Page 38 of Beyond Montana's Sky
Aunt Agatha swayed a bit, and then straightened her shoulders, grabbed Oscar’s arm before he could offer his elbow, and marched her son over. The other two trailed behind.
Here we go.Edith scanned the faces of her relatives.
Aunt Agatha, Atticus, and Hermione hadn’t changed much in the five years they’d been parted, although both Atticus and Oscar sported small paunches. She wrinkled her nose. All four had the classic Livingston looks—tall and handsome with lambent brown eyes and sable hair.
Thank goodness Livingstons breed true, Aunt Agatha told Edith more than once.Fewer people will question your mother’s linage, ratherlackof lineage that way.
The thought made Edith lift her chin to a haughty angle, before she leaned to kiss her aunt on the cheek. “Aunt Agatha, welcome to Sweetwater Springs.”
The older woman sniffed. “What an interminable journey. My bones are aching.”
“We’ll have you home and comfortable in no time.” Edith kept her tone warm. “I remember how difficult the trip out was.”
Aunt Agatha gave her a gimlet-eyed stare, scrutinizing Edith’s face.
That gaze had never boded well. Edith braced herself.
“Well, at least you haven’t lost your looks.” Agatha sniffed again. “We should be able to find you a suitable husband in Boston in no time at all.”
That sniff! I sound like her when I make it.Then and there, she resolved to never do so again.
Edith glanced at Ben. She hadn’t mentioned the possibility of remarrying to him and wasn’t sure how he’d feel. For that matter, she hadn’t mentioned the possibility toanyonebut her brother. But, luckily, Ben was busy greeting Hermione and hadn’t heard.
Oscar leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Cousin,” he said, his tone curiously flat. “As beautiful as ever.”
Luckily, since she didn’t know how to respond to the awkward compliment, Atticus nudged Oscar out of the way.
Her uncle pinched Edith’s cheeks as if she were still five years old. “Still the beauty of the family, I see,” he said in jovial tone. “I told Agatha you wouldn’t have lost your looks in this primitive place.” He moved on to Caleb.
Hermione stiffened. Her eyes narrowed, and she flashed Edith a glance of dislike, before producing a thin smile. The two women exchanged stilted greetings, and Edith wondered why her cousin bothered to come.Aunt Agatha probably compelled her.She almost felt sorry for her cousin.Almost.
Her son, at least, received a different greeting from Agatha, who placed her hands on his shoulders. “Look at you, Ben Livingston Grayson, all grown up and handsome. A Livingston through and through.”
I probably should warn him to expect that a lot in Boston.
Red crept into her son’s cheeks. “A pleasure to see you again, Aunt Agatha.”
Edith’s pride soared at his manners.
“I’m so glad your mother is finally bringing you home where you belong.” Aunt Agatha pushed past Edith to greet her nephew. “Caleb, let me look at you, my dear boy.”
Caleb kissed her cheek. “Welcome, Aunt Agatha. Let me introduce you to my betrothed. Magdalena Baxter.
“It’s about time you married, Caleb.” Aunt Agatha held out a hand to Maggie. “Oh, my. Suchexoticlooks. Well, thank goodness, Livingstons breed true.”
If the remark had been addressed to anyone but her dear Maggie, Edith would have laughed, hearing the echo of her memories of Aunt Agatha spoken aloud. Before she could enter the fray, her brother took control.
Against propriety, Caleb slipped his arm around Maggie’s waist and gazed lovingly down at his betrothed. “My fervent hope is our children will look like their mother.” He glanced at Aunt Agatha, his eyes dark with warning.
Agatha opened her mouth to speak, but after another look at Caleb’s stern expression, she wisely fell silent.
Atticus, as he had many times in the past, blundered his way to their rescue. “The Livingston blood line could use some variety—someexoticvariety.” He leaned to kiss Maggie on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, my dear Magdalena.” He raised his eyebrows at Agatha. “Such as it is.”
Edith suppressed a chuckle.
Aunt Agatha fluttered a hand. “Well, Caleb, don’t leave us standing here in the cold.” She glanced disapprovingly at some of the old men on the depot bench. “For all the riffraff to see and remark upon. Livingstons—” she said in a haughty tone “—don’t make themselves the center of gossip.”
“Too late,” Edith said with mock cheerfulness and took her aunt’s arm to help her down the steps of the train platform. “This is a small town. If you live here, you’re gossiped about.” She shot Caleb a mischievous look. “The banker and hotel owner—” she indicated the nearby hotel with a wave of her hand “—is always the center of gossip, especially with the approaching wedding.”
