“I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
The two men shook hands, and Eleanor eyed her new husband with pride. For someone who wasn’t particularly good with words, he was awfully well-liked, and it was clear people depended on him.
Merrick glanced at her and then back to the shop owner. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with a fellow named Whiteside, are you?”
“He has a farm somewhere outside of town,” Eleanor added.
“Whiteside . . .” The man pondered the name for a moment. “It sounds familiar. He must have come in to make a purchase at some point, but honestly, I don’t remember much about him.”
Eleanor bit back her dejection as Merrick thanked the man. He held the door open for her, and they made their way to the nearby mercantile. As soon as she stepped inside, Eleanor momentarily forgot her sister as her eyes widened in delight.
“Are you all right?” Merrick looked at her in concern.
“Yes! Yes, I am.” She gave him a broad smile to prove it, even though worry about Rebecca nagged at the back of her mind. “I’ve never seen a shop like this before. We had a general store in West Fork, but the offerings were meager and usually more expensive than most could afford. But this . . .” Her gaze trailed over the shelves and walls and buckets filled with anything and everything she could imagine. Better yet, the prices listed were so much more reasonable than she ever could have expected.
“Drexel runs a good business,” Merrick said, his eyes following hers.
She turned back to him. “What do we need?”
He looked taken aback. “I, uh . . . I was hoping you might make that decision.”
Eleanor felt foolish. Of course he was expecting her to determine what sorts of things she needed for cooking and the like. Pushing her shoulders back, she walked past everything that tempted her attention.
The gentleman at the counter set down a pencil and paper and greeted them. “How are you, Benton?”
“Very well,” Merrick replied, and as the flush crept up his neck, he introduced Eleanor as his wife. “This is Thomas Drexel.”
“It’s too bad my Caroline isn’t here. She’d enjoy meeting you,” Mr. Drexel said. “Now what I can get for you?”
Eleanor twisted her hands together. She’d never really had the opportunity to order everything she actually needed at one time, not in West Fork. “Well, we certainly need flour. Salt, molasses, cornmeal . . .” She listed a few more necessities. “And a broom, if it isn’t too much.” She glanced at Merrick.
He nodded but seemed to be waiting for her to continue.
“That’s all,” she said. She hadn’t asked him how much he’d wished to spend, after all, and she could make do perfectly well on everything she’d mentioned.
“Those apples look awfully good,” Merrick said, nodding at the nearby barrel.
“Probably the last of the season,” Mr. Drexel replied. “I can add some to your order, if you’d like.”
Merrick looked at Eleanor, as if he were waiting for her to confirm.
“I . . . All right, I suppose so,” she said hesitantly.
“Is that all the potatoes you have left?” Merrick pointed at another barrel, which was only about a quarter full.
“It is. Folks have been stocking their winter pantries,” Mr. Drexel said as he tapped the pencil on the counter.
“Shouldn’t we do that too?” Merrick asked Eleanor.
“I . . .” She’d lost track of how much this was adding up to be. But he was right—they did need to put a few things away for winter. And potatoes were a good choice. “Yes, we should.” She tried to sound confident as she spoke, but all she could think of was the cost.
“Do you have any of those tinned pears?” Merrick asked eagerly.
Mr. Drexel nodded and added that to the list. “Is that all?”
Yes!Eleanor wanted to shout. But all she did was nod quickly.
“Nearly,” Merrick said instead. “Mrs. Benton needs shoes. And some supplies for making a dress.”
