Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

“They were happy, Lavinia.”

She nodded, but her attention was on her soiled dress. “Yes. You’ve mentioned that before.”

He had—ten years ago. She hadn’t believed it then, but if she did now, it might bring her some comfort.

“I’d better see to the tarpaulin. Be sure to bolt both kitchen doors so you have your privacy. I’ll come in the front and entertain the children when they arrive.”

She spun to face him, her chin lifted in regal fashion, all business once again. “That’s not necessary. Gladys can see to them until I’m ready.”

Lavinia’s clipped dismissal didn’t sit well with him. He was the children’s uncle, and he knew them far better than she did. At least she cared about them—unlike her father. Paul Crowne had shown no interest in them, a fact that had grieved Pauline greatly. How could a man ignore his own grandchildren and deprive their only aunt of the right to visit them as he had? Pauline would have loved to have seen her sister again. From what she’d said, Lavinia had begged their father to allow her to come to California repeatedly, only to be met with his steadfast refusal.

Henry chose not to challenge Lavinia. He could clarify things later, once she was clean and dry.

He headed to the shed and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He tacked a tarpaulin in place, a task that took longer than expected due to the brisk wind.

There. He put down the hammer and checked for leaks but found none. That should keep out most of the water. Once the rain stopped, he would see to the repairs. He grabbed the kerosene tin and hurried toward the house. The children should be home soon, and they’d give him those delightful hugs that threatened to turn him into a pile of mush.

He’d arrived in California back in ’52 just in time to welcome his nephew into the world. The surge of emotion that had come over him when he held the squirming, squealing bundle of boy for the first time had nearly bowled him over. If being an uncle brought such joy, he could only imagine what it would be like to hold his own child one day.

His smile faded. To become a father, he would have to find a wife. Not an easy task. When he’d first set foot in the Golden State, men had outnumbered women nine to one. There was now one woman for every five men, but only a small fraction of those females were God-fearing ladies. An even smaller fraction were single. Of those suitable ladies who had come, even fewer had stayed.

Life in California wasn’t easy, but it certainly wasn’t boring. Each day was an opportunity to meet new people, experience new things and increase one’s knowledge. Pauline had been a rare breed, supporting her husband’s dreams and wholeheartedly embracing life out west.

Finding a courageous, spirited, supportive woman of God like his late sister-in-law had proven to be a challenge. He’d tried, but the handful of ladies like her that he’d met had been snatched up before he could say competition. The one time he’d believed that he’d forged a friendship with an eligible lady, she’d headed back east, offering him only a cursory goodbye.

He’d surrendered his dream of having a family to the Lord. Due to the steamship accident that had claimed the lives of Jack and Pauline, he had one now. Ever since losing their parents, Alex, Marcie and little Dot had turned to him for love and support, and he wouldn’t have it any other way—even if it meant putting down roots. Those three youngsters meant the world to him.

The sound of childish chatter sent Henry hurrying up the front steps, taking them two at a time. Despite his eagerness, he slipped inside as quietly as possible, yanked off his gloves and removed his rain-soaked coat and hat.

He opened the door to the parlor and stepped into the room. “You’re back, I see.”

“Uncle Henry!” the children cried in unison.

The two girls flew at him. Six-year-old Marcie flung her arms around his waist and gave him a sound squeeze. Four-year-old Dot grabbed hold of his thigh and wrapped her feet around his ankle. Eight-year-old Alex followed at a leisurely pace, attempting to look more mature than his sisters.

Henry ruffled Alex’s hair and stooped to kiss the top of Marcie’s head. She released Henry, and he took off in a lurching trek across the parlor with Dot still clinging to his leg. Her giggles filled the room.

A throat cleared. He turned toward the noise. An older woman with folded arms and a frown stood in the doorway. He hobbled over to her with Dot in tow and held out a hand. The housekeeper stared at it with a curled lip. Memories flooded in of others hesitating to shake his hand, Lavinia among them. He dropped it to his side and offered her a smile instead. “You must be Gladys. I’m Henry.”

