yours...yet.”
He lifted a brow, stared at Cole’s grin. “I’m not sure I like the word you tacked onto the end of that sentence.”
His boss’s grin widened. “Ellen Hall came to see Sadie today. She passed on a request from Willa. She needs pine boughs for decorating the church and asked if Townsend Timber would provide them.”
He stuffed his hat into his pocket and rubbed his gloved hands together to create some warmth. “We’re behind in our lumbering because of the snow.”
“Yes. I mentioned that.”
He studied Cole’s face, let a grin tug his lips aslant. “Sadie cajoled you into it, did she?” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m thinking it didn’t take much coaxing on her part.”
Cole’s grin matched his. “I collapsed like a felled tree. As did Manning. We’ve donated a wagonload of boughs. And more if needed.”
There was something in Cole’s voice.... Daniel tugged off a glove to scrub his hand across the back of his neck. “Ah, yes. The ‘yet.’ Let me guess.... I’m elected to deliver the boughs?”
“That would be correct.” Cole’s face sobered. “After you’ve cut them.”
He raised his brows.
“I know.” Cole settled into his chair. “I’d like to give you a man to help you, Daniel, but I can’t spare a logger while we’re so far behind.”
He nodded, tugged his glove back on and pulled his hat from his pocket. “You can’t spare your teamster either. It won’t help any to cut logs if you’ve no one to haul them here to the mill. Fortunately, there’s a full moon at present, and with it shining on the snow, it’s as bright as day. I’ll down a couple of small pine and hemlock tonight, fill the pung with the boughs and deliver them after I’m through hauling logs tomorrow.”
“That’s a lot of extra work for no pay, Daniel. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me—thank your wife.” He grinned and pulled his hat on, tugged the rolled brim down to cover the tops of his ears. “I never could withstand Quick Stuff’s coaxing either.”
* * *
Ellen glanced at her mother studying the fashions in the new Godey’s Lady’s Magazine she’d received, drew breath to speak, then exhaled and turned back to the fire. She’d started to ask her mother if she would donate trims left over from dress orders at least a dozen times since dinner and then stopped. It would be best to wait a few days, until the costumes were finished but for the final touches. Coward. She frowned at her lack of will and pulled her wrap closer about her bare shoulders. The silk gown she’d donned before her parents came home was stylish but chilly.
“You seem restless tonight, Ellen. I hope you’re not feeling adrift because of the lack of suitable society in Pinewood.”
“No, Mother, I’ve been spending time visiting with Willa. And I had Asa drive me out to see Sadie today. I’m only...thinking.”
“You took the cutter out to Butternut Hill in this weather?” Her mother gave her an astounded look. “Whatever for?”
She drew breath to explain about the pine boughs for the church, then swallowed back her words. “I wanted to see Sadie.”
Her father lowered his book and peered up at her. She held still, determined not to fidget beneath his penetrating gaze. Her answer had been the truth—as far as it went.
“Are you any closer to a decision as to which gentleman you will accept as your husband?”
“No, Father.” She’d been so busy she hadn’t even thought about her beaux today. Only Daniel. But that was natural, since he’d been present—and annoying. She leaned down and added a piece of log to the fire lest her father read the truth in her expression, and she read disapproval in his as a consequence.
“Well, you tend to what your mother and I say. Don’t allow your old friends to talk you into accepting less than you can achieve in life by a good marriage.”
“Indeed.” Her mother looked up at her, a hint of a frown on her face. “Willa, Callie and Sadie have done quite well for themselves considering they have settled for village life. But we have groomed you for the greater, more important things of high society, Ellen. You mustn’t forget that. Now go and cream your hands. And don’t handle any more rough wood, dear. You want your appearance to be perfect when Mr. Lodge and Mr. Cuthbert arrive.”
* * *
Suitable society. Ellen rubbed cream into her face and hands, swirled her silk-and-lace dressing gown on over her nightdress and stepped to her bedroom window. Cold air seeped from beneath the hems of the winter drapes her mother had fashioned from a woven bed coverlet and chilled her slippered feet. She drew her dressing gown close and pushed one drape aside far enough to look out. Large snowflakes fell through the moonlight that shone on the rutted ribbon of Oak Street and glistened on the snow-covered ground across the way.
Beyond the park stood the new parsonage, but the snowfall was so thick all she could distinguish was a small glow of lamplight from a window. Had she made a mistake by offering to help Willa? Performing such mundane tasks would lessen her worth in Mr. Lodge’s and Mr. Cuthbert’s opinions. If she could even do them. And her mother was right. What about her hands? What if she suffered needle pricks? Or if her skin became roughened and dry from handling the pine boughs? Oh, why had she let Daniel’s words prod her into saying she would help? It would, of a certainty, displease her parents as well as her beaux. Still...
Cold coming off the window chilled her. She let the drape fall back into place and crossed the room to her bed. She’d felt odd but nice all afternoon. The truth was, she had enjoyed helping Willa. Still, there was no possible way she could do the work without it becoming known. There were no secrets in Pinewood.
A wry smile tugged at her lips. That was one thing she and her friends had learned while very young. No matter what secret adventure they set off on, it was always already known by the time they returned home. Or soon confessed. Especially if they faced Callie’s aunt Sophia. The woman was formidable! She laughed and shook her head. The truth was, she’d always been a little frightened of Sophia Sheffield in spite of her kindness. What a timid child she’d been....
The silk of her dressing gown whispered softly as she shrugged it off her shoulders and down her arms. A chill slithered down her spine in spite of the fire as she stepped out of her slippers. She slid beneath the covers searching out the heated, towel-wrapped soapstone at the foot of the mattress with her cold feet. “Ahh.” Warmth caressed her toes as she tucked them in a fold of the warm cloth. Did Willa enjoy even such a small luxury as this? Likely not, even though she was married to Reverend Calvert and had Bertha Franklin for their housekeeper.
Suitable society.
A twinge of apprehension tingled through her. How would she entertain her beaux? Reverend Calvert and Willa would qualify as suitable society, but neither Mr. Lodge nor Mr. Cuthbert cared about church—except for appearances’ sake. Callie and her husband would qualify—Ezra Ryder was wealthier than either Mr. Lodge or Mr. Cuthbert. Unfortunately, Callie and Ezra were away visiting Ezra’s sister for the Christmas season. Sadie and Cole? No. Sadie spent her time looking after her grandmother and grandfather, and Cole—well, Cole was too straightforward to
