Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (9 page)

Outside, she put her hand on the coach to steady herself as she looked up to where Alfred sat on the driver’s seat. “Please wait here for the aunts. When they’re finished inside, they’ll want you to bring them to Miss Thornhill’s. Then I’d like you to carry a message to Pastor Taylor of St. John’s, asking him to call tomorrow. Mid-morning, if he can manage it.”

Alfred looked toward O Street. “You sure you’re up to walking all that way?”

“I’m sure.” She headed off up the street, hoping that she looked more determined than she felt. What a jumble of emotions she was: one moment nearly consumed with anger, the next drowning in hurt and regret. One minute unable to decide which shoes to wear, the next making a monumental decision to leave First Church. For she was. Leaving. Reverend Burnham could have Sterling’s funeral. She would do that for Aunt Theodora. But the next time she attended a religious service, it would be with Aunt Lydia. It was unfortunate that Cass Gregory also attended St. John’s—Aunt Lydia mentioned him from time to time—but Juliana supposed every church had its hypocrites in the pews. At least there wasn’t one in the pulpit at St. John’s.

As she walked, she looked in shop windows but had no interest in the merchandise. She nodded at passersby but didn’t really look them in the eye. Thankfully, no one imposed themselves on her. She walked, head down, her thoughts swirling. And then … she was there, staring at a roped-off, ruined building, trying to grasp the truth of Sterling in this place. She looked at the curved brick archway over the door. The narrow steps. The streaks of soot accenting each of the windows, like painted eyelashes on a broken doll. And again, she wept.

“Mrs. Sutton?”

A deep voice sounded from just over her left shoulder. She turned to see who it was, just as Cass Gregory dismounted from a muscled bay. The minute Gregory’s feet touched the earth, he swept his black hat off his head and then, reins in one hand and the hat in the other, he said, “You shouldn’t be here.” He glanced about them. “How did you get here, anyway?”

“I walked.” Juliana nodded toward the east. “From Lindermann’s.” She took in a deep breath. “We were making … arrangements. And suddenly I just … couldn’t.” She looked back at the building. “I meant to walk to the dresser’s. My feet brought me here.”

A wagon trundled past. When Gregory’s horse snorted and skittered away, he grabbed the bridle throatlatch. “Steady, boy.” The horse snorted again then settled and snuffled Gregory’s shoulder.

“Handsome animal,” Juliana said, grateful for the chance to shift attention off herself.

“He’s not mean-spirited. Just headstrong.”

“I can see that,” Juliana said. And she could. Something in the creature’s dark eyes. The way he held his head. Now that Mr. Gregory had hold of the throatlatch, the horse had settled. Trusting.

“Allow me to offer my condolences,” Gregory said.

Juliana nodded. She thought about seeing him talking to that woman last night. Had he known Nell Parker? She wanted to ask about it. But that would be unthinkable. A lady didn’t even acknowledge the existence of …
those
females. She looked north, toward O Street. “I should be going. If the aunts get to Miss Thornhill’s and I’m not there—”

“I’ll walk you.” He offered his arm.

Juliana hesitated, rebelling against the idea of accepting Mr. Gregory as a gentleman when, based on his associations, he clearly was not. “That’s not necessary. You were on your way somewhere.” She took a step back, newly aware of the rope behind her and the pile of rubble behind it.

“A few minutes’ delay won’t make any difference. I’d already be at the job site, but I needed to speak with Mr. Duncan.”

“Is something wrong?”
What a stupid thing to say.
“I meant—besides the obvious.”

“No, ma’am. It’ll be fine. Although I imagine that sounds like an empty promise at the moment.”

Juliana nodded. How strange that the rest of the world simply went on as if nothing had happened. It seemed that creation should at least pause while the world reoriented itself around the empty place Sterling used to occupy. She looked up at Mr. Gregory. For some reason she noticed his eyes. Hazel, flecked with green. Shining with compassion and, perhaps, just a hint of worry. What was wrong with her, that she would notice a man’s eyes at a moment like this?

