13. Ambrose
Ambrose
Sunday breakfast with my family was always the same.
Father sat at the head of the table, while Emiline sat to his right and Hattie to his left.
I took the chair beside my twin, and Mother’s place had been at the other end of the table next to me.
When Marigold still lived here, she’d filled in the seat across from me.
I used to flick pieces of food at her when I was a child, only to get scolded by Father.
But Mother always let me off easy, telling him I was only doing what children did best.
My eyes darted to my mother’s empty chair now. How I missed her.
I didn’t, however, miss Marigold. I was more than happy to see the vacant seat across from me, though if she were here, I’d be tempted to fling an orange slice at her like old times. For nostalgia’s sake.
No, I didn’t want to think about Marigold. Instead, I focused on Hattie yapping nearby and Father giving his “Mm-hm” responses as he ate his eggs and sausage.
“Oh, Em, I was wondering if I could wear that green dress for the Founders Day Festival after all,” Hattie said.
Emiline sighed. “We settled on pink already. I’m stretched thin as it is at the shop. We still need final fittings for everyone’s attire for the poetry salon in a couple weeks. You’re just going to have to stick with what you chose.”
“Oh, fine .”
“Pass the salt, dear,” Father muttered.
I watched as Emiline handed Father the salt, and my mind wandered to a few days ago at the tailor shop, when Zeth’s stomach had rumbled.
I thought about it every day, constantly wondering if he and Millie had enough food or blankets.
Probably not, if he was selling his mother’s dresser.
She’d had it for the entirety that she lived in the laundry.
The memories of that place were tucked safely in my mind.
Entering it once again had brought them all back.
Maybe it was the warmth I felt there, mixed with the permanent smell of soap.
But I didn’t feel warm knowing Zeth and Millie had nothing to survive on.
It was hard to stay angry at Zeth for long, even if he’d assumed the wrong things about me.
He seemed to forget he’d told me to stay out of his life the other day, because when we’d met in the tailor shop, he’d sucked on my thumb as if it was another part of my body.
I recalled plenty of times where we’d done the same when we were younger, having made up after fighting with each other over something silly.
Kissing and making up after an argument was always the best…
My stomach fluttered at the thought, and I smiled as I shifted my eggs around with my fork.
“What’s so funny over there, Amby?” Emiline asked.
I met her curious eyes. “Oh, um, nothing.” I quickly took a bite of eggs from my plate. I wasn’t hungry, but I forced it down.
“Ambrose,” Father’s firm voice carried over the table. “You’ll begin training for the new position at the bank in a week. Are you preparing for it?”
I stiffened, and his mustache twitched. Father wanted me to begin working my way up to owning the bank one day. I didn’t want to step up at all. Perhaps I could stall…
Clearing my throat, I placed my hands in my lap and rubbed my thumb hard. “I’m not so sure… that stepping into a higher position at the bank is the right decision for me… right now.”
My face burned, and I avoided meeting his gaze, as I was terrified of his expression.
But I couldn’t ignore the silence hanging in the air, nor the quiet clink of silverware on Hattie’s plate.
Each second that ticked by with no reaction from my father made the sweat build on my palms, and also had me deeply regretting what I’d said.
Then he made a noise. It was that distinct grunt of disapproval.
“May I remind you, Ambrose…”
Here it comes.
“That the bank is called Somerset and Sons for a reason, and you are my only son.”
I closed my eyes, hesitating before I said, “You have Marigold. She’s much better at leading the business than me.”
“She is not my son, though sometimes I wish she were.”
Something sharp punctured my heart deeply. I winced as I opened my eyes and stared at my half-eaten eggs and sausage. “What does it matter if either of us is a man or a woman? She knows what she’s doing, and I don’t. You could simply change the name of the bank to suit all our family members.”
“And undo our family’s legacy?” He shook his head.
“You’ve been very distracted lately, Ambrose.
Perhaps instead of dallying around in that barn, you should be thinking more about your future.
” His voice was firm, and it instantly put me back in that dark place I always retreated to when I disappointed him.
“It may do you good if I have that barn torn down.”
“No!” I looked at him with some pathetic desperation in my voice.
