“I will.” Cassidy smiled at him, thinking that his caring was very sweet.
Trace nodded and got slowly to his feet. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“All right. I’ll have this ready in a bit.”
Trace went back to the living room to find his brother and sister-in-law dozing. He got comfortable in the chair and continued to think about what he’d heard Jeanette say that morning.
In the kitchen, Cassidy thought about it as well, glad that Trace had not pressed her but almost wishing she could discuss it with him. She dismissed the idea as fanciful, finished the cake, and made coffee. As soon as Meg woke, dessert would be ready.
Jeanette spent a long time thinking about Cassidy and her finances early Monday morning. She wanted to give her some money but not have Cassidy know whom it was from. At the same time, she and Chandler were the only ones who knew about the bank mistake, and Cassidy was sure to figure it out.
Jeanette looked down at the table, her Bible open to Proverbs. She had been reading when she remembered Cassidy, and without much encouragement her brain had been off and running.
Going back to Proverbs, Jeanette told herself that she had to have her own level of trust for Cassidy’s life. She also realized she didn’t have to dwell on helping her. If she was supposed to do that, something would come to mind.
“How are you?” Chandler asked Cassidy, having come to see her on Tuesday at lunchtime. The two had not talked since Saturday.
“I’m fine, Chandler. How are you?”
Chandler looked at her, not sure if she’d misunderstood him or not. He’d been tortured by the mistake and figured she must be in the same state.
“I meant,” Chandler tried again, “how are you in reference to my news last Saturday?”
“Most of the time, I’m all right. Sometimes I worry.”
“I feel as though I didn’t express to you how bad I feel. I don’t think I said enough.”
“I appreciate that, Chandler, but it’s not your fault. It could have happened to anyone.”
Chandler nodded, but it was hard to accept Cassidy’s forgiveness. He knew her finances. She worked hard for what she had and trusted his bank to take care of it. He felt they’d let her down. It wasn’t as though they’d taken money from her. It was money she didn’t have in the first place, but she’d thought she had it, and that made it a miserable situation.
“Tell me something,” Chandler asked, truly wanting to know. “Why are you all right with this?”
Cassidy had to think about that. Some of the answer tied in to her past, and she wasn’t going to talk to Chandler about that, but she still wanted to answer his question.
“I try not to be too impressed by money,” Cassidy began. “You might wonder what that has to do with anything, but it is part of the answer. I have no guarantees that I’ll have business next week. Folks might decide not to order anything, or they might not need to have anything fixed, and then it will be a lean week.
“That’s what I counted on the money for. It’s not there so I can feel good about myself. I’ve known people who had money, but you would never know that by talking to them. Jeanette is that way. There are others who have money and make sure everyone knows it. I also know folks who don’t have any money but talk about nothing else. I don’t appreciate any of that. It’s not important enough to talk about.
“I would not mind having some surplus so I can give more generously to the church family and others, but outside of my needs, I don’t want a lot of money.”
Cassidy could feel herself babbling and stopped. She wondered if she’d offended Chandler. After all, he worked with money all the time. She felt her face grow warm and made herself look him in the eye.
“Did any of that make sense?”
“Yes, Cassidy. Thank you for telling me.”
Cassidy heard the thoughtfulness in Chandler’s voice and wondered what he was really thinking. She wanted to ask him—it was important to her to know—but Mrs. Hibbard chose that moment to come in.
“I’ll see you later,” Chandler said, and after greeting Mrs. Hibbard went on his way.
“Hello,” Cassidy said cautiously to the lady in her shop, not sure if she was up to seeing her.
“Hello, Cassidy. I wish to order a dress.”
Cassidy had all she could do not to gawk at her. She kept her features schooled, however, and her voice even. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Mrs. Hibbard. I wasn’t able to help you before, and nothing has changed in the way I do things.”
“Are you saying you don’t want my business?” that lady asked in shock.
“I’m saying the way I sew doesn’t please you.”
“Well.” Mrs. Hibbard seemed flustered but did not leave. “I guess I thought you would at least be willing to try again.”
Cassidy stared at her and knew what she had to do.
“I’ll make another dress for you, Mrs. Hibbard, but there will be conditions. I won’t return your money next time. I’ll make repairs that are clearly my fault, but I can’t afford to make dresses I don’t get paid for.”
The look on the other woman’s face told Cassidy she had hoped for that very thing. Her eyes darted around the room a bit before coming back to Cassidy.
“I’ll think on it,” Mrs. Hibbard said after a moment.
Cassidy nodded and was not given time to say anything more. Mrs. Hibbard turned and left without a word.
“Shame on you, Mrs. Hibbard,” Cassidy spoke softly into the empty shop. “You’re old enough to know better.”
Only just remembering to pray for that lady, Cassidy went back to her sewing machine. She was very thankful when the next customer was Mrs. Potts. Not only was she kind and fun to work for, the order she left with Cassidy was a large one.
“This looks great,” Cassidy said sincerely to Meg on Wednesday afternoon, studying the careful handwork on the shirt she was making for Brad. “He’s going to be pleased.”
