleeves. The sky had clouded over and a breeze kicked up, dropping the temperature quickly.

‘‘You hurry on home. From the looks of things we could get more snow.’’

‘‘But spring is here.’’

‘‘We’ve had snow as late as June. You can’t trust Dakota winters to stay gone even after spring has arrived.’’

Elizabeth shivered. ‘‘True. It froze pretty hard last night. Give Grandma a kiss, Inga.’’

Ingeborg cupped her granddaughter’s cheeks in her hands and kissed nose and forehead, bringing forth a giggle, along with a smacking kiss. ‘‘Bye, little one. Come again soon.’’

‘‘Soon.’’ A vigorous nod accompanied the parroted word.

After they left, Ingeborg returned to her bookwork for the cheese house. What used to take a couple of hours a month now took a good part of a day every week. Never would she have dreamed that she’d be writing invoices and bills of lading, ordering such large amounts of supplies, and keeping track of the amount of milk and cream purchased from so many farmers. Along with paying them and those who worked in the building itself. If they kept growing, she would need to add on to her building again.

She leaned back in her chair in front of the rolltop desk Onkel Olaf had built for her so she would have spaces to store all the paperwork. This year she had added a second file cabinet to the first.

She pulled out the payroll file and returned to her chair. This was not her favorite part of the business, but Haakan had slowly but surely handed his bookkeeping for the farm over to her too.

Someone had to go to the bank to get cash to pay all the employees. She totaled up the hours worked and figured how much she needed. Taking out a packet of envelopes, she wrote each name on the front and the amount due in a lower corner. Mr. Valders had suggested she pay everyone with a check, but she knew they wouldn’t all have time to go to the bank and cash them.

Mr. Valders had trained her in the bookkeeping systems she needed, including the leather-bound ledgers that now lined bookshelves Haakan had made. The office was taking up more and more of the parlor, hardly leaving room for her spinning wheel. The loom had been moved to their bedroom long ago. Not that she had much time for weaving anymore. Besides, now she could buy many of the things she’d been forced to make those earlier years.

The accounts didn’t balance. She stared at the two numbers and rubbed her forehead. Now she’d have to add them up again.

Instead, she strode into the kitchen and pulled the coffeepot to the front of the stove. Of course the fire had nearly gone out, so she rattled the grate to let the ashes fall into the ashpan and laid slivers of pitch wood on top of the coals. She opened the vent to get a draft on the coals and added several sticks from the kindling box. She knew better than to let it die down like this.

‘‘Uff da,’’ she muttered, at the same time turning to check the time. The children would be home from school soon, and she’d hoped to have all this done before they came.

Astrid barreled through the door a few minutes later, Grace right behind her.

‘‘Mor, Sophie is selling the boardinghouse,’’ Astrid blurted out.

‘‘N-no. S-Sophie . . .’’ Grace stuttered, her agitation so great she fell back on signing. ‘‘Sophie wouldn’t do that.’’

Ingeborg held up both hands, palms out. ‘‘Wait a minute. Let’s calm down here.’’

‘‘But, Mor—’’ ‘‘Let Grace talk.’’

Astrid started to humph, looked at her cousin’s face, and flinched.

‘‘I’m sorry, Grace, but this is such terrible news.’’

Dear Lord, let this not be so
. Ingeborg reached out with both arms, one for each girl. ‘‘Grace, you go first. There’s no hurry.’’

Grace took a deep breath. Speaking slowly and carefully, she spoke and signed together. ‘‘Sophie would not do that without talking with Far or someone.’’

‘‘She ran away without telling anyone.’’

Ingeborg shook her head and made a tsking noise. ‘‘Astrid.’’

Astrid flounced again, then turned to Grace. ‘‘I’m sorry, Grace. That wasn’t fair.’’

Grace’s eyes did not smile with her mouth. ‘‘That’s all right.’’ Even her fingers looked sad.

‘‘Here, let’s sit down and think this through.’’ Ingeborg brought the plate of cookies she’d fixed for herself and Elizabeth. ‘‘Do you want something to drink too?’’

‘‘Is there buttermilk in the house?’’ Astrid asked.

‘‘Yes, in the pantry.’’

Astrid slid back her chair and headed for the pantry. Bringing back the jug, she motioned with it to Grace, who shook her head. With cookies in hand, both girls looked at Ingeborg.

‘‘Now tell me exactly what all you heard and from whom. Grace, you go first.’’

‘‘At noon recess I saw the girls talking. They forget sometimes that I can read lips. I don’t know who started it, but I saw it was something about Sophie, so I just watched. But then they drew closer together, and I couldn’t see any longer. I saw them mention the boardinghouse too.’’

‘‘Rebecca asked me if I had heard that Sophie was selling the boardinghouse.’’ Astrid shrugged. ‘‘That’s all I know.’’

‘‘So it is gossip.’’ Ingeborg chewed on the inside of her lower lip, something she usually did when thinking hard.
Lord, you know how
much I hate gossip, and I know you do so even more
. ‘‘So what do you think we should do about this?’’

‘‘Go and ask Sophie if this is true?’’

Ingeborg nodded. ‘‘What else?’’

Astrid swapped glances with Grace, both of them not sure how to answer. Then Grace’s face lit up. ‘‘Pray first.’’

‘‘Ja, that is my mor.’’ Astrid smiled at her mother. ‘‘She always says to pray first.’’

‘‘And mine.’’ Suddenly Grace made an O with her mouth. ‘‘Trygve will have told Mor.’’ She pushed back her chair. ‘‘I need to go to her.’’

Ah, poor Kaaren. Please, Lord, not another heartbreak for her
.

Grace fluttered a good-bye wave, and out the door she went.

‘‘You think Tante Kaaren will be mad?’’

