While Love Stirs (11 page)

13

“And you’re a performer?” Charlotte stared at Lewis, who now stood in front of her and Molly. Again he’d surprised her. She needed to stop underestimating this man. Singing was hardly an occupation encouraged by the kind of men who worked in industries like lumber. “Weren’t you expected to join the family business?”

“I’m the youngest of four brothers.” He assisted both ladies to the ground. “My father tolerates my music and hardly notices when I’m not around.” Two women, whom she guessed to be his mother and sister, threw open the front door and waved. Lewis rolled his eyes. “My mother, on the other hand, would keep me by her side every minute if she could.”

As if she’d heard Lewis, his mother hurried down the stairs of the large home and drew Lewis into an embrace. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

Lewis kissed her cheek. “Mother, I was gone for two days.”

“Two days too many.” She turned toward Charlotte and Molly. “And you must be the ladies giving the lectures and traveling with my Lewis.”

She welcomed Molly and Charlotte with open arms and directed a maid to show them to their guest rooms. Charlotte’s room sported pink carnation wallpaper. Each flower had a mesmerizing, fluid, blue-green stem. The coverlet on the brass bed bore the same rosy
color as the wallpaper, but the curtains brought out the color of the stems.

Charlotte unpacked her small trunk and shook out the dress she planned to wear. So many wrinkles! She’d have to borrow an iron. After unpacking, she sat on the bed. The maid had pointed out that she and Molly shared a water closet, and she was tempted to go through it and knock on Molly’s door. However, since there’d been no noise coming from her chaperone’s room, she guessed the older woman might have chosen to take a nap.

Perhaps she should do the same. Charlotte slipped out of her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and lay down on the bed. It felt heavenly to close her weary eyes. She would never have imagined the amount of energy it took to be up in front of people for a couple of hours. Given Tessa’s propensity for drama, she must be exhausted half the time.

Amid thoughts of Tessa, Hannah, and the new baby, Charlotte allowed herself to drift off. She never slept long, but a few minutes of rest might do her wonders.

Lewis rapped on her door. “Charlotte, I was wondering if you and Molly would like to go see a little of the area since we don’t have a lecture until tomorrow afternoon.”

Charlotte sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She glanced out her west-facing window and noticed the sun hadn’t yet begun its descent, but how long had she slept?

She cleared her throat. “Have you asked Molly?”

“Yes, she’d like to, if you will.”

“Thank you, Lewis.” She crawled out of the bed. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

As soon as she’d freshened up, Charlotte hurried to meet her companions. Lewis led them to the automobile, insisting Molly sit in front. He and Charlotte settled in the backseat, and he directed the driver to take them to the mill. When they passed a child-size log cabin, Charlotte asked about it.

“Louis Bergeron built that for his children after they read about
Abraham Lincoln.” Lewis draped his arm on the door of the motorcar. “Did you know Stillwater is the oldest city in Minnesota?”

“You don’t say.” Molly twisted sideways in her seat to give him a smile. “Are we going to your father’s mill?”

Lewis looked down. “I need to stop for a minute and tell him I’m home. Then we can head down to the river for a picnic. I had the cook prepare a basket. The Saint Croix is beautiful in the spring when it’s running high.”

Lofty trees began to replace the homes in the landscape. Charlotte turned to Lewis. “Can we go through the mill?”

“Which one?”

“How many are there?”

“There’s the sawmill and the planing mill. Oh, and there’s the box factory.” Lewis raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think Father would let you near the mill, but I can sneak you in the box factory. My brother Miles is in charge there.”

Since they had some travel time in the automobile, Charlotte peppered Lewis with more questions about his family and their business. It didn’t take long to learn he’d started piano lessons as a young man, and when he’d shown an early aptitude, his mother found the best teachers. He’d studied at Northwestern Conservatory of Music, but his father had insisted he also take business courses at a nearby business college.

“Every summer I worked in the mill office or the box factory. I can do the work, but I’m not a manager and I don’t have a heart for the profession like my father or my brothers do.” He sighed. “My father has basically written me off in that respect.”

The pain in Lewis’s eyes made Charlotte’s heart ache for him. “You had a different dream than his, but it doesn’t make you a failure.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d agree with you.” Lewis grew quiet a few minutes before speaking again. “There’s the mill up ahead.”

How different Lewis was from the men she’d known before. Back in high school, when she still lived in Iowa, she’d stepped out with
a boy who wanted to change her. She’d vowed that would never happen again. Whenever the time came for someone to court her, he wasn’t going to try to run her life or tell her what to do. No man would define her. She’d define herself.

Lewis had admitted he wasn’t a manager, and she couldn’t imagine him bossing anyone around either. On the other hand, Joel Brooks would probably boss around a toad if he had the chance—but he’d certainly look good doing so.

