The Heirloom Brides Collection (11 page)

The restaurant door flung open as she walked past. “Betsy Lowell, where do you think you’re going?”

A pit formed in her stomach. She turned to face her former employer. “Miss Annie, I can’t accept your new terms. A dollar less per week isn’t acceptable. I have doctor bills to pay for Pops. And I can’t be cooped up in that kitchen for that many hours every day. I am grateful that you reconsidered firing me, and I truly apologize for embarrassing you with my outburst last night, but I think it’s best if I move on.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide as she stepped onto the boardwalk and straight to Betsy. For the first time, there was none of the haughty attitude from Miss Annie, only true worry. “Now, Betsy. Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my renegotiation of our arrangement. Come on inside, and we’ll go right on like before. We can forget that unfortunate incident occurred last night.”

This was certainly a surprising turn of events. For a split second, Betsy considered the offer. After all, there was no guarantee Stuart would hire her, and if he did, Mrs. Fields might be back in two days and then where would she be? Not to mention she now had no place to sleep. Although, Mrs. Avery would likely insist she take the room at their home. She liked the feeling she’d had the past few weeks. The feeling of making her own way, paying her bills, and taking care of Pops.

“Well?” Miss Annie said. “Are you coming?”

“Miss Annie, I’m sorry—”

“Now, Betsy, honey. I know we said we’d go back to how things were. But I can offer you another dollar a week. I think you’ve certainly proven you are worth a little more than I’d pay other girls, and we’ll just call your room part of your wages rather than taking two dollars each week. How would that be?”

She’d be a fool not to take it. Betsy knew the woman was getting desperate. But she had another reason for wanting to have different hours. “I’m grateful.”

Miss Annie’s face brightened. “Then let’s get inside and get to work.”

“What I mean to say is that while I’m grateful—and I truly am—my pops isn’t doing too well. He’s got himself sick with pneumonia, and I need to see him more than a few hours each Sunday. The hours here don’t allow me to visit him.” And she was terrified he was going to die without her there to soothe him.

Sudden anger flashed in Miss Annie’s eyes. “How are you going to find another position? After I tell every business owner in town how you berated a customer and walked out without so much as a day’s notice, everyone will see that you’re as unreliable as Old Joe.”

She’d been about to offer her assistance until seven thirty when she had to be at the store, but no longer. “I’ve already procured another position. And a roomful of witnesses saw and heard you order me out and tell me never to come back. So I did not just walk out without notice.”

“Betsy, I need your help. How will I get through the day alone?”

Compassion rose in Betsy, but after what she’d said about Pops? She wouldn’t be stepping foot back inside the restaurant for the rest of her life. Besides, Miss Annie knew all she had to do was put a sign in the window and someone would ask for work. No less than two girls and one gentleman had come in looking for work while Betsy had been there. People were moving into the area all the time, and with winter coming, those who were new to the township would be needing funds to feed their families.

“Oh, never mind. Go, just go.” Miss Annie’s voice quaked with anger. “Go on. Get out of here.” She spun around and hurried back to the restaurant.

Betsy tightened her scarf against the biting wind. Two-and-a-half hours remained before Stuart would be opening the store, but since she had nowhere else to go, she crossed the street and made her way to the boardwalk just outside the store. Wrapping her coat closer, she folded her arms to provide more warmth and sat on the bench by the door. Mercy, the temperature must be below zero. Her face had grown numb while she stood talking to Miss Annie. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes, even with her gloves and boots and thick stockings. Her body began to shiver, and her teeth chattered so hard she was afraid she might break one. She stood and stomped up and down the boardwalk for the next forty-five minutes. The minutes dragged on, and she finally dropped onto the bench again. How long before frostbite set in?

She began to feel more comfortable, warmer, though she knew without the sun, she shouldn’t be. Her eyes began to close.

A
t six o’clock, Stuart stepped up onto the boardwalk two stores down from the general store. He squinted. Horror slapped him as he recognized Betsy’s coat. He broke out into a run. What on earth was she doing lying on the bench? Had Miss Annie forced her to leave her room last night? Oh, dear God, had she been on that bench all night?

He shoved his hands into his pocket, retrieved the key to the store, and quickly opened the door. He spun back to Betsy. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bench next to the stove. To his utter relief, she began to stir as he built up the fire. He could only thank God for waking him up early and giving him the idea to come early because it might take awhile to warm the store with the temperature so cold.

“What happened?” Betsy’s voice sounded thick and sleepy.

“You went to sleep outside. Don’t you know better than that? If I hadn’t come along when I did, you could’ve died out there on that bench.”

“Lucky for me you came along then, I guess.”

How could she be so obtuse? He wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her into his arms. He went to a shelf across the room and grabbed two blankets. Against her protests, he wrapped her up, then knelt down in front of her and began to unbutton her shoes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting these boots off before you lose your feet.”

“Oh.”

He pulled off one boot, then the other, then his face warmed when he realized she was wearing stockings. He turned on his knees and faced the other direction. “You’ll need to… um.”

“What?”

“The stockings.”

“You want me to take them off? Why, that—”

“Not proper, I know. That’s why my back is turned. I won’t look at anything but your feet, but I need to rub the blood back into them.” He paused, not hearing movement behind him.

“Betsy, I’m not trying to take any liberties. You have my word. But the temperature is ten degrees below zero, and you fell asleep out in it. You could’ve died.”

“Okay, wait just a minute.”

