Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter (12 page)

Rurik spoke before Merrill could reply. “Carl and I have asked her to add her charming paintings to the doors on pie safes. She’s very talented, and the decorations add much value to the pieces.”

By now Svea was scowling, and Merrill couldn’t help but feel her piercing stare. Ignoring the woman, however, Merrill nodded and smiled at Granny. “I’m going to have a little workshop all my own.”

“I think that’s marvelous,” Granny said, clapping her hands. “And you must come and have lunch with me every day you’re here, and tell me all about it.”

“I think that would be great fun,” Merrill agreed. “I won’t be here every day of the week, however. Just a day or two now and then.”

“And in time that will no doubt increase,” Rurik interjected. “I would imagine once her pieces start selling and the public sees what’s available, Miss Krause will find herself with more work than she can manage on merely a day or two. It’s my hope that she’ll eventually join us on a more permanent basis.”

Merrill’s eyes widened at this declaration. She found Rurik smiling at her. “I . . . well . . . I suppose we shall see.”

“Goodness, Rurik, I doubt her father and brothers would stand for that,” Svea said, almost as if she held great authority on the matter.

“Speaking of your father, where is he?” Granny asked. “I want to congratulate him on this great idea to hire some help. I’m quick enough to criticize and lecture the poor man. Praise should be just as quick to come when the right course is chosen.”

“He went over to see my uncle.” Rurik again spoke before Merrill could respond.

She had been so surprised by Svea’s interjection into the discussion that she almost missed Granny’s question. Merrill cast a brief glance at Svea, then returned her attention to Granny. “I’m sure Father will support anything we suggest. Why don’t we leave Mr. Jorgenson and the Olssons to meet others in the congregation, and I’ll take down those names?”

Granny seemed to understand and nodded. “See you at one, Rurik. I’ll look forward to getting to know you better,
Miss Olsson—Mr. Olsson.” She took hold of Merrill’s arm and led her away. In a whisper she murmured, “I don’t think that little girl liked you much, but her brother seems quite smitten.”

Merrill drew back to look at Granny in shock. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He hung on your every word and looked really disappointed that you couldn’t join us for dinner. I’d say you have a would-be suitor. If he sticks around Waseca, I’d plan to see him come calling.” Once they were well away from the others, Granny stopped. “Now, let’s see about the women who might help you.”

Granny grasped Merrill’s hands in her own and looked so delighted she thought the old woman might well do a jig. “I’m pleased as punch over this, Merrill Jean. Just pleased as punch. Not that I want you working a job for long, but with you over there—why, you’ll have any number of bachelors to vie for your attention. Carl has at least ten men on his payroll, and only about half are married. This will be a great opportunity to get you fixed up with one of them.”

“Granny! That’s not what this is about.” Merrill realized she’d been rather loud with her response and lowered her voice. “I like to draw and paint . . . you know that.”

The older woman nodded. “I do, but you’ll have to excuse me if I see this as an answer to my prayers for you, Merrill Jean.” She laughed and patted Merrill’s arm. “God’s got a hand in this, mark my words.”

Merrill wanted to agree and be happy that she would spend time in Rurik’s company, but of course that wasn’t
fitting, and she felt guilty for even considering it. Rurik belonged to another, and it wasn’t going to be otherwise by any interference on her part. At least that was Merrill’s sincere prayer—even if it wasn’t quite what her heart was telling her.

Merrill took a seat on Granny’s newly upholstered sofa and gave her approval of the gold-and-white fabric. “This is very pretty, Granny. I couldn’t quite picture it when you first told me about it, but now that I see it . . . well, it’s a perfect match for this room.”

“The shop in Minneapolis said it was a very durable material,” Granny declared. She took a seat in a chair across from Merrill. “The store manager was quite impressed with our little sofa. He said it was quite a nice piece of Queen Anne styling.”

“Queen Anne?” Merrill asked.

Corabeth floated into the room wearing her hair up in a new style. “What do you think, Merrill Jean? Granny helped me fix it in the latest fashion. We saw pictures in one of the magazines. It’s English.”

“Is that a Queen Anne, too?” Merrill asked with a grin.

“No, silly.” Corabeth looked a bit deflated, and Merrill immediately regretted teasing her friend.

“You know I have little knowledge of such things,” she said quickly. “I think it’s quite lovely.” Merrill knew that such
creations often seemed to appeal to the opposite gender. She studied Corabeth for a moment, wondering if she could ever imitate the fashion. “Please let me see the back also.”

The burst of curls that surrounded Corabeth’s forehead gave way to rolls of twists and intertwined hair that ascended ever higher upon her head. It was quite a lot of work, Merrill decided.

“You truly look beautiful, Corabeth.”

Her friend turned, her expression restored to jubilation. “Do you think Zadoc would like it?”

“I’m sure he would,” Merrill replied. “Don’t most men like their ladies to be all frilly and full of curls?”

Corabeth took a seat in a chair beside Granny and folded her hands. “I keep hoping he’ll ask me to the winter party. I could wear my hair like this if he did.”

