Whirlwind (27 page)

“I’ll have to shop here, so I may as well become familiar with where you moved things. You’ll sell more stockings if you have ’em by the shoes, like I did.”

“Nonsense,” Lena whispered to Millicent. “Men’s work shirts were on the other side of . . .
them.
I can’t count the times I went without because a man was buying a shirt.” She paid for the eggs and left.

Moving on, Orville opened the thread cabinet. “Clark Thread Company. The name was good for doing a little advertising for the store, but I didn’t like the stuff. See here? They call it ‘Mile End’ for a reason. Takes forever for women to use up a spool. Can’t make a profit on that.”

Daniel didn’t bother to respond. His cousin had outstayed his welcome.

“You sure shipped in a lot of yardage.” Orville surveyed Isabelle’s shop. “That was a big mistake, you know. Those cotton sacks the staples and feed come in provide for folks’ needs. Fancy wares and stylish clothes don’t belong out here.”

Isabelle looked crushed.

“That’s enough.” Daniel glared at his cousin. “Go tend to your own business. I’ll tend to mine.”

Orville shrugged. “Fine by me.” He headed straight for Arthur, and Daniel moved to thwart his approach. Orville folded his arms across his chest. “Spoilt rotten. That’s what your son is.”

Daniel didn’t even draw a breath before Millicent swooped in. “You’ll apologize at once for speaking about our son in such manner.”

“Ba man!” Arthur clung to the duck like a limpet.

“Mine!”

“Spare the rod and spoil the child. That’s what the Bible says.” Orville tried to get the duck again.

Daniel’s hand shot out and clamped around his cousin’s wrist. “Don’t.”

“Little hellion,” Orville muttered.

Millicent pressed close to Daniel, but her arms curved around Arthur in a show of maternal protection. “You’re picking on a helpless little child and calling him names? Shame on you, Orville Clark.”

Arthur made a face at Orville. “Ba man!”

“Orville, you’ll not speak ill of my family, nor will you come here and sow discord.” Daniel shot daggers at him. “Get out.”

The glass in the door rattled as Orville jerked it shut. A second later, he shouted, “No! Get out of my way. I—”

Millicent and Daniel both headed for the door. He stormed outside; she stayed in the open doorway. Daniel barked, “Orville, you will not raise your voice at a child.” As he spoke, Daniel reached over and tucked Heidi Orion behind himself. He felt Millicent tug her to safety. Taking another step forward, he repeated himself.

“She’s not yours. It’s none of your business,” Orville replied.

Daniel stared at him coldly. “Children are everyone’s business.”

Sobbing, Heidi said, “All I did was ask if he wanted lemonade.”

By now, people had congregated to see what was happening. Old Mrs. Whitsley let out a crack of laughter. “Heidi, honey, Orville Clark is so sour, he doesn’t need any lemonade!”

Folks got a good chuckle out of that. One of the farmers named Toomel, who’d come to have Isabelle fit his suit to him, pulled a coin from his pocket. “Lemonade sounds mighty good to me.”

Daniel grabbed Orville’s collar and yanked him close. “I’ve turned a blind eye when it was just me. No more—not when you’re picking on women and children. This is it. You stop, or I’ll stop you.” He gave his cousin a mighty shake, turned him loose, and Orville slouched away.

Daniel turned the OPEN sign into the window and watched as his neighbors flocked to buy lemonade. Millicent breezed past him after staying outside all of two minutes. Once inside, she gave Arthur a cookie and set him on the floor.

“How did you do all of that?” Daniel asked, gesturing outside. “In two minutes, you changed Heidi Orion’s hysterics to hilarity, greeted half of the town by name, arranged cookies on a platter, and kept Arthur from taking any of them.”

Millicent laughed. “Daniel, I had the easy part. You’re the one who dealt with Orville. He was perfectly dreadful, and you handled him magnificently. Anyway, we’re not going to let him ruin today.”

“Very well.” Never again would he allow Orville to act as he had. The only good thing about the entire episode was that Millicent had responded with all of the protective instinct of a riled she-bear. She loved with unswerving loyalty. If ever a woman ought to have a dozen children about her, surely it was she.

Ping!
Something ricocheted off his shoulder. Daniel looked around.
Ping! Ping!
He traced the source of the hairpins and strode to the storeroom. Clicky’s eyes were round and bright. “You’re not going to believe it!” He shoved a telegram at Daniel.

