Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Caleb had just started on Miss Finch’s interview when another woman entered the office. Margaret stood so fast she almost knocked her chair over. “Good afternoon,” she gushed, hurrying over to the woman. “How may we help you?”
Caleb took in her auburn hair, green eyes, and outfit. Her coat was old. He could tell by the wear on the sleeves. But her hat was nice, and her gloves didn’t look nearly as worn as the coat.
“Yes, I…” the woman hedged. “I’ve come to find a husband.”
“You came to the right place, dear,” Margaret said. “Now, come with me and we’ll get you all fixed up. I’m Margaret Merriweather, and those are my sisters, Augusta and Josie.” She nodded at them. “And that’s Ivy at the back table there, and this is Caleb.” She gave him a nod as well.
Caleb did his best to give the newcomer a warm smile.
He was beginning to see why his and Ivy’s idea of preparing brides to meet their husbands was such a good one.
Miss Finch needed help with her expectations, or she was going to be sadly disappointed.
He already knew Elizabeth Jepsen was doing all she could to get herself and her young brother Thomas prepared.
He had to admit, his chest swelled at the thought of helping these women. But he hadn’t done much to solve his own challenge of getting a bride. Should he consider Miss Finch and the auburn-haired woman prospects?
Caleb glanced at Miss Finch’s list and cringed. Maybe he could interview the newcomer, and Ivy could take over dealing with Miss Finch…
“Your name, dear?” Margaret asked.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” the young woman said. “I’m Eliza Hale.” She went to the desk Margaret directed her to and took a seat.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eliza. Let’s get to know you.” Margaret pulled out an intake form and started asking all the standard questions. Age, twenty-one, he learned, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Mr. Hartwell,” Miss Finch huffed. “Are you listening to me?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” He smiled and glanced at the letter they’d received yesterday from a new groom before setting it aside. “Miss Finch, is this all there is for your, um, list?”
She smiled. “You mean you want me to list more?”
“No. I want to know if you have any other expectations that are going to disappoint you.”
She gasped. “Mr. Hartwell! I’m surprised at you. I thought your job was to find me a husband.”
“It is. But you’re going to have a hard time finding one with everything on this list. There’s no guarantee we’ll have someone acceptable. Unless, of course, you change your expectations.”
Miss Finch fidgeted in her chair. “Lower them, you mean?”
“Think of it more like readjusting.” Caleb fought against a sigh. “Have you thought of your groom’s expectations for a wife?”
“What? Men want a woman who can cook, clean, sew, and bear children. I’m perfectly capable…” She snapped her mouth shut. “I’m sure I can bear children. How hard can it be?”
He tried not to smile. “But you can’t cook, clean, or sew?”
“That’s what servants are for,” she huffed, pointing at the list. “It says so right there.”
“Most men of means don’t write to us asking for a mail-order bride.
The men sending us applications are usually in towns bereft of women.
They’re loggers, tradesmen, fur trappers, ranchers…
” He stopped and glanced at the auburn-haired woman with Margaret.
“Simple cowboys.” He looked back at Miss Finch.
“Maybe they have challenges or circumstances that aren’t ideal, but they send for a bride anyway. ”
“What? You mean I could wind up with a man who won’t suit me?”
“We’ll have you write a few letters to prospective grooms. If you both feel you could be compatible, the gentleman sends train and stage fare, and off you go.”
Miss Finch gaped at him. “Oh, goodness.” She fanned herself. “I didn’t realize what a risky business this is.”
“Indeed, for both the bride and the groom. What if the only man we can find for you doesn’t have servants or a cook, and has a child or two?”
“Children!” she squeaked.
Caleb fought the urge to look over his shoulder at Ivy and Teddy, seated at the table behind him. Augusta thought he should be the one to interview Miss Finch, seeing as he could best talk some sense into her when it came to her list. “Yes, children.”
“I don’t want children!”
