Sister's Choice (12 page)

“I’ll help with everything, Mama,” Maggie said.

“I’ll help, too,” put in Ellie.

Maggie was surprised at this. She had expected Ellie to be opposed to the idea. She was so contrary lately.

Finally Grandma said, “I’ll be here to help, as well. It sounds like fun. I was so disappointed to miss Ellie’s party.”

In the end Mama agreed to talk it over with Nessa at the Sewing Circle on Sunday.

When supper was finished and the dishes cleared, Zack and Ellie went outside to sit on the porch. Maggie joined them, as was often her habit. She had slipped into the role of chaperone when the couple wanted to be alone. Maggie’s presence satisfied Mama and Dad, and Zack and Ellie were fairly at ease with Maggie around. It was a suitable arrangement for all except perhaps Maggie, who didn’t much like having to pretend to be invisible while Zack and Ellie talked, sharing all the sweet nothings couples usually share. Maggie didn’t complain because it did indicate her parents trusted her and, at least in this instance, perceived her as an adult.

Tonight, however, Zack and Ellie were quieter than usual. There seemed to be some tension in the air. She’d missed sitting with them last night because she’d been entertaining Evan. Now she wondered if they had had an argument of some sort and thought they might appreciate it if she broke the ice. “Ellie, thank you for offering to help with the party.”

“I do think there should be a quilting for Kendra. She is going to be married first. She may have only three or four tops done, but I know she will appreciate getting them quilted before her wedding. Mrs. Wallard is probably too shy to mention it.”

Maggie was disappointed Ellie hadn’t said anything about the real purpose of the party. She’d hoped her sister was finally on her side. Ellie had been understandably surprised when Maggie had announced the party to the girls at the Stoddard house after returning from going after Colby. But she had not said anything about it on their walk home.

“Do you still think I am trying to be deceptive?” Maggie asked bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Ellie answered evasively. “But you only want to have the party in order to get close to Colby. You don’t really care about Kendra.”

“That’s not true!” Maggie retorted. “Kendra is going to be my sister-in-law, and I do care about her. Maybe she, at least, will support me once in a while.”

Then Zack asked, “What’s wrong with having a party?”

Ellie looked at him sharply, perhaps perceiving his words as unsupportive toward her. “You of all people, Zack, should see how manipulating people never works out.”

“This is different from what I did,” Zack replied, his tone a little tense.

Though Maggie knew there had been some bumps lately in Zack and Ellie’s road to happiness, she had not believed it anything serious. She certainly had never heard them have an argument. She wasn’t pleased to think she’d started one now, so she jumped in, trying to soothe their ruffled feathers. “Maybe Ellie is right. I didn’t think it would hurt anything, though.”

“Did you know that in England,” Zack said, “the upper classes have something they call the ‘Season.’ For several months each year parties or balls are held almost every day to allow young women to ‘come out’ to society. The purpose is to provide opportunities for the girls to find husbands. It is too bad that the girls here have to resort to more illusive means.”

“I imagine that even in England the young people must resort to subtlety in these matters,” Ellie said. “As in the case when two girls want the same man.”

“That is a fact of life, Ellie,” Zack stated, as if he’d just won the argument. “Romance is often a path fraught with twists and turns. Even someone as straightforward as you, Ellie, didn’t have a completely unfettered path in your quest for a husband.”

“I haven’t a husband yet,” she said solemnly. Then her frosty expression melted, and she smiled. “Oh, I guess you are right. I just hate to think someone might get hurt—especially you, Mags.”

“That’s what I love about you, Ellie,” Zack exclaimed. “You have the tenderest heart I have ever seen.”

Maggie took the cue of Zack’s moon-faced expression to melt into the shadows.

Later, after Zack had gone home, Maggie’s sense of vindication prompted her to broach another prickly topic.

“Ellie, why did you support Tamara’s interest in learning to sew?” Seeing that her sister might take this as a challenge, she quickly added, “I really want to know because I value your opinion.”

“Well, when Tamara brought it up, I saw it as a perfect way for you to get to know her better.”

“My first thought was that I might lose my only edge over her,” Maggie said.

