“She’s done been savin’ strugglin’ businesses,” Elma said. “From what Hester”—she sent a nod to the woman still sitting in the back of the wagon—“heard when she was at Daniel’s Diner, where everyone done knows gossip flows quicker than the Ohio after a rainstorm, Luella single-handedly saved Stu Wiggley’s carpentry business.”
Owen blinked. “She did?”
“Darn tootin’,” Elma said. “Hester also heard that Luella introduced Stu to the Stiffel family, the textile manufacturers downtown, and they’re now cooperatin’ together and producin’ some furnishin’ that’s sellin’ like the buttermilk pies Beulah and Alma make to donate to the preacher’s bake sale. To top it off, Luella’s been hikin’ into the hills and findin’ all sorts of what she says are brilliant artsy types, snapping up the paintings and sculptures them artists are makin’ and givin’ ’em a fair price as well. Why, she’s probably responsible for them artists being able to put meat and potatoes on their tables these days. She’s so determined to help them that I heard she’s been deliberately smearin’ dirt all over herself as them hill people don’t trust no one who looks too clean.”
“Perhaps your sister’s grooming problem isn’t as bad as we initially thought,” Camilla muttered.
Owen smiled ever so slightly before he returned his attention to Elma. “I’m curious how you knew Luella’s been mingling with the hill folks. You haven’t been sending Miss Baker up into the hills to keep an eye on her, have you?”
Given that Miss Hester Baker, who Camilla remembered Owen mentioning was Elma’s paid companion, turned her head and began taking an interest in Gladys, who was now snoozing beside the coonhounds, it was evident that Elmahadbeen sending her to snoop.
Elma shrugged Owen’s question aside. “Hester likes when I send her to wander around the valley. Gives her a reason to part company with me for a spell.”
“I’m sure she does enjoy an occasional break from your oh-so-pleasant disposition at times, but Hester’s a paid companion, Aunt Elma, not a spy,” Owen pointed out.
“Companions make excellent spies, my boy,” Elma said with a knowing nod. “No one ever takes notice of them, but don’t you fret I overtax her. I have other sources to glean interestin’ tidbits, one of them sources bein’ the ice-wagon driver, Howie Mitchell. He’s the one that done told me about you fixin’ to get hitched to Miss Peedmont.”
Owen ran a hand over his jaw. “It’s Miss CamillaPierpont, and I fear I’ve set aside all semblance of manners because I’ve just realized I’ve yet to introduce the two of you properly.”
“That’s sure ’nough easily fixed.” Elma nodded to Camilla. “I’m Elma McColloch, widow of Seth McColloch, a no-good, lying dog if there ever was one, and the reason the whole family gets to say their piece a’fore any vows are exchanged.” She leaned closer to Camilla. “Seth done got himself blown up makin’ moonshine ’bout thirty years past. You don’t have a love of the bottle, do you, Miss Pierpont?”
“I have an occasional glass of wine or champagne,” Camilla admitted.
“Long as it’s not the whole bottle, that’s acceptable,” Elma said. “I myself am known to enjoy a titch of dandelion wine every now and again, but only on special occasions, mind you.” Elma dusted her hands together. “Now that all them manners have been taken care of, I say let’s get back to business.” She took hold of Owen’s arm. “Help me into the house because there ain’t no sense in jabberin’ away out here in the sun. Since you haven’t seen fit to get me one of them fancy wheeled chairs I heard tell you got for Nems, my bad hip is painin’ me more than usual and walkin’ any distance is a chore.”
“I got Nems a wheeled chair because he’s missing a leg and his crutches chafe his underarms if he uses them too often,” Owen said.
“It’s a sad day when you cater more to a man in his prime over your old auntie” was all Elma said to that before she tugged him into motion, moving remarkably fast for a lady who claimed to suffer from a bad hip.
“I feel as if we’ve landed in an alien world,” Mr. Timken muttered as he climbed off the wagon seat, then assisted Hester Baker over the side of the wagon. He then introduced Hester to Camilla before offering each of them an arm.
“May I assume you suffered no ill effects from Elma brandishing that rifle in your direction?” Camilla asked as they headed for the house.
“I can’t claim I wasn’t taken aback,” Mr. Timken began. “However, Miss Baker, who possesses a very sensible nature, realized straightaway that I wasn’t a thief. After I explained who I was, she then used my position as your butler to get Elma to lower her weapon.”
Camilla’s gaze shifted to Hester. “How did you do that?”
“I simply mentioned that butlers were known, at least from what I’ve read in books, to be in possession of titillating tidbits about their employers.” Hester smiled. “Elma forgot all about shooting Mr. Timken because, after Howie told her about the gossipswirling around over you and Owen, Elma decided we needed to have a chat with Beulah lickety-split. Beulah, of course, wasn’t at her cabin, but then we heard a rifle shot, which left Elma thinking her sister had gone over to the big house to do some target practice. Elma loves nothing more than shooting things, so off we went.”
“It was rather disconcerting the way Elma can switch from rifle-threatening woman to a sweet grandmotherly type,” Mr. Timken admitted as they walked across the portico and through a door that had been left open, Mr. Timken making a point to close it after they entered the house, shaking his head and muttering something about his nerves.
Camilla gave his arm a pat. “Since Charles and Leopold are now here to protect me after Father informed the Accounting Firm that I’d taken off for the wilds of West Virginia, you’re more than welcome to return to New York, which may spare the state of your nerves for the foreseeable future.”
“I’m not leaving you here with a bunch of rifle-toting women. Besides, I’m also your chaperone. I intend on continuing to act in that capacity until you return to New York.”
“You and Owen aren’t going to live here after you get married?” Hester asked.
Camilla was spared a response to that rather tricky question when she caught sight of Owen, who was in the process of having his hand pumped by a beaming Leopold, something that was leaving poor Owen looking yet again like a deer caught in the lantern lights.
“I think Owen might need some assistance,” she said before she excused herself and headed down the marble hallway.
“Ah, Camilla, there you are,” Leopold boomed as he released Owen’s hand and settled his smile on her. “Charles and I were just about to come looking for you. It certainly doesn’t speak highly of our guarding abilities that we’ve been sent to protect you and yet somehow misplaced you for a few minutes.”
She returned his smile. “I wasn’t misplaced, merely with Owen,which means I was perfectly fine. Frankly, I’m sure you’ll misplace me a few more times while we’re here since your attention seems to be focused on someone other than myself.”
“I was just remarking to Owen about how delightful I find his grandmother,” Leopold said, his smile turning brighter than ever.
Owen shuddered ever so slightly. “He told me Meemaw’s a fine figure of a woman and hopes I’ll put in a good word for him, and . . .You were right about the whole cozying up to my relatives you suggested he might be doing because when I introduced him to Aunt Elma, he kissed her hand.”