When she allowed him to turn back around, she was covered chin to toes with the blankets. He liked her modesty. Betsy might be stubborn and opinionated and have a quick temper, but she was virtuous. Slowly he reached out, almost afraid to touch her. But he had to get her feet warm—and fast. Taking a deep breath, he lifted one ice-cold foot and began to rub it. She drew in a sharp breath. He ventured a glance at her face. Her bottom lip was firmly between her teeth, and pain burned in her eyes. “I’m sorry this hurts,” he said. “But the pain is an indication the blood is flowing. I’m pretty sure it means your feet will be fine. Why were you sitting on the bench? And how long were you out there?”

“Miss Annie fired me last night.”

His heart nearly stopped. “You slept on the bench?”

“Of course not. I’m not a fool.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Surprised by the uncommon show of humility, Stuart kept his gaze focused on the task at hand.

“I slept in my room but figured I ought to leave since the room is Miss Annie’s. She asked me to come back to the restaurant, but I need to work where I can see Pops more often. He’s not doing so well.” Her voice broke. “Anyway, I know you might not need me to work for very long, but I was hoping I can go ahead and work with you until your ma comes back.”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, gently placing her foot on the floor and lifting the other, “Ma isn’t coming back.” The sound of her pain as he began working on the second foot went straight to his heart.

“Is she all right? I mean, I hope nothing is seriously wrong.”

Her concern touched him, and he looked up and smiled. “Doc saw her yesterday and said it’s likely arthritis in her hip. He advised her to stop working here since she has to be on her feet for so many hours a day. She flatly refused until I told her last night that you were coming to work at the store.”

Betsy’s eyes went wide. “But I told you I wasn’t going to.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my presumption, but I figured you’d rethink the idea and see it was for the best.”

A slight smile tipped the corners of her lips. “You were right. And I thank you.” Her face darkened as she frowned.

“What?”

“I’m still angry about Pops’ watch. I mean, I don’t understand how on earth you could just go and—” She stopped and gathered a deep, full breath, then exhaled. “I suppose there’s no point in dwelling on what I’ve lost. I’ll try not to let it affect how I work here. And… I’m grateful for what you’re doing now.” Her eyes dropped to his hands. “But I think you can stop.”

He did so immediately. She reached for her stockings, but he shook his head and stood. “Don’t put those back on. They’re wet.” Walking to another shelf, he picked out the warmest pair of wool stockings he could find and brought them back to her.

She glanced around. Then frowned and looked at him. “Where are my bags?”

Stuart gaped. “I don’t know…. I carried you in.”

“For Pete’s sake, I have money in my bag.” She stood abruptly, swayed. Stuart sprang forward and grabbed her before she hit the ground. He could feel her breath on his neck. Warmth filled him, and his chest seemed to swell to twice its size as he held her in his arms. Gently, he set her back on the bench.

“I’ll go. You stay put.”

He barely felt the cold as he stepped outside and retrieved the reticule he’d noted around her wrist before. He spied a larger bag he assumed carried the rest of her meager belongings. How could someone have so little? He wanted to shower her with gowns and ribbons—like the one she’d been eyeing the day of the accident. At the very least, she needed another dress. The one she wore was torn at the bottom, probably from losing so much weight. It dragged the ground when she walked. A girl that looked like Betsy ought to be wearing the best a town like this had to offer.

He walked back, noting the stove had begun to warm the store, and Betsy had shed one of the blankets. She still held on to the socks.

“You planning on holding those all day or putting them on your feet?”

Rolling her eyes, she reached for her reticule. “Thank you.” She reached inside and retrieved a dime. He stared at her as she reached out to hand it to him.

“What’s that for?”

“My new stockings.”

“Take them.”

Her gaze narrowed, and he recognized the fire back in her eyes. That was good. She was perking up. “I don’t take charity. Remember?”

“Fine.” There was just no point in arguing with her. He walked to the drawer with the cash box, unlocked it, and drew the box out. He dropped the dime inside and glanced back at her. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” She grinned but kept her focus on him. Finally, she let out an exasperated breath. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Mercy, she could get so snippy.

“Are you going to turn around so I can put these on?”

“Um, yeah. I have some things to do in the back anyway.” He escaped to the storage room, grateful to be away from her. How was he supposed to work with her every day, all day? He was going to be a blubbering fool by the end of the week.

Betsy found the work at Fields’ General Store barely any work at all compared to the hours and hours of grueling, body-exhausting work at Miss Annie’s. She and Stuart hadn’t discussed salary, but she couldn’t imagine it would be as much as she earned for the backbreaking work at the restaurant. As much as she wished she could make more, she knew she would work here for free if Mrs. Fields and Stuart asked her to. After all, Stuart had saved her life this morning.

When Stuart left to make a delivery, she waited until the store was empty, then pulled the catalog from beneath the counter. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. Her stomach sank at the prices for the various styles of rolling chairs. The doctor had said Pops would likely need one, but she would have to save for six months to afford even the lowest-priced chair. Better six months from now than never. The bell clanged, and she left the catalog where it was to help the customer.

For the next hour, a steady stream of customers came in and out of the store. Around noon the bell clanged above the door. Betsy glanced up from filling an order for Maggie Fremont, the local seamstress, and waved at Mrs. Fields. Maggie Fremont had ordered the loveliest soft, light blue material, and lace to put at the collar. Betsy tried not to covet what she knew would be the most beautiful of gowns, but she was afraid she had failed miserably. She certainly couldn’t be buying new gowns or material to make her own when Pops needed a rolling chair. Mrs. Fields’ entrance into the store gave her something else to think about as the seamstress gathered her goods, instructed Betsy to add it to her account, and said hello to Mrs. Fields just before she left.