Pamela Morsi (15 page)

Rome was fairly certain that what she wanted was a private word, but that was impossible. Normally at this time, the wagons would be loaded and he’d be able to take a few minutes to catch his breath before beginning his route. But today’s deliveries were already late and he hated even a brief hesitation in getting the ice on the road.

“You’ll have to talk to me here,” Rome answered, giving a meaningful glance at the other men.

It was back to work and Shultz dutifully slid another cold gray block down the ramp.

Miss Gussie hesitated. Rome expected her to simply walk away. Or to remind him to stop by the house after his route was complete. She certainly didn’t owe Tommy or Shultz any explanation of her presence at the plant. But looking a little nervous and unsure, she apparently thought that she did.

“I have some … papers for you to look at,” she said.

It was a blatant excuse. She was obviously embarrassed to request even a few moments of private talk. Rome supposed things were looked at differently now that he was thought to be courting her.

She widened her eyes a little, hinting that deception was necessary and that he should go along.

“I … ah … yeah,” he answered a little lamely.

Miss Gussie was an honest, straightforward woman, unused to dissembling and unfamiliar with the necessities of intrigue. Her halting explanation and his uncertain answer incited more curiosity than it dampened. The men around them said nothing, but they were looking and obviously wondering what the two might have to talk about.

Rome continued his loading as he searched his brain for a subject worthy of an important business discourse. Money and real estate were both out. Everyone knew that he possessed neither. Progress and mechanization were good, but Miss Gussie might mistake it for a real discussion spurred by the problems with the distiller. Transportation was always up for debate, but Rome could not think, on such short notice, of anything the railroad had done lately. Of course, there was always those
progressives
in Washington.

“The papers about this Pure Food and Drug Act?” he blurted out. “Yes, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that.”

Her hesitation was so slight, only the most careful observer would have even noticed it. It was impossible that anyone interested in business might be completely unfamiliar with this particular piece of pending legislation. It had caused a flurry of discussion and argument.

“Yes, yes, we need to discuss it,” she agreed. “They are pushing it through Congress now. It could affect every tonic or can of beans sold in America.”

Rome almost smiled with pride at her.

“If … if it is passed into law, it wouldn’t be just a
tremendous undertaking for the government,” she continued. “It would affect, to some degree, every one of us, including the operation of the ice plant.”

The woman knew what she was talking about. Not everyone in Cottonwood did. If the law passed, the federal government would be taking on an entirely new role, beyond the defense of the nation and the printing of money. A lot of folks couldn’t understand this. But then, it was perfectly clear to Rome that Miss Gussie was not like a lot of folks. She’d had to work doubly hard and know twice as much as men in business. And she was a woman equal to the task.

Rome slung another block of ice from the dock ramp to the wagon bed.

Young Tommy butted in. “Well, I purely don’t understand it.”

Both Rome and Miss Gussie turned to look at him. Tommy was not yet twenty, but he was a likely young fellow who had never been shy about offering his two cents on a subject Though he didn’t truly give much thought to anything beyond what his ma might be stirring up for supper.

“Why would those people back East care what we eat?” he asked.

“They don’t really care what we eat,” Miss Gussie explained with the patience of a teacher. “They are just trying to control the quality of food and medicines that are sold. The law would try to ensure that anything sold to be consumed by the body would at least be clean and wholesome.”

“But how could they do that without watching what each and every one of us puts in his mouth?” he said. “And that ain’t the business of government.”

“The boy’s got the right of that,” old Shultz called out in full agreement.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to get away with selling Tommy something that was rotted, tainted or poisonous?” Rome asked the man.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Tommy answered for him. “But it’s my responsibility to see that don’t happen.
Let the buyer beware
!”

The statement was made with such final certainty that one would have thought he was quoting the Good Book.

“But what if the buyer is injured?” Miss Gussie asked him. “What if he was innocently injured by something that he couldn’t know was bad? Shouldn’t a law protect him from people who would profit from injuring others?”

