Page 14 of A Late-Blooming Rose
Today, though, by unspoken agreement, they lingered, taking comfort from each other’s presence. Sometimes, they engaged in desultory conversation and at other times sat in silence.
A slam of the front door and the galumphing of shoes heralded his grandson.
The two exchanged puzzled glances.
Delia’s brow wrinkled. “I hope nothing’s wrong.” She rose.
Andre’s stomach clenched.
“Maman?Grand-père?” Micah called.
“In here,” Delia raised her voice to be heard.
A quick glance assured Andre the boy was fine.
“What are you doing home, young man?” Delia asked with unusual sternness. “You’re supposed to be in school. Does Mrs. Gordon know you’re here?”
“Yes, ma’am. I asked her if during lunch recess I could go to the train station to see if there was mail. She said if there was, I could take the letter home and come right back.”
At least the boy’s appearance hadn’t heralded bad news about the robbers and the posse. “Why did you want to do that now instead of after school?” Andre asked, curious.
Micah scrunched his shoulders. “I heard the train whistle, and I just had a feeling, that’s all.”
“A feeling….” Andre drew out the word. “Well, I’ve had a feeling a time or two, so I understand.”
Delia moved closer and touched Micah’s face. “Did you eat first?”
“No,Maman.”
“Then sit for a few minutes. Cook can rustle up a sandwich for you to eat on your walk back to school. Unless you want porridge again.”
“A sandwich.” Micah drew a letter from the pocket inside his jacket. “Here,Grand-père, a letter from New York. Your friend Marty’s granddaughter.” He handed the envelope to Andre before moving to his seat.
“Are you my secretary to know all my correspondents?” Andre demanded in a mock stern tone.
Micah tipped his head. “What’s a secretary?”
“Someone who helps organize a man’s business affairs.”
“Or a woman’s business affairs,” Delia added with a pointed glance at him.
Andre nodded his agreement. “Several women own businesses in town, and others run farms or even ranches. I don’t know of any secretaries in Sweetwater Springs, though they are common in New York.”
Micah puffed up his chest. “Since I’m the one to take the mail to the train station and bring back the mail, and I know what your friends’ handwriting looks like, thenyes. I’m your secretary.”
Andre choked out a laugh. “I suppose you’ll soon be asking for an increase in wages.”
Delia shook her head. “Papa, don’t encourage him,” she chided with a smile.
“Well,” Micah demanded. “I’m right about the letter, aren’t I?”
Andre glanced at the address.Not from Rose.Disappointment stabbed.Maybe Cora is responding for both of them.His hopes rose. “Yes, this is from Cora Collier.” He held the envelope a moment without opening it. He didn’t need more bad news. A refusal from Rose to come to Sweetwater Springs would deeply hurt. Using his knife as a letter opener, he took out the single piece of paper and began to read.
Dear Mr. Bellaire,
What a savior you are! Your letter to Aunt Rose appeared at just the right time, for I’d decided to leave New York for new adventures—nursing that is,notmatrimony. Aunt Rose wasn’t so enthusiastic about moving West, but I persuaded her to accept your invitation. We are in the midst of a flurry of shopping and packing and plan to arrive in Sweetwater Springs on October 1st.
I look forward to seeing you again and meeting your new family. Aunt Rose insists on living in lodgings. Somehow, we’ll have to persuade her to live in your house, which I think will be far more comfortable!
