The Ride of Her Life (4 page)

“I’ll save you some stew.”

“And I can’t leave until that man comes back with my children,” Marguerite said.

“His name is Nick Perrin.”

“How do you know him, and how does he know Levi likes bugs?” Emily asked.

“He’s the engineer in charge of building the new roller coaster, and Levi’s taken a liking to him.”

“And what about you?”

As if Marguerite’s brain were made of glass, Lilly could see her friend was already making plans, conspiring against her. “I have a lunch counter to run. If you two will excuse me, I’m gonna go stir the stew before I burn it to a crisp.”

“Lassie, I believe that was the best stew I’ve ever tasted.”

Lilly picked up the plate in front of the man the others called Sean McGready. His Irish brogue gave away his heritage, and she couldn’t help but smile at the twinkle in the man’s green eyes. “I think you were simply unusually hungry, Mr. McGready.”

“Boss works me hard, he does.” Sean grinned at Nick Perrin. “A real slave driver. Maybe ya could sweeten him up with some of that apple cobbler I smell.”

“Or maybe she could have a piece with us.” One of the younger men reached out to her. “We’d sure enjoy your company.” Nick cleared his throat, and the man dropped his hand quickly. “Sorry, ma’am. I was trying to be friendly.”

She collected the remaining empty plates, all nearly licked clean, and nodded to Nick. “I’ll be right back with cobbler—for all of you.”

With the dirty plates piled high in her arms, Lilly headed for the kitchen.

Emily hurried from her table to join her. “Want some help?”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can.” Emily touched her arm. “But I want to help.”

What was she going to do with all these well-wishers? Why couldn’t they understand that relying on other people was not her way? She never had, and she certainly didn’t dare start now. This afternoon, Emily and Marguerite had spent an hour trying to persuade her to take Emily up on her offer of staying at the cabin. If she didn’t let Emily do something now, they’d pester her all evening as well.

She sighed. “All right, why don’t you grab those plates and let’s dish up some cobbler?”

After placing a large serving of cobbler on each of the red-rimmed plates, Lilly reached for the coffeepot. My, but these men could drink coffee.

No sooner had she refilled Mr. McGready’s cup than he’d downed its contents. She laughed and began to fill it again.

The diner’s door opened. Lilly turned her head and spotted her in-laws enter with the sheriff.

“Whoa there, lassie.” Mr. McGready held up his hand. “I’m thirsty, but not that thirsty.”

She jerked the spout of the coffeepot upward and stared at the overflowing cup. She grabbed a napkin and blotted the spill. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries, lass.”

If only that were true. Why had her in-laws brought the sheriff?

The sheriff removed his hat. “Can we speak to you, Mrs. Hart?”

Her heart pounded like a kettledrum. She caught Mr. Perrin watching her and noticed he sat up straighter. Did he intend to intervene again? She certainly hoped not. It would only make matters worse.

She moved closer to the table where her two friends remained. Besides needing their moral support, it would save time later explaining what had transpired. “Certainly, Sheriff. Can I get you anything?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “Would you care to sit down?”

She glanced at her father-in-law’s hard face and took a seat, pressing a shaky hand to her stomach. She forced her words to take on the formal tone she’d learned the Harts expected from her as their son’s wife. “I don’t have a feeling this is a social call, sir. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“Mrs. Hart, your husband’s parents—”

“My deceased husband.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The sheriff shifted his feet. “They are concerned about your son’s well-being.”

“I can assure you my son is perfectly fine, Sheriff. I would never do anything to harm him in any way.”

“Yes, ma’am, but your in-laws are worried about where the two of you are living. They said you left their home and have been living in a tent here at the lake.”

“Yes, sir, we have.”

“While I know a lot of folks camp in tents here all summer, it’s still awfully cold at night this time of year, don’t you think? They’ve offered to let the boy come stay with them.”

Emily stood and moved next to Lilly. “Excuse me for interrupting, but that was only temporary until I arrived back here at the lake. She’s now staying at our family’s cabin.” Lilly sucked in a gulp of air, and Emily grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it hard. “Sheriff, you’re familiar with the Graham cottage here on the lake, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Your grandma Kate’s been spending summers out here for years.”

