Once More A Family

Well, there was nothing for it. She would have to seek out the maids and put them to work. Otherwise, she would find her newfound life too tinted with squalor. She made her way downstairs, avoiding the banister, and crossed the front vestibule.

The entryway was covered in dust, as was the parlor and the dining room. There was no sign of anyone else in the house. Her slippers didn’t make any sound as she drifted from room to room. It was almost as though she had imagined this whole scenario and would soon find herself in New York again.

The house was larger than it had looked from the outside, with high ceilings and arched hallways. The furniture was—all of it—mahogany. Painted glass ceiling fixtures, with prisms dangling, were covered in filth. This could be a very fine home. Why, it was prettier than Aunt Pearl’s—at least what she’d glimpsed of Aunt Pearl’s house. If only it were cleaned up and made to look as gracious as it truly was.

She passed through the dining room and onto the back veranda. A small outbuilding caught her eye, as it had a very large chimney. Perhaps the kitchen was separate from the house. That would make sense. After all, in this heat, having a kitchen inside would make the living areas almost unbearable.

She ventured across the yard, holding her skirts above the grass. An older woman and a young woman stepped out of the building, eyeing her warily as she approached.

As soon as she came close enough to speak without shouting, she said, “Hello.”

The two women mumbled their greetings. The older woman had keen brown eyes and gray hair scraped back into a serviceable bun. The younger woman had two long braids of blond hair, one over each shoulder, but the same brown eyes as her older counterpart. Mother and daughter, perhaps?

“I am Miss W— I beg your pardon, I meant to say Mrs. Burnett.” She gave them each a polite smile in turn. “I believe you work for Mr. Burnett?”

“Yes.” The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “We do.”

“Is it just you two?” Although Jack had assured her he only employed two maids, she had no inkling of just how to open the conversation. How should one approach upbraiding the women for the deplorable condition of the house? An idea began to form in the back of her mind. “That’s not very many servants for such a large house. Are you, perhaps, overworked?”

The older woman eyed her with skepticism. “No, ma’am. We can handle anything.”

The younger woman nodded, keeping her gaze turned toward the ground.

“Well, I have half a mind to tell my new husband off.” She shook her head with mock indignation. “Men! The idea that two women would be adequate staff for cleaning such a large house, not to mention providing meals in a timely manner, is preposterous.” She gave them both encouraging smiles. “Thank you for all you have done. I suppose I should begin hiring more staff tomorrow. Do you know of anyone who would be willing to help?”

The younger woman spoke up. “Yes, ma’am. One of my friends, Cathy Chalmers, was let go from the Hudson place when they packed up and moved back east. She’s a good maid and a deft hand with laundry.”

“Excellent. Can you get word to her? I’d like for Cathy to start this week.”

The younger woman nodded. She wasn’t smiling, but she did seem somewhat less abashed.

Ada pressed on. “Both of you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. Would you please tell me your names, and how long you’ve been in service to the Burnett family?”

“I’m Loretta Holcomb, but you can call me Mrs. H. or Betty. My daughter here is Maggie. We’ve been working for the Burnetts since the first Mrs. Burnett passed. All her servants went back to Charleston.”

“I see.” So both women had come on board when Jack’s life had been utter chaos and confusion—dealing with his wife’s death, losing his child, having to placate his father-in-law. No small wonder, then, that they had been allowed to do such a poor job. Perhaps they even thought they were doing credible work. After all, Jack was a widower and spent most of his time, in all likelihood, outdoors.

That was going to change.

“It’s very nice to meet you both. I am not from Texas, so I am sure I shall rely on you to help me as I learn what life is like out here.” Now that she had introduced herself and found out more about the women, it was time to get to work. “Mrs. H., are you the cook, primarily?”

“Yes.” Her posture relaxed somewhat, though her arms remained crossed over her chest.

“Very good. Well, I need you to make a good dinner for us tonight, to be served in the dining room.” She turned to Maggie. “And I will require your help on cleaning the dining room. Bachelor living, you know.” It was as close as she could reasonably come to pointing out the disastrous condition of the house. She needed these women to stay, and she needed the assistance of even more servants. She would accomplish nothing by using heavy-handed tactics.