“I honestly didn’t think of that,” Ellie replied.

Maggie knew that was true and inwardly repented of her thought that Ellie had some evil ulterior motive. Zack was right. Ellie had a tender heart and did not have an evil bone in her body. Perhaps there was indeed some higher reason behind the whole idea of Tamara learning to sew. Perhaps God’s hand was in it, and Maggie ought to just let it happen and see where it led. Ellie was far more sensitive to godly matters than Maggie.

So Maggie asked her grandmother about it, and she said she’d be happy to teach Tamara.

Maggie had other business to take care of the following afternoon. She was beginning to feel like a juggler she’d once seen at a fair. He had been juggling china dinner plates, five all at once, in the air. Mama had been appalled at how careless he was being with the fine china, but Maggie had been fascinated and a little disappointed when all the plates didn’t eventually crash to the ground. She wasn’t so certain she would have as good success in her own dealings.

At least her trek to Mrs. Donnelly’s place had been successful. Mrs. Donnelly had not considered the idea of asking Evan to represent Tommy, but it seemed a good suggestion to her. She was growing quite impatient with the Portland lawyer. She immediately sat down and wrote a letter, releasing the Portland man from his contract and including some money in the envelope to pay for any services rendered. Then she asked Maggie to join her when she went into Maintown to pay a visit to Evan.

Evan seemed surprised to see them pull up to the Parker home in the wagon. Maybe he had not believed anything would come of Maggie’s suggestion. But she would not forget about Tommy, no matter what.

As they sat in the parlor, Evan was still reluctant to take the case. “Mrs. Donnelly, I must tell you I am completely inexperienced with murder trials. I never seriously considered taking on criminal cases in a law practice. I leaned more toward business matters, contracts, that sort of thing.”

“Now, Evan,” put in Mrs. Parker, who had joined them, “don’t depreciate yourself. You passed all your courses with flying colors.”

“Then you did learn about criminal law in school?” Mrs. Donnelly asked.

“He most certainly did,” answered Mrs. Parker. “The Boston firm that wants to employ him was very impressed with his credentials. When he returns to Boston to take up that position, I have no doubt he will rise to great heights.”

“You can’t be anxious for him to leave,” commented Mrs. Donnelly.

“I’m not, of course,” Mrs. Parker replied. “But it is a sacrifice I am willing to make for my son’s advancement.”

“Yes . . . well . . . um . . .” Evan said, clearing his throat delicately, obviously unsettled by his mother’s words. “In any case, Mrs. Donnelly, while my marks were good, litigation was not my . . . ah . . . forte.”

“But you
know
the law?”

“Yes.” There was self-doubt in his response. “I know the theory of law quite well.”

“Will you defend my son to the best of your ability?”

“If I took the case, I would.” Now his voice held confidence.

“I should like to hire you, then.”

“You should give it a few days to ensure your lawyer receives the letter of release.”

“I hate to wait that long,” Mrs. Donnelly said. She had been holding up well during the visit, but now her lips trembled. “Tommy dearly hates to be locked up. It has been so long already. I would go into Portland myself, but it is the middle of harvest, and even though my neighbors are helping out, I need to be at the farm.”

“I will go into Portland and speak with your lawyer—Mr.Werth, isn’t it?” Evan asked.

“You would do that?” Tears welled up in Mrs. Donnelly’s eyes.

“A good lawyer does everything he can for his clients.”

“Then you will take Tommy’s case?”

“I will.” Evan looked a little surprised himself about his decision.

Mrs. Donnelly took both his hands into hers. “Thank you so much!” She gave Evan the letter she had yet to post so that he could deliver it to Portland personally.

When Mrs. Donnelly was ready to take her leave, Maggie told her to go on ahead, for she wanted to speak with Evan a moment longer.

Sensing perhaps this would not be a conversation they would wish to have in the parlor with his mother near, Evan suggested they take a walk. “I am in need of exercise,” he said for his mother’s benefit.

Maggie noted mother and son exchange a look that implied deeper meaning.

