Chapter Six

Winter’s On It’s Way

Early December

Eliza entered the house mid-afternoon through the kitchen door, discarding her heavy coat and stomping the snow off her boots and placed them on the rug along the wall.

“Eliza June?” Gram shouted from the parlor. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Gram,” she called out. “It’s me. The wind is horrible today. I’m going to make some fresh tea to warm up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Biscuits and jam would be nice with our tea.”

Eliza snickered softly. Gram loved her biscuits and jam more than most. “Strawberry or gooseberry?”

“Whichever you prefer, Buttercup.”

Leaning against the table while she waited for the kettle, Eliza let Gram’s childhood nickname sink in. The memories the endearment conjured up warmed her better than any fire or cup of tea.

“Here you go, Gram,” she said, setting the serving tray on the table between her grandmother’s chair and the settee. “Spiced lemon tea, biscuits with butter and gooseberry jam. And, because Missus Hamlin said you behaved yourself today, a couple of lemon drops from the candy jar at the mercantile.”

“Gertie Hamlin wouldn’t know ‘ behaving ’ if it knocked the bonnet clean off her head. She raised a half-dozen rascally boys who never behaved.”

“Be that as it may, I was pleased to hear you ate the lunch she made for you and that you didn’t try to sneak out to the shed for a cheroot.”

Gram shot her a narrowed glare. “How could I? You hid them on me.”

“The doctor’s orders,” Eliza reminded her. “Plus, proper women shouldn’t be smoking.”

The glare was back. Gram’s gray hair flew around her face when she shook her head. “When have you ever considered me to be all proper like?”

“True, but I keep hoping.”

“How was your day? Did you get those last two costumes finished?” Gram wondered.

“I did. I’m just waiting on word from Mister Baxter as to where I’m to ship them.”

“You’ve been working awfully hard lately, sweetie. Between working in the shop, caring for me, and even filling in for me with my church duties, you’re going day and night. Maybe you should take a break for the rest of the month… at least from working in the shop.”

Eliza thought of a few reasons she wasn’t quite ready to give up her daily visits into town, among them the chance to see Cole. “Actually, I’ve agreed to make dresses for Misses Collier, the banker’s wife, and her daughter. They wanted something fancy for the holidays.”

Jillian took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair. “Are you reopening the dress shop?”

“No, other than for a few special orders. At least not until I decide whether I’m going back to New York or, possibly, on to California.” She reached out and rearranged Gram’s lap blanket, before adding, “I’m not going anywhere though until I know you’re fully recovered.”

“Oh, pshaw. At my age, there’s no such thing as ‘fully recovered.’”

“Of course there is, Gram. You’ve always been the liveliest person I know.”

“Ten years ago, maybe. Time catches up with a body. I’ll be sixty-six in April. I can’t do half of what I used to.”

“Well, for the time being, let’s concentrate on getting you as well as you can be. We wouldn’t want to miss the school’s Christmas pageant on the tenth.”

“Oh, I remember when you used to perform. You were such a light among the rest who saw performing as a chore.”

“Amanda’s been in and out of the shop working on costumes for the children. She’s completely enamored with the sewing machine I brought with me.”

“I’d like to try my hand at it one day myself. I’ve never sewn on an electric machine before. I’m sure it beats having to pump that pedal.”

“That it does.” Eliza sighed deeply, then added, “There wasn’t any electricity out this way when I left, so when I first saw the machine in the city, I was as head-over-heels as Amanda seems to be.”

“We’ve also got Christmas Eve services to look forward to,” Gram reminded her. “I think the reverend’s happy that the eve falls on a Sunday this year so he can have the actual holiday off with his family. Is there anything special you wanted to do for Christmas?”

“If it’s okay with you, I thought I’d invite Marshal Stewart to dinner.”

“Of course it’s all right with me. Cole is a fine fellow. You could do worse.”

Eliza bit her lip. “We’re not courting, Gram. It’s just that he was so helpful in getting the shop back in working order, I feel the least I can do is provide him with a special holiday meal.”

Gram shot her a questioning look. “Gratitude? That’s what you’re saying. Not attraction?” Before Eliza could respond, Gram continued. “He is a looker. The two of you would make me some right good-looking great grandbabies.”

“Gram!” Eliza’s cheeks warmed, a reaction that had nothing to do with the fire burning brightly in the parlor’s hearth.

“Don’t go getting all shy on me. You’re well past courting and marrying age. You should be thinking about your future with a family of your own.”

“Not every woman needs a husband, or children.”

“True,” Gram agreed. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want one.”

Eliza pushed herself to her feet, and proclaimed, “On that note, I’m going to peel some potatoes and turnips for the roast Missus Hamlin started before she left.”

“I can help,” Gram offered.

“No, you sit here and enjoy the last of your tea. Maybe save those lemon drops for after we eat.”

“I’m bored just sitting here.”

“Well then, perhaps you would like your yarn basket. I’m sure there’s something you could be knitting.”

“You know, my dear, there is. If Cole Stewart’s coming for Christmas dinner, perhaps I’ll knit him some woolen socks as a gift.” Motioning toward her stash of yarn and needles, Gram ordered, “I’ll need the dark gray skein, and my medium size needles.”

