Courting Miss Adelaide (23 page)

“Addie, is this something worth keeping?”

Adelaide left the pile of bric-a-brac she sorted to look at Charles’s latest treasure. He held two pieces of a papier-mâché apple in an open palm, a question in his eyes.

“No, it’s damaged beyond repair.”

“This apple doesn’t tempt you? With a dab of glue—”

She smiled. “No amount of glue will fix that apple.”

He tossed it away. “If only Eve had had your strength.”

Adelaide giggled. With Charles here, she didn’t get much done, but still, she treasured his presence.

A few minutes later, a tickle along her jaw sent a shiver spiraling down her spine. Charles stood over where she sat, sporting a lazy grin and trailing the tip of a feather down her neck. “Maybe if you pressed them in a book?” Charles held out a handful of colorful feathers.

“Their spines are broken. Please, put them in the trash.”

“I wouldn’t want to toss anything important. I don’t see anything wrong with this.” He grabbed a long-stemmed silk rose from the pile and held it in his strong white teeth.

Adelaide gave him a playful nudge. “You’re hopeless.”

Removing the bloom, he hauled her to her feet and slipped it into her chignon. “It looks better here.”

Cradling her face in his hands, he brushed his lips across one cheek, then to her mouth with a tender and gentle kiss. He tugged her close, pulling her against his chest. “I worry about you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She prayed God would protect them all.

She glanced at the clock. If she had to keep supervising Charles, she’d never get order restored. “What I really need is to have the glass replaced. Could you do that?”

“Are you sure you don’t need me here?”

No matter what he’d said, he looked desperate to leave. “I’ll try to manage without you.”

He flashed a grin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Charles strode for the door and on the threshold met Sheriff Rogers, holding Jacob Paul by the shirt.

“I’m taking Jacob in for questioning,” Sheriff Rogers said. “Want to talk to him about a nasty cut on his hand.”

Air left Adelaide’s lungs. Jacob hated her so much for reporting his arson that he’d destroy her shop?

Jacob’s dark eyes sparked with defiance. “I didn’t do anything. I cut my hand whittling.”

Sheriff Rogers ignored the boy’s claim and met Adelaide’s gaze. “His father is meeting us at the jail. I’d suggest you come, too, Miss Crum.”

Later, inside the jail, the sheriff released Jacob. The boy crossed the room, wearing a scowl on his face, and slumped down in a chair, ignoring his father pacing near the door.

Mr. Paul pointed his finger at Adelaide. “You’ve accused my son to get even with me.”

The sheriff cocked his head. “Why would Miss Crum want to get even with you, Thaddeus?”

“For turning down her request for an orphan, that’s why.”

Adelaide planted her hands on her hips. “That’s absurd.”

Sheriff Rogers held up a palm. “Miss Crum didn’t accuse your son. I thought of Jacob first thing. You have to admit, Thaddeus, the boy’s been in trouble more than out.”

Mr. Paul’s shoulders stiffened. “That doesn’t mean he’s done this.”

“No,” Sheriff Rogers said, “but that ugly cut on his right hand puts him under suspicion.”

Jacob shifted in his seat. “I told you, I cut my hand whittling.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Are you left-handed, boy?”

“I’m right-handed but the knife slipped.” He smirked. “I never said I was good at it.”

Adelaide folded her arms across her middle. “So show us what you’re working on.”

Jacob gave a cocky grin. “After I cut my hand, I hurled the piece of wood in the river. There’s nothing to find.”

The sheriff’s mouth tightened. “Thaddeus, can you vouch for your son’s whereabouts last night between midnight and dawn?”

“He was home sleeping.”

Adelaide felt like shaking that smirk off Jacob’s face. The boy had no respect for authority.

“Did you sit in his room all night?” the sheriff asked.

“Of course not! This is an outrage. You have no proof my son vandalized that shop.”

“Not yet, but that cut puts him under suspicion.”

“He explained that.” Mr. Paul gestured toward his son. “I’m taking him home.”

The sheriff stood over Jacob. “You’re free to go, but I’ll be watching you.”

Father and son headed for the door. As Jacob sauntered past, he brushed against Adelaide’s skirts, probably trying to frighten her. Well, he did. After the fire-setting episode, she’d prayed for him. It appeared she had a lot more praying to do. She’d thought Ed Drummond had broken into her shop, but now Jacob appeared to be the most likely culprit.

