Chapter Three

Home at Last

Time to Talk

Eliza waited patiently while Doc Whitman released her grandmother into her care. She’d hired a carriage from the livery and come directly to the clinic infirmary. Once they were seated and a blanket thrown over their laps, the driver tapped the reins and set them in motion.

“I told Amanda she didn’t have to send for you,” Jillian insisted.

“Of course she did, Gram. The doctor was adamant you shouldn’t be at home alone, so I’m here to take care of you while you convalesce.”

Gram reached for Eliza’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “How long can you stay, Buttercup?”

Eliza drew a breath and relaxed, letting her childhood nickname sink into every one of her senses. “As long as you need me,” she insisted. “Maybe even longer.”

“You’re giving up on your dreams?” Gram asked.

“Not giving up… exactly. Just thinking about the best path to take in the future. I’ll still be working on several commissions for Mister Goldman’s stage company.”

“From here in Big Bend?”

“Yes, Gram. I was hoping I could reopen your dress shop in town and use the large space and equipment.”

“It’s been shut up for at least four years,” Jillian reminded her. “It’s going to need a good scrubbing.”

“I can do that,” Eliza insisted.

“Here we are,” the carriage driver announced. “Safe and sound.” Tipping his hat, he added, “I’m glad to see you up and around, Miss Jillian. We’ve missed you at Sunday services.”

“Thank you, Mister Tomkins. You let your wife know I’ll be back next week, and ready to add my voice to the choir.”

Eliza took the driver’s hand and stepped to the ground before turning to her grandmother. “We’ll see about that, Gram. It will all depend on how well you do the next few days.”

“You listen to your granddaughter,” Mister Tomkins suggested. “She’ll take good care of you.”

As soon as Eliza had her grandmother settled in her favorite rocking chair, she went to the homey kitchen to make tea. There were plates of baked goods on the sideboard next to the sink. A note lay on the table. Eliza picked it up and scanned Amanda’s familiar scrawl.

‘ Icebox is filled with food, and fresh ice. Chicken soup, beef stew, a corn casserole, and a couple of pies. Fresh biscuits and cookies in the cupboard. Will stop by on Monday after school lets out. Love, Amanda .’

The kettle whistled loudly, drawing Eliza back to the silver teapot. She scooped in a healthy pile of Gram’s favorite mint tea leaves and filled the pot to the brim with hot water. Setting the tray, she placed two cups, the strainer, and a plate of cookies to one side and the hot tea to the other.

By the time she got back to the parlor, Gram was dozing in her chair. Eliza set the tray aside and then sat down on the brocade settee. The stupid thing creaked loudly beneath her weight, causing Gram to wake abruptly.

"My word... I must have nodded off,” Jillian said softly. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, Gram. You need your rest if you’re going to get better.”

Miss Jillian drew in a deep breath. “Do I smell mint tea? And butter cookies?”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall I pour?”

“Please… a full cup and two cookies would be wonderful.”

Eliza set the plate and cup on the table at Gram’s side, then made a plate for herself. “I’ve missed your mint tea, Gram. There was nothing like it in the city.”

“It’s my homegrown mint that makes the difference.”

“Whatever it is, I’ve missed it.”

The room was silent, other than the sip of tea, or clash of china cups and saucers. Once she’d set her cup aside, Gram surprised Eliza by saying, “Mister Adams says he heard from the front desk person that you were surprised by the arranged hotel room in Denver.”

“Mister Adams?”

“My Denver solicitor,” Jillian said simply.

“Oh, yes. Him. I had no idea you had a solicitor in Denver.”

“I have many solicitors,” Gram said matter-of-factly. “Most are back in Boston, but there are a few between there and here.”

“Really?” Eliza questioned, totally confused. “Like I said, I had no idea.”

“It’s time we had a talk,” Jillian admitted. “It’s long overdue.”

Eliza swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Uncertainty made her heart race. “A talk about what, Gram?”

“So many things, beginning with where we came from. Followed by how we got here, and why we stayed even after your mother chose to move on.”

“You’ve never spoken much about your past,” Eliza noted. “Even when the townspeople asked you outright.”

“I never lied,” Gram explained. “I just changed the subject.”

“Was it that bad?”

Gram shook her head and suggested, “Why don’t you pour us both a fresh cup of tea? This is going to be a long story, but one it’s far past time you learned.”

Eliza took the teapot back to the kitchen and emptied the dregs before making another pot. The thoughts swirling through her head were confusing, at best. Was there something to be ashamed of in the family’s past ?

“Okay, I’m back,” she announced a few moments later. After refilling hers and Gram’s cups, she returned to her spot on the settee. “So… tell me all about our past.”

“I was born and raised in Boston. My parents were born here after both their families immigrated from England in the late 1700s. My father… your great-grandfather… was a businessman. He owned two shipyards, a factory that made bricks for building, and a few smaller companies. We were well off.”

“What were their names?” Eliza wondered.

“Stephen and Amelia Hopkins. I was their only child. When I turned eighteen, my father arranged a marriage for me to your grandfather, Silas Carson. The Carsons, Henry and Adelaide, were also well-off members of Boston society, and ours was considered an excellent match.”

“Were you happy? Was my grandfather a nice man?”

“Oh yes, Silas was a wonderful husband. We were married in 1858, and your mother, Florence, was born in 1860. The war came the next year and, while we didn’t have to send anyone to fight, both my father’s and Mister Carson’s businesses suffered losses. Not drastic, mind you, but losses all the same.”