Daniel made sure Millicent wasn’t around, then opened it. The message made him suck in a deep breath. He handed back the paper. “Reply immediately. Yes.”

Clicky dashed back out.

“Daniel?” Millicent’s footsteps drew near.

“Dadda?”

He paced out of the storeroom, clapped his hands together, and rubbed them briskly. “Let’s go upstairs and start getting you settled in.”

Millicent gave him a playful smile. “In a while. After I finish my chores down here.”

Isabelle walked by with another package of Fig Newtons. “Go on, Millie. I’ll remain down here to wait on customers.”

Placing his hand at the curve of Millicent’s back, Daniel guided her toward the stairs. His pulse kicked into a gallop. Rose. She smelled lightly of rose. He didn’t know a lot about flowers, but everyone knew roses were the flower of love.
I’m on dangerous ground. Instead of thinking of her as my wife, I’ll think of her as Arthur’s mother.
“Arthur, we’re taking Mama upstairs.”

“Anny.” Arthur scowled at him. He babbled a few things that made no sense.

Millicent paused on the stairs. “Arthur doesn’t understand who I am.”

“We’ll fix that right away.” They made it to the top of the stairs. “Son, this is your mama now.”

Arthur held the decoy and gave him a quizzical look.

Millicent tapped Daniel on the chest. “Daddy.”

“Dadda!”

Tapping Arthur on the chest, she said, “Arthur.”

He wiggled happily. “Bee boy!”

“Yes, Arthur’s a big boy.”

Daniel wanted to coax the name from his son. He cupped Millicent’s shoulder. “Mama.”

Emphatically shaking his head, Arthur said, “Anny.”

“Daddy changed her name. She’s Mama now.”

“Like when Arthur was a baby, but now he’s our big boy. I was Nanny, but I’m Mama now.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment. He clung to Orville’s duck. “Mine.”

Daniel laughed. “You have to share Mama with Daddy. We all belong together. This is going to be our new house. We have a cot ready for you.”

“No, no seepy-bye.”

Millicent smiled. “No, it’s not nap time yet. Daniel, I’m so relieved that you’re having that gate put in.”

“It’ll be in later today. The parlor will be good-sized once we clear out the steamer trunks and chests. I climbed back and got a look behind the screen. That back portion is unfinished. I plan to plaster it and create more rooms.”

A fetching blush tinted her cheeks. “I suppose that would be wise.”

Does she hope things will change? That we’ll have a true marriage and children together?
He cast a look at the nursery Millicent, Isabelle, and Arthur shared.
Even if we don’t have children of our own, we’ll need a room soon.

The bell downstairs jangled. “I’ll leave you to settle in up here.” Daniel stood motionless a moment and fought the urge to give her a hug—maybe even a quick peck. Times like this, when they’d just tried to teach Arthur to call her Mama, everything felt so sweet and cozy—so right. Being a family didn’t require having children together. Even so, Daniel couldn’t fool himself. He was becoming acutely aware of just how attractive and appealing Millicent could be. Any liberty she might invite or allow would be a huge temptation.

Isabelle finished hemming draperies at the same time the Van der Vort brothers arrived. They carried the bundles of fabric upstairs as a favor since Daniel had a handful of customers.

Millicent gazed at the gate they’d made. “Oh, that is so beautiful. You must have made the supports for the awning out front, too. This matches.”

“Ja, we did.” Piet looked proud that she’d noticed.

“Piet—” Karl sounded upset—“the curtains, she’s hanging them on broom handles.”

Piet scratched his arm. “There are rods that would work back at the smithy. If you give me about two hours, I can add finials to the ends to make them look handsome.”

Millicent thought of all the expenses the store had incurred. It would take weeks—even months—to recover financially. “It’s a nice suggestion, but we’ll do this for now.”

The burly brothers exchanged a sheepish look. “You could trade us. Two bachelors don’t cook so good.”

Neither do I,
Millicent thought ruefully.

“Supper tonight and next Saturday,” Piet said. “That would be fair for curtain rods, don’t you think?”

Millicent remembered something the pastor’s wife had said.
Lord, are you opening a way for us to minister to these men?
“Supper on Saturdays for the whole month if you promise to attend church on Sundays. We’re new here, and I know Daniel would be glad to have friends surrounding him in the sanctuary.”