“Now, Evan,” Mrs. Parker said, “you needn’t worry about your lack of industry. This is a vacation for you before you return to your real work in Boston.”

“I still need exercise for the sake of a fit constitution,” Evan rejoined.

“Oh, you are too young to worry about such things, but take your walk, if you must.” Mrs. Parker rose and then turned to Maggie. “I should get back to my sewing. Maggie, you must tell your mother that I am almost finished piecing an entire quilt top on my new sewing machine. I hope to bring it to the Sewing Circle on Sunday to show.”

“I’ll tell her, Mrs. Parker.” But Maggie would do no such thing. The last thing she wanted was to get in between the two rivals.

She and Evan went outside. Maggie had been so busy that day she’d barely noticed what a fine September day it was. It was the middle of the month and summer was still holding on, but leaves were already starting to turn on some of the trees.

Evan suggested he walk her home, so they headed in that direction, taking a shortcut from the edge of town, where the Parker house was located, over a back road that wound between the Briggs’ place and the Lamberts’ farm.

“I might do Mrs. Donnelly more good if I helped her with her farm,” Evan commented.

“I didn’t think you were much of a farmer.”

“And I never will be if my parents have their way,” he replied with emotion. “They are appalled that I would even consider giving up the law. They won’t let me work at the mill. My father is probably the only man on earth who is less than thrilled at the prospect of his son following him in business. Mother continues to hang on to the hope that I’ll return to the influential Boston job.”

“They put a lot into your education and don’t want to see it wasted.”

“Maggie, I just took upon myself a case in which a young man’s life is in my hands. I don’t know if I am up to the challenge.”

“You are, Evan.”

“How do you know? You don’t even know me.”

“I think Mrs. Donnelly saw, as I do, that there is more to you than meets the eye and more than you want others to see. You can’t let yourself be stopped by fear.”

“I’d guess you have never been afraid of anything in your life.” He arched a brow when she started to protest.

She shrugged. “I don’t think about it much. Maybe that’s your problem. You think about things so much you get worked up into a lather over it.”

“Yes, that describes me to a tee.” He chuckled wryly. “Maggie, why don’t you help me with the trial?”

“Me? What could I do?”

“In the Boston law office there were clerks who did research and other kinds of footwork required during a trial. I clerked there during my schooling. If there is one thing I am sure about, it is that I will need a clerk for this case.”

“Could I do that and still be a witness?”

“Why would you be a witness?”

Maggie realized she might have said too much. She had not thought whether or not she would reveal to Evan what Tommy had told her before his father’s death. Maybe she should worry more about things like Evan did. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

“Well,” she replied, “to witness as a friend. To tell people what a good person Tommy is.”

“A character witness,” he said. “I will have those, but I wouldn’t call a young woman unless absolutely necessary.”

She might have argued the point. She was slightly insulted that because she was a young woman her testimony might not be valued. But she decided to accept it as a reprieve for now, though she would soon have to make up her mind about what exactly to tell Evan about Tommy.

Changing the subject seemed her safest move. “Evan, I wanted to tell you that we are going to have a party next Saturday. And this one will be fun—I mean . . .” She fumbled, realizing the implied insult of her words. The last party had been at his house. “That is, there will be dancing. You and Tamara can dance, and Colby and I—” She stopped upon seeing he’d suddenly gone pale. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go!” he blurted, almost desperately.

“What do you mean? I’m planning this party for us, for our causes, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m not there, does it?” He fumbled with his spectacles, nearly knocking them off his face.

“Yes, it does matter. You have to be there. You will keep Tamara occupied while I keep Colby occupied. Don’t you get it?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm in her tone. Was she pinning her hopes on a dullard?

He let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “I can’t dance!” he admitted.

Somehow his statement didn’t really surprise her. “There must have been parties in Boston. What did you do then?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Even when Tamara was there?”

“There were a couple parties when she came to visit. I . . . uh . . . managed to find some excuse or other to bow out. Once I feigned an injured foot.”

“No wonder she didn’t fall passionately in love with you! She probably thought you didn’t want to dance with her. That tends to put a girl off.”

“So would crushing her delicate toes under mine.”