There was no immediate answer from any of her employees.

Rome continued her conjecture. “That kind of thing happens all the time in many different kinds of businesses, including the one we’re in,” he said. “Just two years ago hundreds of people were infected with typhoid and many of them died when they consumed ice cut from contaminated water. That’s why at Mudd Manufactured Ice we make our product only from pure, distilled water. The science is there to make ice safer. It’s the right thing that the science be used.”

“But they shouldn’t have to make a law about it,” Shultz declared. “The businesses themselves should take on the burden of what is wholesome and what is not.”

“And some do take that on,” Rome said. “Companies with conscience, like Mudd Manufactured. But not all do and it is hard for the ones with public concern to compete with the lower prices offered by those with no concern at all.”

“Those are just bad people,” Tommy piped up.
“Ain’t no way to make a law that those intent upon it can’t get around.”

Shultz agreed. “If you got a law, you’ve got to have enforcement,” he said. “Is the sheriff going to quit chasing train robbers so he can chase meat packers?”

That brought a spark of laughter to the group.

“The bill calls for the hiring of inspectors trained to do the work,” Rome said.

“And how do we know that the inspectors won’t just take bribes from these unscrupulous men and we’re no better off?” Shultz asked.

“That might happen,” Miss Gussie admitted. “But at least we have to try to protect ourselves, to protect our families. This is a way for us to do that.”

“Sickness and death are God’s will, that’s what Reverend Holiday would tell us,” Tommy declared. “No earthly Caesar can protect man from the fate for which sin has doomed him.”

“If it is God’s will that an innocent child die of typhoid, I’m sure He can manage it without giving profit to some greedy businessman in the process.”

Miss Gussie’s words were impassioned, immovable, and when Rome looked into those bright eyes, he felt an inexplicable sense of pride. He felt pride and … and something else entirely.

“Let’s go have a look at those papers,” he said quickly. “I’ll be right back, fellows,” he told his crew.

He took Miss Gussie’s arm and ushered her, a bit hurriedly, away from the loading dock and around the building toward the side entrance. As soon as they had cleared the corner and were within the privacy of the narrow alleyway between two brick structures, Rome pressed Miss Gussie back against the wall. It was not until that instance that he realized he intended to kiss her. But, of course, he could not.

He stepped back from her, shaken, attempting to recover his wits. Did she realize what he’d been up to? he wondered. Did she know how close he’d come to overstepping his bounds? He was her employee. Even with a partnership likely in the near future, such familiarity was unconscionable. Another moment and he would surely have had his face slapped.

Miss Gussie’s cheeks were deeply flushed. His unseemly action must have been noted. She must be embarrassed. But she said nothing.

“Sorry about the deception,” she said. “I just thought I needed to make up a reason for why I would be here in the middle of the morning.”

Rome shook his head. “You have every right to oversee your business at any time for no reason at all,” he told her. “But I understand what you’re thinking. I think I am … I think I am getting a little confused about what is part of the deception and what is … well … real.”

Gussie nodded as if she understood.

She glanced around almost nervously. Rome realized once more how very alone they were. Too alone. It was almost intimate, broad daylight a few yards from a public street, but it felt very intimate.

She began to fumble for something in her pocketbook. “I had to tell you what’s happened,” she said.

“What?”

She held up a folded piece of fine white papeterie. “Amos has sent me a note,” she said, smiling at him. “He has requested permission to call upon me this afternoon.”

For a moment Rome didn’t quite understand the meaning of her words. Then he felt suddenly as if someone had slugged him in the stomach.

“This could be it,” he said, forcing a smile to his
face. “Seeing us together yesterday must have brought him around.”

“Yes, it seems so,” Miss Gussie agreed. “What else could it be?”

Rome couldn’t imagine anything.

“So you will have your partnership right away,” she told him. “And I will be married by the Fourth of July after all.”