Once she’d fetched Gram’s supplies, Eliza made her way to the kitchen. Socks indeed . Socks and grandbabies and … Shaking her head, Eliza pushed her grandmother’s words aside. What she wanted was a career on the stage or, possibly, in silent films. Or, at least, that’s what she thought she wanted.

Big Bend United Church Hall

The School Play

Sunday, December 10, 1905

Eliza gathered up an armload of costumes and followed Amanda into one of the anterooms to the left of the stage. Quite the change, she realized, from when she was a child. Then, they performed the play at the old schoolhouse, on a stage that wobbled when you walked on it. Now they’d moved to the larger church hall and had a permanent stage that sat firmly at one end of the large space.

Gram was seated in the second row, flanked by Mister and Missus Hamlin on one side, and Cole Stewart on the other. A shiver ran down Eliza’s back when she thought of what Gram might say to the marshal. Hopefully, her feisty grandmother would refrain from mentioning ‘ right good-looking great grandbabies’ .

“Is that the last of them?” Amanda asked, her question drawing Eliza from her thoughts of Cole.

“Yes, I think so. Deputy Peabody carried in the last of the props ahead of me, and this was all that was remaining in the wagon,” Eliza explained.

“Come, children,” Amanda said loudly, drawing twelve eager students of varying ages to her side. Nodding in Eliza’s direction, Amanda added, “This is my good friend Eliza Carson. She’s going to help us keep everything in order today.”

“You’re the lady from New York,” one of the older girls commented. “The one who’s been in plays. Right?”

“Yes, I am,” Eliza responded. “And, like all of you, I got my start right here in Big Bend in our school performances.”

“I want to be an actress,” another of the girls announced. “But not until there are moving pictures like we’ve read about.”

“That’s a lovely ambition,” Eliza told them. “Perhaps by the time you’re old enough to go to California, silent films will have become all the rage. But first, you need a good education.”

“Yes,” Amanda agreed enthusiastically. “That’s what I keep telling them.”

“Why does an education matter if you’ve got talent?” Six-year-old Berta Stout asked.

“Well, for starters, you have to be able to read so you can memorize your lines,” Eliza pointed out. “And knowing your math helps because sometimes you have to be able to measure your steps on stage so that you’re on the right spot.”

“You need to be able to write, so you can send letters home to tell everyone of your grand adventures,” Amanda added.

“I’m gonna be a marshal, like Mister Stewart,” Nick Stout exclaimed. “He’s our pa’s best friend.”

“I remember,” Eliza confided. “Your pa, your uncle Charlie, and Marshal Stewart were quite the bunch back in the day.”

“Really?” Berta responded.

Eliza rushed to defend the three best friends. “Never bad, of course. Just a touch mischievous, but always kind and respectful of others.”

“Here you go, Miss Amanda,” Grant Peabody said as he entered, carrying a large plywood sign in his hands. “Mister Kendall said the paint might be a touch wet.”

Eliza watched as her good friend took the sign from the deputy’s grasp. Their gazes met, and Amanda’s cheeks flushed slightly.

Once Grant had left, Eliza teased, “Was that a look I saw between you and the deputy?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amanda whispered, obviously reluctant to let the students overhear their conversation.

“I’d say the young man is smitten,” Eliza countered. “And that smile you gave him made him blush almost as much as you are.”

Amanda brushed her cheek with the dash of her fingertips. “I’m not blushing,” she insisted. “Or, at least, no more than you do anytime Cole is around.”

“Now who doesn’t know what they’re talking about?” Eliza charged. “Cole Stewart is a friend. Nothing more.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if one of the Bellamy sisters invited him to tea?”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Miss Amanda, can you help me with my costume?” Berta asked, her request saving Eliza from answering Amanda’s ridiculous question.

Ridiculous ? Honestly ? Her inner voice taunted.

“Of course I can, Berta,” Amanda said softly. “It’ll give Miss Eliza a few moments to come up with an answer to my query.”

It was nearly nine that evening when Eliza and Gram arrived home. “You go on inside, Gram. I’ll just unhook the buggy and bed down the horse. I shouldn’t be long.”

“My neighbor, Mister Hastings, will take care of that,” Jillian said. “Just tether the buggy to the fence. He’s only a few minutes behind us.”

“I don’t mind,” Eliza insisted.

“Well, I do,” Gram argued. “You’ve done enough for one day. Besides, I pay Mister Hastings a monthly fee to help out. He needs to earn his money.”

Eliza did as Gram asked, and then met her at the bottom step. Offering her arm, she helped her grandmother up the two low risers and onto the back porch. Once they were safely inside the big kitchen, Eliza asked, “So? What did you and Mister and Missus Hamlin have to talk about this evening?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather know what the marshal and I discussed? I saw you watching us from behind the curtain.”

She helped Gram out of her coat, then shed her own before replying. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything embarrassing?”

Jillian waved her hand dismissively. “I hardly think asking the man’s intentions toward my only grandchild would be considered ‘embarrassing.’”

“You didn’t!”

Gram’s faint chuckle set Eliza’s nerves on edge.

“No, Eliza June, I didn’t. Not that I hadn’t considered it. Especially after he was kind enough to invite the two of us to join him for dinner at the café.”

“He did? When?”

“I told him he’d need to talk to you about it first, of course. I’m happy with whatever day and time you decide.”