“It was to be expected, I suppose,” Eliza reasoned.

“Mister Carson passed in the late sixties, and Missus Carson in 1870. Their businesses became Silas’s and, by extension, mine. My father passed the year after Adelaide, and my mother the year after that, leaving me as their heir and Silas as the executor of their estate. Florence was only thirteen and devastated by the loss of her Grandma Hopkins. No child should lose all four grandparents in such a short period of time.”

“Indeed, they shouldn’t,” Eliza agreed. “What became of everything? The businesses, I mean. And Grandpa Silas?”

Miss Jillian took another sip of her tea before continuing. “We sold some of the less lucrative companies and consolidated a lot into what your grandfather named Carson Holdings. After five long years, everything was finally settling down when your mother took up with her first suitor, a man named Harley Williams. He turned out to be a scoundrel of the highest order. He seduced your mother when she was barely nineteen and got her in the family way… with you. Ordinarily, a young woman would marry the man who took advantage of her, but Silas was having none of it. Instead, he went to the police and demanded the man be arrested.”

“Is my father in jail for what he did to my mother?”

“No. When they went to arrest him, he drew a gun on the officers and was shot dead. That alone would have been enough of a scandal, but your mother’s condition drew even more ridicule from those stuffed collars in Boston. Your grandfather decided to sell off all our businesses and bank the money. There was more than enough for us to live on. His plan was to move us to Chicago, where we'd be able to start up a new company, and your mother wouldn’t have to endure the rude barbs.”

“Did you… move?”

“Yes, we did. We settled into a lovely home in Chicago just two months before you were born. Grandpa opened an apothecary shop and hired a trained chemist to mix and dispense medicines. It was so different from anything else Silas had done, but he was happy. We were happy. Your mother, not as much. We assumed it was just her anxiety over having a baby.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“Not long after you were born, Florence admitted she’d gone willingly to Mister Williams’ bed. In a fit of anger, she told Silas that he’d caused a man’s death for nothing. The accusation weighed heavily on your grandpa.”

“Of course it did.”

“The winter of eighty-two was a rough one and grandpa became ill. He passed just months before your third birthday. It was then that I decided to sell the apothecary and come west. I thought I’d get some resistance from your mother, but she willingly accepted my decision. I suppose that should have been a warning sign. I spent the rest of the winter months setting up my bank accounts, spreading them from Boston to Denver. I engaged solicitors to be available if I needed them.”

“It sounds as if you inherited your father’s business acumen.”

“My father and my husband were both eager to share information. I soaked it up like a ball of cotton batting.”

“I’m confused as to why you chose Big Bend. Why not stay in Denver?” Eliza asked.

“I wanted to get your mother away from the city. I hoped a smaller town would help her settle down. Big Bend was close enough to Denver that, if it didn’t work out, we could always backtrack.”

“I’m amazed you’ve managed to keep all this a secret for so long. Not just from me, but from the entire town.”

“Don’t go giving me too much credit for secrecy. There are a few people here in town who know about my past.”

Eliza was taken aback. How could Gram have told others, but not her ?

“Like whom, for instance?”

“Reverend Peterson, for one. Mister Charles, at the bank, knows of my Denver accounts, as that’s where I draw money from most often. Sheriff Stewart, God rest his soul, was informed after your mother left. He offered to help track her down, but I was being stubborn and said to let her go. I really thought she’d come back as soon as she ran out of money.”

“But she didn’t. Obviously, she didn’t want me.”

“Eliza, sweetheart, don’t ever think that. She was little more than a child herself. She didn’t know what it meant to be a mother… a family in her own right.”

“Did you ever look for her?”

Gram nodded and her eyes drifted shut as if she was reluctant to answer. Finally, she let loose a long sigh and said, “Yes. I hired a Pinkerton’s man after she’d been gone for a few years. I needed to know she was all right.”

“And?” Eliza prompted.

“She fell on hard times and took to earning money any way she could. The place where she was staying caught fire.”

“She’s dead?”

“Yes, she died when you were barely eight. I sent money for a decent headstone. I continue to contribute to the local church, so they’ll take care of her plot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before I left for New York?”

“I wanted you to achieve your dreams on your own, Buttercup. If I’d sent you off with a huge bank account and no reason to earn your way, you might not have accomplished half of what you have.”

“So much about our lives here in Big Bend makes sense to me now,” Eliza said. “I do have one other question.”

“Which is?”

“If you have all this money banked between here and Boston, why did you open up a dress shop to make money to take care of us?”

“Idle hands, my dear, are truly the devil’s handiwork. I enjoyed being busy, with my dressmaking, and my herb and vegetable garden.”

“I suppose I should thank you for teaching me how to sew. It certainly paid my way in between stage appearances.” She paused and then reached for Gram’s hand, before saying, “I’m glad you’re telling me all this now.”

“I figured I’m not getting any younger, and given this incident with my heart, I didn’t want to leave you unaware. That’s how people… especially women… get taken advantage of. Once I’m feeling up to traveling, we should plan to go to Denver so my solicitor and my banker can go over everything.”

“Is that really necessary?” Eliza questioned.

“Yes, being an heiress is an enormous responsibility.”

An heiress ? Her ? Now, there was something she never saw coming .