“I … I never doubted it,” he mumbled. They stood there together in the privacy of the quiet morning.

Rome cleared his throat. “I am so very happy for you, Miss Gussie,” he told her.

“I am very happy myself,” she assured him.

It occurred to Rome that if they were both so happy, why did the moment seem like such a melancholy one?

Gussie wished she had saved her new dress for today. She certainly did not relish being bound up and breathless once more, but she knew that she had looked her best and she could have used some of that confidence this afternoon.

First there had been that horribly embarrassing moment after the band concert. And her silly, childish reaction of running into the house. Then this morning she’d hurried down to the plant without a thought of what excuse to give for her presence, but then her presence surely hadn’t needed an excuse. She’d been uncomfortable and foolish and ended up discussing politics. How incredibly unattractive! She tried never to do anything like that in public.

If those things had not been enough to make her nervous, that strange discussion she’d had with Rome at the side of the building had been even worse. She’d
felt very giddy and foolish. The way he’d ushered her out of sight, she’d almost thought … well, she’d almost thought that he’d wanted to be alone with her. What a ridiculous idea! Naturally that was just some sort of silly female reaction.

Now Amos was coming, apparently to propose to her, and she felt skittish. It was not a state of mind that sat well with her.

She had settled upon the idea of seeing him in the yard. There was a little bench there, not a bench exactly, but a sanded half log that stretched between two stumps. It was shaded in the warmth of the afternoon and Gussie was certain that it was a lovely place to receive a proposal. It was a good deal more proper than allowing him unchaperoned into the parlor. And more private than simply receiving him on her front porch.

A proposal surely involved a kiss and Gussie wanted to be kissed. She’d never really thought much about it before. But somehow now it was very important to her. She would not allow modesty or concern for her reputation to stand in the way of it.

She had thought Rome was going to kiss her.

The thought popped into her brain, for perhaps the hundredth time since that morning. When he’d pulled her around the corner and pressed her back against the hard, rough brick, she had thought he was going to kiss her. What an astonishingly improbable idea!

Gussie tutted to herself and shook her head. She was spending entirely too much time in the company of her employee. She was beginning to believe the deception herself. Thank heavens it was almost over. In a few short weeks she would be Mrs. Amos Dewey and she could forget all the conniving and deception that had brought it about. Of course, someday she and Amos
would look back upon this and laugh. As she straightened the cameo at her throat, she couldn’t honestly imagine how a woman would ever explain to a man that she had tricked him and have no bad feelings.

She heard Amos fumbling at the gate. He always had trouble getting it open. She stood making last-minute adjustments in front of the hall tree mirror. She assured herself that though she was past thirty and never the loveliest lady in town, she was as pretty as God had intended her to be. That would certainly have to be enough. She forced a broad, welcoming expression on her face before hurrying to the front door.

He was coming up the porch steps. He was so tall, so handsome, his lean features enhanced by the thick dark hair and brown eyes behind neat wire-rimmed spectacles.

“Good afternoon, Amos,” she said.

He looked up at her. His expression was solemn.

“Hello, Gussie,” he said. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

She smiled brightly at him. He wasn’t looking at her. “May I come in?”

She hesitated. The plan had been for the yard, but somehow the privacy of the parlor seemed more suited to the mood.

“Certainly,” she answered and led him into the front parlor, where he immediately seated himself on the most formal and uncomfortable seat in the place.

Gussie almost took a chair herself, but then primly sat on the edge of the fainting couch. Once the proposal was accepted, he could move beside her without seeming overly familiar.

She smoothed her skirts down nervously and then clasped her hands together to keep them still. Amos
was not looking at her. He held his hat in his hand and appeared fully engrossed in the job of straightening the brim. Gussie focused on the part in his hair. In the latest fashion, known as the half shingle, it went from the middle of his brow to the middle of his nape. It was, as always, perfectly straight. He was, as always, perfectly groomed and eminently fashionable.