Eleanor hesitated.
“Come now. After baring your soul last night, there’s no need to be shy. I know you’re a very well-educated young woman. Did you have a garden when you were growing up?”
Oh good. A neutral topic. “My mother kept flowers and herbs.” The memory warmed her heart. “She showed me how to care for the plants as well, but I lost all interest after she died when I was fourteen.”
“Such a young age to lose one’s mother. I was in my late thirties when mine passed away and that was still too young. But we are only a vapor, after all.” She barely paused to take a breath. “So you took up your father’s interests in conservation after she was gone.” Mrs. Ashbury stated this more than questioned it.
“Yes. I went to college and studied what I could that might aid him in his work. I learned to type and take a style of shorthand so that I could assist him with his notes and records. We’ve traveled, and he’s spoken on so many occasions that I’ve lost track of the number of events.”
“And you enjoy this life?”
“To a degree. I worry about Father, however. I know he’s tiring and has started to talk of settling down.” Why on earth had she shared that? Something about Marvella seemed to provoke confidences.
“Yes, as we grow older, we tend to want to plant roots and feel a sense of belonging. You could be happy settling here, my dear. You should suggest that to him. Despite what is happening with the railroad, Kalispell will survive. I’ve no doubt. We ladies have met and discussed it. We have no intention of seeing this town fall to ruin. We just got a new library, after all. We have banded together,and we will do whatever is necessary to see that our town thrives.”
“And how will you do that?”
Marvella gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Well, God hasn’t exactly told me yet, but He will.”
8
FRIDAY, MAY20, 1904
Marvella stretched out on the fainting couch with a box of bonbons and Sir Theophilus in her lap.
Eleanor Briggs was a challenge. Not only did the poor thing seem to have been in the company of men much too often since her mother died, but she also was cold toward God.
And that simply wouldn’t do.
Perhaps Marvella could introduce her to Rebecca Whitman—now Andrews. The two would probably hit it off. Especially since they were both from big cities.
She bit into another bonbon and chewed, her thoughts swirling. The Lord was so good to bring another young woman across her path. Rebecca had been a challenge, as well. Brilliant and determined to be her own woman. The day she’d come to the Lord lived fondly in Marvella’s memories. What a wonderful day that had been.
But Eleanor. Marvella sighed. Eleanor was the very definition of a lost sheep who’d wandered away.
Not that she pitied the young woman. Heavens, no. That girl didn’t need pity. She needed the guidance and love of a mentor. Someone to draw her back into the fold. Eleanor would benefit immensely from having people around her to help her grow into who God had created her to be. Rebecca might also be able to help her guide the lost conservationist’s daughter back to the Lord. The idea took deeper root. Yes. The new Mrs. Andrews might be key to the next step in her plan to help the young Miss Briggs.
Marvella popped the other half of her bonbon in her mouth. She wiped her fingers on the linen serviette on her lap and put the box of sweets on the table beside her, a smile playing on her lips.
Whatever the case may be, Marvella had found her new protégé.
TUESDAY, MAY24, 1904
It turned out Mr. Louis Hill’s arrival in Kalispell was the worst-kept secret since his family’s plan for the railroad leaked. Carter didn’t know who had let the railroad baron’s arrival slip, but it was all over town mere hours after his arrival. Tensions among the townspeople had been simmering for weeks. But now they were like a kettle about to whistle—hot and full of steam.
To make matters worse, young Mr. Hill had contracted a summer cold. Any meeting with him had been out of the question until he was well.
Unable to voice their anger and frustration with the young man, people were starting to take their stress outon one another. Fights broke out at saloons in the middle of the day. Three days ago, Carter overheard two women bickering over a five-pound bag of sugar in the general store. Their voices rose to the point that the manager asked them to leave until they could behave in a decent manner.
Yesterday a group of railroad workers quit a half hour before their shift and marched to the Ashbury home, demanding a meeting with Mr. Hill. The Judge, calm and unyielding as ever, had dispersed the crowd with the promise that Mr. Hill would be well enough to attend a town meeting the following night at the McIntosh Opera House, seven o’clock sharp.
Word spread faster than a forest fire in summer.
Now hundreds of men and women poured into the opera house, waiting to hear what Mr. Hill had to say. But judging by the murmurs of the crowd and the number of frowns on faces, the townspeople seemed more than ready to give the railroad man a piece of their mind.
Lord, please, let everyone stay civil.
The opera house was at standing-room-only capacity. If a fight broke out, it would be mighty difficult to stay clear of it. Especially for those up on the second floor.
