“Pardon me, are you going inside?” a voice said from behind her.
Willa turned, embarrassed to just be standing here in front of the shop. Thomasina and Lillian Settles stood there on the sidewalk, waiting to go in.
“Oh, it’s you!” Lillian said, giving Willa a genuine smile. “I’m so glad you came. Let’s get inside out of this cold.”
Her confidence regained, Willa opened the door and entered the little shop with the two sisters. Inside, tables and chairs sat scattered about, some already occupied, and various little cakes and cookies waited on a table near the wall. The shop was decorated with branches of evergreens and red ribbons, making everything feel very cozy and Christmas-like.
“I’ll get us some tea,” Lillian said, and she walked toward the shop’s counter.
Willa stood with Thomasina as she surveyed the ladies who had already arrived. “You ought to meet Seffi Morgan,” Thomasina said, and she led Willa to a table where a friendly-looking woman sat with a younger lady.
“I see we have a new guest,” the woman said when they got to her table. “Please, sit down. I’m Seffi Morgan, and this is Vivian, my dear son’s wife.”
Willa took a seat as Thomasina excused herself to help Lillian with the tea. “I’m Willa Rousseau,” she said. “It’s wonderful to meet you both.”
Mrs. Morgan smiled at her so warmly, it stirred memories of Willa’s own mother. She missed Mama from time to time. She’d been gone so long that Willa treasured the few memories she had of her mother. And one of those dear memories was of Mama’s all-encompassing smile, so kind that it felt like a hug. Willa immediately liked Mrs. Morgan, based on her smile alone.
“Rousseau,” Vivian said in an accented voice, tilting her head. “That sounds familiar.”
“My father is Dr. Rousseau. We’re here to help people with his medicines.” Despite what that infuriating Dr. Gatewood might say to the contrary.
“Oh, yes! The medicine show!” Mrs. Morgan said. Both she and Vivian looked pleased to make this connection, and Willa relaxed. Most people appreciated her father’s work. She’d let Dr. Gatewood get under her skin and make her doubt people’s impressions of them.
“How wonderful it must be to travel as you do,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I imagine you’ve been to many towns.”
“Yes,” Willa replied. “We’ve been traveling since I was a girl, all over the West.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do.” Willa paused. Itwasexciting, visiting new places and seeing the way the land changed and meeting people of all sorts. But . . . talking to Mrs. Morgan felt like talking to Mama, and Willa always told her mother how she was truly feeling. “But lately, I’ve been wishing we could stay in one place for longer. To get to know people.”To belong somewhere.
“Well, while you’re here, you should get to know the ladies in town,” Mrs. Morgan said kindly. “And you’ve started out in just the right way, by coming to our tea. Before you leave, you’ll have made at least ten new friends.”
Willa grinned. She could hardly imagine one friend, never mind ten. Lillian arrived with two steaming cups of tea and sat down. Willa took a sip of hers, a light blend of something that tasted of citrus. It warmed her from the inside out.
“My sister has gone to catch up on the latest gossip,” Lillian said, gesturing at where Thomasina sat with two other ladies before turning to Mrs. Morgan. “Seffi, my sister and I were telling Willa that she needs to attend the Matchmaker’s Ball.”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Morgan clapped her hands together. “You must come. It’s great fun.”
“I may not be here,” Willa protested. She did want to go, so badly, though.
“It’s only just next week,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Surely you won’t have left already.”
They ought to still be here. Willa’s heart thumped. Could she actually attend? Dr. Gatewood’s visage sprang to mind, no matter how hard she fought to keep thoughts of him at bay. “But I . . .” She flushed some at what she was about to say. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“Don’t worry about that!” Lillian said. “There is a practice a few days beforehand. My sister and I will be there again. Don’t tell anyone, but Thomasina gets nervous when it comes to remembering steps.” She giggled, and Willa smiled at her.
Relieved she might not look entirely out of place at the dance, she was just about ready to agree—until she realized something else very important. This was perhaps even more embarrassing than confessing she’d never been taught to dance. She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to admit she had nothing to wear.
“What is it?” Mrs. Morgan said kindly.
“Mrs. Morgan—”
“Please, call me Seffi. Everyone does.”
“All right. Seffi, I don’t . . . well . . .” Willa trailed off.
“Do you need a dress?” Vivian asked, seeming to read her mind.