The heavy door rattled shut. Adelaide met Sheriff Rogers’s gaze. “How could you let him go? Surely you don’t believe that whittling story.”

“I have no proof. I can’t arrest him on a hunch or for a bad attitude. I didn’t find red paint at the Paul house, but I did find an opened can of red paint in the alley behind the general store.” He sighed. “Anyone could have painted that threat or ransacked your shop, Miss Crum. Anyone.”

Charles closed his toolbox. He’d replaced the pane in the door. Not that new glass would stop anyone from entering Addie’s shop. That insight sank like a stone in his stomach.

Addie came up beside him. “Thank you.”

His gaze scanned her face, noting the furrow in her usually smooth brow. What he needed to say would only add to her dismay. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Printing another article on suffrage is apt to stir up more trouble.”

Her gaze, sharp as a well-honed blade, probed into him. “I can’t believe my political opinions are behind the vandalism or the threat.”

“Until we know what’s going on, it might be a good idea to keep your name out of the news.”

Her hand motioned around the room. “Jacob is a troubled kid. He vandalized my shop to get even. Or…” Her mouth went dry. “Ed Drummond wants to scare me so that I’ll stop investigating his treatment of William. It’s ludicrous to think some ordinary citizen could be irate enough to do this.”

“Don’t be so sure. Suffrage is a hot issue. You’re asking for trouble by—”

“I’m asking for nothing, Charles. Except the right to express my opinion so that women like Frances and your mother and, yes, even me, can have some control over their lives.”

“I’m not opposed to your position on suffrage. Can’t you understand? I’m concerned about your safety.”

“You agreed to print my views. Are you breaking your word?”

Why must she make this about them? Didn’t she see the danger? He grabbed the toolbox, his jaw as tight as a vise because this stubborn, opinionated woman wouldn’t listen to reason.

“Have it your way, Addie,” he said, opening the shop door. “You won’t listen to me.”

Chapter Sixteen

A
delaide gathered another armload of her ruined stock and dumped it into the garbage can, relieved she only had a few more piles to clean up.

The bell jingled, thanks to Charles who had reattached it to the door.

Laura peeked in, carrying a napkin-covered plate. “I heard about your vandalism.” Her gaze roamed the shop. “Probably boys running wild,” she muttered. “Why, in my day, the boys tore down and reassembled a carriage on Old Man Hiatt’s roof.” She put the plate on the counter and picked up an unwound spool of ribbon and began winding it.

Clearly, Laura had no idea of the seriousness of the situation. “This wasn’t a prank.”

Laura tucked the rewound spool into the drawer and turned to Adelaide. “It wasn’t? Oh, my. Well, then who did it?”

“The sheriff found no evidence of who did it. I have my suspicions, but for now, I’d better keep them to myself.”

Laura’s brow furrowed and she looked tempted to pry, but instead she picked up the plate, peeling back the napkin to reveal the spongy cake beneath. “I brought you a wedge of angel food cake. In a crisis, I turn to sweets.” Laura giggled. “Actually, I turn to sweets when good things happen and when nothing happens.”

Smiling, Adelaide gave Laura a hug. “Thank you for the cake and for coming. Every time I need you, you’re here for me.”

“And you for me, dear.”

Adelaide could put the gift to good use. “This might soften Charles’s resistance.”

“Resistance to what?” Laura raised her brows, a gleam in her eyes. “You?”

“More like my words. A couple more columns I’ve written that he’s not exactly eager to print.”

“For goodness sakes, Adelaide, you already have a business. You don’t need more to do. What you need to concentrate on is that man. Take Mr. Graves the cake and sweeten your relationship.” She shook her head. “This vandalism is a sign you need a man to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself. You know that.”

Laura sighed. “Would it hurt to pretend you can’t?”

Adelaide grabbed a broom and swept the last of the debris into the dustpan. “Why would I do that?”

“A man likes to feel needed.” Laura planted her hands on her hips. “All this independence is your mother’s fault.”

Adelaide straightened. “How?”

“Because of her, you’ve held in your feelings all those years and now you can’t let them go.”

