Clara opened the door to the mercantile and stepped inside. Only two ladies were in the store—the one who’d been behind the counter when she visited with Roman yesterday, and another darker-haired woman with a baby in her arms. After perusing the shelves, Clara’s gaze flitted to the baked goods at the counter.
She stopped beside the woman with the baby, waiting for a break in the ladies’ conversation to purchase a slice of lemon cake. Just last night, Miss Darby told her how much she was looking forward to a shipment of lemons from California. Clara thought she might enjoy the slice of cake more than any little comb or figurine.
“Hello,” the blonde woman with the polished voice said from behind the counter. “I’m Caroline Drexel, but please call me Caroline. I believe I saw you in here yesterday with Mr. Carlisle from the livery?”
Clara nodded. “Clara Brown,” she said. “It’s good to meet you, Caroline.”
“This is my dear friend Emma Hartley,” Caroline said, gesturing at the pretty, darker-haired woman.
“And this is Monroe,” Emma said, glancing down at the baby in her arms.
“He’s adorable.” Clara smiled at the baby. He couldn’t have been more than a month or so old.
“Thank you.” Emma turned a beaming smile to Clara. “Are you new in town?”
“Yes. I’ve only just arrived a few days ago.”
“What brings you to Crest Stone?” Caroline asked conversationally.
“I . . .” How could she explain that she’d answered a marriage advertisement? “I’ve come to, well . . .”
“Ohh!” Emma said, as if she’d just realized something. “Dora told me that Mr. Carlisle was one of the men who’d placed an advertisement with her service!”
“That’s right!” Caroline added. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Emma, that was supposed to remain quiet. Remember?”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Clara. I hope we didn’t embarrass you. It’s only that Dora is a good friend of ours, and she was so excited when the first few men took to placing advertisements.”
“It’s quite all right.” Clara smiled at them in relief. They didn’t appear to think it was so strange that she’d come here to be a mail-order bride. In fact, they seemed happy that she helped their friend with her business.
The two ladies looked at each other, and Clara knew exactly what they wanted to ask but were too polite to do so. “We haven’t married yet. We’re getting to know each other.”
“I see,” Emma said.
“That’s very smart of you,” Caroline added. “Although Mr. Carlisle’s only been in town for a few months, he’s become a good friend to my husband.”
“And mine,” Emma said. “He’s a builder, and your Mr. Carlisle asked him for advice when he was building the livery. And he took it to heart, which pleased my husband greatly.”
“I believe Mr. Carlisle to be a good man,” Caroline said.
“Of course, that’s for you to decide.” Emma shifted the baby to her other arm. He stretched his little hands out before pulling them back, all the while not even opening his eyes.
Clara’s cheeks went warm, although she certainly was glad to hear that Roman had won the respect of these ladies and their husbands.
“I’m so sorry,” Caroline said. “Did you need assistance with a purchase?”
“Oh, yes!” Clara had almost forgotten herself why she’d come into the store. “May I have a slice of that lemon cake?” She paused. “Make that three slices, if you don’t mind.” Surely Roman and Mr. Wiley would also appreciate a slice of cake.
“Of course. I bake them fresh each morning,” Caroline replied. She cut the cake and wrapped each slice in paper, and Clara handed her some coins.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is it true that Mr. Carlisle had one of his horses stolen the other night?” Emma asked as Clara admired baby Monroe.
“I didn’t hear about that,” Caroline said as she wrapped the last slice of cake.
“I saw Edie yesterday evening, and she mentioned overhearing Marshal Wright talking to Mr. Carlisle about it,” Emma explained. They both looked to Clara for confirmation.
“It’s true,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think he wants many people to know. It looks bad for the livery.”
“We understand,” Caroline said. She passed the wrapped slices of cake across the counter to Clara. “I wonder if it’s someone Mr. Carlisle knows? Someone angry at him, perhaps, or jealous.”