“Mr. Burnett usually takes a plate and goes to the barn,” Mrs. H. replied, looking distinctly mulish.

“How appalling.” The words slipped out before she could check herself. She must not offend the two women who could help her in this bizarre arrangement. “Dining in that fashion certainly does your cooking no credit, Mrs. H. We shall rectify that. What are we having for supper?”

The older woman hesitated a moment. “I was just going to make him a sandwich.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Seeing as how you’re here, though—”

“Actually, a sandwich platter sounds delightful. Nice and cool on such a hot day. Do we have any vegetables to go with?”

Mrs. H. nodded slowly. “Yes. Early cucumbers and green tomatoes. I picked some in the garden this morning.”

“Perfect.” Ada gave her an encouraging smile. “Let’s go with that for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow we can begin making up a menu for the week. Come, Maggie, let’s see what we can do with the dining room.”

Ada strode back toward the house, with Maggie trotting along behind her.

No one could say she wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain. Jack Burnett was going to eat dinner at a proper table instead of in a barn.

* * *

Jack sat in his chair in the dining room. It was hard not to feel rusty and stiff, at least when surrounded by such grandeur. Mrs. H. came bustling in, bearing a large china tray of small sandwiches, cut into triangles. Behind her, Maggie trailed along, carrying a large bowl of some kind.

Ada thanked both women, who bowed awkwardly.

“We’ll come check on you in a few minutes,” Mrs. H. remarked.

“Just a moment. Mrs. H., have you had your supper yet? Has Maggie?” Ada looked over at both women, her eyebrows drawing together.

“No, ma’am. We were getting yours ready.” Mrs. H. sounded a little self-righteous about that. Jack stifled a grin. How would Ada handle that kind of tone?

“Do go ahead and eat. I’ll ring the bell when the dishes are ready to be cleared.” Ada waved to indicate a small silver bell sitting on a nearby table. As she moved, Jack caught a glimpse of a bandage wound tightly around her hand. “There’s no need for you two to have to wait on your meal just because of us.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Burnett.” Mrs. H. curtsied awkwardly and then prodded Maggie’s shoulder, forcing her to follow suit. They left the dining room, closing the door behind them.

He was impressed. Ada didn’t allow herself to be needled into an argument, and she showed concern for others. Both of those were good qualities in a woman.

Ada picked up the bowl. “Would you care for cucumber and tomato salad?”

“Sure.” He brushed against her as he reached for the bowl, and a shock went through his arm at the unexpected contact. He drew back sharply. It was not acceptable to have any kind of attraction to Miss Westmore—nope, she was Mrs. Burnett now—for she was here for one purpose only. If she felt the same way, she kept her composure, merely leaning forward to help him. He caught a glimpse of her bandaged hand again as she spooned the salad onto his plate. “What happened there?”

She snatched her hand back, the color rising in her cheeks. “I had a bit of a run-in with a glass candy dish.”

He expected her, if injured, to cry and carry on or, at the very least, grow faint. Instead, she seemed downright embarrassed by the situation. “You going to be all right?”

“Of course, Mr. Burnett.” She gave him a crisp smile. “Sandwiches?”

“You can call me Jack,” he reminded her as he piled several sandwiches on his plate. “I’ve already been calling you Ada. At least, in my mind I have.”

“Oh, yes.” The flush in her cheeks deepened. “I am so sorry. I am tired, and I keep making foolish mistakes.”

“That’s understandable.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “This is pretty nice, I’ve got to say.”

Ada cleared her throat. “Jack, we haven’t said grace yet.”

He stopped chewing for a moment. “Grace?”

“Yes. Of course. Will you do the honors? I’d rather not.” He tried to speak casually, like tossing a horseshoe. But, as with a horseshoe, his words landed with a thunk.

Ada shrugged. “Very well. Then I shall do so.” She nodded at him.

“For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,” Ada intoned. “Amen.”

He muttered his “amen,” even though he was every inch the hypocrite to do so. Men who didn’t believe in God shouldn’t pray as though they did.

Ada helped herself to sandwiches and then began eating. He ate, too, gazing around the room in wonder. It looked different. Brighter, somehow. It smelled like lemons, too.

“Looks good in here,” he said. “I guess you’ve been putting those gals to work.”

