different matter. And she found his opinion did matter.
When they reached the second floor, she turned to Dovie. “Would you please help the girls get settled in while I show Mr. Tucker and the boys to the third floor?”
“Of course.” Dovie smiled at the girls. “I’ll let you all decide how you want to pair up and then we’ll pick out rooms for everyone.”
Eileen led the way up the stairs to the third floor. A part of her envied Dovie’s easy manner with the children. It might not be dignified, but the children seemed better able to relate to her. Then she mentally took herself to task. As her mother had often drilled into her, Paylors always maintained their dignity and composure, no matter what.
As they stepped onto the landing she felt the need to apologize. “These rooms haven’t seen any use in the past two years. Miss Jacobs and I aired them out but they may still be a bit musty.”
“I’m sure it’ll be just fine.” Mr. Tucker looked around and she watched him closely for signs of judgment. To her relief, he seemed to see nothing amiss.
“Do you have a preference for who gets which room?” he asked.
Good—they were going to keep things businesslike. “The three on this end have been made ready—you may assign them however you wish.”
With a nod he turned to the boys. “Harry and Russ, you two take the far room. Albert, you and Joey can have the middle one. And I’ll take the one nearest the stairs.”
The doorbell sounded and Mr. Tucker turned back to her with a smile. “That’s probably our bags.” He waved to the two older boys. “Harry, Russell, come help me get everything carted upstairs.”
“We’re coming, too,” the one he’d called Albert said.
“Yeah, we’re coming, too,” Joey said with a great deal of bravado.
To Eileen’s surprise, Mr. Tucker merely grinned at this bit of assertiveness. “All right, men, the more hands, the lighter the load I always say.”
By the time they made it to the first floor, Dovie had already opened the door to their caller. As Mr. Tucker had predicted, it was Lionel from the train depot.
As soon as Lionel saw Mr. Tucker over Dovie’s shoulder he straightened. “I brought your things, Mr. Tucker, just like you asked. It’s all on the wagon—I’ll get it unloaded in a snap.” He reached into his pocket. “And I brought this telegram that came for you, too.”
Eileen stiffened slightly. Mr. Tucker was already getting telegrams here? It certainly hadn’t taken him long to make himself at home.
She watched as he sent the four boys to help Lionel unload the cart, and then unfolded the piece of paper.
Whatever the news, he didn’t appear to like it. Had he received more bad news on top of today’s events?
* * *
Simon stared at the very terse telegram he’d received in response to the one he’d sent Miss Fredrick’s brother.
KEEP ME APPRISED
W. FREDRICK
Apparently Wilbur Fredrick didn’t intend to rush to his sister’s bedside. Simon didn’t understand that—he would have given anything to have had that opportunity with Imogene, to have been able to have a few last words with her before she passed on.
He refolded the paper and shoved it into his pocket. Perhaps this was his fault. Maybe he hadn’t made it clear just how serious Miss Fredrick’s condition was. Should he send another telegram?
He glanced up and caught Mrs. Pierce watching him, a hint of sympathy in her expression. But she immediately turned away, her demeanor once more aloof, and he wondered if he’d merely imagined it.
Lionel and the boys deposited the first load of baggage just then and went back for more. Before he could join them, the girls were trooping downstairs to investigate what was going on. So Simon pushed aside thoughts of Wilbur Fredrick, and Mrs. Pierce’s show of concern, to ponder at a quieter time.
He joined the “menfolk” unloading the wagon and they managed to get the remaining items in one more load.
Once everything was deposited in the entry hall, he dismissed Lionel with a coin and his thanks. When he turned back, the children were already digging into the pile with noisy enthusiasm as well as a bit of good-natured shoving, each looking for their own items. Mrs. Pierce cringed and drew back into herself. Was it the noise level or the overall chaos that bothered her more?
Then she straightened. “Children, please.” Her voice, while not loud or strident, carried the ring of authority, and the children closest to her paused in their scrambling to look her way.
“Quiet, please.” This time her voice carried to the rest of the children, and everyone turned to stare at her in surprise.
“There is no need for this unruly behavior. You are all old enough to know how to conduct yourselves in a more orderly fashion.”
Simon frowned. This might be her home, but she couldn’t expect the children to act like miniature versions of herself. “Mrs. Pierce, I believe what you are seeing is enthusiasm rather than unruly behavior.”
“One can be excited and show decorum at the same time.” She turned to the children. “Now, starting with the oldest and the youngest, step forward and find your things. Then take them up to your room.”
Fern stepped forward stiffly. “Yes, ma’am.” She held out a hand. “Come on, Molly, I’ll help you find your things.”
To Simon’s surprise, the children followed her instructions, and two by two, with one of the older children helping one of the younger ones, they each collected their things and headed up the stairs. There was no more horseplay and very little chatter, and the task was accomplished in short order.
Okay, so maybe her way was effective, but it certainly hadn’t done anything to make the children feel more at ease here.
He glanced Miss Jacobs’s way. She was observing in silence. Did she agree with Mrs. Pierce’s approach? Or was she just hesitant to disagree with the woman who was, after all, her landlady?
When the last of the children had headed upstairs, Mrs. Pierce turned to him. Was that a glint of triumph peeking out from her serene expression?
“I realize this is your home,” he said before she could comment, “but I would appreciate it if you would give the children a bit of latitude. They’ve been through quite a bit.”
She appeared unmoved. “They have my sympathy, of course, and I understand they are anxious. But I believe maintaining discipline is for their good as well as that of those around them. It gives them a sense of order that can be a comfort when the rest of their world appears to be falling apart around them.”
Did she truly believe that? “They also need the chance to work off some of their pent-up energy.”
“Within the proper parameters.” Then she waved a hand. “Are these last few bags yours?”
He