‘‘Sad more likely.’’

‘‘But she’ll be praying too.’’

Ingeborg nodded.

‘‘Pray first, yell later?’’

Ingeborg blinked at her daughter. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘Well, you and Tante Kaaren always say pray first.’’

‘‘Ja.’’

‘‘That’s hard to remember.’’

‘‘I know. It takes lots of practice. Years of practice.’’

‘‘But sometimes you just have to yell.’’

‘‘Ja, sometimes.’’ Ingeborg picked up the now empty cookie plate.

‘‘But then I am often sorry afterward for the yelling. I am never sorry for the praying. I need to go to the bank. Would you like to come with me?’’

‘‘To see Sophie?’’

‘‘Possibly.’’

‘‘I’m coming.’’

As they were leaving the bank, Kaaren and Grace drove up.

‘‘You want to come with us?’’ Kaaren asked.

‘‘Will she think we are descending on her like the wrath of God?’’

‘‘I brought the soakers and blanket I knitted. And Grace sewed several buntings.’’

‘‘I should have thought of that. Ah well, yes we’ll come.’’

When they arrived at the boardinghouse, Sophie showed them to her quarters and, after asking Mrs. Sam to bring in a tea tray, joined them, closing the door behind her. ‘‘All right! Who started such a stupid rumor?’’

‘‘That’s what we came to find out.’’ Kaaren patted the bed beside her. ‘‘Let’s talk this out and see if we can come to some conclusions. What have you heard?’’

‘‘That I am selling the boardinghouse. Can you believe such rot? I could just . . . just . . .’’ She stuttered to a stop, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

‘‘The nerve of that man.’’

‘‘What man?’’ Kaaren leaned forward.

They all turned when they heard a tap at the door and Mrs. Sam poked her head around the door.

‘‘Tea’s ready. And Sophie, Thorliff is here. He say he want to talk wit you.’’

‘‘Tell him to come on in. Might as well get the truth in the newspaper too.’’

Mrs. Sam set the tray down and returned to the hall.

‘‘Ah, so we are having a family meeting?’’ Thorliff set his hat on the table by the door. ‘‘Where are the men?’’

‘‘Home working like they should be. It’s hard to hear gossip when you are sharpening plowshares and repairing machinery.’’ Ingeborg leaned forward. ‘‘You want me to pour, Sophie?’’

‘‘Please do. This whole thing started when Mr. Cumberland asked if he could speak to the owner. He was a bit put off when I said I own the boardinghouse. I talked with him and showed him around, including the kitchen. He asked if he could stay for dinner. I’m sure it was to see how well we do. He asked if he could talk with me a bit more, but when he made an offer to buy the place, I nearly laughed in his face. I’m sure he thinks that because I am young I am stupid or would think the amount he offered would be a lot of money.’’

While Sophie paced, Ingeborg made sure everyone had what they wanted, all the time hiding her smile at Sophie’s dilemma. She might be young all right, but Sophie had come a long way.

‘‘So what happened after that?’’ Thorliff asked.

‘‘He thanked me and left. And I think he went around town telling everyone he is buying the boardinghouse.’’

‘‘Why would he do that?’’

‘‘I don’t know. What I do know is that I would not sell him the boardinghouse no matter how much he agreed to pay.’’

‘‘But do you want to sell this place?’’ Ingeborg asked as she refilled the teacups.

‘‘I never thought about it before. You know how I wanted to go places and see things. I’ve always wanted that, but between a baby and a boardinghouse, it looks like I’m stuck right here.’’

‘‘I am glad you came back.’’ Grace stared hard at her twin.

Sophie reached for her hand. ‘‘Oh, Grace, I am glad too.’’

‘‘You are?’’

‘‘Could have fooled me,’’ Astrid muttered.

‘‘Why do you say that?’’

‘‘Well, we never see you, and—’’

‘‘If you haven’t noticed, every time I leave this place, something happens. No wonder Bridget never got out much. I went out to see Hjelmer’s car, and Mrs. Valders told everyone I was not honoring Hamre’s memory, running around like that with another man.’’ She paused to take a breath. ‘‘And none of you ever come to visit me.’’ She glanced at her mother. ‘‘Well, rarely.’’

‘‘You never invite us.’’

‘‘Why do you have to be invited? You’re my sister and my cousin and my aunt. Do you invite each other over?’’

‘‘Sometimes!’’ Astrid started to say more but hushed at a look from her mother.

Grace had turned pale, like she’d been struck. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’ Her bottom lip quivered. ‘‘I-I thought . . . I mean, I didn’t think you wanted me to come here.’’

‘‘Why would you think that?’’

‘‘You . . . you seem different, not like my Sophie, and I thought . . .’’

‘‘Well, I thought you were all still mad at me.’’ The words hit the surface of the silence with a splash. Sophie locked her arms across her chest, then loosed them and leaned forward. ‘‘I know I hurt you all when I left, and when I came back I was so miserable it seemed I cried all the time. When Bridget invited me to work here, I was so tired all the time, and since she died, I’ve been up to my eyebrows in learning how to run this place, and then Mrs. Sam got sick, and—’’ Grace took Sophie’s flying hands in her own. ‘‘I am sorry.’’ She spoke slowly and distinctly, looking directly into Sophie’s eyes. ‘‘We are sisters, and nothing should ever come between us.’’

‘‘Not just sisters, twins, and I’ve been missing you every day. Please, can you forgive me?’’

‘‘I did, long ago.’’

A tap at the door broke the intensity.

‘‘Yes?’’ Sophie sniffed and mopped her eyes as she spoke.

Mrs. Sam peered around the door. ‘‘Dat man, he be back and wantin’ to talk with you.’’

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. Astrid and Grace stared at each other, wide eyed and suppressing giggles.