The Ride of Her Life (3 page)

“Friends?” Lilly bit her lip. Did she even want to know?

“Four daddy longlegs.”

She spotted one of Mr. Wiggles’s “friends” crawling across the floor and raised her foot to step on him.

“No, Mama! No!” Levi dove for the spindle-legged creature and scooped him up. “There, I saved you from the wicked witch.”

“Levi!” She stomped her foot. “I am not a wicked witch. Now, take that thing outside.”

“But what about his family?”

“You can come back in and find them as well.”

“You promise not to squish ’em while I’m outside?”

“I promise.”

Levi scampered outside, and Lilly glanced around the room for any signs of the daddy longlegs—or Mr. Wiggles. Seeing nothing, she hurried back to the kitchen to stir the stew simmering on the stove. The men would be in for supper soon, but with Mr. Thorton already gone for the day, at least she wouldn’t have to apologize to Mr. Perrin.

Lilly opened the oven door, and a gust of hot air blasted her face. She grabbed the hem of her apron and used it to pull the pan of golden cornbread from the oven. The sweet aroma set her stomach growling, but she cut only one square to set aside for Levi’s supper. If there was enough left after the men ate, she’d enjoy a piece as well. If not, well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone without.

“Lilly? You in there?” Marguerite Andrews called from the dining room. “Lilly?”

Lilly met her at the counter. “And it’s a good thing it’s only me, the way you’re shouting like a banshee. What if Mr. Thorton was here?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t care. He loves you.” She pulled off her lacy gloves and set them down on the counter. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Is it hairy with eight legs?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. What’s the surprise?”

Marguerite rounded the counter and took hold of Lilly’s arm. “Close your eyes.”

“Marguerite, I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Lilly stood firm. Why did her best friend always see life as a game?

“Don’t be so stubborn. Do as I ask and let me lead you to the door.”

“Why can’t I close my eyes after I get there?”

“Oh, all right.” Marguerite nudged her closer in the desired direction.

Once Lilly complied, the bell above the door jingled, and a cool breeze kissed her oven-warmed cheeks. She heard Levi along with Marguerite’s two children, Tate and Faith, fighting over some toy outside the diner. But it didn’t cover the sound of someone stepping onto the lunch counter’s stoop.

“Okay.” Marguerite laid her hands on Lilly’s shoulders. “You can open your eyes now.”

Lilly peeled her hands away and squealed, throwing her arms around Emily Stockton. “When did you get in?”

“This morning. I came to the lake as soon as I could get away from my aunts and my grandmother.”

Glancing at Marguerite, Lilly frowned. “And you knew she was coming all along?”

“Truthfully, no. I saw her on my way over here.”

Lilly captured her friend’s hands in her own and drew her inside the diner. “I heard your aunt Ethel was doing poorly. Is that why you’ve come home?”

“Partly.” Emily jostled the bundle in her arms. “And Carter didn’t think baby Kate and I should be traipsing around the country in a railcar all summer—even if it is a Pullman Palace car.”

“He’s right.” Lilly pulled the blanket away and smiled at the cherub-faced infant. “Now, let me get you some lemonade, and then Aunt Lilly wants to hold this little angel.”

“After Aunt Marguerite.” Marguerite slipped the baby from Emily’s arms and smiled.

Lilly wagged a finger at her friend. “Marguerite Andrews, you’d better be ready to give me that baby the instant I get back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll share her. Eventually.”

After Lilly returned with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses, Marguerite passed Kate to her. “Is she three months old already?”

“Turned it yesterday.” Emily yawned. “Sorry. She doesn’t sleep through the night very well.”

“I remember poor Benjamin having to take Levi out on the porch swing nearly every night. Oh, how Ben’s mother hated that. She said it wasn’t proper for a father to be caring for his baby.” The picture of tiny Levi propped on his daddy’s broad shoulder made tears cloud her eyes. She blinked and forced a smile. “The colic will stop soon enough. Besides, living with your grandmother and aunts, you’ll be lucky if you even get a chance to take care of her yourself.”

“I’m not staying there. I’m staying here at Lake Manawa in my family’s cottage.” Emily sipped from her glass. “This brings me to a question I want to ask you, Lilly.”

“Oh?”

Emily set her glass down. “Marguerite told me about where you and Levi are living, and I’d like for you to come and stay with me at the cabin. I’d love the company and could use your expertise about babies.”

Lilly handed baby Kate back to her mother. “Thank you all the same, Emily, but I’ll have to decline.”

“Why? There are two bedrooms, so you’d have your own room, and Carter will be on the road managing the Bloomer Girls team for at least two months. Wouldn’t it be nice for Levi to have a bed and a warm place to sleep?”

Standing, Lilly smoothed her apron. “Levi and I have a place, and I can assure you I keep him snug as a bug.”

“I told you she’d say no.” Marguerite shot a glare at Lilly before turning to Emily. “I offered to let her stay with us too, but she’s as stubborn as an ink stain, and she thinks she has to manage all on her own.”