Ada tilted her head to one side, as though thinking things over. “I don’t know. I don’t think they’re lazy. I think they just have no direction. Plus, if you’ve been eating in a barn, they don’t have much motivation to make the house look pretty.”

The chicken sandwiches were tasty, and so was this cucumber-tomato concoction. It was a good thing, too, because it put him in a better mood. He could go toe-to-toe with Ada Burnett if he was well fed and in a nice kind of environment. “Look, a cowboy has to take care of his horses. I learned this way of life when I was a kid. It’s a hard habit to break. Besides which, it would be silly to sit in here and eat alone.” It was lonely, too. He’d tried it once and felt miserable for days afterward.

Ada ate a bite of the cucumber salad. “I suppose I could understand that.”

He nodded, satisfied. It was pleasant here, with the breeze blowing in through the open windows. Ada looked nice, too. She had changed at some point and was wearing a dress that was less stiff and severe. Her hair had been redone, too. She was very pretty, sitting there, and her presence and the cleanliness of the house made him feel better. Not that it mattered what she looked like, since she was here to serve one purpose: bringing Laura home.

Still and all, it was mighty enjoyable to be dining in the company of a good-looking girl again, and in such a fresh, sparkling room. The food was better than Mrs. H.’s usual fare, too.

Maybe this plan would work out, after all.

Ada passed him the sandwich platter once more, and he caught a glimpse of an ugly red mark across her wrist. “What happened there?”

“Oh, that.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I tried to help lift a pot of boiling water and ended up scalding myself a little.”

He shook his head and rose. A little aloe-vera juice would keep that burn from turning worse. He went out onto the front veranda and cut off a spike of the ugly little plant. Then he brought it back inside and knelt beside Ada’s chair. She looked down at him in startled wonder, her blue eyes growing wide.

“Let’s see it.” He took her wrist in his hand and pushed back her sleeve. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, with the scald mark glaring angrily across the smooth surface. When was the last time he’d been this close to a lady? Her skin was so soft under his callused fingers.

He was acting like a fool. He forced himself back to the problem at hand.

The burn was bad but not the worst he’d laid eyes on. He squeezed some of the juice from the plant onto the wound.

“What on earth is that?” Ada demanded. “It looks like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s aloe vera. It’s a desert plant. It grows wild out in west Texas,” he replied, gently rubbing the juice onto the wound. She flinched and held her breath. He took care to be gentle, given that her skin was raw and her wrist delicate. “I took a cutting years ago, when I was bringing some cattle through Odessa. Folks out West use it to help heal burns.” He paused, surveying his work while trying to maintain calm. Ada was now a permanent member of the household, and he needed to get used to being around her without thinking of her as a woman—if that made any sense. “Does that feel better?”

“Yes, surprisingly.” Ada stared at her wound. “It doesn’t sting nearly as much.”

“Good.” He released her hand and tossed the aloe onto the table. She looked at it pointedly, but he refused to pick it up. He would eat at a table and even eat vegetables, but he would not tidy up in the midst of a meal.

Was now a good time to bring up the trip they’d have to make? Probably not, but then, there might not ever be a perfect time. He took a bite of his chicken sandwich to fortify him for the task ahead.

“So,” he began in what he hoped was a conversational tone, “are you up for a honeymoon?”

Chapter Three

Ada stood on the train platform, waiting for her husband’s private train cars to be hitched to the train itself. Just a few short days ago, she had occupied this same spot, waiting for Aunt Pearl and an unknown future. Now she was waiting to go to St. Louis, to collect the stepdaughter she’d never met. An unlikely honeymoon, but one completely in keeping with their arrangement.

She glanced down at the pocket watch on her lavender lace lapel. She had changed to half-mourning after her first day in the Burnett home and not just because her sudden matrimony should, at least to outsiders, seem like a cause for celebration. No, it was merely that her frocks in shades of purple and gray were made of lighter fabrics for summer wear and thus more practical for life out on the prairie.

“Well, don’t you look pretty as a picture,” a female voice crowed behind her.

Ada jumped and whirled around. “Aunt Pearl,” she gasped. She was not really ready to see her aunt yet. A large part of her was still angry at being traded as casually as a mule, even though she admitted it was a practical solution to her problems.

