Bridget (The Bridget Series) (8 page)

“Did you notice the red ribbon? asked Opal.

“You can’t miss it!”

“That’s so Alfred will know which box to bid on, blushed Opal.

“Alfred? I didn’t know you had an Alfred. Where did you meet him?”

“At the bank where I work. He is the head teller. His office is behind the bars in the front. I work in my very own room in the back. Alfred is very smart. I know he will become a bank vice-president. He’s also so handsome and he is so kind to me.”

“Opal, you’re in love!” screamed Bridget.

“People will hear you,” said Opal motioning for her to be silent.

Bridget was having none of her gestures. “Does he know you love him? Has he stated his intentions? What are your plans?”

“We go walking sometimes after work. One time he picked wildflowers for me. And, we’ve been to the Ice Crème Shoppe. I heard you were in there with your beau, that new doctor.”

“He’s not my beau,” Bridget whispered under her breath, wishing that what Opal said was true.

“Oh, there he is,” giggled Opal as she saw Alfred heading in their direction. Alfred had a blanket over his arm and Bridget noticed that Opal only had her box. “Alfred is bringing our blanket. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Our blanket
thought Bridget, looking first at Opal and then in Alfred’s direction.

“May I escort you two ladies?” asked Alfred as he stepped between the two women.

“Miss Bridget, may I present to you bank teller Alfred Watkins,” said Opal whose eyes were only for Alfred. “Mr. Watkins, this is Miss Bridget. We went to school together.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Bridget. I’ve heard what a big help you are to the doctors. I frequently see you running back and forth between the hospital and the doctor’s office.”

Arriving at the
church Bridget realized that she hadn’t asked Opal anything about her work. Looking at Opal and Alfred as he walked over to the men’s waiting area and Opal went to place her box with the others, Bridget realized they had the conversation which mattered the most to Opal. Bridget wondered if there would soon be a wedding.

Bridget waved to some of the town folk who were regulars at the doctor’s office and then walked up to leave her box. Opal had stopped to chat with members of the volunteer fire department, wishing them luck in being able to purchase more water pails.

For a moment Bridget thought she saw Miss Violet from her school days holding the arm of a young man, but then they disappeared amongst the trees.

There were a lot of boxes on tables placed in front of the church. Bridget was amazed at the turnout. It seemed that the entire town was there to bid on the boxes.

The Rev. Owen Harris would conduct the auction. He sounded as eager as did he on Sundays when he encouraged people to fill up the collection plate. He had a way of making you embarrassed if you didn’t drop something into the basket.

After the auction, the men would be called to the auction tables where they would pay Mrs. Harris their bid money, take their boxes and find the lady who filled it. Couples would place their blankets on the lawn and under trees and enjoy the fund raiser. Some of the men had brought their fiddles to play after lunch. It looked to be a nice afternoon.

Most of the men knew precisely on what box to place a bid. For a couple of them Bridget guessed that if they failed to bid on the correct box, they didn’t need bother going home.

The bidding began and all of the eligible girls had the corners of their eyes fixed on Dr. Sullivan.

Fast and furious the bids were shouted. Most of the boxes went for two bits or four. It was no surprise that Alfred bought Opal’s box. Other boxes were bought by husbands and brothers. Then Bridget’s box was placed on the bidding table.

“Two bits,” came a voice from the back. “Do I hear four?” asked Rev. Harris.

“Four,” came another voice from the side area. Bridget was glad her box wasn’t going unsold, but she wished Dr. Sullivan would place a bid. After all, she told herself, she worked for him. It would have been polite to offer a bid.

“Seventy-five centers,” came a voice she recognized as Dr. Schmidt’s. “One dollar,” was an immediate counter offer.

“I have one dollar. Do I hear more? Going, going, gone. Sold to Sheriff Jasper for one dollar.” Bridget tried to force a slight smile. She wished Dr. Sullivan had bid and thought he was probably waiting to win Miss Chadwick’s box. Bridget liked Sheriff Jasper. He was a big, jolly man, who was tougher than he looked. And, she could never forget, he did arrest Boxer. It would be pleasant eating lunch with him.

Several boxes had yellow ribbons, but Miss Chadwick’s stood out. There was one box that looked like the owner had used an entire roll of yellow ribbon. Not one, not two, but three bows. Nobody other than Miss Chadwick would do that.

Somebody opened the bidding. Bridget expected Dr. Sullivan to up the bid, but he didn’t. That surprised Bridget as it must have surprised Miss Chadwick, who stopped sneaking a glance at him and actually turned her head to fixate her state directly at his face. He didn’t flinch. Somebody else upped the bid and still there was no movement from Dr. Sullivan.

“Going, going, gone for 75 cents,” said Rev. Harris.

That was a respectable bid thought Bridget, who wondered if the winning bidder wanted lunch or the ribbon. Now Bridget was curious, Dr. Sullivan was standing there, obviously waiting for somebody’s box to be placed for bidding. He hadn’t bid or hers and he hadn’t bid on Miss Chadwick’s box. What was he waiting for?

Finally Rev. Harris put a small box on the table. It had a sad ribbon wrapped around it. You could see the crease marks. The ribbon looked as if it had been untied from something else and then crudely tied around the little box. “What do I hear for this box?” asked Rev. Harris.

Almost before he got the words out, Dr. Sullivan yelled, “One dollar.”

Bridget was stunned. There was a lot of commotion as the auction ended. Men rushed to pay the minister’s wife their bid money, pick up the boxes they had won and claim the girl that had packed it.

A nice looking young man stepped forward, paid Mrs. Harris his winning bid and took the box with the three yellow ribbons. “That’s mine,” chortled Savannah Katherine Chadwick rushing to the table. Gazing around for Dr. Sullivan, Miss Chadwick yelled, “Look at what you other men missed.”