“We’ll carry on with the original plan,” Gregory said. “You can count on us.”

Juliana blinked. The original plan? The original plan was to live happily ever after. To give Sterling children. To grow old together. The original plan was out of reach. Lost forever.

“Mrs. Sutton? May I walk you to Miss Thornhill’s?”

Juliana took his arm and let herself be led away. Goldie’s was just out of sight when she stopped and looked back. “You were there last night. I saw you.”
With one of those women.

“I heard the fire bell. My rooming house isn’t all that far away.”

So perhaps he was just being … gallant when it came to the redhead. “The fire bell carried all the way to the house. When I came out on the porch and saw the flames, it seemed like it could have been the lumberyard.”

“You must have been terrified.”

She took a deep breath and barely managed not to say it aloud.
Actually, I think I was disappointed. I thought maybe—if he lost everything—maybe he’d come back to me. Of course I didn’t realize…. I didn’t know I’d lost him to more than the business.

Later that afternoon, Cass stood in what would, by fall, be the impressive entry hall to the Sutton mansion. He gazed through the doorway as the last of the supply wagons trundled past, headed back into town. Jessup raised a beefy arm in salute. Cass returned the gesture, then turned in a slow circle, imagining polished finials, gleaming marble floors, and crystal chandeliers reflecting candlelight onto the massive dining table that, at this very moment, sat beneath a heavy tarp in the warehouse in town.

“Don’t tell my wife,” the boss had said, when he sent Cass with Jessup and three other men to hoist the table off the freight car and deliver it to the lumberyard. “I want to surprise her.”

Cass went to the arched doorway leading into the dining room. And he worried about Mrs. Sutton. He’d thought of little else since leaving her with “the aunts” at Miss Thornhill’s. She’d been calm enough, but a couple of times there’d been an edge to the things she said. Like when she said that she’d seen him at the fire. Had she seen him with Ma and Sadie? He could just imagine the assumptions a woman like Mrs. Sutton would make about that. And if she suspected her husband, what might she think of him, now? The idea made him uncomfortable.

Cass wanted her to trust him. Especially after his meeting with Mr. Duncan this morning. She might need a friend in coming days, and he was in a unique place to help her. At least he thought so. He understood more about the business than anyone else. That might prove fortunate at some point. When it came right down to it, George Duncan reminded him of a vulture circling until the time was right to dive in and savor the spoils of death.

The minute he thought of the analogy, he could almost hear Sadie teasing him.
Aren’t you the dramatic one?
Sadie. What would become of her, now?

Climbing down from the entryway—Jessup would begin the steps up to the front door in a couple of days—Cass whistled for Baron. An answering whinny led him to the other side of the stone cottage they’d built first on the site. At the moment, the house served as an office and center of business for the massive undertaking that would result in the biggest house in Lincoln. Someday it would house a groundskeeper. A hobbled Baron was grazing contentedly beneath one of the mature cottonwoods growing near the house. Before long, Cass was headed back toward town and supper with Ma, Sadie, and Ludwig Meyer.

At the far edge of the Sutton property, he pulled Baron up and looked back at the house. The tops of the chimneys glowed red, reflecting the last of the day’s sunshine. From this distance, he might be looking at all that was left of a once fine home gone to ruin, or at progress toward the realization of a dream. As he nudged Baron into an easy lope, Cass wondered which version of the site would prove to be true.

Above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.
1 P
ETER
4:8

H
ave I sprouted horns?” Sadie took Cass’s hat and placed it on the shelf just inside Mr. Meyer’s front door.

Cass shook his head and teased, “Horns wouldn’t be as big a change.” He inspected the striped calico skirt, the white waist with the brooch pinned in place at the high neckline.

“You could be a schoolmarm.”

Sadie reached up to smooth her hair. “There’s no need to be unkind.” She laughed.

Cass protested. “It’s a good change. You look
sweet.”

“Did you hear what he just said?” Sadie called to Ma, who was standing at the stove dipping a ladle into the juices surrounding a roasted bird and pouring them over the browned carcass.