Though Adelaide wanted to deny what her friend said, the words resonated inside her. But what did it matter? Letting go of feelings only led to getting them trampled. She dumped the dustpan into the garbage. “I don’t let my emotions control me.”

“Are those columns about women getting the vote? Lands sake. Don’t we ladies have enough to do as it is, without worrying about politics?”

“Don’t you want a say in what happens in your life?”

“I’m a widow, I have
all
the say. Even my daughter has started listening to me.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine? After all these years, she’s decided I might be right about a couple of things.” Laura wagged a finger. “You should listen to me, too. Forget politics. Concentrate on finding happiness.”

Adelaide’s shoulders sagged. Even Laura fought her ideas. “I’d expected the men would need convincing, not the ladies.” She laid the broom aside and picked up the plate. “I’ll take this to Charles as a thank-you for fixing the broken pane. Will that make you happy?”

Laura nodded. “See, a man can be useful.”

“You’d love to see me attached to one, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, dear, I would. Underneath, I think you want it, too.”

Adelaide opened her mouth to argue with her, but Laura gave her a hug. “I’m leaving before you start lecturing me on suffrage,” Laura said with a wink. “Whether you can vote or take this vandalism in stride, you still need someone to love.” Laura sauntered to the door. “Why don’t I pick up Emma after school? I’ll take her to the café for a glass of lemonade. That will give you more time to…do whatever it is you must.”

Even though Laura didn’t agree with her, she was supportive, a good friend. “Emma would like that. Thank you.”

Adelaide closed the door behind her friend. Laura thought marriage solved every problem, but marriage only meant more trouble. Look at her mother’s life, at Charles’s parents, the Drummonds. She needed a way to protect Emma and William, not a fairy tale.

She removed her apron and hustled upstairs to wash her face and hands. Later, she checked her appearance in the mirror—not to impress Charles, but to be sure her hat tipped at the proper angle. She folded the column and placed it in her purse, then picked up the slice of cake on her way out.

Crossing the street to
The Ledger,
she resolved to have her way. After all, she owned the paper, too. She wouldn’t give up this chance to influence the community.

As she arrived, James left the paper, rushing off to whatever assignment Charles had given him. He seemed like a nice young man, very conscientious. But if he got a chance, he’d probably be telling her what to do, too.

She halted on the boardwalk. There, through the window, stood Fannie, her face aglow, her hand on Charles’s arm. A surge of something Adelaide refused to name roared to life in her midsection. As she watched, they broke apart and Charles walked her protégée to the door, laughing at something Fannie said.

Demureness apparently had done its work. Only two lessons and Fannie had Charles pinned to the target.

Adelaide flattened her back against the brick. She didn’t want to be caught spying.

Out on the boardwalk, Fannie rose on tiptoe and kissed Charles on the cheek. Casually, as if it were a common occurrence, and then giggled before walking up the street, her skirts swishing like a broom at full speed. Some things never changed.

Adelaide’s grip tightened on the plate. She had no rights, no claim on Charles. The concern he’d shown her, the kiss they’d shared, meant nothing. For an instant, the back of her eyes stung. She blinked hard. This had been a difficult day. That’s why she felt close to tears. Not because of Fannie and Charles.

Charles started back inside the paper,
her
paper. Then he stopped. “Addie, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect you’d have that mess cleaned up for hours.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “Oh, the afternoon is nearly over.”

“Spending time with a friend has a way of making time fly.”

“What?” Then his brain connected with her words. “Oh, you mean Fannie.” He studied her and then an annoying grin spread across his face. “You saw that kiss?”

As if Adelaide even cared. She lifted her chin. “You’re more than welcome to kiss any woman who’ll have you.”

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me—on the cheek.” His grin got broader. If he kept it up, she’d be able to shove the plate, cake and all, into that cavern. “Are you suggesting I kiss
you
instead?”

“I’m doing nothing of the kind.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound. “My, my, aren’t we testy?”

“If you’d had the day I’ve had, you’d be testy, too.”

His expression turned grim. “I’m sorry for teasing you. Come in.” He took her free hand and led her into the office.

She should march back home and take the cake with her, but something stronger than her resolve sent her forward.

At his desk, he eyed the plate in her hands. “So what’s under that cloth?”