The Innkeeper of Ivy Hill by Julie Klassen

Author:Julie Klassen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hotelkeepers—Fiction;Widows—Fiction;Christian fiction;Love stories;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027070
ISBN: 9781441230621
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2016-11-03T04:00:00+00:00

The next day, Jane walked down the High Street toward Prater’s Universal Stores and Post Office to mail a belated letter to Mr. Coine, thanking him for his help with the settlement and letting him know what she had decided to do with the funds. The Prater’s shop had served as post office for years, Ivy Hill being too small to support a separate building for the purpose. Jane recalled John coveting the role for The Bell, but he’d never made any headway with the deputy postmaster toward that end.

As she neared, Jane looked up at the storefront. Brooms and brushes were displayed in one bow window, baskets in the other. Painted in decorative lettering beneath the shop name were the words: Hardware, Fabrics, Housewares, Haberdashery. Jane had noticed the sign before, but looked closer to admire the fine lettering now that she knew Miss Morris had done it. Jane planned to ask her to repaint The Bell sign as well.

Ahead of her, a large man—the wheelwright, she believed—opened the shop door. Rachel Ashford appeared from the opposite direction at the same time, letter in hand. Jane nodded to her and together they followed the man into the shop.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but the conversation at the back counter silenced her. The ladies there must not have seen Jane and Rachel enter behind the broad man, because after a cursory glance at him striding toward the hardware section, Thora and Mrs. Prater went on with their discussion.

“You would never do such a thing, I trust, Mrs. Bell?”

“Do what?” Thora asked.

“Miss Ashford. Hosting a party—and her father not a month in his grave.”

Rachel stiffened and stepped behind a display of copper kettles and pots, shielding her from view. Jane followed suit.

“A party?” Thora asked.

“Yes, a dinner party. Mr. Holtman was just in, boasting of the big order he received for it. And the butcher, no doubt.”

Thora asked, “No big order for you, Mrs. Prater?”

Jane heard the wry note in Thora’s voice if Mrs. Prater did not.

“No. Not that we’d want to be a party to such a party. During deepest mourning yet. It just isn’t done.”

“No doubt she has her reasons.”

Jane glanced at Rachel, noticing her blush of embarrassment. Poor Rachel, Jane thought. At least Thora had not joined in the criticism.

Mrs. Prater finished measuring the coffee Thora had purchased. “Anything else, Mrs. Bell?”

Thora pointed to one of the glass candy jars. “Those lemon bonbons—are they popular with children?”

Mrs. Prater nodded. “Yes, though my grandchildren prefer taffies. But . . . you haven’t any grandchildren, have you, Mrs. Bell?”

Jane held her breath.

“You know I haven’t,” Thora coolly replied.

“My Lydia has three strapping boys, as you may recall. Such hearty appetites already. I do not covet her grocery bill! Thankfully her husband does well as a house agent. When I think how heartbroken she was all those years ago . . .”

Jane’s throat tightened. She felt Rachel’s gaze on her profile and feigned interest in a gleaming kettle.

“Yes, we

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