Lilly fisted her apron. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly.” Marguerite poked the table with her finger. Lilly might have changed quite a bit in the last ten years, especially since Ben’s death, but in the area of mulish independence, she hadn’t budged.

Emily glanced toward the kitchen. “Uh—”

“You don’t need to go standing up for her, Emily. Lilly’s got some foolish idea about not letting anyone—including her best friends—help her.”

Emily stiffened in her chair. “Do you smell something burning?”

“The stew!” Lilly raced into the kitchen and yanked the pot off the burner. She lifted the lid and dipped her spoon into the contents. She pushed some to the side. The stew in the bottom of the pot lay blackened.

“Is it ruined?” Emily asked.

“I believe I can salvage it.” She scowled at Marguerite. “If no one distracts me again.” She lifted a chunk of carrot, blew on it, and slipped it between her lips. “It’s charred, but nothing a few raw potatoes and a bit of sugar won’t take care of, thank the Lord.”

She dumped the stew from the charred pot into a second clean pot and surveyed how much of the main course clung to the bottom like paste. “Oh well, my supper will be a little crisp tonight.”

“Is it okay?” Marguerite bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to get Lilly in some kind of trouble.

Using a paring knife, Lilly cut the peel off a potato in a long string. “It’ll be fine.”

“What can we do to help?”

“Nothing.”

“That answer is not acceptable.” Marguerite remained planted in Lilly’s path. Why did Lilly still insist on keeping her at arm’s length when they’d been through so much together?

Hands planted on her hips, Marguerite studied her petite friend. Lilly’s chestnut-colored hair was pinned up in a fashionable Gibson girl style, and the ruffles of her white shirtwaist peeked over the top of her apron. If this were a home, she’d look like any other wife tending to the needs of her family.

It wasn’t fair. She should be enjoying a love-filled life with Ben, not fending for herself as a cook. A very stubborn cook. Since she’d married Ben, many of Lilly’s rough edges had been smoothed. It wasn’t that Ben had ever said a word. Lilly had simply wanted to be the best wife she could be and had been determined to become the kind of lady others expected at his side. She’d learned the proper way to speak, sit, and entertain. She’d attacked the task with the same determination that kept her from accepting help now.

“Why don’t you go check on Levi when you see to your own young ’uns?” Lilly pointed with her knife toward the door.

“All right. Then I’m coming back to finish our talk.”

Lilly dropped the potato chunks into the stew. “And you called me stubborn?”

“I learned it all from you.”

“The only thing you’ve learned was how to get into trouble, and you did that all on your own.”

“We each have our talents.” Marguerite gave Lilly a flippant smile and turned, her skirt swishing against the door frame as she left.

After cleaning up quickly for dinner, Nick hurried to the lunch counter so he could spend a little time with Levi before the other men arrived. The bell above the diner’s door jangled as he entered.

Mrs. Hart—Lilly—emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Mr. Perrin, about yesterday. I feel an apology is in order.”

He stepped back. Did she honestly expect him to say he was sorry for standing up for her? Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the bitter pill of pride. “All right. I apologize.”

“No, not from you. From me.” She looked down at the towel in her hands. “I spoke rashly, and I now realize you were simply trying be kind.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m afraid dinner won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes.”

“I know, but I thought maybe Levi would like to go bug hunting before supper.”

She paused, and he guessed she was considering whether she trusted him. At last, her lips curved in a smile. Why hadn’t he noticed her smile earlier? Pure sunshine.

Too bad she had so little to smile about. Perhaps he could fix that.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Perrin? I said Levi is out back with Mrs. Andrews’s children.” She motioned toward a table with two other women. The blonde woman nodded. So that was Mrs. Andrews. He tipped his hat in her direction. “Is it all right with both of you, then, if I take the children to collect bugs?”

“If you want to do that, you go right ahead.” Mrs. Andrews, a pretty woman near the same age as Lilly, laughed.

“Mrs. Hart?” He didn’t want to consider how she’d react if he didn’t have her permission to take her son somewhere. The little pistol of a woman couldn’t be an inch over five feet tall, but he had no doubt her quick tongue made up for any size she lacked. “Ma’am?”

She rolled her eyes. “Far be it from me to keep a man from his bugs.”

Lilly carried a stack of plates to the workmen’s tables and began setting them in place.

Marguerite sauntered over with a handful of forks. “And who exactly was that handsome gentleman?”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Marguerite! You’re a married woman.”

“I’m not looking for me. I’m looking for Lilly.”

“Which is a shame, ’cause I’m not looking either.” Lilly snatched the forks from Marguerite and laid one to the left of each plate.

Emily shifted the baby into her left arm and brought Lilly a stack of red-checkered napkins. “It’s been three years. Ben wouldn’t want you to be alone forever.”

“You need a man.” Marguerite folded the napkins and slipped them under the forks.

“The only man I need is less than four feet tall and is six years old.” Lilly straightened. “Don’t you two have families to get home to?”

“My grandmother was having the cottage aired and my things moved in this afternoon,” Emily said. “I’ll head over there in a while. I was hoping to order some dinner here.”