“Father, you wouldn’t,” Emiline chimed in as my chest seized.
When he averted his gaze, so did I. Father had never said such a callous thing before. I willed myself to tell him what I really thought of his response, of the bank and his plan for me to continue the Somerset bloodline. But I couldn’t. I was too terrified of what might ensue.
Father rose from the table and fixed me with his sharp eyes. “You will begin training at the bank. And you will do your best to court Miss Winters. Do you understand?”
When I took too long to answer him, he gave an angry huff and strolled out of the room. His footsteps echoed along the hall.
I blinked, stunned. I had actually…
“You made Father mad!” Hattie said, right as the front door slammed so hard, it rattled our tableware.
“He’s mad at himself, he just doesn’t know that yet,” Emiline replied, grabbing my arm. “Are you alright, Amby? I’m glad you didn’t give in to him.”
The muscles in my body tensed as I let out a ragged breath. “I’m fine. I’m sorry you both had to witness that.”
Emiline got up and hugged me awkwardly as I sat in the chair. My twin’s warm embrace felt nice, but it couldn’t chase away how much of a disappointment I was. “It’s going to be alright, Amby. Father won’t destroy the barn. He doesn’t have it in him to do such a thing.”
“Right.” I pulled away to see her smiling sadly. When I looked over at Hattie, her face was creased in concern as well. “I’m fine. Really.” I smiled at them both. “You two continue to… discuss your dresses for Founders Day. I’ll be out for a while.” I got up from my seat.
“You’ll need a suit too, Amby,” Hattie pointed out. “And also for the poetry salon.”
“I’ll let you pick one out for me.”
Hattie squealed with delight. She had good taste in clothes, and Emiline made them well.
Between the two of them, I didn’t have to worry about the latest trending fashions.
Not that I cared. I was much more comfortable in simple trousers and a shirt.
Working outside with my hands, listening to the sounds of nature while I chopped and hammered and carved…
Yes, I needed to get outside.
I kissed my sisters and left the house, heading straight for the barn.
It sat at the far edge of our land, so the exercise gave me time to think through the last few minutes, and days, and weeks.
Years . Father was adamant about me settling down, making a family, and taking over the bank, but I didn’t want the bank, or a wife.
I only wanted to make furniture, to carve it and stain it and sell it, to make my living that way.
My father was threatening the one thing that made me happy. I had to hope Emiline was right, and he wouldn’t destroy the barn that had become my safe haven.
If I had things my way, I’d have a house of my own that wasn’t so grand.
I’d be happy marrying someone like Zeth.
Despite our backgrounds, him a poor boy and me a rich snot, we were alike in many ways.
We fit together, like whipped cream and strawberries.
Or perhaps coffee and cream. Did Zeth like coffee? Or strawberries?
Despite Zeth’s mistrust, he seemed to care about me, and I had an urge to take care of him as well.
I wanted to give him a home where he could loaf around after a hard day’s work without his belly rumbling for food.
We could eat supper together every night and relax in our rocking chairs on the porch to talk about our day.
Just like how we used to look up through the loft door in the barn and count as many stars as we could.
Back then, we’d lay for hours together, kissing, talking, sometimes dozing off until dark.
But dreaming about those things would get me nowhere.
It was childish to desire such things when the reality of truth hit me right in the face.
And the reality was that Zeth needed Annabelle.
He needed some sense of belonging and security, that much was evident, and I couldn’t give him any of that.
He’d told me to get out of his life. I was ruining his plans.
And myself? My father was going to push me until I broke and gave in. There was no room for happiness.
Thinking about it all made me ache. Eager to shift my thoughts elsewhere, I came to the barn and opened the doors of my sanctuary.
I immediately got to work on the chair with the large crack down its leg.
I planned to replace the leg with another one and worked on sanding the new piece.
After that, I wanted to detail the back of the chair with delicate ivy leaves.
Getting the chair put together was part of the fun, but carving the designs brought me the most peace.
Maybe an hour went by in silent focus, sawdust and spiral wood shavings my only company, before I heard the clipped sounds of horse’s hooves approaching.
I paused and wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my arm, then stood to see who was riding.
My sisters always walked to the barn, and surely my father wasn’t coming over to apologize.