Some of her hesitation must have shown on her face, for Aunt Pearl held up her gloved hands in protest. “Now, now, I’m not here for a lecture, Ada. I just wanted to say goodbye and God be with you. Lord knows that poor child has been through enough already. It will be such a wonderful thing for her to be home with her daddy.”

Sudden nervousness flooded Ada’s being. She wasn’t ready for this. She was not prepared to be this great a part of a stranger’s life. What if she couldn’t measure up? She glanced down at her burned wrist and bandaged hand, recalling accident after accident she’d had in the past few days. Sugar in the saltshaker. Baking soda in the bread instead of baking powder. So much starch in Jack’s shirts that they stood up by themselves. One broken item after another. True, there were two maids to do the work, but she insisted on helping. The only problem was, her attempts to assist met with constant catastrophes. If she was this big a failure at being a wife, how much more of one could she possibly be as a mother?

“Aunt Pearl, I can’t do this,” she cried. It was a relief to voice her fears aloud. “I know it’s part of the bargain that I make sure the house is clean and presentable, but it isn’t ready for a child. I’ve been working with his maids, but they are used to slacking because Jack won’t raise a fuss. It’s been his bachelor headquarters for years. I don’t know how to take on this role. I’m not ready to be anyone’s mother.” She held up her hand. “I can’t even take care of myself.” She was angry at Pearl, to be sure, but Pearl was family. She could show a little weakness to her own flesh and blood.

“Don’t take on so, child. You’ve done more in a few days than most women could do in a year. Besides, remember what I told you. It’s time for you to grow in faith. This is a good chance to see the hand of God in your life.” Her aunt gave her a hearty slap on the back. “Now, I heard you hired Cathy. Do you need more servants than that? Has Cathy started yet?”

“Yes, and yes.” Ada gazed at her aunt in wonder. “How did you know I had hired anyone?”

Pearl laughed, and the ruby earrings she wore bobbed against her cheeks. “Ada, you need to know something about life in Winchester Falls. It’s not like living in New York, where all you need to worry about is Mrs. Astor’s Four Hundred. Here, you have four hundred people in all, including every single family and every single servant. Word gets around. We’ve got no one else to gossip about.”

Ada was no stranger to tittle-tattle. The Four Hundred her aunt spoke of so lightly had begun cutting her out as soon as her father’s scandal had broken. After enduring the petty slights of her former friends for weeks, a complete change had seemed in order. That was, after all, how she’d decided that making a clean break and starting life anew in Texas was the only sensible course of action open to her.

Yet here she was, failing already.

“Listen, Aunt Pearl,” she added hastily, “I need your assistance. The house is improving, but I’m afraid, now that I’m leaving, it will fall right back into chaos. I can’t bring Laura home to a dusty, musty house. Would you help me to make sure the servants are doing the work? I can send telegrams at every stop.”

“Why sure,” Aunt Pearl replied. She gave Ada a searching look. “Are you so desperate for help that you would ask anyone right now? Or am I forgiven?”

Ada stiffened. Blood had to be thicker than all the problems in the world. “I don’t know what to say, Aunt Pearl. I mean, I’m angry still that I was pressured into marrying Jack Burnett, but I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“That’s good enough for me.” The older woman wrapped Ada in a tight hug.

“Hey, Pearl,” Jack called, making his way up the station platform. “Did you come to see us off?”

“I sure did.” Pearl broke free from Ada and gave Jack the same tight embrace she had given Ada. They really must think of each other as family. How very odd. “Take care of my gal, there, Jack. And bring Laura home to me safely. I don’t think I’ve seen her since she was knee-high to a june bug.”

Ada stood slightly apart from them, watching her aunt. Funny, Aunt Pearl had been raised in the same family as Father. She went to an elite boarding school and women’s college. She had made her debut at the age of sixteen. But when she married R. H. Colgan, it was as though all those years of polish and breeding fell away. Here she was, using outlandish phrases and hugging them all like children. Father never embraced his daughters and certainly never used hyperbole or exaggeration.

Was Texas responsible for Aunt Pearl’s roughened character?

Would Ada be the same way in twenty years?

What an appalling thought.

