While Love Stirs (12 page)

Laying her hand on the playbill, Tessa repeated Rebecca’s last words in the play. “‘God bless Aunt Miranda! God bless the brick house that was! God bless the brick house that is to be!’”

“Miss Gregory.” Miss Walker let the door shut behind her. “What do you think you are doing?”

Tessa dropped her hands and grabbed her pencil. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I was daydreaming.”

“Daydreaming will not get those receipts entered. I suggest you put your imagination on hold and focus on the task at hand, young lady.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tessa dropped her gaze. How could she do this tedious, mundane job?

A grin spread across her face. She could become an actress here too and pretend she was like Miss Walker in every way. Not only would it be excellent practice, but it was sure to win Miss Walker’s trust. Once she had that, surely she’d get to make the deliveries backstage.

And then? She’d be one step closer to stepping onto the stage beneath the bright lights.

“Tessa?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Miss Walker tapped the book in front of her, indicating Tessa needed to get busy.

Tessa sat up straight and pursed her lips like Miss Walker did when concentrating. She listed the first few numbers using her best Walker-ish penmanship. This wasn’t so hard. She’d have the Miss Walker character down by lunch time.

That is, if those playbills stopped calling her name.

14

The Stillwater city auditorium held many more women than the hardware store in White Bear Lake. Gas lines had been laid to the auditorium especially for this occasion. Yesterday the seats had been two-thirds full, but apparently news had spread about the lectures for today, as there was standing room only. To Charlotte’s relief, Kathleen was nowhere in sight.

Charlotte wished she had a Brownie camera to take a photo. Tessa would like seeing the crowd, and she’d love to share the images with Hannah and Aunt Sam. Today made for Charlotte’s sixth day of travel, and she had to admit she was ready to head home. Had anything changed while she was away? How much had Ellie grown in the last week? How much trouble had Tessa gotten herself into? Had that stubborn doctor come to his senses yet?

Good grief. She had to stop thinking about that infuriating man.

Lewis sidled over to her. “Looks like the people of Stillwater love you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I think every lady in the city is here.” He pointed to a row where several apron-clad nurses sat. “Your visit at the hospital yesterday must have gone well.”

“It did. They’d like me to come back this afternoon and teach them more. I told them I’d do my best.”

Lewis leaned closer and cupped his hand over his mouth.
“The woman with the peacock-feathered hat is Ida Nelson, and the woman beside her is her daughter Lillian. They live on West Chestnut, in the house with the gingerbread trim and the rounded stained-glass window you liked so much when we drove in.”

“Lillian is very pretty. Is she married?”

“No.” He shrugged. “And before you suggest anything, she’s not my type.”

“Your type?”

“I like ladies with a bit more creativity—and ones who can cook.” He grinned at her before inclining his head to the other side of the room. “Nan Olson over there is a dressmaker. She and her sister Ellen, the milliner, must have closed down their shops for the day. And look at that.”

“What?” She followed the direction of his gaze to two ladies standing in the back, wearing much plainer clothes than most of the women.

“The Bronsons sent their servants. That’s really something.”

Charlotte supposed she should feel honored, but the idea of having servants was still odd to her. Those in Aunt Sam’s employ always felt more like family. She glanced at the clock and smiled at Lewis. “I think it’s time to start.”

Within minutes, Lewis had the women swooning over his melodies. And by the time it was Charlotte’s turn to speak, the ladies already felt as if they’d had a treat. So when Charlotte announced the lecture today involved chafing dish cookery, the ladies applauded with enthusiasm.

“By using the gas stove to prepare your bread and side dishes ahead of time, you are free to prepare the remainder of the meal at the table in your chafing dish.” Charlotte asked for volunteers to help her make savory rice, creamed carrots, and an apple spice cake with rum cream.

“Many of you already know a circular chafing dish is supplied with one lamp with an asbestos wick covered by fine netting.” She held up the small metal lamp. “One regulates the flame by adjusting
this screw. The lamp holds one gill of alcohol and burns for about one and one-half hours.”

Charlotte explained that the ladies would want to serve seasonings and condiments in their pretty bowls, dainty jars, and odd-size pitchers for a chafing dish supper. “Unique pieces of china make the dinner a festive occasion.”

She pointed to her aluminum measuring cup and her teaspoon and tablespoon. “Ladies, you must never forget that accurate measurements are essential for good results.” She lifted a wooden spoon in the air. “And since chafing dish cookery should be as noiseless as possible, using a wooden spoon is important during preparation. A large spoon with an ebony handle is perfect for serving your creation.”

Hands began to go up, and Charlotte did her best to answer questions. “No, you shouldn’t mix at the table . . . Yes, you should have everything seasoned ahead of time if you can . . . No, chafing dishes are not appropriate for elegant dining, but they are perfect for entertaining friends.”

By the time she was able to show them how to make the Vienna steaks, her own stomach was growling. Cinnamon laced the air from the apple cake in the oven, and she noticed the ladies in the audience licking their lips.