“I want to ask you a favor.”
“Okay.”
“Can you put the collar and cuffs on?”
“I can, Meg, but you don’t need me.”
“Oh, Cassie,” Meg said with a laugh, trying to persuade her friend. Cassidy was not falling for it, seeing that Meg was doing a fine job. But then Meg sealed the deal.
“I’m going to have this baby anytime now, and I don’t have a sewing machine.”
Cassidy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “That was pathetic. You know that, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, but did it work?”
Cassidy couldn’t deny her. She agreed to finish the shirt if Meg didn’t need it before next week. The women gave up on sewing and went to the kitchen.
“Do you think you still remember how to shoot?” Trace asked Cassidy on the way back to town. Both were on horseback. The livery had rented the buggy Cassidy usually took, so this time she simply requested a horse.
“I think so,” she spoke on a laugh. “My arms ached for days, I hope you realize.”
“You worked hard.”
“I didn’t have a choice. My teacher was impossible, very demanding and strict.”
Trace turned to look at her, but Cassidy kept her eyes to the front and fought a smile.
“It’s terrible,” she went on conversationally. “I have to make a living with my hands and arms, and then on my day off I’m expected to work like that.”
“Is that right?” Trace spoke up.
“Um hm.”
“That’s not the way I remember it.”
“Well, of course not. You’re older than I am. Your memory is failing.”
Trace could not hold his laughter, and Cassidy joined him, looking very pleased to have momentarily gotten the upper hand.
“Oh!” Cassidy exclaimed, “your aunt’s birthday is coming up. Do you know of anything special I could get her?”
“You’re asking me? I think Meg might be your best bet on that.”
“You must ha
ve some idea,” Cassidy pressed him. “I could make her something, but that seems rather obvious.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. I thought it would be more fun to come up with something original.”
Trace’s face was fully turned to her now.
“And you think I’m the one to come up with an idea like that?”
Cassidy bit her lip but still ended up laughing. His face was so horrified she couldn’t help herself.
“All right,” Cassidy said, trying a new tack. “What did you give her last year?”
“The same thing I give her every year, a hug and a kiss.”
“What did Meg give her? Do you remember?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s right, your age and memory are going.”
Trace smiled before he could catch himself. “You’re rather impertinent, Miss Norton. I hope you know that.”
Cassidy only laughed and continued to tease him about his aunt’s birthday gift. They laughed all the way back to town. Not until Trace had seen her back to her apartment did Cassidy realize she still didn’t have an idea for Jeanette’s birthday.
The following Sunday the Token Creek church family celebrated the Fourth of July with the townsfolk. This year it was on a Sunday, so they were all running a bit late after the service but were no less welcome. Tables had been put along the creek where it was cooler for the potluck.
Cassidy came with her basket of goods to share, set her dishes on the table with all the other offerings, and turned to find Jessie Wheeler at a table. Her daughters were with her. Cassidy joined them and was most welcome.
“How are you, Jessie?” Cassidy asked.
“I’m doing well. Yourself?”
“Most weeks it’s going well. I appreciate the folks you send my way.”
Jessie smiled. “You heard about that, did you?”
“Yes. More than one woman has told me that you redirected her when you didn’t have what she needed. So once again, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Jessie said, smiling in a way that made her look just like her two blonde daughters.
“Hi, girls,” Cassidy called in greeting.
“Miss Cassie,” Clancy, the youngest, wasted no time in saying, “we brought beans.”
“That sounds good. I made a cake.”
“What kind?”
“Chocolate.”
Cassidy smiled when Clancy licked her lips.
“You got her attention,” Jessie said, laughing at her younger daughter. “Oh, here comes Rylan,” she said next, and Cassidy turned to see Rylan and Chandler headed their way.
The two men greeted the ladies, and all fell to talking. Not until Mayor Lake, who had been in office for almost six months, welcomed the folks and thanked everyone for coming did people start toward the food tables. Food was plentiful and delicious, and folks did not need to be asked twice. The festivities had officially begun.
“How are you?” Brad asked his wife, having taken her to Jeb and Patience’s house to lie down. They were on the way to the picnic when a pain had hit her. She had fallen asleep, and Brad had stayed close by.
“I’m sorry,” she began.
“There’s nothing to apologize about, Meg. You can’t control this.”
She sighed and tried to sit up. Brad helped her before sitting down beside her, an arm around her.
“On top of that,” Brad went on, “it’s going to be warm out there, so a little time indoors is not all bad.”
“Did Patience and Jeb go?”
“Um hm.”
Meg smiled. Brad sounded sleepy, and she could tell he was comfortable beside her.
“You should have slept when I did.”
“You were only out for about ten minutes.”
“Do you want your own ten minutes?”
Brad smiled at the temptation but said no. The two left for the picnic a little while later.
“It’s the Fourth of July, Mama,” Trace said quietly, wanting to be near his mother right now. “The picnic is going on by the creek. I don’t remember if we ever went to one of those when I was younger.”
Trace stopped, not letting his mother’s silence bother him. He looked around the porch at the plants and nice furniture. His aunt had done a fine job making it cozy and comfortable.
