Twice Promised (The Blue Willow Brides Book #2): A Novel (30 page)

He tried to recollect their talk the night he’d received the package from Fort Bridger. If memory served him correctly, as he was wont to forget so many things, he thought she’d said she had put Bryan in her past. So what went wrong? Had he said or done something to offend her?

Jess stepped up to the porch. “Howdy,” he said, shoving his hat back in order to get a closer look at Greta’s face. “You about to go to the hotel for the night?”

“No, I’m just taking a break, but I’ll be back to finish working on Agnes’s dress.” Her voice sounded dull and flat, and she didn’t meet his gaze.

“Oh . . . I was going to see if you wanted to have supper.” He looked over at Caleb. “I see you made it back. Where’s Zach?”

“He took off for the lumber store. He’s figuring how much he’ll need for a barn,” Caleb answered, pausing from his hobby.

“I see.” Jess scratched his chin, still unshaven from this morning. “What are you whittling there?” he asked, still keeping an eye on Greta. She was standing so close to him that he could smell the delicate lavender that she used to wash her hair.

Caleb held his creation up for them to see. “I was just telling Greta it’s an angel, or at least I hope it resembles one. I want to give it to Cora. Think she’ll like it?”

“Why, it’s lovely, Caleb! Of course she will. What a talent you have.” Greta admired the wood figurine. “How sweet of you to do that.”

“Greta’s right, it’s nice.” Jess ventured a glance at Greta. Her veiled blue eyes held his for a moment, then looked away, and she seemed to shrink back into the folds of her coat. “Caleb, do you mind giving Stomper his oats? Don’t put him in the barn yet. I have another trip to Granny’s to make soon.”

“Sure thing, Jess.” Caleb hopped up, put his knife back in one pocket and the figurine in the other, and tromped down to where Jess had left Stomper hitched to the wagon.

“See you both later,” Greta said, sounding a little stilted. She continued down the porch steps.

Jess watched the gentle sway of her hips as she strolled down the sidewalk, head held high, with all the aplomb of a princess. All she needed was a crown. He wanted to be the one to treat her like a princess, but for some reason she was giving him the cold shoulder. Maybe he’d get a chance to find out what was wrong when she returned to finish Agnes’s dress. Since it was a nice, cool day, he felt in need of a short nap to clear the clutter in his head after locking up the store for the day.

———

Greta resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder to see if Jess was still standing there. No matter, she didn’t want to make him think she cared that he was or not, so she looked straight ahead with her mind on Zach and her ceremony. Further down the street, she saw a weathered sign with letters in bright red that read S
UZANNE’S
M
ILLINERY
. She’d been meaning to stop in there for some time now and decided there was no time like the present. Quite possibly she might find something to lift her spirits and be useful as well.

The storefront boasted delicate collars, hats, gloves, and a pair of fashionable shoes the color of chestnut. The latter interested her the most. Hoping to browse before the store closed for the day, she pushed open the door, and a lovely smell of lilac toilet water and pungent herbs filled the room, which she immediately found relaxing. Several ladies milled about oohing and aahing over a table that held delicate lingerie.

“May I be of assistance?” A pretty lady with a warm smile approached her.

“I’m not sure . . . I kept seeing your sign and decided to pop in before you closed today.”

“When I have customers, unless it’s excessively late, I stay open to accommodate their needs.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Suzanne Marshall, but please call me Suzy.”

Greta shook her hand. “Greta Olsen. Nice to meet you, Suzanne . . . Suzy.”

“You go ahead and look around if you care to, unless there was something in particular . . .”

Greta laughed. “There wasn’t until I saw the pretty shoes in the window. They’d be perfect for fall weather.”

“Oh, those. Yes, indeed they would. Shall I see if we have your size while you have a look around?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.” Greta gave her the size, and Suzy disappeared to the back of the shop. Greta perused the store, finding much to delight her. There was an array of pretty hats and bonnets, so she started trying them on. The fancier ones would have to wait until she could afford them, but she’d love to have a hat for Agnes’s barbecue. After trying several, she picked up a huge straw hat with wide floppy sides, the crown decorated with spring flowers, and decided this one suited her. Would Jess even notice? Hardly. His eyes would be on Cora.