Charlotte sucked in a breath. There’d be no way for all of these ladies to sample the fare. What was she to do?

“Terrence, we need that microscope.” Joel leaned over the man’s desk. When he’d finally gotten to use another ward’s microscope, he’d discovered Mrs. Willadson didn’t have cancer after all. He shuddered to think she could have gone through an unnecessary surgery.

What if one of the other doctors had been in his place? One like Dr. Fitzsimmons? That man would never have gone the extra mile to check the slide somewhere else.

“I know Dr. Ancker earmarked money for my wards, and I won’t endanger my patients again because of the lack of equipment.”

Leaning back in his chair, Terrence Ruckman pushed up his wire-framed glasses. “And just where do you think I can get the money? Sorry, but I’m fresh out of rabbits’ hats.”

“You can start by finding out where the money went, and then you can get it back.”

“I’m sure Dr. Ancker reallocated it to something more pressing. You can ask him about it yourself when he returns from his trip.” Terrence steepled his fingers. “I realize you are young and inexperienced and your position is temporary, but those things do happen in a hospital of this size.”

Joel clenched his jaw. “A lot of things can happen in a hospital of this size.”

Terrence pushed his chair back. The rollers beneath it squeaked as he came to his feet. Standing several inches shorter than Joel, he had to turn his face upward to speak to him. “Perhaps you should watch your tone, before I have to suggest to Arthur that in his absence it became clear the stress of your responsibilities has begun wearing on you.”

“The only stress wearing on me is you, Terrence, and my missing funds.” Joel straightened and adjusted his morning coat. “Why don’t you do your job and find the money?”

“A good assistant superintendent would figure out another way around this issue.”

The words nicked Joel’s pride, but he schooled his features. “I disagree. I think a good assistant superintendent would fight for his patients, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I don’t care if you have to put the money back in from your own pockets, just make sure it’s there by the time Arthur returns.”

“Or what? You’ll tell Daddy on me?”

“No, I’ll turn you upside down and shake every cent out of your pockets each day until I have my money.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. “Try me.”

Blood pumped through his veins with such force he could swear he felt it flowing. He marched into the hallway and let the door to Terrence’s office slam behind him.

“Joel!”

He looked up to see his sister running toward him. “Mattie, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been looking all over for you. You had an emergency call.”

“From outside the hospital? Who?”

“The call came in from Tessa Gregory.” She thrust his bag into his hands. “Hurry! The ambulance is waiting.”

Resisting the urge to lick the whipped cream from her fingertips, Charlotte reached for her napkin.

“Telling the guests they could only try one thing was brilliant, sugar.” Molly set her fork down. “And I declare, this food is downright scrumptious.”

“I feel a bit guilty there was enough left over for our dinner, but there was no way everyone could have tried all of the dishes.”

Lewis patted his stomach. “And I’m personally grateful you made Vienna steaks just for us.”

“You’re welcome, but it doesn’t take long in the chafing dish.” Charlotte began to gather the soiled dishes.

Molly placed her hand on Charlotte’s arm. “Lewis, why don’t you walk Charlotte over to the hospital so she can talk to those nurses a little bit more?”

“But . . .” Charlotte allowed Molly to tug the dishes from her hands.

“No buts.” Molly set the pile in a pail. “I aim to wash these up and get them packed away before you get back.”

“You don’t need to do that, Molly.”

“This little bit of work is as easy as sliding off a greased log backwards.” She shooed them with her hands. “Now, y’all get on out of here and let a lady do her work.”

“You heard the lady.” Lewis swept his arm toward the door.

Charlotte flashed him a smile and stepped out of the auditorium and into the bright Minnesota sunlight. All this beautiful day was missing was a lake and a picnic.

She glanced around at the patrons milling about the brick storefronts. “You don’t have to accompany me to the hospital, Lewis. I doubt if you’ll enjoy listening to me talk more.”

He smiled at her, then swallowed. “At least I’ll get to spend some time with you.”

Heat crept up Charlotte’s neck. The few comments Lewis had made like this left no doubt as to his intent, but she made no effort to encourage him. Since they traveled together, any exchange of affection would complicate matters. And even if they weren’t part of the gas company’s team, she wasn’t sure she could feel that way about Lewis.

“Mr. Mathis!”

Lewis spun around and found a youth waving a telegraph. The boy jogged to meet them. “The lady in the auditorium said I could find Miss Charlotte Gregory with you. I’ve got a telegram for her.”

Charlotte sucked in a breath and fought the rise of panic surging through her. A telegram meant bad news. What had happened back home? She stepped forward. “I’m Charlotte Gregory.”

“Oh, good.” The boy handed her the telegram. “It was marked urgent, so I wanted to get it to you right away.”

Lewis tipped the young man and he jogged off. “Charlotte, you’re white as your cooking apron. What is it?”

She reread the telegram. The print swam beneath her gaze in blurry images, but she already knew what it said. “I’ve got to get home right away. Something has happened to Aunt Sam.”