Page 40 of A Late-Blooming Rose
Rose frowned at Andre’s disapproving tone—one unlike him.
“Papa.” Delia sent him a reproving glance. “Both Mrs. Grayson and Mr. Livingston have considerably softened since Maggie Baxter and her baby Charlotte came into their lives.”
“I know, daughter. I cannot like them, though….” Andre shook his head and raised a hand in a placating motion. “Enough said.”
Rose exchanged a puzzled glance with Cora, wondering what father and daughter disagreed on.
Delia looked at Cora and then leaned toward Rose, her eyes alight. “Our most prestigious guest will be Sophia Maxwell. She’s a well-known opera singer. You might have heard of her—the Songbird of Chicago?”
“Why, yes.” Cora clapped her hands together. “She’s supposed to be quite beautiful.”
“She is. Beautiful in face and form.” Andre’s tone was warm with admiration. “Such an incredible voice.”
A stab of jealousy went through Rose, and she had to scold herself away from such futile thinking.
“Sophia was ill a few months ago and is now recovered. Her sister Lily first came West to illustrate Montana’s wildflowers. She ended up settling down with Tyler Dunn, a widowed rancher with a young son. They now have a baby daughter.”
“You have to see Lily’s illustrations.” Delia practically bounced up from the sofa, her movements making her almost appear as young as her stepson. She hurried over to the bookshelves and selected a volume. “Here.” She carried the book to Rose. “Look at the chapter where I’ve placed a bookmark.”
In her interest in the book, Rose forgot her jealousy of Sophia Maxwell. She turned the volume to examine the title,Wildflowers of the United States. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “We have this in our library.”
She glanced up for a moment. “I meant, the library where Iworked. I’ve spent many happy hours studying the illustrations. How exciting that I’ll be able to meet her.” She opened the book to view the chapter on Montana and paged through some of the illustrations before closing the volume and leaning forward to hand it to Cora. “When there’s time during the day, and the light is better, I’ll spend time looking at each wildflower in Mrs. Dunn’s chapter. When the new library is built, we’ll have to display this somehow. Maybe a special shelf or a lectern somewhere—like a European library displaying an ancient manuscript.
Cora looked up from perusing the book. “So Sophia Maxwell is here visiting her sister?”
“Yes,” Delia replied. “She’s been here all summer and will remained to sing at Caleb and Maggie’s wedding.”
“And you think she and Mrs. Dunn will attend the tea party?”
Delia gave a decisive nod. “I’m sure of it. Papa has charmed them both. Those two are great favorites with him. Too bad the youngest Maxwell sister isn’t here.” She smiled at Cora. “Like you, Emma’s studying nursing. I don’t think she’s much older than you.”
“With the weather holding—” Andre shifted in his chair “—I’m sure we’ll have a trio of our most influential ladies, Pamela Carter, Elizabeth Sanders, and Samantha Thompson, attending church. Their ranches cluster together in the valley on the other side of a low mountain pass. Althoughclusteris such a poor descriptor when the ranches, especially the Carter and Thompson spreads, are rather vast, at least by East Coast standards.” He went on to add more details about the three women.
Too many people to remember.Rose’s thoughts tangled, and she stood. “I need to jot down this information. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out of the parlor and up the stairs to her bedroom. Once inside, she turned on the electric light and moved around her bed to open the wardrobe. On the bottom, she found her lap desk.
She hesitated before removing the sloped-top rosewood box, a gift from Andre on her twenty-second birthday. At the time, he’d predicted she’d use the desk on her travels, the hint being that she’d take those journeys with him. Pressing her lips against old pain, she pulled out the desk and carefully balanced it on one arm.
She ran a hand over the top, feeling the inlaid motif of roses in shades of gold, looking as bright as the day she’d unwrapped the box. She touched the small key set into the lock on the front. The desk had sat unused and practically forgotten in the bottom of her wardrobe, hidden from sight by the hems of her dresses and rediscovered after she’d taken out all her clothing prior to the move.
Shaking off the old memories and resentment the gift represented, she clutched the desk to her chest and left the bedroom.
Once downstairs, Rose took her seat, avoiding looking at Andre. Setting the desk on her lap, she turned the key and opened the top. Inside, a compartment held stationery. Two inkwells with fresh ink flanked a pen cove. She’d cleaned out and refilled them before leaving New York.
Removing a piece of stationery and one inkwell and the pen, Rose positioned the paper on the sloping surface. She unscrewed the top of the inkwell and set it to the side in a special groove for that purpose. Then in neat copperplate, she wrote down names and descriptions.
Rose paused her pen and a blot dripped off, blurring a word. She clenched her jaw and continued her list, focusing only on the women who might attend. At one point, she looked up, giving Delia a questioning glance. “You said something about a woman and her baby?”
“Aunt Rose, you look just like a student taking notes,” Cora teased. “You should have a slate and chalk.”
“Pen and ink are much more efficient for this matter,” Rose responded in a prim tone.
“Now you sound like a schoolmarm.”
Cora’s teasing made Rose’s cheeks heat. “Librarian,” she corrected. “Note taking is essential for the work.”I sound so staid and boring.
“Back to the discussion,” Joshua directed in a firm tone. “You were asking about Maggie Baxter, who is betrothed to Caleb Livingston. Their wedding is coming up soon. She has a baby—Charlotte….” He wrinkled his brow as if thinking. “Six or so months old. One of my first baptisms in Sweetwater Springs.”
Andre reached over to touch Rose’s arm. “Caleb and Maggie have quite a story. She was married to a most unpleasant fellow. Beat her, he did. On the drive here from Morgan’s Crossing, their wagon collided with Caleb’s buggy and went over the side of a mountain, killing the brute and sending Maggie into labor.”
