Jane laughed. “Well, maybe you’ll ride in a carriage the whole time. A white one. With roses pinned to the door.”
“Ooh, and ribbons.” Millicent reached for a pastry. “Pink ones, like in that issue of theLadies’ Gazette.Wouldn’t that be dreamy?”
“I think I’d rather ride in a sled pulled by huskies,” Freya said, tossing the brush aside and grabbing a cup of hot chocolate. “If I ever get married in Sitka, I want a winter wedding, and that’s how I want to arrive. Then I won’t need to worry about getting mud on my dress—just snow, and that melts.”
“Dog sleds aren’t romantic,” Millicent said, licking raspberry filling off her fingers. “They’re just cold.”
“And you’d have to get married halfway up a mountain if you wanted to make sure you had snow,” Jane said. “Everyone in California thinks Alaska is full of snow, but it mostly just rains in Sitka and Juneau, even in the dead of winter.”
Freya’s lips turned down into a pout. “I still want snow and a dogsled for my wedding.”
“Then maybe you should marry a trapper from the interior.” Millicent spoke around her mouthful of pastry. “They get more snow away from the coast, and there are plenty of dogsleds that run along the Yukon River once it freezes.”
“What about your wedding cake?” Jane nudged Rosalind’s shoulder. “Have you thought about what you want? There’s a drawing here of a cake with three tiers and sugared violets.”
Rosalind glanced at the magazine, then nodded absently as she reached for a pastry. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to cake. Leeland would probably order it. Just like he’d ordered her gown to be made down in Seattle—and followed it with a reminder that he expected her corset to be laced to sixteen inches on their wedding day.
She took a large bite of the pastry, purely out of spite. She’d lost track of how many sweets she’d snuck from the kitchen since Leeland had left. She didn’t even know why she was worriedabout how tightly she was going to lace her corset. It wasn’t as though she was planning to actually marry the man.
“I want a lemon-flavored cake for my wedding. But rather than talk about cakes, there’s something else I want to know...” Millicent leaned in close, a wicked grin on her lips.
“Don’t ask it,” Jane warned.
“Have you thought about your wedding night?” Millicent blurted.
Rosalind nearly dropped her pastry. “I . . . ah . . .”
“Millicent!” Jane hissed. “It’s not proper to ask such a thing.”
“We were all thinking it!” Millicent grinned. “Don’t blame me for being the only one brave enough to ask.”
“Iwasthinking it.” Freya giggled, then looked at Rosalind.
In fact, all the girls were looking at her.
She opened her mouth, never mind that she hadn’t the faintest idea what to say. But before she could utter a word, clanging split the air.
They all froze for a moment, looking around the room.
“Is that... Is that the fire bell?” Millicent finally asked.
Shouting sounded from outside, and Rosalind’s heart thudded against her chest. Where had the fire started? Was the town in danger of burning?
Freya bolted toward the window and pressed her face to the glass. “I can’t it see from here.”
A door shut down the hall, and Millicent’s father charged through their cozy little parlor, his shirt not tucked fully into his trousers.
“Come on, girls. Get your coats on and come help,” he called as he thundered down the stairs.
“Your father’s right.” Millicent’s mother appeared next, her hair pulled into a sloppy bun. “You’re old enough to carry water, all of you.”
They jumped from their spots and rushed down the stairs behind Millicent’s mother, pausing just long enough to pull on their boots and coats. The scent of smoke greeted them the second they stepped outside, and dozens of people had already flooded into the street, running toward the harbor at various speeds.
Rosalind’s nightgown whipped against her legs as she kept pace with Millicent, Jane, and Freya. Was one of the warehouses on fire? Hopefully not. Not only was a warehouse large and likely to catch other buildings on fire, but there would be thousands of dollars of valuable inventory lost with such a blaze.
They kept running, passing houses with doors thrown open and people rushing into the night, all while the fire bell continued to toll over the chaos. Shouts rang out from the harbor, first someone shouting for more men, then another voice asking for more buckets. The crackle of flames hadn’t yet reached them, but the smoke thickened until it stung her eyes.
Millicent split off from the main road, taking a less crowded side street that ran parallel to the harbor. Rosalind didn’t know if she was wheezing from running too hard or from the smoke, but she could barely breathe as they raced closer to the giant plume of smoke billowing into the sky.