Where had thoughts of him come from? Wasn’t she thinking about Lewis? Charlotte shook her head and strained to locate the mill amid the pines. The automobile rounded the bend in the road, and she spotted the three wooden buildings—one larger, two smaller. She guessed the largest of the three, the one closest to the river, to be the mill.

When the driver had parked the car, Lewis asked them to wait while he spoke to his father. The steam whistle shrieked and Charlotte startled. Lewis laughed. “I’ll come back and show you around.”

He returned five minutes later and opened Charlotte’s and Molly’s doors.

“Land sakes, I’m as creaky as an old bridge this afternoon.” Molly pressed a hand to the small of her back. “Was your father pleased to see you, Lewis?”

“As much as ever. Are you ready for a brief tour?” He motioned them toward the mill and pointed to two men at the far end loading a log onto a steel rack. “When the logs reach us, they are already bucked and limbed.”

“Bucked and limbed?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “You sure sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“
Bucked
means the logs are cut to length and
limbed
means the limbs have been removed.” He led them closer to the river. “The logs have also been sorted and scaled according to quality. Those men are loading that one so it can be debarked. Inside, there’s a huge head saw that will cut the logs into cants and flitches.”

“You might as well be speaking Portuguese to me, and it’s all hard to picture from out here,” Molly said. “Are you sure we can’t go inside and see?”

“The mill is powered by a steam engine.” His voice rose with the whine of the saw blade. “Between the blades, belts, and boards, it’s not the safest place.”

Charlotte stiffened. “For a woman, you mean.”

“No, for anyone.” Lewis chuckled. “Don’t see enemies where there are none, Charlotte.”

They walked to the next building. Lewis explained it was the planing mill where the flitches, or unfinished boards, were planed, smoothed, and trimmed into lumber lengths. The faint scent of overheated oil filled the air, and Charlotte wrinkled her nose. Even from the outside of the building, the steady
kush-
thunk
of the steam engine’s massive pistons beat a rhythm.

“This is the box factory.” He held open the door of the third shed. “Watch yourself, ladies.”

Amid whooshes of different machines, men moved with practiced ease. In the center of the room stood piles of Premier Glove Company wooden boxes. Lewis’s brother Miles greeted him and then introduced himself to Charlotte and Molly.

They moved to the far side of the room, and the stench of charred wood greeted them. Lewis held up a board bearing the Empire Sliced Dried Beef imprint. “This is where we brand the boards. Each company has a branding plate made of magnesium with their logo. This unit heats the branding plate and burns the impression in each board.”

The worker at this station clamped the branding plate in place, set the guide plate for the boards to follow, and then dropped the cut sections of board in a tall guide on the table. He lowered the branding plate and, with a hiss, seared the image into the wood. When he raised the iron, another piece of wood slid into the slot.

“Can I try it?” Charlotte asked.

Lewis shrugged. “Sure, why not? You’re used to hot ovens. This isn’t too different.”

The worker handed her a stack of the boards he was imprinting and she slid them into the slot. When the boards were ready, she moved to the branding part of the machine.

Lewis stepped behind her. “Now, move this lever.” He reached around her and touched the lever with his hand. “Go ahead. I’m here if you need me.”

He stood so close the skin on her neck prickled beneath his breath. She moved the lever and watched the branding iron begin its steady process of imprinting the boards. Lewis didn’t step back but remained behind her. He was probably worried something might go wrong. Finally, the last board in the stack passed through and she shut the machine off. She turned, but Lewis had not yet stepped back.

She tried to move away, but he grabbed her arms. “Be careful of the branding iron, remember?”

Of course she remembered. She worked with hot pans every day. Still, his concern touched her. She glanced at him, and it seemed his concern had taken a whole new path.

“Y’all make a good team.” Molly grinned at Charlotte. “Now, can we get on with the picnicking? I’m starved.”

Lewis’s cheeks colored and he released her. “Yes, of course.”

Charlotte hurried to be the first out the door. Her cheeks felt as hot as the branding iron she’d used only minutes before. What was wrong with her? First thinking about Joel Brooks, and now this. But Lewis was only being helpful, wasn’t he?

Why didn’t Miss Walker understand that Tessa was only trying to be helpful? She could have delivered the message to the director a lot faster than prim Miss Walker with her perfect-size steps in her perfectly starched shirtwaist.

Tessa opened the ledger and sighed. When Miss Walker told her she’d be recording the box office receipts from the weekend,
she made it sound like she was bestowing a great honor on Tessa. Rows of neat figures probably did thrill someone like Miss Walker, but they didn’t do a thing for Tessa.

Oh well, sometimes one had to do the unpleasant jobs to get to the good ones—like getting a part in the production. Tessa glanced at the stack of playbills on the corner of Mr. Jurgenson’s desk.
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
lay on top. The dramatization of the book had appeared here at the Metropolitan Opera House last month. Aunt Sam had taken them all to see the production, and Tessa had fallen in love with the actress’s portrayal of sweet Rebecca.