“I like that one on you, Greta,” Suzy said as she came back holding the box of shoes. “The blue ribbon is a perfect match to your eyes.”

“And it will shade my entire face.” Greta giggled. The price was reasonable. She decided she had to have it.

“Why don’t you come over and have a seat and try on the shoes?” Suzy led her over to a seating area with a velvet settee in rose with two matching chairs.

“You have a beautiful shop,” Greta remarked, taking a seat and slipping off her left shoe. Her right foot was still swollen—more so now, at the end of the day.

Suzy knelt down, her skirts billowing about her like a mushroom as she removed the shoes from the box. She slipped the left one on Greta’s foot.

“Ohh, I really like these.” She stuck her foot up and admired how the shoe looked on it.

“Shall we try the right one on as well? You should walk around in them to be certain.”

“Yes, I should, but I sprained my foot and it’s still a little swollen. I expect it would be tight.”

“I’m sure that in another week or two, you’ll be able to wear these, and they’ll complement any dress you wear into the fall and winter.” Suzy stood up, allowing Greta to get up and walk around the room. “There’s a full-length mirror on the wall by the dresses if you’d like to see how they look. I’ll be back in a moment after I attend to my other customers.”

Greta walked over to the mirror and gazed at her feet, liking what she saw—except when her eyes traveled up to look at her face. There were circles under her swollen eyes from crying all afternoon, and red streaks in her eyes from squinting to rip out the tiny threads in the dress seam. Luckily, she’d been in her little sewing area, away from the customers, letting Jess and Cora manage them.

She chided herself for spending so much time in Suzanne’s shop. She thought she should hurry on and have a light supper, then get back to finishing Agnes’s dress. She didn’t want to disappoint her first customer.

When Suzy returned, Greta handed her the hat and the shoes. “I’ve decided to take both.”

Suzy smiled. “Good choices. Do you want to wear the hat?”

“Could you wrap it? I want to keep it for a barbecue later.” Greta handed her some bills to pay for her things, then waited as Suzy took care to place the hat in a nice hatbox. She noticed no ring on Suzy’s left hand.

“Suzy, you don’t have to give me one of your nice hatboxes. Paper will be just fine.”

“I insist,” Suzy said. “I want you to be a returning customer, and I hope I’ve met a friend. I’m fairly new here.”

Greta returned her smile. “You can count on it, Suzy. I work at Gifford’s Mercantile, but I have to say, entering your shop is an altogether enjoyable experience for me. I’ve only been here a couple weeks myself.” Greta wasn’t about to tell her about the mail-order-bride mix-up, even though they were the only two left in the shop. “I’m sorry if I held you open.”

“Not at all.” She handed Greta the packages. “Please come back soon . . . and bring a friend.”

Greta nodded and scurried out the door. The wind had picked up considerably, so she thought a cup of hot chicken soup at Mabel’s would be just the thing.

The supper crowd was in full swing as Greta gazed about for an empty table. A tall, familiar gentleman stood up and motioned to her. She hardly recognized Cole without his hat. He was wearing his normal cowboy attire, and as usual his clothing was neat. He grinned as she approached, weaving between the tables to his.

“Are you alone?” she asked. She really didn’t want to try to play dinner guest with Agnes. She’d rather find another place to eat.

“I am. Please join me.” He pulled out a chair for her, then placed her packages on an empty seat.

“Thank you, Cole.” She took a seat and he handed her the menu. “I believe I’ll just have a cup of soup tonight. Where’s Agnes?”

Cole gave her a sober look. “Seems she’s skipping supper tonight after my rude comment this afternoon.” His jaw tightened. “I shouldn’t have said anything. At least not where everyone could hear. I apologized, but now she thinks she’s fat and is ashamed of herself.”