“So I heard. Lavinia said you’d shown up and pulled that tree off her. I can’t believe you kept the poor dear talking as long as you did. Her teeth were chattering something fierce when we got back from the school. I poured her a bath straightaway. She’s almost ready, so she sent me out here to watch the young’uns—like I’ve been doing the past eight days.”

Evidently, Lavinia had told her maid-turned-housekeeper that he planned to care for the children, as was Jack and Pauline’s wish, and Gladys had taken offense. “And doing a fine job of it, too, I’m sure.”

The prickly woman scoffed. “Flattery won’t work on me, young man, so you can save your breath.”

She was outspoken for a servant and not at all the type of woman he would have expected Paul Crowne to have accompany his daughter. Perhaps he’d had a hard time finding a woman willing to make the trip west, despite his wealth. The conditions on board a California-bound steamship were reputed to be lacking, even for those traveling first class. Worse yet was the train trip across Panama. Although that leg of the journey only took about six hours, the exposure to disease had taken its toll. Three miners who’d rented rooms from him during the years he’d run his hotel had contracted yellow fever or malaria shortly after they’d arrived. They’d suffered terribly. Sadly, the diseases claimed all three victims in the end.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, ma’am. The children are healthy and happy. That tells me they’ve been well cared for.”

She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But you think you can do better, I hear. You? A man, alone? I reckon you believe that to be true, but I have my doubts.”

He had his, too, but he’d made a pledge to Jack and Pauline. Honoring it required him to make significant changes and to give up his dream of running a restaurant one day, but he’d do whatever it took to ensure a good future for the children.

Gladys pinned him with a searing gaze, turned on her heel and left. A hushed exchange took place in the entryway, and then Lavinia appeared, looking every bit the refined lady she was, from the mass of damp curls piled on top of her head to the dainty leather boots that matched her dress. The cranberry red, while not customary for a woman in mourning, complemented her fair complexion and dark brown hair.

“Uncle Henry.” Dot let go of him and beckoned with a crooked finger.

He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. “What is it, Dimples?”

She grinned, revealing the reason for the nickname he’d given her. “You said you miss my kisses when you go ’way, so here’s one.” She smacked a kiss on his left cheek.

“Come here, you.” He hefted her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Dot beamed.

Marcie tugged on his sleeve. “I have a kiss for you, too.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Muffin, because your kisses are as sweet as sugar.” He leaned over and received a buss on his right cheek.

He swiped a finger across his cheek, stuck it in his mouth and pulled it out with a pop. “I was right. Sugary sweet.”

The rustle of skirts drew his attention to Lavinia once again. She’d entered the room and stood by the settee. She caught him looking at her, and a shy smile lifted her lovely lips. Her eyes held a hint of...approval? From Lavinia Crowne, the woman who’d looked down her dainty nose at him during her sister’s wedding reception? Nice to know she found something in him to like now, whatever it was.

He tore his gaze from her and gave Alex his attention, struck once again by his nephew’s resemblance to Jack at that age. Henry swallowed the lump in his throat. “How did things go at school today?”

The quiet boy shrugged. “It was all right.”

Marcie, the talkative one of the trio, scoffed. “It was a real good day. He got the highest marks on his whole grade’s arithmetic examination. He knows his multiplication tables all the way to fifteen.”

Henry clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That’s great, Buddy. I’m proud of you.”

Lavinia joined the conversation. “I am, too. I know how hard you studied for the test.”

Alex scuffed the toe of his boot over a swirl in the worn rug. “Thanks.”

Dot tapped Henry’s cheek.

“What is it, Dimples?”

“Can we have some hot cocoa? It was awful cold outside.”

“Yes, you may,” Lavinia answered. “Just ask Miss Gladys nicely if she’ll make it for you.”

“I’ll ask her instead. She likes me best, so she’ll do it for me.” Marcie patted her thick, curly hair. “I’ll even ask her for whipped cream on top.”

Alex scoffed. “What are you talking about? Miss Gladys doesn’t like anyone.”

“She does, too,” Marcie countered. “She said I’m a flibbertigibbet. Isn’t that a fun word? Flibbertigibbet.”