Emily looped her arm in Lilly’s. “Then you know there’s plenty of room for Lilly, her son, my baby, and myself.”

“That’s not true! I don’t believe her.” Evangeline huffed. “She’s making it up.”

“Ma’am?”

Lilly took a deep breath to calm her knotting stomach. She didn’t want to accept Emily’s charity, but what choice did she have now? She met the sheriff’s gaze. “Yes, I’ll be moving in there tomorrow.”

Evangeline mashed her lips together. “This is ridiculous. We have a perfectly wonderful home where Levi can have the best of everything, and yet she insists on keeping the boy with her at this mosquito-infested lake.”

“Ma’am, if the boy isn’t being mistreated—”

Evangeline propped her hands on her hips. “And how do you know he isn’t being mistreated?”

“My wife is right. Perhaps she’s starving him.” Claude locked eyes with Lilly.

Anger burned in her chest. How dare they imply she wouldn’t feed her son!

“May I see the boy, Mrs. Hart?” An unspoken apology seemed to fill the old sheriff’s deep voice.

“I’ll get him,” Marguerite offered. She returned a few minutes later with a mud-splattered Levi and her own dirt-dappled children. “I’m afraid they’ve been playing outside—collecting bugs.”

“They look like they’ve been wallowing in a pigsty.” Evangeline pressed a handkerchief to her scrunched-up nose. “And they smell as bad.”

Lilly laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Levi, greet your grandparents and the sheriff.”

Levi wiped his dirt-caked hand across his shirt and held it out. “Hello, Grandmother.” He paused and his eyes grew wide. “Sheriff, is that a real gun?”

“Yes, son, it is.” The sheriff shook Levi’s offered hand, which his grandparents had ignored, then turned to Claude. “Clearly the boy is being well cared for.”

“But look at him!” Evangeline motioned toward Levi with a gloved hand, the handkerchief dangling from her fingertips. “Where are his shoes?”

“I took ’em off.” Levi puffed out his chest. “Mama wouldn’t want me to get ’em dirty.”

The sheriff let out a loud chuckle. “He’s 100 percent boy, but there’s no crime in that. Had me three of my own.” He patted Levi’s sandy-haired head. “You had supper yet?”

“Mama feeds me after she feeds the men.”

The sheriff glanced at the workmen seated around the corner tables. “Since I can see they’re finished, I’m guessing you’d like us to leave so you can eat. Am I right, son?”

“That’d be mighty nice.” Levi rubbed his ribs. “I might faint dead away if I don’t get some food soon. ’Sides, when I’m finished, Mr. Nick said I get to go see how the rollie coaster is comin’ along—if it’s okay with Mama.”

“Then we’d best be hurrying.” The sheriff turned to Lilly’s in-laws, and the timbre of his voice dropped. “As for you two, I don’t appreciate being called in on a family dispute even if you have all the money in the country. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, but I’m telling you, this boy belongs in the care of his mother. As long as the boy’s needs are being met and she’s not harming him, I suggest you let her live in peace with him at the Grahams’ cottage. They’ve been through enough already.”

The sheriff placed his hat back on his head and touched the brim in the ladies’ direction before opening the door. He held it for Claude and Evangeline but didn’t seem to notice the look of warning Claude flashed Lilly—a look of cold determination that made Lilly’s blood freeze in her veins.

A look that said this was far from being over.

4

Daffodils winked at Lilly from the front yards along High Street. Despite the morning’s cool temperatures, Lilly felt warmed by the sun as she walked to the Westings’ home. Her glass-beaded purse, a gift from Ben on their first Christmas, jingled in her left hand, a few coins lighter since her streetcar ride to the city. Levi’s sticky fingers remained clasped in her other hand.

Lilly straightened the jaunty hat on her head and reinserted a hat pin into her Gibson girl chignon. The wide, rose-colored satin ribbons hanging down the back tickled her neck in the breeze. “Now, remember, Levi, Grammy works for the Westings. This isn’t her home, so you have to be extra good and not touch any of Mrs. Westing’s pretty things.”

