Calico Brides (22 page)

Ned had thought long and hard about how to promote ready-made long johns without drawing attention to Birdie. The idea of advertising in the paper wouldn’t let go. He could gauge interest and, hopefully, assuage Birdie’s fears. “Perfect. Is this my copy?”

Haydn nodded. “Good luck. We’re praying that you get a good response.” He looked at the clock. “Well, I’d better get going and deliver the rest of the papers.” He headed for the door.

Haydn timed his paper to print on Friday, for customers who came to town to shop on Saturday. The challenge of anticipating his customers’ needs intrigued Ned. In some ways, he faced the same dilemmas Birdie did. Maybe he could teach her how to plot a profit-and-loss sheet.

As the customers lined up outside his door, Ned remembered Birdie’s suggestion to hire one of the saloon girls. That move would probably attract the wrong kind of customer.

God’s advice to Samuel to look at the inside of a man whispered in Ned’s mind, but he pushed it aside as he helped first one customer then another. The biggest crowd passed through after the diner closed for the day. Soldiers had come to town in anticipation of another social event, similar to the ones held earlier in the spring. Several headed in his direction. Did he dare hope they would express interest in men’s underwear?

Lieutenant Arnold, who was in the store with Annie Bliss by his side examining dish patterns, noticed them as well. “Let me know if any of that lot gives you trouble.”

Ned scratched his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Peering out the door, he spotted Birdie, her hair covered with a sunbonnet, hiding in the alley beside the diner. Ned couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was reading the paper. He hoped the advertisement would come as a welcome surprise.

She glanced up long enough for him to see the scowl on her face. When she saw the soldiers headed for the store, she disappeared from view before he crossed the room. Sighing, he let the men enter. “I’m fixing to close up shop pretty soon.”

The soldiers were uniformly youthful, perhaps as young as sixteen, full of liquor and looking for a fight. Ned recognized a couple of them from the beer-infused brawl at the box lunch social a few months ago. Had they learned nothing?

Always professional, Ned forced himself to serve them with a smile. He didn’t carry any items that would shame the buyer or the seller. As the men browsed, he asked, “May I help you find something?”

“Do you have any sarsaparilla?”

Ned nodded. “I do. Let me get it for you. How many of you want some?” He began pouring drinks from his soda fountain as fast as he could. “Could I interest you in large pickles?” He pointed to the barrel, hoping they would make their purchases and leave before Birdie decided to come another time.

Like children set loose in the store, the soldiers bought a variety of penny candies. One hesitated, torn between licorice and lemon drops, while the rest waited at the window. One of them, the oldest, if the extra creases in his trousers suggested years of use, whistled. “Well, looky there.” He pointed across the street. “I didn’t know them ladies came out in the daytime.”

Ned’s heart sank, but he stayed his distance, not wanting to draw extra attention to the object of the soldier’s whistle.

The soldier who had requested sarsaparilla glanced at Birdie and shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up. They say the lady is out of business.”

Birdie hastened down the street, out of Ned’s line of vision. He couldn’t imagine how she felt, all those men watching her walk down the street.

“Gentlemen, are you finished?” Ned asked, desperate to draw their attention away from Birdie.

“Sure.” The last soldier asked for lemon drops but kept his head craned, looking over his shoulder for a final glimpse of Birdie.

Ned had change ready even before the soldier handed over his silver dollar. “If you hurry, you’ll get to the town square in time for the horseshoe pitch.”

“I’ll beat you there,” a blond-haired lad said.

Relief flooded Ned as they headed in the opposite direction from Birdie, but he felt bad about what had happened. Once again, she had removed herself from a social event rather than draw attention to herself or the hosts.
Not this time
. She had headed in the direction of the boardinghouse. Ned had never approached her there, but maybe now was the time.

After Ned locked the day’s earnings in his cash box, he dashed out the back door and hurried along the fastest route to Aunt Kate’s house. Birdie entered the house while he was still halfway down the street.

To his surprise, Aunt Kate came up behind him. “Oh dear. I had to return for my second basket of cookies, and I saw Birdie race up the steps like a scared rabbit. Do you know what happened?”

“If I had to guess, I would say she saw someone from her past.”

“Oh, the poor thing. When will people accept who she is now and stop worrying about her old life?” Miss Kate shook her head as she opened the door for the two of them.

Ned peeked in the front parlor before following Miss Kate down the hall, glancing into any room that had an open door. They ended in the kitchen at the back, determining they were the only people on the first floor. A piece of newspaper stuck out from the oven. Ned opened the door and saw that the page with the ad was already charred around the edges, although the front page remained intact. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” Miss Kate flushed a becoming pink before noticing the charred pages. “That’s strange.” She raised questioning eyes in Ned’s direction.

Sighing, Ned snatched the paper from the fire. “I expect you’ll want several copies. Too bad this one is burned. Do you mind if I go upstairs and see if Birdie will come down and talk with me?”

“Go on with you. You can use the front parlor. I’ll be sending up prayers that you can get through to her.”

Birdie heard the firm tread of Ned’s step as he climbed the stairs and reached the second floor. She knew it was Ned, because she’d overheard his conversation with Miss Kate. But did she want to speak with him? The assurance God gave Joshua when he was faced with a frightening situation jumped into her mind.
Don’t be afraid, for I am with you
.

Uncertain, she waited midway between the settee by the window and the door. The knock came, followed by Ned’s voice. “It’s me, Ned. Ned Finnegan.”

Her feet walked in that direction as if God Himself moved them, and she opened the door a couple of inches. “How can I help you?”

