Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles 03] (13 page)

Emilie sighed. “No.” She explained her side of things, ending with, “I wanted to make peace with Mother so that maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to be a drone in your Bee Hive these next few days. And it seems to have worked, at least based on her mood this morning.”

May laughed. “As if you’d ever be a drone.”

“A worker bee, then,” Emilie said. “This is April’s year to be the queen.”

“It’s going to be very strange having her married,” May said.

“It’s already strange. And you know what I mean.”

May nodded. “I agree with you, but what do we know about falling in love? Maybe April’s common sense approach is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“I hope not,” Emilie said. “It’s a shame to be bored before you’ve even said ‘I do.’ Honestly, most of the time it seems to me that
Junie
is more in love than April.” She paused. “I know everyone says it’s just a crush, but if I ever fall for a man, I hope just looking at him makes me blush the way Junie does when she looks at Bert.”

“Speaking of blushing,” May said, “did this Mr. Shaw who’s coming to dinner really come running out of the night to rescue you?”

“It wasn’t nearly that dramatic.”

May grinned. “Maybe not, but look who’s blushing now.”

Emilie pointed toward the Tabernacle stage. “It looks like Mr. Tilden’s finished tuning the piano.”

“So,” May teased, “we aren’t going to talk about Mr. Shaw?”

“The sooner we finish rehearsing, the sooner we can get over to the campground and see if the tent’s set up.”

“Not even a little?”

“I have an idea for our Bee Hive sign.”

“Okay, then,” May groused. “Not even a little.”

Emilie closed her eyes, savoring the last notes of the arpeggio she always played to finish the Spring Sister’s last song. April, May, and June, had been facing Emilie as they sang, their crossed arms resting atop the upright piano, but when applause sounded, their heads turned toward the back row of benches. Emilie followed their gaze. And gulped. Noah Shaw—with a woman on his arm—was standing beneath the overhang at the back of the Tabernacle.

Emilie pinched herself to prevent the blush she could feel creeping up the back of her neck. She brushed an imaginary bit of dust off one of the bass piano keys and then took great pains to close the lid over the keyboard. Almost in slow motion. Finally, she got to her feet and looked over at the couple approaching the stage. They were both smiling, and Emilie realized that for the first time in her life she had just experienced a bolt of good old-fashioned jealousy—and it didn’t feel good at all. How ridiculous. She barely knew Noah Shaw. Still, when she realized that the hair peeking out from the woman’s hat was snow white, Emilie’s jealousy dissolved into relief. Which was even more ridiculous.

Noah Shaw introduced himself to the cousins, making reference to William Rhodes and the
Daily Dispatch
and how he’d already heard wonderful things about the Spring Sisters and now he knew why. Then he smiled up at Emilie and, motioning to the lady on his arm, said, “I’ve brought you Miss Jones.”

“Your note was waiting for me when I checked in to the hotel a while ago,” Miss Jones said, “but then Mr. Shaw sought me out on your behalf, as well. I am honored to be at the top of your Ten for Ten list. It isn’t every day a newspaper editor of Mr. Rhodes’s reputation encourages our cause in print.”

Oh dear. Miss Jones thinks Father is championing a cause? And what
, Emilie wondered,
would that cause be? Suffrage, you idiot. What else could it be?
She cleared her throat. “To be quite frank, my Father doesn’t know about Ten for Ten yet. And I honestly don’t know if he’ll be a champion or not.”

Truth be told, she didn’t even know if Father would print it after last night. Surely, though, if the content was good enough—surely she could make a case for a special Chautauqua series. That wasn’t the same thing as a regular column. She’d even offer to publish with a pseudonym. Wouldn’t that make it easy for Father to say yes? When she glanced over at Noah Shaw, his smile gave her courage. She looked back to Miss Jones. “I can, however, promise to do everything in my power to convince him to print the series.”

Miss Jones didn’t say anything for one very long moment. Finally, though, she nodded. “Then we shall do everything in our power to make certain that your piece is so riveting he can’t resist it.”

With a smile, Emilie introduced her cousins. To their credit, neither Noah Shaw nor Miss Jones laughed when April, May, and June Spring introduced themselves. Why on earth Uncle Roscoe had gone along with the idea of those names for his three daughters, Emilie could not understand. It might have been cute when they were little girls, but now—now it was just embarrassing.

The introductions complete, Miss Jones patted Noah Shaw’s arm and said, “Mr. Shaw suggested we conduct the interview over afternoon tea at the Paddock. Does that suit?”

Emilie hesitated. She was supposed to be helping her cousins. And she didn’t have her own transportation. “A–actually—”

Much to Emilie’s amazement, April interrupted and offered the buggy, with only one admonition. “Just don’t forget to fetch us later.”

“No Royal today?” Mr. Shaw asked.

Emilie shook her head.

“Then why not accompany Miss Jones and me when we drive back to town? I have to return the hack I rented around two o’clock. You can conduct your interview over tea in the hotel dining room. You might even have time to write up the article and take it to the newspaper office before it’s time for me to escort you home in time for our evening engagement.”

Emilie hesitated. If she went to tea with Noah Shaw and Miss Jones, there would be no time for the lavender bath and rainwater hair rinse Mother had recommended. Then again, if Mother really was trying to throw her at Mr. Shaw, maybe she’d be happy to see them together. It was hard to predict what Mother might think or do.

“Then it’s settled.” May spoke for Emilie and abruptly changed the subject. “We were headed over to the campground just now,” she said to Mr. Shaw and Miss Jones. “Would you like to walk with us? We can give you the grand tour on the way.”