“Why does Grammy live at Tate and Faith’s grammy’s house now?” Levi licked the sugar stick Nick had given him this morning. “I liked it better when she lived with us.”

“So did I, but the Westings have managed to spring back from a difficult time a few years ago, and Grammy wanted to work there.” Lilly released his hand. “Why don’t you run up the block and get rid of some of your energy? Let’s see how fast you are.”

Pumping his little arms as hard as he could, Levi flew up the sidewalk and stopped at the walk leading to the Westings’ front doorstep. “Race you to the knocker, Mama.”

Lilly caught his collar. “Not so fast, speedy. We’ll go around to the back.”

“Huh? But I like to use their shiny knocker.”

“Not anymore.” Lilly sighed. She’d loved the first time she walked into the front door of the Westing home on Ben’s arm, but those days were over. Her heart pinched. Although she’d worn one of her fancier frocks, a rose chiffon day dress with a gathered bolero trimmed in lace, the outward trappings didn’t mean a thing to those who knew the truth. Ben was gone, and so was any equality she’d once had with this affluent family.

Lilly followed the brick sidewalk and led her son around the side of the two-story Victorian home. She glanced at the trellis Marguerite had once snuck down to get out of her piano practice, and chuckled. How Mrs. Westing had shouted when she discovered a hole in her daughter’s new sunny-yellow dress.

“You used to live here, right, Mama?”

“I did. Grammy was the Westings’ housekeeper.”

“And you was Grammy’s baby and you growed up with Aunt Margreet like a sister.”

“Mostly. Someone had to keep Aunt Marguerite out of trouble.” She paused near the clothesline in the backyard and touched the calico drawstring bag holding the pins—her first sewing project under her mother’s watchful eye. Guilt clutched her heart. Her mother was too old to be lugging baskets of wet clothes around. Worse, it was Lilly’s fault her mama had to.

The back porch door opened wide, and Mama waddled out wearing an apron over her dark work dress. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool spring morning. She dabbed at her cheeks with the towel in her hand. “Who’s that big boy with you, Lilly? He couldn’t possibly be my little Levi.”

“Grammy, it is too me.” Levi ran to Mama.

She bent low and hugged him to her ample bosom. “I sure missed your sticky sugar kisses. How much have you grown? A foot? Lilly, what are you feeding this boy to make him grow so big in only one week?”

Beaming, Levi held his striped stick out before him. “I’m eatin’ candy.”

“And what kind of stick candy do you have?”

“Cimamum.” He licked his lips. “Want some?”

Mama held back a chuckle. “Thank you kindly, but I’ll pass on your
cimamum
candy this time. Lilly, pull up those chairs while I go fetch the mess of apples I need to peel. Then we can sit and talk while I work.”

“Bring two paring knives and I’ll help.”

“You’ll do none of that. This is your first morning off in a week except for the Lord’s Day, and you should be relaxing.” The screen door banged shut as Mama went inside.

Lilly arranged two wicker chairs side by side, then moved to what had been Marguerite’s play table and called Levi over.

“I have a surprise for you, Levi.” She opened her handbag, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and smoothed it on the table. Creases still remained, but it would be usable. She withdrew a box of Crayola crayons from her handbag. The box had cost her five cents out of her first week’s pay.

“What is it?”

She eased open the lid to reveal the eight crayons inside before handing him the box. “You draw pictures with them on the paper.”

“Like paints?” His lips bowed in a broad smile so much like his daddy’s.

“Sort of. Only these are like colored pencils. You can draw pretty flowers and blue skies. Be careful with them. You don’t want to break one.”

By the time Mama returned with a bowl of apples to peel, Levi was deep in artistic thought, the candy stick propped between his lips. She set her bowl on the table between the wicker chairs and walked over to Levi.

“Well, aren’t those the dandiest things?” Mama examined the box of crayons. “My, my, a person could paint the world with all those pretty colors. Think of all the possibilities.”