Chapter Four
Malika
Burning Scrub had an excellent chef. The dolmas were beyond delicious, as were the Greek salad and fresh bread, and the baklava served for dessert.
After they ate, Malika then followed the instructions for the dishwasher, which had been printed out and posted to its door.
She went to bed feeling quite accomplished for having completed the role of servant without any helpful pointers from Adeel as to where she’d fallen short.
She woke early. An excellent night’s sleep, combined with the wind lightly stirring the treetops outside her open window, meant her spirits were high when Pearl Lovett, the seamstress, arrived at the front door the next morning and introduced herself.
Pearl had a beautiful little girl and a red wagon in tow. The little girl, who Malika learned was her daughter, carried a wicker basket covered with checkered cloth. The red wagon hauled six thick bolts of fabric, several folded articles of clothing, and an array of dressmaker supplies.
While Pearl was attractive, and her daughter exceedingly so, their terrible sense of style did not do their looks justice.
Pearl’s simple blue bodice and matching flowered blue skirt had been cobbled together from plain cotton.
The skirt fell to her ankles. Her boots, usually a fashion item Malika adored, were hook-and-eye, heelless, and ugly.
Her daughter wore a rose-colored gingham dress that covered her knees but exposed boots like her mother’s, although hers were paired with terrible pink stockings. Matching aprons accentuated the horror.
This poorly styled woman was to be responsible for creating the bespoke clothing Adeel promised her? Malika didn’t think so.
“Thank you for coming,” she said politely, “but please inform your grand couturier that I prefer to deal directly with him.” She had words for him about how his representatives presented themselves, too.
Pearl Lovett laughed. “There is no grand couturier, I’m afraid.
I’m Burning Scrub’s costume designer. Town residents and guests dress in period clothing.
My dress and Linda’s are everyday work clothes, but we can come up with something better suited to you.
Women came West from all over the world and all stations of life.
” She scanned Malika with a professional eye.
“French fashion was very popular and pretty. Why don’t we start there? ”
Adeel’s death would be prolonged and painful.
And yet, the idea of wearing a period costume of French design was intriguing. The French were trés chic, no matter the era. She was also wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and they reeked of horse. Smell was almost as important as appearance.
She graciously stepped away from the door so the woman and child could enter.
Adeel descended the stairs as Pearl carried an armload of fabric into the lodge.
His attire was as atrocious as that of the costume designer, and it did not speak well of her skill.
Why must the checked wool fabric of his trousers be so poorly woven?
Why must they droop in the seat? There were some things about the past that should never be recreated.
“Welcome, Ali,” Pearl said to Adeel, her sunny smile warm.
“It’s so good to see you again. We’re so glad you could come to the wedding.
Linda, sweetheart,” she said to her daughter, “take Malika and Mister Ali’s breakfast into the kitchen while I get set up in the front room.
Malika, you might want to eat something before we get started. ”
Malika was hungry. She followed Linda into the kitchen. The fair-haired little girl struggled to lift the heavy basket onto the counter, so Malika relieved her of it. A quick peek under the cloth revealed fresh fruit, Greek yogurt, cubes of butter and cheese, and fresh rolls.
When she looked up, Linda was staring at her.
“You have weird eyes,” the little girl said.
She had many nieces and nephews, and children were refreshingly honest and free with their opinions. Since her unique, light-green eyes were a source of great pride, her feelings weren’t about to be hurt. “Weird in a good way or a bad way?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Of course it’s good. My eyes are the envy of my sisters, and my sisters are all very beautiful,” Malika informed her.
Linda’s dark blond eyebrows pinched together above her pert little nose. “You’re pretty too.”
The child was adorable. “Thank you. You’re very kind to say so.”
“Belle’s prettier, though,” Linda added.
The child was perhaps a shade more refreshing than adorable. “Who is Belle?”
Adeel poked his head into the kitchen and caught her question. “Belle is the bride.”
Malika processed the new information. So.
The bride was beautiful. Her family had money.
She didn’t see that Jayce had much cause to complain—assuming he was the groom.
Was he the groom? She hoped not, for the bride’s sake.