Alex burst out laughing. Henry kept a straight face, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. Aside from merriment dancing in her dark brown eyes, Lavinia kept her amusement under control. She shot Alex a pointed look. He covered his mouth, but his shoulders still shook.

Marcie jammed her hands onto her hips and faced her brother. “What’s so funny?”

“You are,” Alex shot back. “Do you even know what a flibbertigibbet is? It’s a person who talks too much.”

“Well, Mister Smarty, at least I talk to Miss Gladys. You hardly say anything. Just please and thank you. That’s boring.”

“Come now, children.” Lavinia draped an arm across Marcie’s shoulders. She reached a hand toward Alex and let it hover for a moment, as though waiting for him to welcome the contact. When he didn’t, she pulled her hand back. “Go into the kitchen and get that cocoa. And no more quibbling, please.”

Henry set Dot down, and she trooped after her siblings. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lavinia laughed. “Marcie is really something, isn’t she? Even though I’ve just gotten to know the children, it took no time for me to see how similar Marcie is to... Pauline.” She blinked rapidly to clear her misty eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I miss her so much.”

“I understand. I miss her, too. She was so full of life.”

“She was the best thing in mine. I love how she saw everything as an adventure—even coming out here. I can’t believe I’ll never see her again. I should have come sooner, but...” She heaved a sigh.

“But your father forbade it.”

“She told you?”

He nodded. Paul Crowne hadn’t gone to his daughter’s wedding. Ten years had passed without a word from him. Pauline had never given up hope that his heart would soften one day, but he’d shut her out completely. “He didn’t even realize he had grandchildren until he got my letter with the sad news, did he?”

“I told him, but he—” Lavinia toyed with the button on her sleeve. “He rarely mentioned them.”

The admission had cost her. Henry softened his tone. “He has no idea what he missed, but it’s too late.”

“It’s not. He’s going to meet them. Quite soon, in fact.”

His jaw dropped. “Your father is actually going to come out here after all this time?”

She shook her head, dislodging a curl. The spiral drooped over her left eye. “He can’t get away. Business, you know. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to see that the children have a special Christmas celebration, and then we’ll be going home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You and Gladys?”

She brushed the loose curl aside. “Yes, plus Stuart and—”

“Who’s Stuart?” The question had slipped out before he could stop it.

“Stuart Worthington is one of my father’s competent young managers. He accompanied us all the way to Sutter Creek before returning to San Francisco. He’s there now and will come back here at the end of the year to escort all five of us back to Philadelphia.”

Henry stared at her in disbelief. “You’re not seriously thinking of taking the children, are you?”

“Yes.” Lavinia’s too-sweet smile was at odds with the determination in her eyes. “I am.”

“Let me make myself clear then. You’re not taking them. They’re staying here with me. I’m their legal guardian, as per Jack’s will, and I won’t be relinquishing that right to you, your father or anyone.”

Chapter Two

Henry was their guardian? What could Jack have been thinking? Henry couldn’t raise a child on his own, let alone three of them.

Or could he? Her brother-in-law had obviously thought so. Lavinia couldn’t deny that Henry was good with the children. It hadn’t taken long to see that they doted on him, and it was clear he loved them deeply in return.

It appeared he had the means to provide for them—at least their basic needs anyhow. Although his frock coat, shirt and trousers appeared to be ready-made, his hat, overcoat and silk cravat were of the highest quality. His hotel in Marysville must be doing well, enabling him to hire a housekeeper, if he chose to.

But the children deserved more than the simple life they’d been living. Her father could give them that. He was determined to do so, which spoke well of him. Alex, Marcie and Dot would live in a lovely home, go to the finest schools and have opportunities beyond their wildest dreams.

Gaining the right to take them back with her might involve a legal challenge, but it wouldn’t be hard for a knowledgeable lawyer to overturn a will. Her father had waged far more difficult battles in the past and won.

