Chapter Seventeen
AS LOVELY AS THE ROOMat the hotel was, Sophia could not fall asleep.
Matthew, ever the gentleman, had taken up sleeping on the floor to allow her the bed, which had stirred up emotions Sophia hadn’t known existed. And that was ridiculous, becauseshewas the one who had heartily agreed to the arrangement when he’d proposed marriage. This was what she wanted . . . wasn’t it?
When she wasn’t thinking about that, the words from Miss Timperman’s telegram floated through her mind.
Delayed. Arrival by train in September. Explanation forthcoming.
Yours, D. Timperman
Matthew said he would send her a return telegram tomorrow. If she’d just sent the message, she couldn’t have left yet. Yet something about the message set Sophia on edge. Why was Miss Timperman coming now, after so much time? Did she know that Sophia had pretended to be her? Why hadn’t she sent Matthew a letter to explain her delay?
Sophia laid in the comfortable bed and stared at the ceiling while the sounds of Matthew breathing quietly rose from the floor beside her. She smiled in the darkness at the sound. Slowly, her eyes began to close, and before she knew it, she was lost in a pleasant dream about a home near a stand of pines, overlooking a wide expanse of the valley.
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IT DIDN’T TAKE LONGfor Sophia to ease into life at the Canton home. Matthew’s parents were welcoming and generous, but to Sophia’s great relief, they were never overbearing. Mrs. Canton gratefully accepted Sophia’s help in preparing meals, and Sophia soon discovered that dinner guests were more frequent than not. She especially delighted in having the kitchen and ingredients needed to bake again—and the people to enjoy her cakes and cookies and pies.
“I fear my husband will be gravely disappointed once you and Matthew have your own home,” Mrs. Canton said one morning when Sophia put the finishing touches on an apple pie.
“Well, then we’ll have to make a point of coming to visit often.” Sophia put the pie into the oven.
Mrs. Canton wiped down the small countertop. “I don’t suppose you enjoy sewing as much as baking?”
Sophia made a face. “Let’s just say I can accomplish what needs doing.”
“I feel the same way,” Mrs. Canton said with a laugh as she draped the cloth to dry. “But it is much more enjoyable when done with friends. Trudie Gardiner is hosting a sewing circle this afternoon. Would you like to come with me?”
Sophia readily agreed. The banker’s wife had been present when she and Matthew had gone to deposit the remainder of her money into the bank, her little one in her arms. After Mr. Gardiner had reassured her of her deposit’s safety there and had offered to discreetly contact the companies in Kansas City on her behalf to ensure the investments remained in her name only, Trudie had insisted she come over for tea. Sophia had taken to her immediately. She was a woman without pretense—quick to make a joke and full of wild tales about her time in Chicago, most of which she’d spent as a lady pickpocket.
It was then Sophia realized that Crest Stone was made up of all sorts. If a former pickpocket could become a banker’s wife, what else was possible? Suddenly, her own tale seemed to fit right in, and she was eager to get to know all of the ladies. So far, she’d discovered that Caroline Drexel, who ran the mercantile with her husband, had also been running from a terrible man who’d wanted to marry her when she came to Crest Stone, and Edie Wright, the sheriff’s wife, had grown up in a family of outlaws.
After the noon meal, Sophia changed quickly into the beautiful yellow dress that the dressmaker had finished for her, wondering what other fascinating stories she might hear today. Then she gathered up some mending and the sewing supplies she’d recently purchased and together, she and Mrs. Canton walked the short distance to the edge of town, where Trudie Gardiner’s large home sat almost directly across from the boarding house.
A maid—quite possibly the only one in Crest Stone aside from the ones who worked at the hotel—ushered them into the parlor where several of the ladies from town already sat. Sophia was grateful to see that a few of them had also brought mending. She’d feared she’d be the only one not doing needlepoint or sewing some useful clothing.
Trudie beckoned her to the settee where she already sat while Mrs. Canton took an empty chair next to an older woman with graying brown hair.
“Florence!” Mrs. Canton exclaimed as she took her seat. “What a wonderful surprise to see you here.”
