The Mail-Order Brides by Bronwyn Williams

Author:Bronwyn Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Mattie’s beau has come calling,” Lula announced, rousing Dora from a deep, dreamless sleep. She felt as if she had been miles underwater and someone had just dragged her bodily to the surface.

“’S too early,” she mumbled.

“It’s nearly noon,” Lula observed. “Your dog wants her breakfast and Mattie says you’re nearly out of flour.”

“Mmm. Gimme minute.” So I can clear my head, prop open my eyes and take care of a few other essentials.

Merciful heavens, had it all been a dream? Was she actually considering opening a boardinghouse? That had been only one of the ideas they had discussed. Someone had mentioned a bakery, then Lula had jokingly proposed starting a laundry. “From what I’ve observed so far, most of the men would benefit greatly.”

“I doubt if they’d find it worth the bother. And knowing what I do now what doing a single load of laundry entails, I can’t say that I blame them.”

They were still trying to make up their minds whether to open a bakery or a boardinghouse. And while she wasn’t about to rush into anything, sooner or later they would have to decide. Mouse couldn’t be expected to supply them with meals forever.

In the clear bright light of a new day, neither plan seemed quite so practical. At first Dora had first pounced on the boardinghouse notion as the perfect solution. Whenever a bride came, there was always the awkward business of bringing in a bed, a cumbersome procedure at best. Even a small boardinghouse would simplify things greatly.

“Where’s Mattie?” Lula was looking somewhat better today, although her eyes were still shadowed.

“She and James went for a walk.” Seen through the window, Mattie’s new hairstyle looked even more precarious than it had yesterday. She also looked as if a smile would crack her face wide-open, but then, so did James Calvin.

“What do you think?” she asked Lula, tying her wrapper around her more securely. The thing she missed most of all at this moment was the huge porcelain bathtub her father had had installed just last winter. A galvanized washtub dragged into the kitchen and filled with water heated in a kettle just wasn’t the same when it came to soaking away one’s worries. “Any sign of a spark between them yet?”

Lula’s reply was a clear indication of her opinion of romance. “Hardly. Can the man even talk? I swear I’ve not heard him speak more than three words. Even poor Clarence, as shy as he is, had something to say about the new tariffs and how they might affect the shipping trade. So no, to answer your question, I’d say theirs is hardly a match made in heaven.”

Dora shrugged, got up from the table and began rummaging through the icebox to see if there was anything left over from the day before worth eating. “Yes, well—it was made right here on St. Brides Island, by St. Bride, himself. That’s supposed to be even better.”

Lula sent her a speculative look. “Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Better. I’m assuming he made your match.

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