The brothers conversed in another language—Millicent didn’t understand all they said, but their Dutch still had a lot in common with German. Piet wasn’t happy with the idea; Karl wanted to accept the deal.

“I tell you men what: You don’t know what kind of bargain that is. Let’s make it so you come to supper tonight. After you’ve had a taste of what we can do, then we can forge a deal that will be fair for everyone involved.”

“Ja,” Karl agreed. “This is fair.” They finished installing the gate and left.

Millicent stared at the stove.
Goodness, what have I done? I’ve invited guests for supper, and I don’t know how to cook!
The very advice she and Frank always gave to Isabelle now filtered through her mind:
“Stop worrying about later when you have things to do today.”

But I have to feed the men today. Not just the Van der Vort brothers, but my husband. I should have told him I can’t cook before we got married.

Millicent figured she couldn’t begin to cook unless she cleaned the stove and fired it up. Lifting one of the burners, she saw that clinkers and ashen bits of charcoal abounded. Millicent groaned.

“Anny owie?”

She sank down and pulled Arthur to her. “Mama’s fine. I’m going to take icky stuff out of the stove. Later on, we’ll put yummy things in to cook and eat. Find your horsey and giddyup while Mama works here.”

With single-minded zeal, Millicent cleaned the inside of the stove, then polished the outside. A scuttle of coal allowed her to fire it up, but she had no notion what to cook—or how.

Piet brought over the curtain rods and installed them. He sniffed. “I don’t smell anything. What are we going to eat tonight for supper?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see! For now, I need to tuck Arthur in for a nap.”

Isabelle came upstairs and laid a garment on the back of the couch in the parlor. “It’s all hand sewing right now, so I thought to come up. I heard you tell Daniel we’ll have company at supper.” Isabelle leaned close and whispered, “We’d better talk about what to fix.”

“I thought ham and scalloped potatoes.” No one could botch ham, and scalloped potatoes were one of the few dishes she made well.

“Okay. Want me to make something for dessert?”

“Would you like to, or are you too busy with your sewing?”

“I’d love to cook. You can set the table. It would be nice if you brought up the flowers from downstairs.”

Setting plates and silverware on the plain pine tabletop seemed gauche, but Millicent didn’t find any table linen. She dashed downstairs, took a length of white material, and used her sister’s sewing machine to hem the edges. Remembering a few remnants she’d seen in the storeroom, she grabbed them, cut, and hemmed them into serviettes.

“I went ahead and put your potatoes in the oven. When they come out, I have a pie ready to go in.”

“Bless you!” Millicent gave her sister a hug.

Daniel came upstairs an hour later. He grinned at the table. “Very nice. Homey.”

“There are the flowers you picked,” Millicent said.

“So I see.” He seemed quite pleased. After shoving the empty trunks behind the screen, he surveyed their place. “It feels like home.”

Millicent’s heart soared. She was fulfilling her part of their bargain—she’d been minding his son and making his home. Dinner was even turning out well.

The Van der Vorts arrived and bowed their heads respectfully as Daniel asked a blessing. In a matter of minutes, it became clear that they could eat far more than she’d planned. Millicent hopped up, sliced more ham, and fried it.

“The food—it is
goed
.” Piet nodded.

“Thank you. The ham is one Daniel started carrying in the store called Our Trade-Mark. Daniel, that company also makes bacon. Perhaps we should try it.”

“Definitely.”

Ten minutes later, inhaling the last bite of pie, Karl decided aloud, “The deal—it is fair. Four Saturdays, four Sundays.” His brother nodded agreement.

After dishes, Daniel invited Millicent to take a stroll. Once out of the store, he asked, “To what deal did Karl refer?”

“Oh! Please forgive me, Daniel. I should have spoken with you first. From now on, I will.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Well, at least I’ll try to remember. If I forget, you’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t been married before, so I’m no good at this yet. Anyway, you saw the wondrous curtain rods the blacksmiths made for us. I traded them, but we get the better deal by far. We’ll cook four Saturday suppers for them, and here’s the best part: They’ll come to church the day after.”

Daniel cocked a brow. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’ve never heard that’s also the route to his soul.”

Then you and I are never going to be close. The way I cook, it’s liable to send you away if it doesn’t kill you first.

Twenty

D
aniel lay in bed and sniffed. Something was burning. He bolted up and out of his room, then skidded to a halt.