“It happened to be my afternoon off work. The hotel dining room will simply have to do without me today,” the other woman said with a smile, and Sophia had the impression that afternoons off for Florence weren’t very common.
Mrs. Canton launched into questions about the hotel which Florence answered. Sophia’s eyes wandered to the other ladies. There were several she’d met already, and a few new faces. She grinned when she saw one of the girls she knew from her time at the boarding house. Deirdre Hannan immediately left her seat and came to sit in the one next to the settee.
“How is life as Mrs. Canton?” Deirdre Hannan asked. She’d lived at the boarding house for several months upon her arrival in town with her brother the summer before. They now lived in a house in town, but Deirdre returned to the Darbys’ boarding house for frequent visits with the friends she’d made there.
Sophia couldn’t help but smile in response to Deirdre’s question. Getting to know Matthew better was something she looked forward to each day. “It’s wonderful,” she said.
A wistful look crossed Deirdre’s face. “I wish I could find someone I loved as much as you love Mr. Canton.”
“You will,” Sophia said, her face warming a bit at the wordlove. She didn’t know if it was quite that—at least not yet—but she certainly enjoyed Matthew’s company. And it appeared he felt the same. “I just know you will.”
It was hard to figure out why Deirdre hadn’t already married. The men in town greatly outnumbered the ladies, hence the mail-order bride business one of the ladies in Crest Stone started with a friend who lived in a nearby town.
“If you reexamine your expectations, that is, Deirdre,” Trudie added as she stabbed a needle into a particularly thick looking piece of fabric. “Deirdre is far too choosy. Every man she’s met, she’s found wanting.”
Deirdre shrugged. “I have no wish to be attached to someone I don’t find interesting.”
“And I can’t believe there’s not a single man in town thatdoesn’tpique your interest,” Trudie replied.
At that, Deirdre ducked her head, and Sophia thought for certain she was hiding a smile as she pretended to examine her needlework. But she kept that observation to herself. Trudie seemed the sort to never leave a body alone if she thought she knew something.
A few more ladies arrived, filling in the circle of seating Trudie had set up in her parlor, and the conversation was animated. Sophia found herself laughing on more than one occasion, and the thoughts of Daisy Timperman faded even farther into the distance.
In fact, each day that had passed gave her reassurance that Miss Timperman had received Matthew’s telegram. She was likely searching for a new husband by now, and that thought buoyed Sophia’s mood. Without worries of Miss Timperman arriving or Mr. Durham finding out where she was and stealing the remainder of her investments, she could put her mind to happier things—like enjoying this sewing circle, talking with Matthew, and planning for their eventual move to the house he hoped to begin building by the end of summer.
“—alone at the bank.”
Sophia’s attention turned to Trudie, who was shaking her head as she finished speaking.
“And it’s too bad,” she continued. “Because I was truly enjoying spending a part of the morning there.”
“But why not? I don’t see anything disreputable about a woman working alone at a business, at least not out here,” Clara Carlisle, the livery owner’s wife, said. “I’ve been at the livery alone more times than I can count when Roman and the others were off delivering carriages and horses.”
“It isn’t that.” Trudie sighed and rested her hands on top of her sewing. “It’s this man who came in the day before yesterday. Thankfully, the baby was sleeping in Weston’s office. This fellow stormed in and insisted upon talking to my husband—who wasn’t there, clearly—and when I told him that, he grew irate and threatened to come around behind the counter and find the information he needed himself.”
Sophia’s eyes grew round at Trudie’s story. It reminded her far too much of her experiences with the bandits who had taken her from the wagon train, but at least they had others with them who stopped anything from getting out of hand. But that man had no one to stop him, except Trudie herself.
“What did you do?” Deirdre practically breathed out the words.
“Well, I told him I’d shoot him if he attempted to step one foot around the counter.”
Clara bit her lip to hide a grin, and Sophia guessed this sort of reaction wasn’t at all out of character for Trudie.
“You didn’t need to . . . did you?” Sophia asked. She couldn’t imagine raising a weapon at someone, much less using it. But she supposed that if she’d had a pistol when she’d been with those outlaws, she just might have anyway.
“No, thankfully. Although I showed him I meant what I said.” Trudie picked up her sewing and frowned at it. “He was very lucky that another customer arrived when he did. He left, grudgingly.”
Deirdre had a hand pressed to her heart. “You don’t suppose he’s still in town?”
Trudie shrugged. “It’s possible. Although I doubt he’d dare return to the bank. Weston won’t help him. He’d sooner toss him into the street than allow him to open an account.”
“What did he look like?” Clara asked. “I’d hate to have him visit the livery and be unprepared.”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t handsome,” Trudie replied. “He was tall, but when he took off his hat, he was missing the hair on the top of his head. What little he had was light shade of brown. And he was a portly fellow, of the sort who indulges in far too many sweets. His eyes sat oddly, too, as if they were too close together.” She shuddered, as if the image repulsed her.
Sophia’s heart lurched into her chest.
The man Trudie described sounded exactly like Francis Durham.
