The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2) - Page 23

“He seems to be fine,” Mama said. “You’ll have to stay close to him, though. Show him around. Introduce him. Maybe to some young ladies? I mean, since you’re not interested.”

I didn’t like the idea. Why was that? Oh, never mind, I told myself. You’re being silly. I didn’t want him. I shouldn’t keep others from him. “Good idea, Mama. He’s a very sweet man. Any woman here would be lucky to have him.”

Fortunately, we were engulfed in the crowd at that moment or the conversation might have become more heated. I’d never had words with Mama or been chastised. I didn’t like it. I also thought she might just be right. My loyalty might be disguising a deep lack of courage.

I put it aside to take a good look around. Mama’s mother and sister, Annabelle, were helping Annabelle’s husband, Clive Higgins, who owned the meat shop, serve sausages to a long line of hungry patrons. They’d set up a temporary booth and were handing out raw sausages wrapped in paper. People had brought their own sticks for roasting the sausages over a large firepit.

A long table was lined with every treat imaginable: cookies, cakes, and pies. Papa had paid the local baker, Mr. Cartwell, to make enough rolls for a whole town. Cartwell looked as jolly as old Saint Nick tonight with his round belly and full pink cheeks. The Johnsons had sponsored pork roasts, which had been cooking over an outdoor fire since dawn. I didn’t like to think of the poor pigs having sacrificed their lives. The wonderful smell, however, could not be denied.

Over the years, the Johnsons had expanded their store to meet the growing needs of our town. They’d become wealthy because of fair business practices and good customer service. However, while some might have become greedy for more, they were grateful and generous. Tonight, they’d donated candy for the children that later would be handed out by Pastor Lind playing Santa. I could hardly wait to see my sisters’ faces.

A vat of spiced apple cider hung over a smaller firepit. Isak Olofsson was manning the cider, using a ladle and filling cups people had brought from home.

Flynn and a group of men had huddled together around the gazebo to pass a flask around, adding whiskey to their cups of cider.

“Oh, dear, I hope everyone behaves themselves tonight,” Mama said.

“Don’t fret, Mama. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right. I just don’t like the men drinking with all the children here.”

“The little rascals aren’t paying any attention to what the adults are doing.”

The Cole family, who owned the café in town, had made pots of chili. The line for the spicy scented beans was as long as the one for sausage.

Delphia, Addie, and Fiona circled back to stand with us. “May we have a sausage, Mama?” Fiona asked.

“Oh, dear. I forgot the roasting sticks in the sleigh,” Mama said.

Just then Papa appeared with the twigs the girls had carefully carved yesterday. “Go on, off with you,” he said after he handed them out to each of the girls. “Where’s Cymbeline?”

I spotted Harley and Merry with their little ones standing in line for a sausage. Jasper and Lizzie were sitting together on a bench, watching their daughter play with some of her school friends. Even Mrs. Wu had agreed to take the night off and come into the town. Li was away at music school in Chicago. Fai, her granddaughter, was surely here somewhere, but I didn’t see her at the moment.

I finally found Cymbeline. She was standing with a group of girls from her class, gesticulating wildly with her hands. “There she is,” I said to Mama.

“She’s bound to cause trouble tonight,” Mama said. “I can see it from here.”

“She’ll be all right,” Papa said.

“I’m worried for others, not her,” Mama said. “She’s growing wilder by the day.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The world is big enough for Cymbeline’s spirit. Anyway, we’re here to have fun and celebrate our second Christmas of peace.”

“That’s right,” Papa said. “All troubles are forgotten tonight, my darling wife.”

“You’re both right. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. Worrying over everything.”

“It’s all part of being a mother to seven,” Papa said. “There’s always one to worry over.”

Theo, with Phillip by his side, approached. I found myself smiling shyly at Phillip. His eyes were beautiful. Even in the dim light thrown from the lanterns around the gazebo, they beckoned to me.

Phillip greeted us with a bob of the head. “Nice to see you.”

“You as well,” Papa said. “Thanks for helping the boys this afternoon.”

/> “We had a great time,” Theo said.

“We did, sir,” Phillip said.

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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