Page 58 of Beyond Montana's Sky
Edith hugged her tighter. “We’re here to help, darling girl,” she said in a low voice for only her niece’s ears.
Like timid mice, the other two girls crept closer.
She didn’t remember them being shy, but they hadn’t seen her in so long. “Oh, goodness, Katie, Hetty, do you even remember me?” Bending her knees slightly, she held out her arms to them.
They rushed forward.
Feeling a swell of affection, Edith pressed kisses on their heads. “My darlings, it’s good to see you.” She straightened. “Do you two remember Ben?” She smiled at Annis. “Surely, you do?”
“Hello, Ben.” Annis gave him a shy smile. “I hope you don’t pull hair any more.”
Seeing her son’s chagrinned expression made Edith choke back a laugh. “Ben—” she half-chided, half-teased. “You didn’t.”
“Only when you wore braids.” He grinned at Annis and held up both hands in a surrender motion. “Never again, I promise.” He glanced at the younger girls. “Katie, you probably don’t remember me pulling your hair, but I’m sorry.”
The girl wrinkled her nose. “I remember you stealing my doll and sliding her down the banister until she crashed on the floor and broke her head.”
Edith winced, remembering the uproar Ben’s mischief had caused.
Ben gave Katie a sheepish grin. “Papa spanked me and made me use my own money to buy you a new one.”
Edith hadn’t been at all amused at the time. But now, she couldn’t help but smile. “Dreadful boy. I think that was the only time your father ever paddled you. Please tell me you didn’t pull Hetty’s braids, too.”
“I didn’t pull Hetty’s braids,” Ben parroted and winked at his youngest cousin. “You were too little, with your hair all soft and curly.”
Hetty giggled.
The girls gathered closer to Ben and began to chatter, sharing their memories. In the process of talking, they lost their unnatural stillness.
Seeing them smile, with their sadness lifting—at least for now—made Edith grateful for Ben’s charm, for the love this family needed. She looked over to see her in-laws watching their grandchildren with small smiles.
Julia dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief edged with black lace. “Oh, dear. So silly of me to be such a puddle.”
Tears welled in Edith’s eyes, and she blinked them away. “Not silly at all. We’re having a grand reunion, which is enough to make us cry, and we’re also grieving the loss of our dear husbands and—” she glanced at Ben and the girls “—their fathers.” She nodded at her in-laws. “Your sons.”
The sadness from all of them, even Henry who tried to appear stoic, settled like a heavy weight on Edith’s shoulders, making her aware of how needed she and Ben were to this family. Whether or not she wanted to live in this house, she couldn’t in good conscience think about moving, not even a few blocks away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
During the next few days, Edith looked forward to her aunt’s tea party, up until she was actually in the middle of the event. Sitting in the drawing room among many babbling ladies—some she remembered, some she didn’t, none of whom were friends—she wondered why she’d wasted her anticipation on something she should have known would be dreary.
Perhaps if my friends and Maggie were here, I’d feel differently.Not that she had many close female friends in Boston anymore, only one actually. Victoria Carson was unable to attend the tea party due to her doctor prescribing bed rest for a difficult pregnancy. She also missed the presence of a favorite great-aunt, who’d passed away two years ago, and a second cousin, who’d recently moved to New York with her husband and family.
Her best friend at the time of her debut died in childbirth four years later. Emily’s high spirits had enlivened any occasion, making even the dullest event fun, and Edith missed her still.
Except for her cousin Hermione, strangers surrounded Edith, although more of her relatives were sprinkled throughout the room.
She perched, straight-backed on a damask settee, with Hermione on the other end and one of her cousin’s friends in the middle—a hopeful barrier to any deliberate spilling of tea. Even with a body between them, she could smell Hermione’s heavy perfume.
Edith shot a quick glance at Hermione, who’dnotbeen pleased to see her cousin wearing the same shade of blue. She’d grudgingly introduced Edith to her friends, and then pointedly guided the conversation to topics such as the latest malicious gossip, which excluded her participation.
From now on, I should let Hermione know beforehand the color I’m wearing, so she can choose something different. Maybe wearing different colors will put her in a better mood.
The oval inlaid table in front of them held their teacups and saucers as well as plates of dainty sandwiches and delicate pastries. On the other side of the table, two more of her cousin’s friends sat in tufted chairs. Two of the three were young debutantes who giggled and prattled about clothes and beaus. Bored witless, Edith hadn’t even bothered to learn their names.
The lady in the chair across from her stood and moved away, and a petite, dark-haired woman carrying a teacup and saucer swished over to take her seat. She had big brown eyes, a pert nose, and a slight overbite. She looked vaguely familiar, but Edith couldn’t place her.
“Mrs. Grayson,” the woman said with a condescending smile. “I’m Mrs. Laurence Hamilton.”