“Please come downstairs so we can talk. The house is empty except for Aunt Kate. We can sit in the front parlor without worry of anyone overhearing us.”

Anyone passing by might catch sight of them talking and link their names together, anyone not at the town square, that was. “You should be at the fair.”

His smile slipped at her nonresponsive answer. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, and she joined him in the hall. Wordlessly, she passed him and started down the stairs. Instead of the front room, she went to the sewing room at the back of the house. An unusual setting for a visit, but she couldn’t think of another community room besides the parlor and the kitchen. She entered, pushing aside boxes of fabric and adding a couple of pins to her pin cushion before she took her favorite spot. Sunshine streamed through the window and illuminated her work space for most hours of the day.

Ned shifted a bag of scraps from the only other chair in the room and sat across from her. His arms hung loosely by his sides, and he tapped his leg with the newspaper without speaking. A faint sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, as if he had rushed to follow her to the boardinghouse. At last he spoke, his voice cool, as if he came calling every day. “Miss Landry, I know this is the last minute, but would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the fair today?”

Surprised by the question, Birdie blurted out, “No, I couldn’t. I can’t.”

His eyes blinked closed, but when they opened again, his steady blue eyes studied her. “Do you object to my company, or do you want to avoid the people of this town?”

Embarrassment that didn’t trouble Birdie when thinking about men’s underwear flushed through her body, heating her cheeks.

“I saw you when the soldiers came into the store. The leader was one of the troublemakers at the first box social. Don’t let him steal the joy of the day from you. He’s a fool who doesn’t know any better.” Ned lifted an arm, as if to reach out and comfort her, but then dropped it to his lap.

Birdie surveyed the room, seeking an answer. She could plead work; she had almost finished the first dress for her friend Michal. But the man addressing her deserved better than that.

Ned opened the newspaper, folded so she could see the inside pages. “I’m sorry I was so harsh about your plans for the red flannel. I wanted you to see this.” He handed her the paper.

She read every word of the advertisement for Finnegan’s Mercantile again, including the offer for ready-made clothes “for every need.” Heat refused to leave her face, but she forced herself to meet Ned’s eyes, the unspoken question trembling on her lips.

He met her gaze head on, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I couldn’t get your idea out of my mind. You have a good head for business; I’ve noticed that before.” He held the paper in the empty space halfway between their chairs. “And you are the best seamstress I know. Please forgive me? I do need your help, and I welcome your company at the picnic.”

Surprise, pleasure, and frustration warred in Birdie without a clear winner. Ned waited her out, not pressing her for an answer. “I still don’t have enough money to pay for the supplies.” She fell back on her original objection to accepting payment before completing the work.

“That’s the beauty of doing it this way. For now, and later as well, if you prefer, I am hiring you as my seamstress. Imagine you lived in a city and I hired you to work at my garment factory. It’s the same principle, only you will do a much better job. We can talk about changing the terms later if you prefer.”

“You want me to be your employee. Except I’ll be working at home.” What a kind,
sensible
thing to do, even if she resisted the idea of working for a man ever again. This was different. Ned wanted her to work for him using a skill she had acquired as a young girl, unlike the last man who offered her a job. The problem of delivery remained, however. If she brought long johns to the store, people would talk. The swirl of pleasure she felt in the offer melted away. “I would have to deliver them to you. People would guess.”

“Aunt Kate can bring them in, or even Mrs. Fairfield. No one will question either one of them.” He inched forward in his chair, halving the distance between them, stopping short of making her uncomfortable. His whisper was intimate enough to carry over the inches between them. “And I am looking forward to the day that you can walk down the street with your head held high.”

He had handed her innermost dreams to her on a plate. She could only nod her head. As soon as her chin dipped a quarter of an inch, he slipped the flannel package onto her worktable and extended his hand. “You can start practicing that today if you will come with me.”

M
esmerized by Ned’s blue eyes, Birdie let him lead her to the kitchen. “May we escort Calico’s newest affianced lady to the picnic?” Ned bowed as he said the words.

A blush danced across Miss Kate’s face, smoothing and adding wrinkles in equal measure. “I didn’t know you had such a way with words, Ned. But I hear my ride approach.” She raced across the floor and peeked between the curtains. Birdie caught a glimpse of a four-wheeled brougham. Her landlady clapped her hands together. “Norman must have rented it from the livery. I told him to bring a wagon so I could carry baskets to the picnic. But he went all fancy on me.”

“You are one blessed woman.” Miss Kate’s newfound happiness gladdened Birdie. She rejoiced with Gladys and Annie as well. She had no one but herself to blame for the choices that made marital bliss an impossibility for her. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Lord, shut my ears as well, to the harmful things people may say about me or Ned today. He is too nice a gentleman for rumors to dirty his reputation
.

Birdie rummaged up a smile. “Let’s go.”

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Ned swept Birdie out the door as Mr. Keller climbed the steps to greet his fiancée. From Gladys’s description, Birdie had pictured Mr. Keller as a frail, elderly man in poor health. Love had restored so much vim and vigor, he could almost have passed for Haydn’s father.

He tipped his hat in her direction, as if she was a lady deserving his respect. “Good afternoon. Miss Landry, isn’t it?”

If everyone in town treated her like Mr. Keller did, Birdie might enjoy herself today. With a lighter heart than she thought possible when she raced home, her heart skipped ahead of them as Ned led her to the town square. He used the shortest path, the one Birdie avoided at all costs.

Birdie’s steps slowed then came to a paralyzed stop in front of the Betwixt ’n’ Between, with the fear of a prisoner approaching her jail cell. How many hours had she spent imagining herself anywhere but the room she occupied above the saloon?