“But you just said…”
“Never mind what I just said.” She stood. “I’m, well, I’m…” She turned and headed for the door. “I’ve made a mistake…”
Caleb calmly stood. “What about your aunt and her beau?”
Miss Finch stopped short. “Oh, blast it all!” She stomped her foot. “Blast! Blast, blast!” She let out a wail, took out her handkerchief, and blew her nose. Loudly.
All eyes were on her now. Ivy left the back table and made her way to Miss Finch.
“What did you say to her?” she whispered to Caleb.
“All I did was bring up children…”
She shook her head. “Mr. Rowan is a better fit for Teddy. I thought we already agreed on that.”
“I wasn’t inferring Mr. Rowan for Miss Finch.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”
“Are you sure?” Ivy asked as Miss Finch blew her nose again, this time loud enough to make George bark from his confinement in the kitchen. “Oh goodness,” Ivy said. “I’ll calm down the dog.”
“Maybe you should have brought King Alfred,” Caleb said. “It’s hard for a woman to get hysterical while holding a cuddly bunny.”
Ivy smiled, and the sight warmed his chest. “I’m beginning to believe that’s true. I’ll be sure to bring him tomorrow.”
Miss Finch turned around. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t find a husband who matches everything on my list!”
Caleb gave Ivy a pat on the shoulder and went to deal with the woman. “Miss Finch, do sit down and we’ll discuss it.” He caught Augusta watching the exchange. She didn’t say a word, and thank goodness there was no disapproval in her eyes.
He did his best to console Miss Finch, but it wasn’t easy.
The young woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He was going to have to get her to compromise on that list, or she was going to be sorely disappointed when she finally met her groom.
Either that, or she’d reject every man presented to her.
Egad, they could wind up stuck with her for months!
But Miss Finch didn’t have months. What she did have was outrageous expectations.
She was just more polite about them than Miss Hogspeth.
By the time she left, still not satisfied, Caleb was exhausted. And hungry. It was lunchtime.
Eliza Hale had also left. When Caleb didn’t know. He’d been too busy trying to get Miss Finch to be halfway reasonable.
“Was she that bad?” Ivy asked, sympathy in her eyes.
“Worse.” He glanced at the sisters. Augusta was still at her desk.
Josie was at the filing cabinet, and Margaret was nowhere to be found.
In the short time he’d been there, he’d surmised Margaret did most of the cooking for the three and was probably upstairs in their apartment preparing something for the noon meal.
He turned to Ivy. “I want to speak with you about Miss Finch over lunch. Would you join me?”
She smiled. “That bad, huh?”
“Far worse. I’m beginning to think Miss Finch could give Miss Hogspeth a run for her money.”
“Oh, goodness,” Ivy said. “That is bad.”
“You’d better bring a notebook and a pencil. She just won’t budge on that list of hers.” He leaned against the table. “I think she’s afraid of something, but I can’t put my finger on what.”
“She’s probably afraid of the whole thing,” Ivy said. “She wasn’t expecting to be displaced. Her list could be her way of avoiding becoming a mail-order bride.”
Caleb hadn’t thought of that. “You might be right.” He smiled, then crossed the room to Augusta. “Ivy is going to help me with Miss Finch.”
Augusta looked up from the letter she was reading. “That’s wonderful. I’m sorry she turned out to be so difficult.”
“Ivy has some insights, and we’re going to discuss things over lunch. I’m starving.”
Augusta’s eyes flicked to Ivy and back. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “Brook’s Café up the street, or someplace similar. Did you want us to get you something?”
“No. Margaret is making sandwiches and soup.” Her gaze darted to Ivy again. “Very well. See what the two of you can come up with for Miss Finch. I’m afraid if she doesn’t yield, we can’t help her.”
“Exactly. Which is why I want Ivy’s help. The sooner we convince her that list will do her more harm than good, the sooner we can find her a husband.”