Miss Chadwick had brought a meat pie which smelled wonderful. Miss Chadwick opened the box, picking up her culinary offering and lifting it high out of the box to show it off. Unfortunately, she tilted it and the meat, vegetables and gravy fell out of the pan.

The now food covered Miss Chadwick began screaming. Not able to find anyone to blame, the crying Miss Savannah Katherine Chadwick ran out of the church yard. Bridget noticed that the winning bidder, a young man named Caleb, went running after her.

“Be careful that you don’t slip on the gravy,” said Sheriff Jasper as he reached Bridget’s side with her box cradled in his arm. Sheriff Jasper had said a mouthful, but Bridget thought it better if she not say anything.

They found a spot by a tree, spread out the blanket she had brought and opened her box.

Bridget had packed more food than two people could eat. There was smoked bacon and ham, and a dish of potatoes and carrots roasted with rosemary, chives, thyme, black pepper and parsley. She added chokeberries and huckleberries, those biscuits, apple pie, plus apple cider to drink.

Sheriff Jasper took one sniff and said, “Smells just like Irish Coddle,” savoring the aroma of a popular soup. Bridget had prepared a version of the dish, without the broth, so that it would travel well. As she poured the apple cider she noticed that Dr. Sullivan’s buggy was parked nearby and there was a woman inside. Then she saw Dr. Sullivan walking back to the buggy with that small box in his hand.

“You like the boy, don’t you,” said Sheriff Jasper as he took a big bite of the savory vegetables. Bridget blushed and fell silent. “Don’t let the other girls get to you. When my wife gets back from visiting her sister, she’ll be a help to you. She’s a very smart woman, that wife of mine. Don’t worry about the lady in his buggy. It’s Mrs. Dillion.”

Bridget learned that before Mrs. Dillion was widowed she had both a vegetable and a flower garden, which was the envy of the women folk. Her husband had been a stagecoach driver running the route between her old hometown and Canyonville. For over ten years he drove without a speck of trouble. Then one night he was shot to death in a robbery. He had left his wife a little money, but Sheriff Jasper worried that as she got older the funds got smaller.

Suddenly Dr. Sullivan was standing by the blanket, an elderly lady on his arm. “Bridget, have you met Mrs. Dillion?”

“No, I haven’t and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I brought entirely too much food and there is a lot left. Won’t you please join us?”

“We just ate,” injected Dr. Sullivan. “I have just enjoyed the best jam sandwich I have ever eaten,” he exclaimed. Bridget realized that it would be impossible for Mrs. Dillion to sit down on the ground and then get up again. That’s why Dr. Sullivan had left her in the buggy and then joined her in the buggy to eat the jam sandwich that she had made for the auction.

Bridget didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Sheriff Jasper wasn’t at a loss for words. “Bridget is right. Her eyes are bigger than my stomach. The food is delicious. Why don’t you take the remaining food in her box and take it home, Mrs. Dillion. You can eat it for dinner tonight. I promise you, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh, yes, please Mrs. Dillion. That would make me very happy. I understand you used to have a vegetable garden. I’d like to know what you think of the way I cooked the vegetables.”

“Great idea,” Dr. Sullivan chimed in as he scooped up the leftovers. “We’ve had a busy day and now I’m going to drive my date home.” He gently led Mrs. Dillion back to his buggy and helped her get inside. Then he handed her Bridget’s box of food and the two drove off. For the first time that day, Bridget smiled.

B
RIDGET was startled when Eliza
Grann entered the office. She was another one that had her cap set for Dr. Sullivan. Bridget didn’t remember seeing her at the box social, but there had been a lot of people.

Still, it was hard to miss Eliza with her cascading chestnut hair and big eyes that looked like a deer. No, thought Bridget. A cow.

“I just wanted to return one of Dr. Sullivan’s gloves. He left it at my place last night,” purred Eliza as she waved the glove in her hand.

“He’s not here. Would you like me to give it to him?” Bridget tried not to choke on the words. She looked at the glove Eliza was clutching and recognized it as one that she’s seen Dr. Sullivan wear when he drove his buggy. Bridget felt a sickening feeling overwhelm her, wondering how Eliza obtained an article of his clothing. Why had he gone to her house?

Eliza looked at Bridget with distain. “No, no. Just tell him I have it and he can pick it up the next time he comes over. Oh, and I’m so glad he liked the cake I made. Why, he ate two pieces.”

Then with a hoity-toity air she turned and waltzed out of the office.

Bridget tried not to let her feelings get the better of her, but it was hard. What had he been doing at her house?

Dr. Sullivan’s buggy was gone. That meant that he was out on house calls. Then Bridget remembered that Martha Ogden was taking longer than usual to recover from getting her appendix removed. Dr. Sullivan had mentioned going over to her farm to see how she was doing.

Bridget tired to use her typewriter but her fingers didn’t want to hit the right keys. All she could think about was Eliza clutching a piece of Dr. Sullivan’s clothing. Something he had worn. So personal, as if she was hugging him.

She wouldn’t be seeing Dr. Sullivan until tomorrow. That was a long time to think about Eliza having his glove.

She knew she was at a disadvantage. Those girls had store bought dresses. They even bought creams for their skin. They could buy perfume and hats with fancy ribbons and bows. And, they didn’t have any secrets. She knew she didn’t have a chance, so why did this bother her so much?

Dr. Sullivan needed a wife. There were many eligible girls in town. Bridget told herself that she should put him out of her mind, concentrate on doing her work and not pay any attention to the girls who were throwing themselves at him.

Then she put her head on her desk and cried.