Mail Order Mix-Up

“Good evening, ladies.”

He headed for Pearl, but Fiona glided down the wide steps to meet him first, all smiles and chatter. Pearl, Amanda and Louise had to trail behind Roland and the talkative redhead, taking care not to snag a hem on the rough wooden boardwalk.

Pearl lifted her brown gingham skirts a couple inches and placed each sturdy boot in the middle of the board. Unlike the wharves, the boards had been laid lengthwise on occasional crosswise planks. Though sand crested onto the boards in some places, in other areas the long boards drooped above the sand, creating an unsteady platform.

Amanda stepped off the edge and teetered precariously before Pearl reeled her back in.

“This is as unstable as the ship,” Louise commented in that soft voice of hers.

That had to be the most Louise Smythe had said since Pearl met her. The woman did have the sense not to drag a book with her tonight, but she, like Pearl, had not worn her Sunday best. That gave Amanda the advantage, especially if Fiona continued to claim Roland’s attention.

At present, Amanda’s face blazed, either from the late-afternoon heat rising off the sand or from embarrassment. Either way, she needed to regain control before they met Garrett Decker. Louise’s comment had been meant kindly, but lately Amanda took everything in the worst way.

Pearl sighed and wrapped her arm around Amanda’s. “It’s better than walking in the sand. Think how that would get in your shoes.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Pearl eyed the redhead, who now clung to Roland’s arm and leaned closer by the minute. Her laughter and vivaciousness rubbed Pearl the wrong way. The fact that he looked her way repeatedly poured vinegar into the wound.

“They’re not right for each other,” Amanda whispered as she picked her way along the boardwalk.

“I don’t know who you mean.”

“Fiona and Roland.”

Though seeing Roland and Fiona in close conversation hurt more than it should, Pearl focused on what was more important. “All that matters is what you think of Garrett.”

Amanda trembled. “I’m afraid.”

“That’s natural, but remember that this is only a first meeting. It’s your opportunity to determine if he is the sort of man you might consider marrying.” She squeezed Amanda’s hand to reassure her. “You can always decide not to marry.”

Amanda’s lip quivered. “What will I do then?”

That was the question. This town did not appear to have more than a couple of saloons, the hotel, the store and the boardinghouse in the way of businesses. The first would gladly hire a woman of Amanda’s beauty, but Pearl would starve before she let her friend work in a drinking establishment. The hotel and boardinghouse were better prospects, but Pearl hated to think of lovely Amanda as a maid. That left the store, which would give Amanda ample time with the Decker brothers.

Perhaps too much time. What if Amanda fell for Roland? She had been drawn to him aboard the Milwaukee. No. There must be another solution. Amanda was good with the needle.

Pearl latched onto that. “I’ll ask Mrs. Calloway if she knows of anyone who might need sewing or fancywork.”

Amanda brightened. “I’m sure there would be, unless there’s already a seamstress in town.”

Pearl recalled that only one elderly couple had disembarked here. She’d seen no other women aside from Mrs. Calloway. “I doubt there is.”

Roland led them to a two-story building on the wharves leading to the large sawmill. Pearl expected him to walk in the front door, but he led Fiona up a rickety outside staircase leading to the second story. He waited on the landing at the top for the other three to climb.

“Here we are, ladies. Our humble home.” He flung open the door and motioned all of them inside ahead of him.

Fiona entered first, followed by Louise. Pearl waited for Amanda to enter. She felt a hand to her elbow.

“Don’t let my brother’s gruffness fool you,” he said in a low voice. “He has a good heart.”

Her heart sank. Amanda would not bear up under a gruff man. One scowl and she’d start edging for the door.

“Thanks for the warning,” she murmured before stepping through the door.

The interior was dimly lit, and one could hear a pin drop. The three ladies all stared to Pearl’s right. She followed their gaze, and her jaw dropped. The advertisement had omitted one key detail. Garrett Decker had children.

Chapter Five (#ulink_d74291c6-220c-5d7d-aab2-86f4f0086c42)

That was not the only discrepancy in the advertisement. It took Pearl mere seconds to ascertain that Garrett Decker was not wealthy. The rooms were furnished with the barest necessities. Two rather faded stuffed chairs faced the woodstove. A rude bench sat just inside the door, and pegs held jackets and coats and hats. The only fine piece of furniture was a walnut sideboard, but it needed a good polishing. Across the room an unvarnished table was surrounded by six mismatched chairs. That left them two short by her calculations. No curtains or paintings or the slightest hint of a woman’s touch.

Yet before them stood a boy and a girl, both quite young, six or seven she would guess. When had they lost their mother? Her heart tugged her nearer.

“What sweet children.”

They eyed her solemnly and silently. Their father pulled them close.

Gruff was not the word she would use to describe Garrett Decker. Stony. Unyielding. Clearly not pleased to find four women invading his home. He seemed even less pleased that she had approached his children, almost as if he feared she would take them away.

Roland swooped between Pearl and the children. “Miss Lawson is going to be your new teacher this year.” He then shot his brother a glare.

Pearl wondered what that was about, but she was more curious about the children. Their expressions did not change, though they assessed her from head to toe. Not one word or even a sound. They must be shy.

Roland motioned to the boy. “This is Isaac.” He pushed the boy forward a step. “And this is Sadie.”

Pearl dropped to one knee so she would be at eye level. “Isaac, I’m pleased to meet you. What grade will you be in?”

The boy didn’t answer.

“He finished one year,” Garrett said with a defensive snarl.

She turned to the girl, who looked younger. “Have you begun school yet, Sadie?”

She stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Pearl smiled. “I like your doll.”

The rag doll had seen better days. A button eye was missing, half the yarn hair was gone and it hadn’t seen the wash in a long time.

“I had one like that when I—” Pearl halted. They did not need to know she grew up in an orphanage or that she, too, had refused to let anyone touch her Dollie. That rag doll had been her last connection to her parents. She’d clung to it as if that would bring her mama and papa back. Sadie must have suffered similar loss. “I loved my Dollie. Does yours have a name?”

Sadie just looked back with solemn eyes.

Pearl rose, having made no progress. School would be difficult for Isaac and Sadie if they refused to talk.

“She calls it Baby,” Garrett mumbled, his color high.

“Pearl—Miss Lawson—is not here in response to the advertisement,” Roland needlessly pointed out.