Jack offered Ada his arm and, with a final wave to Aunt Pearl, Ada followed him down the platform and to their waiting car. Then he helped her make her way up the steps. The pressure of his arm was both familiar and strangely exhilarating. She must be more nervous than she thought. She certainly wasn’t developing any kind of silly, girlish feelings for Jack Burnett, for that would never do. She was a strong and sensible suffragist.

As she entered the car, Ada looked around in awe. Not that she hadn’t seen grand living spaces before, but a private train car so luxuriously appointed rather took her breath away. The ceiling was padded with sky-blue satin, and heavy velvet draperies shut out the blazing morning sun. Brass and crystal lamps glowed invitingly on graceful mahogany tables.

She sank onto a leather armchair and placed her feet up on a deep blue hassock. “This is lovely. I had no idea you owned such a fine thing. When you said private cars, I thought for sure you meant something in which you hauled cattle at one time or another.” Teasing Jack seemed to be the only way to get along with him. In the brief time she had known him, she realized one thing about Jack Burnett. If things got too serious, he would simply leave for hours at a time.

He took off his hat and cast it into a nearby chair. “Nope. When I was first married, I commissioned this. We’ve got a separate sleeper car, too, with bedrooms for each member of the family. I wanted for us all to travel in comfort. We didn’t use it much, though.” He frowned deeply, as he usually did when speaking about his first wife.

She didn’t know what to say. When he went silent like that, he would usually stalk off. There was no way he could do that on board a train. So they had to find a way to be polite in each other’s company for the duration of the journey. How long would she have to strain at being civil?

“When will we reach St. Louis?” she asked, stripping off her gloves and laying them beside her on the table. She had been living with him now for days, but she had her own room and he rarely stayed for long in the house. The close proximity forced upon them by the car made even small gestures like removing her gloves seem somehow more intimate. Perhaps the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks could be blamed on Texas weather.

“In about a day and a half.” His handsome face had settled into a brooding expression. “But we won’t see Laura right away.”

“Why not? Won’t her school allow it?” Ada withdrew her hat pins. If she stayed busy and kept peppering Jack with questions, perhaps her ridiculous blushing would pass by unnoticed. It was absolutely appalling for a young, serious suffragist to be simpering like a debutante at her first ball. She was stronger than that...wasn’t she? She laid her heavy hat to one side.

“The school will.” Jack rubbed his thumb meditatively over his lower lip. “But my father-in-law might not.”

* * *

Jack strode around the perimeter of the Grand Hall of Union Station, jostled along by hundreds of fellow travelers. The sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows cast a kaleidoscope of colors onto the faces of the passersby. His mouth was dry and his brain feverish. If only Ada would hurry up. But she had insisted on taking time to change and arrange her hair in one of the station dressing rooms.

“Well, why can’t you dress here?” he had demanded, waving his arm at the ridiculously luxurious private car.

“I want to look my best, and there is no full-length mirror here,” she had stated flatly. “I need to see the overall effect of my costume. After all, we have one opportunity to impress your father-in-law.”

So here he was, pacing the crowded station, as Ada primped and preened. He should be happy that she was working so hard to be presentable to his father-in-law. As it was, his anger at having to dine with the old man and meet with his approval yet again was galling.

He took out the souvenir he had purchased for Laura from one of the peddlers in the station. It was a little doll, dressed in silk and lace. A banner wrapped diagonally across her middle read “St. Louis.”

A ten-year-old would still play with dolls, wouldn’t she? He stuffed it back in his pocket.

The clock tower, a massive structure that rose majestically to the ceiling, tolled the hour. Out of habit, he checked his pocket watch to make sure it was keeping accurate time. It was. Both clocks showed that unless Ada hurried up, they would be late to meet Edmund St. Clair.

He circled back around to the ladies’ waiting area and dressing rooms, and as he grew closer, Ada stepped out. She was swaying against the press of humanity swirling around her, but in the midst of utter pandemonium, she was an oasis of calm. He caught his breath a little, looking at her. She was stunning, as pretty as the society debutante she had been raised to be. She had changed into a violet dress trimmed with black ribbons, the dark colors setting off her pale complexion and vivid blue eyes. A wide black hat trimmed with purple feathers was settled atop the waves of her black hair.