Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (17 page)

He rewrote the thing over and over, checking for misspelled words, correcting the sentence structure, and hoping that the tone was the appropriate combination of respect and Christian concern. When he finally felt that he had it right, he tucked it into an envelope and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He would take it to Mrs. Sutton’s himself. At least he’d know he’d done what he could to allay any concerns she might have about Sutton Builders while she was on the mend. If there was one thing she didn’t need, it was more worry about the business.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when he rode up the drive and dismounted by the walkway that led up to the front porch. He hesitated. Front door or back door? He was a hired worker.
Back door.
Walking around to the back, he stepped up on the porch and knocked. When Martha Gaines opened the door, Cass could see Aunt Lydia and Miss Theodora seated at the kitchen table. He reached inside his coat and withdrew the envelope, intending only to hand it to Martha and leave, but before he could say anything, Aunt Lydia called for him to step inside. He did so, hat and note in hand.

“Mr. Meyer rode out to the job site to tell me about Mrs. Sutton’s accident. I wanted—”

Aunt Lydia rose and took the note. “Pastor Taylor told us. It was so kind of you to let him know about Juliana. I’m certain she’ll be very touched by your concern.” She took his arm. “Now you must join us and have a cup of tea.” She glanced at her sister. “You remember Mr. Gregory from the funeral, Theodora. St. John’s can always count on him to help set up for ice-cream socials and Ladies’ Aid events.” She winked at him. “And of course it never hurts when one’s helpers are handsome.”

Aunt Lydia was a dear, but she was making him blush, and it was clear that Miss Theodora was not amused by her banter. Cass declined the tea and prepared to make his escape. “Please tell Mrs. Sutton not to worry about anything but getting better. I’ll see to the change she requested, and anything else can wait until she’s fully recovered.” With a nod to the ladies, he put his hat on and turned to go.

“Change?” Miss Theodora spoke up. “Why would changes be necessary? Mr. Duncan advised her to sell—and quickly.”

Cass turned back. Took the hat off again. “Yes, ma’am. She told me as much today. But as I showed her around, it seemed that she wasn’t certain about it.”

“So you encouraged her to ignore her banker?”

“No, ma’am. But I did try to convince her to think it through on her own. To give herself some time and to trust her own judgment. Of course I was forthcoming about the fact that I want to finish the place. It’s something any builder would be proud to say he created. I think all of us working out there feel that way. And then there’s the fact that that project is supporting several men with families.”

“You are a philanthropist, Mr. Gregory?”

Aunt Lydia spoke up. “You must excuse my sister, Cass. It’s been a difficult time for us all, and she’s more testy than usual.”

Should he tell them about Duncan? Finally, he said, “I am not convinced that Mr. Duncan has Mrs. Sutton’s best interests at heart. I told her so.” He glanced at Miss Theodora. “If that results in a delay in her making a decision, then I suppose I must accept responsibility for that. But I stand by what I did. I don’t think it’s right for anyone to rush someone who has just endured a terrible loss to make a major decision. Especially if the decision maker doesn’t have all the information.”

“How fortunate for Juliana that you had
all
the information,” Miss Theodora muttered.

Aunt Lydia glanced at her sister. “I’m certain Juliana appreciated Mr. Gregory’s candor, Theodora. And he is correct. It is
her
right to decide for herself.”

Miss Theodora snorted. “Must she always exercise every right to the nth degree?” She sounded weary.

Once again, Cass donned his hat. “I’ll bid you both good evening now and look forward to hearing that Mrs. Sutton is recovered and ready to provide direction on the project.”

Back in the saddle, Cass walked Baron out to the road before glancing back at the house. A faint, golden light illuminated an upstairs window. He said a quick prayer for Mrs. Sutton’s healing. And another one regarding Mr. George Duncan that wasn’t quite so kindly worded.

After bedding Baron down at the livery, Cass walked over to Ludwig Meyer’s, pleased when a light in the window to the left of the front door indicated that Ma and Sadie were still up. When he knocked, Ma came to the door.

“I was just at Mrs. Sutton’s,” he said. “They’re keeping a close watch on her, but everyone agrees that she’s going to be all right.”

“Thank God,” Ma said. “I shudder to think what might have happened if we hadn’t come along.”

“I may suggest she drive a buggy out from now on. If that horse of hers is so flighty—”

“She said it wasn’t Tecumseh’s fault,” Sadie said. “And I believe her. He’s a sweet horse.”

“
Sweet
,” Cass said. “And you know this how?”

“He let me walk right up to him, and he seemed relieved someone was there to help. And as to telling her to bring a buggy next time, I thought you said she doesn’t like being told what to do.”

Cass relented. “You have a point.” He noticed a pie atop the stove. “Is it too late to beg a piece of that?”

Ma smiled. “Never.”

Once Cass was seated at the table, Ma sat down next to him. Folding her hands atop the table, she said, “I have something to discuss with you. Ludwig has made an interesting proposal. He’s offered to sell me his house. Without a down payment and for very little monthly. Of course I’ll also look for work as a cook,” Ma said, “but I’m hoping that you might agree to board with me instead of over at that rooming house.”