Merrill was relieved when Granny changed the subject. “So tell us, how is Mrs. Niedermeyer working out?”

“Wonderfully. The benefit of hiring an older married woman is that she already knows so much about running a household. Father seemed pleased with her cooking, too.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. You know little Margaret Niedermeyer has worked so hard to keep their family from losing the house after George’s accident,” Granny said, smoothing the well-worn material of her work skirt.

“I remember when Father told me about George falling from the grain elevator and breaking his back,” Merrill said. “Poor man. It must have been a terrible ordeal to go through.”

“Well, I’m certain Margaret is excited to have some steady income by helping you out.” Granny smiled and winked at
Corabeth. “Now maybe you and Corabeth can do some courting. I understand your brother is finally showing some interest.” Granny reached over and patted Corabeth’s folded hands.

Merrill had hoped the subject would remain on households and duties. Instead, she found herself back on uncomfortable ground. She finally said, “Zadoc was clueless until I spelled it out for him. Now he seems quite delighted to know that Corabeth might be available.”

“I’ve been available for years now,” Corabeth said, crossing her arms. “Goodness, but a girl could get old and die before she manages to get a fella’s attention. If I hadn’t had you helping me, Merrill, Zadoc would still be thinking about . . . about . . . well, whatever it is he was thinking about.”

Laughing, Granny pointed a finger at her granddaughter. “Mark my words. By this time next year, you’ll be wed—maybe even have a little one on the way.”

Corabeth blushed and lowered her head. “Granny, don’t say such things. You’ll jinx it.”

“Nonsense. This family doesn’t believe in jinxes. Never have, never will. You make your own path with the Good Lord to guide you. So, now, why don’t we make some plans? Merrill, I know that Nils Olsson fella is interested in you. Why don’t I invite him and Zadoc to come to dinner here with you and Corabeth? It will allow the four of you to get better acquainted in a proper setting.”

Merrill felt she already knew Corabeth and Zadoc well enough. As for Nils, she really had no interest in knowing him better. She’d seen him a couple of times around the Jorgensons’ shop but always avoided any long conversations.

“I really don’t think I would want to encourage Mr. Olsson,” Merrill finally said. She looked toward the fireplace and shook her head. “I can’t say that he interests me in the least.”

“Well, what about one of the other men at Jorgenson Furniture?” Granny questioned. “I could extend the invitation to any one of them.”

“I’d rather a fella ask me himself,” Merrill said slowly. “Of course, given my appearance that isn’t likely to happen anytime soon. I’ll never have beautiful hair like you, Corabeth.”

“But you can change how you look,” Corabeth countered.

“Perhaps I shall.” Merrill raised her skirt to reveal stockings instead of trousers. “I knew it would please you if I left the long pants at home. These are not nearly as warm, but I threw on an extra petticoat.”

Granny laughed and clapped her hands. “Merrill Jean, we can fix you right up. I’ve long wanted to help you, but with the heavy workload you had, it didn’t seem possible.” She turned to her granddaughter. “Corabeth, run fetch that trunk I have at the end of my bed. Oh, and bring my brushes and combs.”

Merrill held up her hands. “Granny, it’s not so dire a situation that you need to work on me right now.” They all three laughed at her quip, but Granny was already on her feet and motioning for Merrill to follow her into the dining room. “We’ll have better light here and more space to spread out.”

Before Merrill knew what was happening, Corabeth had returned with the requested items, and Granny was pulling numerous things from the small trunk. “Now, the winter church party will be in just a few weeks, and we need to make
sure you both are ready for this adventure. Starting with someone to escort you to the party.” Granny threw Corabeth a glance. “I’m sure Zadoc will ask Corabeth, but we need to figure out a man to accompany you, Merrill.”

“Honestly, is all of this necessary?” Merrill shook her head as she looked at the lace fans and gloves. There were beads and baubles, feathers and ribbons enough for twenty young women.

“It’s definitely necessary,” Granny replied. “A man wants to know that his woman is soft and gentle. He wants her to be frilly and feminine, just like you mentioned earlier.” She held up a fan to her face and waved it ever so slightly. “Try this. You can look quite enticing with a fan in your hand.”

Merrill took the fan and tried to open it. She pushed the wrong direction and found the piece unyielding. Turning it around, she finally managed to open it, but not with any kind of grace.

“Now put it to your face,” Granny instructed. “Cover your mouth and nose and just peek over the top.” Merrill did as she was told while Granny inspected the result.

She nodded encouragingly. “We need to figure out what to do with your hair,” she said. “You look like you’ve been running wild in the forest.” Granny selected a brush and several combs. “We need to figure a way to make your hair look soft and alluring. Corabeth, go heat the curling iron.”

“Really, Granny, you don’t need to go to so much trouble—”

“Bah, we’re gonna have you gussied up so that every fella in town will be vying for your attention.”

Merrill knew in her heart there was really only one man
she wanted to impress. A wave of guilt washed over her at the thought, however. Rurik Jorgenson made her feel things she’d never felt before. She longed to know him better—to be with him.