“I did.” Ma nodded and looked up with a smile. “And I agree.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Sweet? I am not sweet.” She nudged Cass’s arm. “I’m … saucy.” She looked down at her skirt and gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s really a shame that Ludwig has such horrific taste. I detest this shade of green. But I couldn’t exactly do my own shopping today dressed in a blue silk dressing gown.” She motioned toward the table. “I hope you don’t mind sitting in a rocker. There’s only two proper chairs. Ludwig sits on that stool.”

“And where is Ludwig?”

“Here.” Meyer stepped in the back door. “We were out of coffee.”

Sadie leaned close and murmured, “Be nice. He’s nervous about officially meeting you.”

Meyer handed Ma a small paper bag and then stood, hat in hand, gazing at Sadie with an expression that made Cass feel like an intruder. Instead of settling in the rocker, he offered to grind the coffee beans and joined Ma near the stove. In moments, the four of them were seated around Meyer’s small table, exclaiming over the delicious meal.

“You were right,” Meyer said to Sadie as he took a bite of a biscuit. “The best I’ve ever eaten.”

“And you,” Sadie said, leaning toward Cass, “got your wish. I’m not going back to Goldie’s.” She grinned. “Put your eyes back in your head, Brother.” She nodded at Meyer. “Tell him.”

Meyer gulped. “I’ve finally saved enough to open my own store. I have asked Sadie and Mrs. Nash to join me in that endeavor.”

Cass glanced at Ma. He’d been dreaming of them all living together as a family again for a long time. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.

“I haven’t given him my answer,” Ma said, smiling at Mr. Meyer. “But I very much appreciate being included in the invitation.”

Meyer glanced at Sadie. “Sadie says that I should ask if Sutton Builders might take on the building.”

“New construction?”

Meyer nodded. “In Roca, to the south of Lincoln. It’s a growing place, thanks to the—”

“Stone quarries,” Cass said. “I know.”

“Of course.” Meyer nodded. “You would.”

Sadie spoke up. “Ma said we should look for work. As it happens, work came looking for us. In Ludwig’s store.”

Meyer cleared his throat. “There is something else, Mr. Gregory.” His face reddened. “I mean to marry your sister if she will have me.” He gazed across the table at her.

“But we aren’t rushing into it,” Sadie said quickly.

From the look on Meyer’s face, Cass gathered that waiting was Sadie’s idea. She seemed to realize she’d hurt him. “Although Ludwig has many fine qualities.” She smiled at him. “He’s kind.”

Meyer shrugged. “And too shy.”

“Hardworking,” Sadie countered.

“Only a storekeeper and likely never to be more. Not handsome.

Not rich.”

“Thank God.” When Meyer looked confused, Sadie reached across the table and took his hand. “I’ve known plenty of handsome, rich men, Ludwig. None of them ever actually saw
me.
You do. You know I’m afraid of—”

“Spiders.”

“And my favorite color is—”

“Red.”

“And I grew up in—”

“Kansas.”

“And my mother is—”

“The kind of woman you hope to be.”

Ma looked at Sadie, who nodded. “Exactly.”

Meyer looked at Cass. “I know all of these things about her, but still she will not marry me. Yet.”

Sadie changed the subject. “So what do you say, Brother? Will you build Meyer’s Mercantile? Ludwig wants a stone building. I told him you’re an expert.”

Cass sat back. “I’ve supervised jobs, but I’m no stonemason, and the job I’m working on will take the rest of the summer and into the fall.”

“Mrs. Sutton’s mansion,” Meyer said.

“You know about it.”

“All of Lincoln knows about it.” Meyer shook his head. “Today is a sad day for her.” He looked up at Cass. “And for you. And for poor Nell Parker’s friends.”

Sadie got up—Cass thought abruptly—and refilled everyone’s coffee cups.

“Was she a friend?” Cass asked.

Sadie shrugged.

Ma spoke up. “Nell was—difficult. Unhappy.”

“Let us hope she has found peace,” Meyer said.