Lavinia took a seat on the bright red settee and arranged her skirts, giving her time to form a suitable response. Henry meant well and deserved respect. Perhaps she could convince him that she’d be a more fitting guardian. He might even welcome the opportunity to relinquish his obligation. No doubt, he hadn’t expected to assume the role when he’d agreed to be named. “I admire your willingness to see that the children are cared for, but surely you realize what kind of life they would have back home.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Of course, I do. They would be taught to disparage people like their hardworking father, and I won’t have that. Jack might have fallen short of your father’s ideals, but he was a good man, and he was good to Pauline.”

She ran a hand over the arm of the well-worn settee. Like most of the items in the house, it had seen better days. At least there was a piano. Pauline had loved to play. “He couldn’t give her what she would have had if she’d heeded Father’s counsel and remained back east.”

“Jack couldn’t give her what she had as a girl, no, but he gave her what mattered most. She had a husband she adored and who loved her deeply, and they had three wonderful children. As I said earlier, Pauline was happy here. Anyone who knew her would tell you that.”

Norma had said much the same. “Be that as it may, I’m sure you’d agree that the children deserve to have the best we can offer them.”

Henry studied her for the longest time before taking a seat in the leather armchair to her left. He slipped a finger under the collar of his white dress shirt and tugged at it, loosening his cravat in the process. “I’ve worn one of these fancy things every day for the past five years, and I’m still not used to them. Some of society’s conventions sure can be restrictive.”

His attempt to make a point wasn’t lost on her. Her father had worked hard and done well for himself. His position required him to adhere to social mores, but he didn’t consider them to be restrictive. Perhaps that’s because he was used to them. He’d dressed in fine clothes as far back as she could remember.

“And yet you wear one,” Lavinia said.

“I’ve made concessions. A businessman is expected to present a certain image. I’ve learned that first impressions are what matter most, so I invested in the trappings necessary to make a good one.”

“Your hat, overcoat and cravat.” They did lend him an air of distinction. Of course, with his thick, wavy wheat-colored hair, bottomless-blue eyes and muscular build, he’d probably look good in grubby miner’s wear.

Henry nodded. “Men give other men a quick once over, and then they look each other in the eye, so a nice hat, a silk cravat and a clean collar are what’s important. Once a man has formed his opinion, the rest doesn’t matter as much.”

“So you’re saying my father looked down on Jack because he didn’t have those things?”

“What do you think?”

“I doubt they would have made much difference.” She mentally kicked herself. She’d just admitted that her father had disliked Jack on principle.

“You see my point, then?”

All too clearly. “Father had his reasons.” He’d shared them freely, loudly and often. She could hear him now, his booming voice filling his spacious study. Jack Hawthorn is nothing but a presumptuous smithy. Imagine a man like that asking my daughter for her hand in marriage when his are filthy. Has the interloper no sense of how things are done?

“Such as?”

What had they been talking about? Ah, yes. Her father’s reasons for rejecting Jack as a suitable suitor for Pauline. “Does it matter? Haven’t you formed an opinion of my father based on outward appearances, too? You don’t really know him or what kind of man he is.”

“I know enough about him to do whatever it takes to keep the children here where they belong.”

This conversation had dredged up things she’d rather not think about, gone places she didn’t want to go. She loved her father and wouldn’t allow anyone to speak ill of him, but his treatment of Pauline had left something to be desired. Taking another tack seemed the wisest choice.

Lavinia grabbed a sofa pillow and toyed with the fringe. “We can discuss this after Christmas. You obviously love them and want them to be happy, as do I. For now, I’m here. I think we should strive to make the holiday season as pleasant as possible for them.” That would give her time to assess the situation, locate a lawyer and overcome this unexpected obstacle.

He rubbed his chin, and in the quiet room she could hear the rasp of his thumb over the golden stubble dusting his jaw. “What did you have in mind?”

“To begin with, Gladys and I have been working on a menu for our Thanksgiving dinner. It’s going to be quite a feast.”

His former antagonism fled, replaced by genuine eagerness. “Really? What will you be serving?”

“The traditional dishes—turkey with cranberry sauce, ham, roast beef, an assortment of vegetables, fresh bread and, of course, a chicken pie. It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without one, would it?”

“That’s a lot of food for six people.”

“It is, but I want the meal to be special.”