He belongs to Svea Olsson
, she reminded herself sternly. Granny pulled hard on an errant strand of hair, and Merrill couldn’t help but give a yelp.

“Sorry, Merrill Jean. Sometimes these things come at a price. Even so, you’re quite blessed to have naturally curly hair. A few snips here and there and some turns of the curling iron, and you’ll be the height of fashion.”

She continued to pull and brush at Merrill’s hair for some time. Instead of protesting, Merrill decided to yield to the attention and say nothing more. Corabeth returned with a curling iron and carefully handed it over to Granny. “It’s hot, and I put two more on the stove,” she told her grandmother.

“Good thing. We’ve got our work with this one. Never did see hair so unmanageable. You ought to try egg whites on your hair, Merrill Jean. Take about four eggs, separate out the yolks, then whip it into a froth and massage it all over your head down close to the roots. Let it dry and then wash it out. It’ll do wonders to soften your hair.”

“And what will I use for my sponge cake?”

Granny ignored her and continued to work.

“You know, Merrill,” Corabeth said, sounding quite excited, “that material is still available at Finsters. I think after we finish here we should go buy it. Granny and I can work on a new dress for you—can’t we, Granny?”

“Of course we can. We’ve enough time before the party.
I’ve already finished putting the trims on Corabeth’s gown, so it won’t be any problem to put something together for you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Merrill protested. “A new gown is a lot of work . . . and money. I’m already helping to pay for Mrs. Niedermeyer.”

“Pshaw. You haven’t had a new dress in years. Your father would be happy for you to have it. I remember when you were in town buying material to make the boys some new shirts—he suggested then that you pick something out.”

It was true. Her father was always generous and had encouraged her to even buy one of the ready-made dresses at Finsters. Not that any of them would have fit. Merrill would have had to add several inches to the length of any store-bought gown.

“Oh, look, Granny,” Corabeth exclaimed. “These blue feathers would go perfect with that material, don’t you think? We could weave them into Merrill’s hair and use silver ribbon to set it off.” She turned thoughtful. “Do we have any silver ribbon?”

“I’m sure we can find some,” Granny replied.

Neither woman seemed at all interested in what Merrill might have to say about the matter. Granny and Corabeth rambled on about what type of gown they would create and whether or not they had Merrill’s most recent measurements. Finally Granny stepped back and put down her brush. Walking slowly around Merrill, she nodded. “What do you think, Corabeth?”

“She looks like an angel.”

Merrill snorted a laugh. “An angel, indeed.” She took the mirror Granny offered and looked at the fashionable coiffure.

“Well, how is it? Do you like it?”

She put a hand to one of the ringed curls, surprised at the reflection of a stylish young woman. “I think it is lovely, Granny, and your hard work is definitely appreciated.” Merrill lowered the mirror. “But it took over an hour to do this. I haven’t got that kind of time to give to arranging and decorating my hair. What sensible woman would?”

Corabeth frowned. “I spend a good amount of time dressing mine, and I’m sensible.”

Merrill gave her friend an apologetic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I just meant that my life on the farm would hardly allow for such a thing. If I were to spend more than ten minutes getting ready in the morning, Father would think me ill.”

“Actually, Merrill Jean, your father and brothers are a big part of the problem.” Granny’s tone was none too gentle. “They treat you like you’re one of them, and you aren’t. Your mother would be appalled, and it’s time you started thinking of what she would want for you.”

A frown knitted Merrill’s brows together. She knew Granny meant well, but she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the moment. “My mother wanted me to be kind and helpful to my brothers and father,” she murmured.

“Of course she did,” Granny said, bobbing a nod. “I didn’t mean to sound grouchy. It’s just that you are a beautiful young woman, but you don’t allow yourself to see it. I see you with your emerald eyes and dark hair and know that your beauty is unmatched. You look into the mirror and see a laborer who must work every second of the day to benefit someone else.”

“But isn’t that how Christ would have us be?” Merrill looked at Granny and then to Corabeth. “I think God puts us all in different situations for different reasons. If I am to fall in love and marry a man, should that man not love me no matter my appearance? Surely I won’t be able to fashion my hair like this every day.”

“Of course not every day, dear—this style is for special occasions. But you can learn to accent your beauty,” Granny said. “You can wear more feminine attire. Add some lace to your collar, trim your blouse with some ribbon. Wear a pretty broach or a necklace.”

“And gloves,” Corabeth said, holding up a pair of white kid gloves. “Instead of mittens.”

“But mittens are warmer,” Merrill said in her practical way.

“Then wear them over the gloves and lay the mittens aside when you go into church or a gathering.”

“And use the fan,” Corabeth added.

Merrill sighed. They meant well; she knew that much. But she wished they could understand that their fussing only served to make her feel like more of an outsider.

The clock chimed one, and Merrill jumped to her feet. “Oh, I must go. I promised to stop over at the furniture shop before I head home. Thank you so much for your kind words and . . . and of course the help with my hair.” She noted the look of expectancy on their faces. Taking up her reticule, Merrill paused. “I suppose, if you truly wish to make a gown for me, I won’t object. Charge the material to Father’s account, and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”