He lacked appropriate enthusiasm for the upcoming union, and it didn’t bode well for their household.
“I’m going to take a walk while you ladies are busy. Breakfast can wait until I return,” Adeel added.
Adeel could go for a stroll if he liked, but she’d had fittings before and this promised to be a very long morning for her, and she wasn’t going to starve herself. She swiped a roll and an orange from the basket.
“Would you like something to eat too?” she asked Linda, who selected an apple.
Once her stomach was appeased, Malika soon found herself standing on a squat stool, draped in fabric, and resembling a human pincushion.
She was becoming more curious about the woman who was more beautiful than she with each passing prick of a pin and longed for a distraction.
Linda was absorbed in a picture book while eating her apple, so she was no help.
“Tell me about the bride,” she said to the seamstress. “I know she’s the great-granddaughter of a very important man. And who is the groom? Why would they invite my brother to their wedding?”
“Belle is the town’s doctor,” Pearl said around a mouthful of pins. “The groom is Beau Jones.”
Beau Jones? The Beau Jones? Malika could no longer breathe, and not only because Pearl had her waist cinched too tight. “The country music singer? The one from Diss Cord?” She loved that show. She’d watched every season online with her sisters and nieces.
“That’s him,” Pearl said. She stuck another pin in the fabric, mercifully missing Malika’s delicate skin. “Ali is the reason Belle and Beau found each other. Beau came to Burning Scrub as part of your brother’s adventure. It seemed only right to invite him to their wedding.”
I love you, Adeel. He must have found out she was a fan and arranged this as a surprise to make up for her marriage to Eli Chamas. And discovering that the beautiful cowboy wasn’t the groom made her ridiculously happy for him, considering he was so dour.
“Weddings are a reason to celebrate,” she said. Unless, of course, one was to become a second wife. “Yet I got the impression that Jayce isn’t very happy about it.”
Linda glanced up from her book. “Jayce loves Belle.”
“Linda,” her mother said, frowning at her. “It’s not nice to talk about people.”
Malika and her sisters gossiped all the time, and Jayce being in love with the bride sounded very romantic and tragic, and exactly the type of gossip they adored. Except he had aging parents, and he couldn’t afford to be romantic and tragic forever.
“Jayce is an attractive man, and he owns land. Another woman equally suited to him will surely come along,” she said.
“Surely,” Pearl murmured, then bent her head over the hem of Malika’s new skirt and jammed pins into the fabric with alarming and dangerous speed.
“Beau says he’ll have a hard time finding a woman good enough for him because he’s too perfect,” Linda added, proving she might be a difficult child to silence, but she had excellent hearing and missed very little.
Was Jayce too perfect?
Malika was inclined to disagree with Beau Jones’s assessment. In American terms, the cowboy might be considered a catch, but in her opinion, something crucial was missing from him.
Pearl frowned at her daughter. “Beau likes to tease Jayce. He’s not always careful about who might be listening.”
Malika’s brain snapped its fingers. That was it.
The missing piece. Jayce lacked a sense of humor.
It explained why he was so bad at flirting.
Even if he did find another woman more suited for him, their household would be miserable if his attitude didn’t improve.
At least he had his wonderful mother to recommend him. She’d make an excellent mother-in-law.
If only he’d learn how to flirt and be fun.
Pearl jabbed a final pin into place and picked up a piece of chalk. She began marking the plackets on the bodice. “The women are having a bridal shower for Belle this evening. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like,” she said to Malika.
The seamstress’s desire to turn the conversation could not be more obvious. A bridal shower had possibilities, though. As Malika understood it, men were excluded, and she’d be free from Adeel’s supervision.
Except, if she managed to escape him this evening, she might not get to meet Beau Jones.
She straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t leaving until she met him. Then there was also the small problem of navigating the mountain at night. But this wouldn’t be a true adventure if there were no obstacles to overcome.
She could do this.
“A bridal shower sounds lovely, thank you. I’d love to join you.” She lifted her arms so that Pearl could remove the skirt she’d finished fitting and tried to keep excitement from spilling into her voice. “The nights here are so pretty. When is your next full moon?”
*
Jayce