“Yes!”

He couldn’t believe it. Sadie married to a good man, and Ma with her own house. What more could a man want?
A lot more.
A home. A family. A woman to love. An end to being the loner the old ladies at church loved and tried to pair off at every turn. An end to being alone. Did he dare let himself hope … even for that?

In the days following Mrs. Sutton’s accident, Cass did his best to be a conscientious foreman. At first, he used the boss’s phone in the office to call every day and report on progress out at the building site. Of course he didn’t expect to talk to Mrs. Sutton every time he called, but as time wore on, he began to feel like she was avoiding him—especially the day that Martha went to get her, but then came back with the message that Mrs. Sutton didn’t feel up to coming to the phone.

After a while, Cass couldn’t help but think she didn’t want to speak with him, and since he didn’t have anything really important to say, he quit calling. Still, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. She’d been so easy to get along with that day out at the job site. Kind, interested, charming, even. Had he said something, done something to lose her trust? If so, he needed to know. Was George Duncan up to something? If so, Cass felt that he deserved a chance to defend himself. Why wouldn’t she come to the phone?

Finally, after nearly two weeks had gone by, Cass was delayed in town checking on the request to cancel the order for the exotic woods the boss had planned to install in the upstairs bedrooms. While he wouldn’t be able to show a lady the contents of the telegram that finally came, the supplier had agreed to a cancellation. Since Cass had promised to let Mrs. Sutton know if he managed it, he called right away to share the good news and was pleasantly surprised when she answered the phone.

“It’s good to hear your voice. This is Cass Gregory.”

There was a long silence. Finally, she said, “Is there something you need?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve been concerned, is all. Hoping you were on the mend.”

“I am.”

Silence. Again. “You said to cancel the shipment on the exotic woods if I could. There’s an unhappy middleman in Chicago, but I managed to do it.”

“Good.”

“Is there anything else you’d like changed? Is there news?”

“I’ll let you know.”

She hung up. So abruptly, that for a moment Cass sat staring at the earpiece in his hand like an idiot.

Finney, who’d heard only Cass’s part of the conversation, looked over at him. “Sounds like you didn’t exactly get a warm reception.”

Cass hung up. He didn’t know what to say. He could not imagine what he might have done or said to offend her. Or was he right? Was George Duncan up to something? The idea put a knot in the pit of his stomach.

Juliana put the earpiece back in its cradle and stood looking out the kitchen window toward Tecumseh’s pasture. She looked down at her arm, wishing Dr. Gilbert could be convinced to reconsider the six-week moratorium he’d declared against her riding. She might not want to hobnob with Mr. Gregory at the building site, but that didn’t mean she was content to forgo riding.

From where she stood in the kitchen, she could hear murmuring voices floating down the hall from the parlor. Aunt Lydia’s quilting friends were having their first meeting here since Sterling’s death. It had taken a good deal of convincing on Aunt Lydia’s part to assure the ladies that they were welcome—in spite of the custom which dictated no visitors for six months.

Good cause or not, Aunt Theodora had made no secret of her disdain for her sister’s “flaunting convention.” Juliana hesitated in the kitchen, torn between welcoming the ladies and checking on Aunt Theodora in her room upstairs. Finally, she opted for the latter. She’d just reached the landing off from which the aunts’ rooms opened, when the older woman opened her door. She had changed into her best mourning attire and stood framed in the doorway, a look of uncertainty on her face.

“Perhaps I have been too severe,” she said. Doubt clouded her features. “But I don’t know. Now that I’m dressed and thinking of descending—” She paused. “I do wish God had granted me the self-assurance He seems to have given my sister.” She looked at Juliana. “And you.”

“Me?” Juliana almost laughed out loud. “Nearly everything I’ve done since Sterling died has shocked and irritated you.”

“Nonsense.” She gazed down the stairs. “They
are
doing a very good work. And the house has been so … quiet … since the dear boy …” She blinked back tears.

“Why don’t we go down together? I’m useless with this arm, but perhaps we could offer to read to the ladies while they quilt. You do read so very well, Aunt Theodora.” Juliana smiled. “I’d think you’d been on the stage if I didn’t know better.”

“And now you’re making fun of me.” A smile lingered behind the words.

“Just a little. It’s inspired by affection, you know. Do you mind, terribly?”

“Not at all. I miss Sterling’s teasing me.”

“He used to call you the dowager countess.” Juliana nodded. “I’d forgotten.”

“And I always pretended to take offense.”

“He knew you loved it.” She smiled. “If you’ll linger in the sitting area up here, I’ll get changed, and we can go down together. I’m running late because of that phone call.”

“I heard. Anything to be concerned about?”

Aunt Theodora considered telephone calls in the category of telegrams. They only arrived with dire news. “No.” Juliana shook her head. “Mr. Gregory was able to make a change I’d requested in regards to the new house.”