He thought of Teddy staying with Ivy. Miss Finch could find herself in a horrible predicament if she wasn’t careful. Ivy already had one houseguest. She couldn’t very well take on another.
Caleb helped Ivy on with her coat, shrugged into his own, and they were off. It wasn’t until they got outside that he realized Augusta hadn’t said a word about the two of them having lunch together. He glanced at Ivy as they headed up the street, wondering if she’d noticed too.
“What is it?” she asked, her head swiveling toward him.
“Nothing.” He decided to keep his thoughts to himself. “Do you remember everything on Miss Finch’s list?”
“Most of it. Do you have the list with you?”
“No. She took it with her, but I jotted most of it down.” He watched a few people pass them by. “Do you really think she’s using it as an excuse?”
“It would make sense,” Ivy said. “She can go home and tell her aunt we couldn’t find a suitable husband. Then add that she’ll just have to go to New York with them. Maybe she can find a husband there.”
“There could be a reason her aunt and her fiancé don’t want Miss Finch going to New York with them.”
Ivy made a face. “You’re right. Did she come across as nervous to you?”
“She did fidget. But there was no wringing of hands or twitching around her eyes.” He gave her a bemused smile. “Are you suggesting something else might be going on?”
“One never knows.” Ivy sighed, looking as frustrated as he felt. “This might turn out to be harder than we thought.”
“I know, but I hope not.” When they reached Brook’s Café, he opened the door for her and they went inside. They took a corner table near the back and settled in.
The waitress came, got them drinks, took their orders, and they got to work. Caleb pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table. “Here it is, the list. Miss Finch can’t cook. I doubt she can sew either. And as for cleaning…”
“She’d rather die?” Ivy supplied.
“Nothing so drastic, but one never knows.” He sipped his coffee. “Why she doesn’t say so is beyond me. I’m sure she’s not the first woman to come to the sisters who hasn’t worked a day in her life. Rare, perhaps, but not unheard of.”
“I’m sure you’re right. And it’s nothing a few cooking lessons can’t remedy.” Ivy studied the list. “She wants quiet. Peace. Maybe her home life has been anything but. She could be looking for a place to…” She hesitated. “Heal?”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “You know, you’re really good at this.”
“Thank you.” She smiled back. “If I were to become a mail-order bride, I’d put a great deal of thought into it. I’d want to hone some of my skills before marrying a stranger. Assuming I had the courage to do it in the first place.” She met his gaze. “It must be terrifying for some of these women.”
He thought of Elizabeth Jepsen and her young brother Thomas.
He found himself wanting to ease their fears.
As hard as it was for a woman to marry a stranger, how much harder must it be for a child involved?
Would Thomas worry he wasn’t wanted by his sister’s groom?
Would the man treat him kindly? There were so many “what ifs.”
Caleb’s thoughts drifted to his own predicament.
He needed to marry to inherit. Of the brides who’d come through the office since he’d started working there, could he choose among them?
If that was all there was to choose from, could he truly decide who would suit him based on a few pages of information? What a gamble.
But his situation wasn’t born of loneliness or desperation.
It was circumstance. His aunt required him to be respectably married before he saw a dime.
And then what? Sell the estate, take the money, and return to the life of a simple cowboy?
That wouldn’t work. Any woman he married would take one look at the estate and want to live there. And then there was the money.
No, he was going to have to make some serious decisions before he married. Could he live in Chicago? Did he want to start a ranch of his own somewhere else?
“You look deep in thought,” Ivy said from across the table.
He looked up, realizing he’d been staring at the tabletop. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Other than Miss Finch’s list?” she teased.
“Yes, thank goodness.” He smiled just as their food arrived and turned his attention to eating.
He didn’t want to explain himself to Ivy.
She’d ask too many questions. So he ate, asked for her thoughts on Miss Finch, and reminded himself, every time he found himself admiring the deep blue of her eyes, that they were coworkers, and nothing more.