“A cook,” Grace said. “Grandpapa has one.”
“This is Annie Montgomery, the owner of Torta al Cioccolato,” Mrs. Hurst said. “Most people in town just call it Torta.”
“Chocolate cake?” Carlisle asked, surprised at the Italian name in a town with a Swiss theme.
“Yes,” the pregnant woman said. “My parents fell in love with the Swiss Italian region and wanted to open a bakery based on what they’d seen. We also import Swiss chocolate and candies. And you are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Mr. Wyndham.” Merry met his gaze, looking sheepish. “Double lapse. I forget your first name.”
“Carlisle.” He extended his hand to the pastry shop owner. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery. Is your husband here as well?”
“He’s deployed. That’s why things have been so crazy, having to care for the business and three children by myself.”
“You have my sympathies. Single parenting isn’t easy.” He glanced at Mrs. Hurst. “Do you have everything we need to begin?”
“I’ll grab one base, and you can bring the other. Alex and Grace, grab one of my belt loops.” She glanced back at Mrs. Montgomery. “We’ll bring these to the shop so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Thank you.” The woman darted a glance at him and looked back at Mrs. Hurst, her eyebrows raised in query. Merry gave the slightest of shoulder shrugs.
Obviously, Carlisle needed to get around town and meet more of the people. He followed Mrs. Hurst back to the table where the children scrambled into their chairs so they could reach the boxes.
“See.” Alex held up a pair of overalls. “You use old clothes for the scarecrows. These used to be mine, but I got too big.”
Grace had taken a garment from the box and tried to hold it up, but it was too large for her.
“Let me help, honey.” Mrs. Hurst took the dress and held up.
“That’s Grammy’s. She doesn’t need it anymore,” Alex said.
“I think we can put the chef’s coat and hat over Grammy’s clothes.” Mrs. Hurst turned to Carlisle and asked, “Mr. Wyndham, would you mind going over there and getting us some straw? I brought netting for the arms and legs.”
“Call me Carlisle, please,” he said.
“And I’m Merry.” Her smile brightened her features even more. She truly was a merry person.
By the time Carlisle returned with a bundle of hay, he wondered if he should have changed his clothes before coming. Had he known he’d be attending such an event, he’d never have worn his dress coat. The thought brought to mind one of his grandfather’s lectures on proper dress for families that were members of the peerage. What would the old man say if he could see Carlisle now? It made him chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Merry asked as she tied something around the crossbar for the tall scarecrow’s frame. “We want in on the joke.”
At first, Carlisle wasn’t going to tell her, but the three happy and expectant faces loosened his lips. He set down the pile of hay and extended his arms from his sides. Grace giggled.
“Youcan be the scarecrow, Papa!”
“Oh, dear.” Merry’s expression had turned serious, but he detected the hint of a twinkle to her eyes. “I never even considered what the hay would do to your cashmere coat. I’m so sorry.”
“It will be fine.” Carlisle found it interesting that she recognized it as cashmere. Did it make him a snob to consider that a middle-class woman might not? He pushed the thought aside. “What would you have me do?”
“Take off your coat, for one. Alex and Grace, you can stuff hay into the netting for the arms and the legs for the child scarecrow. See, like they’re doing at the next table.” Merry paused her own stuffing of a pillowcase with a face painted on it. “Carlisle, you can help me get the head on this guy.”
After carefully folding his coat over his chair, he stepped beside her. He held the stuffed-bag-head on top of the long pole, while she tied it into place.
“Did you paint this?” he asked, impressed as he examined it more closely.
“Yes. I like to tinker.” She raised one hand, wiggling her fingers, and he realized one nail had a colorful fall leaf painted on it. “Were you really laughing about your coat?”
“Partly. I was thinking of my grandfather. I spent most of my childhood in his care.” Carlisle tried to keep the stiffness from his voice, which always crept in whenever he referred to his absent parents. From the way Merry was staring at him so intently, it was still there. “My grandfather is quite prim and proper.”
“I’m guessing he wouldn’t approve of you making a scarecrow?”