“Oh dear! She’ll get over it once she sees how fetching she’ll look in the new dress. I guarantee she’ll turn heads.” Greta gave her order to the waiter, and Cole did likewise.

“I hope you’re right. So where’s your fiancé?”

“You mean Zach?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” He grinned, displaying a nice set of even teeth.

Greta flushed. “Of course. Well, he was at the lumberyard last I heard. He’s been working on getting his ranch started whenever he gets a chance and the store’s not too busy.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her any more questions.

“Is that so? Pretty woman like you shouldn’t be left to find her own dinner when she has no home to go to.” His gaze was so intent that she looked away, flustered.

He was right. She should be with her future husband. But was it Zach? She was starting to get a headache by the time their soup arrived, so she avoided his question, spreading her napkin in her lap.

But Cole wasn’t through. “Greta, I want you to know, if things don’t turn out as you’d hoped, I’d like the chance to court you proper.”

What should she say? Cole was nice enough, handsome, and owned a ranch. But there was no attraction to him at all. “Cole, I truly am flattered and honored that you think that highly of me without really knowing me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I know a lot about you just from observation. So if you change your mind . . .”

“Cole, have you met Suzanne Marshall, who owns the millinery?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I don’t believe I have.” He chuckled. “I’m not a regular at that kind of shop, you know.”

Greta laughed. “I’m sure. Anyway, she’s new to town and single and, I must add, quite pretty. Maybe I could introduce the two of you.”

“Playing matchmaker now, like my sister tries to do?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“No. It’s just that I met her myself a little while ago, and the thought occurred to me that you might want to meet her. She’s a very nice-looking woman, and an entrepreneur too.” She laid her spoon aside and finished her roll, letting that bit of information sink in.

“A lady of means, perhaps? Sounds interesting . . . very interesting.”

The remainder of the meal was pleasant. Cole made her laugh and put her at ease. As he escorted her to the door, handing her the packages, they parted ways—she in the direction of the hotel and he on his way back to the boardinghouse where he stayed when in town. Greta watched him go, wondering why life couldn’t be simple when it came to love.

On her walk back to the store, she had a wonderful idea. She would make Cora a gown suitable for her wedding once she finished with Agnes’s alterations. And she knew just the material she would use! She could stay late and work in the evenings after work. That’d be easier than having Cora see the confusion on her face, and it could be a peace offering for the friend she’d come to care about.

30

Refreshed after his fifteen-minute nap, his stomach growling, Jess figured he’d go get a bite to eat since there wasn’t much in his kitchen to cook. Caleb was off somewhere on his own, and Zach hadn’t returned from the lumber store. Plucking his leather vest off the back of a kitchen chair, he ran his hand through his hair and locked the door, then took off in search of supper.

Dusk was settling over the busy town as shopkeepers closed for the day. He was considering a roast beef sandwich with some of Mabel’s homemade pickles. He could almost taste it now. When he neared the café, lights inside illuminated the crowd. He didn’t mind waiting.

Then he saw Greta. She was hard to miss with her blonde hair. He stood, hands in his pockets, watching. She was having supper with Cole! His best friend in the world. His heart thumped. It wasn’t that he would mind, had he known . . . but neither she nor Cole had bothered to mention it. They were talking, looking very comfortable, and he had to admit they made a striking couple. When she said she wanted to put the past behind her, she’d really meant it.

Should he go in? He shook his head. No, he concluded. Mabel’s wasn’t the only café in town, it was just his favorite.

Moving as if in slow motion, unaware of others on the busy sidewalk, he suddenly had no appetite. He bought a newspaper from a lad on the street, then turned around and headed back to the store to trudge up the stairs to his apartment. He’d brew a fresh pot of coffee, have some leftover bread and cheese, and spend the evening reading—like he’d done most evenings before those women had upset his routine. He was beginning to consider that his life was better that way. Why take on a wife who was just the total opposite of him in the first place? He’d never be able to please her. He rather liked his unorganized ways. They suited him.