“I’d love to come along,” Miss Jones said, “but I have a meeting over at Willard Hall in just a few minutes.” She looked up at Shaw. “See you at the gate at one forty-five?”

While April, May, and Emilie made their way to the stage stairs, Junie hopped down beside Mr. Shaw and began to pepper him with questions. Where was he from? Did he always have such a deep voice? How was it he came to be out here last night when Cousin Emilie screamed? What did he think of Beatrice? Did he like boating? Did he play baseball? “Because,” Junie said, “if you like baseball, you should sign up to play on Bert Hartwell’s team.”

“June Elizabeth Spring,” April scolded, as the rest of them caught up to her. “It’s rude to ask such personal questions.”

June shrugged. “Well, he looks like he could be a good baseball player. He’s tall and strong.” June turned back to Noah Shaw. “Bert’s the best hitter on the team, but he doesn’t run very well. Sometimes they let someone else run for him, and I bet you’d be hard to beat.” She looked over at April. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help Bert, is there? If Mr. Shaw played on his team, maybe they could win for a change.”

“
Mr
.
Shaw
does not play baseball,” Noah said. “He’s much too dignified. On the other hand,
Noah
loves the game.”

June sent an I-told-you-so look in April’s direction as she said, “Really? Do you really play baseball, Noah?”

“You’re looking at the home-run record-holder from St. Charles, Missouri.” He smiled and tapped June on the nose. “And I’ve been known to win a footrace or two. So if your friend wants me on his team, I’ll do my best.”

Noah couldn’t remember enjoying himself as much as he did for the few hours the Spring sisters and Emilie Rhodes led him on a tour of the Chautauqua grounds. By the end of their time together, he couldn’t decide which of them he liked the most: April, with her carefully constructed dignity; May, with her easy laugh and unbounded energy; or June, who wore her heart on her sleeve and obviously longed to give it to Bert Hartwell. As for Emilie Rhodes, she had won a unique place in his mind—a place he hadn’t taken time to analyze. Yet.

Hartwell joined the group unexpectedly, not long after Noah and the young ladies had meandered past the bandstand and toward the row of cottages.

“That’s ours,” Junie said, pointing to a pink structure which seemed small compared to the elaborate tree house off to one side. She glanced over at Noah. “Isn’t it hideous?”

“It’s—unique,” he said.

“No,” April chimed in. “
Hideous
is the correct word. Mama insisted, on the grounds that ‘pink is such a cheerful color.’”

“We’re lucky our house isn’t pink,” Junie said. “Pa put his foot down at that. So Ma contents herself with pink flowers. Ever–y–where.” The words were barely out of her mouth when a young man emerged from the pink cottage and called a hello.

June did her best to sound nonchalant when she called out, “Bert Hartwell, what are you doing in our cottage?” It didn’t quite work, though. The tone was a bit off. She was trying too hard. And when her cheeks blazed red, Noah realized why. June Spring was a girl in love.

June put a hand on Noah’s arm. “This is Mr. Noah Shaw. Mr. Shaw is one of the speakers this year.” She lowered her voice. “But if you agree to call him
Noah
, he just might join your team and see to it that they win this year. He’s a home-run king. And a fast runner.”

Hartwell extended his hand. “My boss interviewed you for the paper.” He grinned at Emilie. “I’m checking the cottages for the old man. He asked me to come out here and do one more eradication tour. Spiders. Snakes. Crickets. Ants. Anything that might cause a poor, defenseless woman to scream in the night.” He grasped his lapels and thrust out his chest. “Nothing to fear, now. Hartwell is on the job, defending the defenseless and ridding cottages of vile creatures.”

“Are you
quite
finished?” Sarcasm dripped from Emilie’s every word.

“I’m not sure,” Hartwell said. He pursed his lips. “No, I don’t believe I am. In fact, now that I think about it, I should probably ask Mr. Shaw here to show me where he released that bull—”

Noah barely saw her move, but in a flash Emilie had knocked Hartwell’s hat off his head.

By the time Hartwell had yelled her name and snatched up his hat, Emilie had taken off like a shot in the direction of the campground.

May nudged June from behind. “Betcha I can beat you over there.” And she took off with June on her heels.

April just shook her head. “You’ll have to forgive them, Mr. Shaw. One Bert Hartwell plus two Spring sisters and a dash of Emilie Rhodes never ceases to be a recipe for unsophisticated nonsense.”

Emilie’s laughter sounded in the distance, and then June shrieked as Hartwell jumped out from behind a bush, clasped her in a bear hug and swung her about in a circle before setting her down and, with an exaggerated bow, offering his arm.

April sighed. “Family. There’s nothing to be done but love them, even when they misbehave.”

“I was just thinking how lucky Hartwell is to be related to such a fun-loving bunch of ladies,” Noah said. “And really hoping that he will ask me to play on his team—especially if you four will be present, cheering us on.”

April chuckled. “Oh, we have an understanding when it comes to Bert. We never miss a chance to cheer him on. He isn’t actually related, but we all adopted one another years ago when Bert’s family died.”

“How terrible,” Noah said. “Not the part about his being adopted, of course—but he lost his entire family?”

April nodded. “Bert calls it his ‘terrible miracle.’ He and Emilie have always been good friends—and they’ve gotten into more than their share of trouble over the years because of it. When they were twelve, Emilie dared him to climb a tree. He fell and broke his leg, and the doctor insisted he stay in the clinic for a couple of days. While he was gone from home, his family contracted something awful.” April swallowed. “The doctor was never quite certain about the diagnosis, even though he quarantined the house. Anyway, within a few days, Bert lost his mother and father, two sisters, and a baby brother.”