“I’m sure it will be.” A wagon rumbled past out front, drawing his attention. He looked from the window to her. “That reminds me... I only have a satchel with me, but my trunks should arrive in the next day or two, so you can expect to see the freight wagon show up.”

She blinked in disbelief. “You’re having them delivered here?”

“Of course. This is where I live now.”

Her surprise turned to shock. “You can’t. I mean, I know you have been, but you can’t continue to do so, not with me staying here. It wouldn’t be proper. Besides, I’ve given Gladys the downstairs bedroom, and I’m staying in the spare one upstairs.”

He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. His calm tone was at odds with his rigid posture. “Let me see if I have this straight. First, you announce that you intend to take the children back east, and now you’re saying I can’t even stay in my own brother’s house?”

Put that way, she came off looking high-handed, which she wasn’t. At least, she hadn’t meant to be. “This isn’t how I intended for things to happen. If only the letter had reached you before I arrived.” She’d spent hours getting the words just right.

“You made the same deman—er, requests in your letter, I presume?”

“I did, but I was more gracious.” She’d taken pains to state her case as tactfully as possible.

He released his breath in an audible sigh. “Perhaps we could reach a compromise.”

She didn’t see how that was possible, but she owed him the courtesy of hearing him out. “What do you have in mind?”

“Since it would be safer for you and Gladys to stay here in the house, given that men greatly outnumber women, I’ll take a room at a boardinghouse. For the time being.”

“That’s kind of you.” But that wasn’t the compromise. It obviously had to do with the children. Something told her Henry wasn’t going to give in as easily when it came to them. “And regarding the other part of the compromise?”

“Let’s start by finding our common ground, shall we? Am I correct in thinking you want the children to remain together?”

“Yes, of course! They shouldn’t be separated.”

He nodded. “Good. Would you agree that keeping them in one location rather than dividing their time between here and Philadelphia would be wise?”

“By all means. Uprooting them repeatedly would be quite disruptive. Children need stability. Not only that, but the journey is fraught with dangers. There’s the risk of shipwreck or disease. And now that Lincoln’s been elected...” She couldn’t bring herself to complete her thought.

“War is imminent, so traveling the waters along the southern states isn’t wise.”

“Exactly. That’s why Father wanted me to turn right around when I got here, but I convinced him that allowing the children to spend one final Christmas season in their own home instead of at sea would be a compassionate gesture. He saw my point but insisted we begin our journey by the end of the year. I assured him we would.”

There. She’d let Henry know where things stood and had shown that her father could be reasonable. He was, on rare occasions anyhow, although she rarely challenged him for fear of enduring his slights. In fact, that was only the third time she’d done so. Christmas had been Pauline’s favorite holiday. Her children deserved to have the best one possible.

Henry rested his left elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned away from Lavinia, putting as much distance as possible between them. He clasped his hands, lifted his gaze to the ceiling and closed his eyes, giving her the impression he was praying for patience. His shoulders rose and fell three times before he opened his eyes. They held conviction coupled with...compassion. An odd mix.

“It appears we’re at an impasse. You loved your sister and want to do what you think best for our nieces and nephew. I loved my brother and Pauline, too, and want to do the same. They entrusted the children to me, which makes their choice of guardian clear.”

Jack might have named Henry as guardian in the will, but Pauline had said long ago that if the unthinkable happened and the Lord took her and Jack home, she wanted Lavinia to care for the children. And she had the letter to prove it!

Henry leaned toward her once again. “Let me ask you this. What do you think the children want?”

He had an annoying habit of asking questions she didn’t care to answer. He knew what the youngsters would say. He’d been an important part of their lives since they were born, whereas they’d only met her eight days ago. She couldn’t permit him to question them on this point. Not yet. Not until she had an opportunity to let them know what wonderful things awaited them in the east.

But how could she do that? They couldn’t begin to imagine how different life would be there, how much fun they would have. If only she could show them.

An idea struck her, filling her with hope. She could show them. By creating a Christmas like those she and Pauline had enjoyed when they were young, the children would see what their lives would be like in Philadelphia and why she was eager to take them there.