“Brad and Meg went to the picnic. I’ll join them later. Jeanette is there too. I think Becky is going to stay with you for a while so Heather can go.”
This said, Trace allowed a good deal of silence to fall. He looked at his mother, just enjoying being with her for this time and telling her different stories and things from his heart before Becky came with something for her to drink.
“Thanks, Becky,” Trace said thickly, all of a sudden feeling emotional.
“You’re welcome,” Jeanette’s cook said, smiling with all the kindness she felt, wishing as Heather always did that Mrs. Holden could snap out of her trance and enjoy her fine sons.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HOW DID SHE DO?” Brad asked Trace about their mother as they made their way home. The picnic by the creek was winding down, and Meg was flagging.
“Very well.”
“Maybe it helped to be there alone,” Meg suggested.
“Maybe,” Trace said, thinking about the possibility. He usually went with Brad, and perhaps visiting his mother alone was worth more consideration.
“Who won that last footrace?” Brad suddenly asked, remembering some of the games that had been played.
“I think it was Adam Stillwell,” Meg said.
“You should have raced, Brad,” Trace put in.
“I don’t know,” Meg said doubtfully and without malice. “I’m usually faster.”
“That’s true,” Brad agreed immediately, and Trace looked at his brother for a moment.
The three fell quiet after that. It was still very warm out, and Meg, less than three weeks from the baby’s due date, was warm and uncomfortable. Brad got her inside as soon as they arrived home and then went out to help Trace put the horses away and feed the stock. They’d been working for fewer than ten minutes when Trace remembered what Meg had said.
“Is Meg a faster runner than you are?” he asked his brother, standing by the stall watching Brad put feed into a bucket.
The smile that came over Brad’s face was slow and a bit mischievous. He was still smiling when he said, “What Meg doesn’t realize is that chasing her is as fun as catching her. It’s not something I ever rush.”
Trace had to laugh as he went back to work, glad he hadn’t asked about it in the house. Meg would have wanted to know what was going on, and the younger Holden had no plans to give his brother’s secret away.
“Here you go,” Cassidy said as she offered Meg a cup of water and a piece of spice cake. The expectant woman sat at the kitchen table, her face flushed from the heat, watching Cassidy work on dinner. From the doorway Brad watched the scene. He was early coming in, Meg on his mind, almost wishing the baby would come now and not wait until next week.
They hadn’t moved Meg into town, although both Jeanette and the Dorns were more than willing to have her. Meg had been feeling well, and it seemed that even if her pains came on her, the timing was good. Brad knew he would still send Trace for the doctor, but a peace had come over his wife lately, and between the two of them, they thought being at home was best.
Cassidy had continued to come each Wednesday, and each time the women did less sewing as Cassidy worked to make Meg comfortable, doing small jobs for her so she could relax and always making supper that evening.
Right after the Fourth, Cassidy had come with a meal already prepared. Patience Dorn had sent everything with her for that evening’s meal and then some. They had enjoyed the food for days.
“Hey, Brad,” Cassidy called, suddenly spotting him.
“Hello,” he said quietly as Meg had dropped off, nearly sitting upright. “How’s she doing?”
“She says she’s just too warm.”
<
br /> Brad looked down on his wife, remembering the speech he’d given himself many times. Babies were born all the time. Women did this all the time. That didn’t change the facts, however. This was new for them—every bit of it. Meg’s growing stomach, her pains, the movement of the baby—all of it. Not to mention the days and weeks that would follow. They would be parents. A wonderful thing, certainly, but serious too.
“Are you all right?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes, thanks, Cass. And thanks for taking care of so many little things.”
Cassidy only smiled at him as it seemed very small to her. Meg was her friend, the sister she’d never had, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her.
Knowing that Cassidy would be there for Meg until he came into supper, Brad went back to the barn door he and Trace were working on. It was time to admit to himself that he was ready for this baby to come. At the moment he didn’t think he’d ever been readier for anything in his life.
“Some folks gave me some money for you, Cassidy,” Rylan told that woman when he came into her shop the next day. Cassidy had turned from her sewing machine. Now both she and Jeanette stood and stared at their pastor.
“Money for me?” Cassidy clarified.
“Yes.”
Cassidy looked at Jeanette, who shook her head no, able to honestly do so. She had not been able to think of a way to give anonymously and had never pursued it.
“Why?” Cassidy asked next.
“They didn’t say. They only said you had been heavy on their hearts, and they wanted you to have twenty dollars.”
“Was it Chandler?” Cassidy asked next, a bit suspicious.
“As a matter of fact, no. It was one of our church families, and that’s all the more I can tell you.”
While Cassidy stared at the big man in their presence, he grinned and looked around. “This is a very feminine place, isn’t it?”
Both women smiled and learned in a hurry that Rylan was just getting warmed up.
“I know you must have men customers, Cassie, but you haven’t decorated for them at all.” Rylan shook his head, wandering around a bit and taking everything in. “I know! What about some boots–dusty ones? You could put them right by this little velvet chair. That would make a man feel at home.