A Great Catch (22 page)

Sitting on a patchwork quilt in the shade of a spreading oak, Emily cheered the boys on. They’d divided in half with Carter leading one team and Martin the other.

It was a pleasure to watch both men play alongside the boys and inspire their young team members. Right from the start, Martin organized his boys and kept them in line. He corrected their stances and yelled at them to keep going. The boys seemed to like him, but not the same way Carter’s boys worshiped their leader.

Carter’s team enjoyed every minute. Anything the pitcher said was treated like gold. Carter laughed with them, making each boy feel like he was a champion. He praised their efforts and accomplishments while providing tips, much like he’d done for her. They also played smarter and faster than her brother’s team.

Shielding her eyes against the sun, she saw Carter hit a ball deep into the outfield. The boys on the other team scrambled to get it while he took his time running the makeshift bases. Only Carter would give a group of boys a chance to get him out.

Not Martin. When his turn came, he hit a line drive so hard the shortstop had to hop out of its way. Then, when the boys fumbled picking it up in the outfield, he stole another base. She rolled her eyes. Her brother liked to win no matter what the cost.

The game drank up the afternoon. Other spectators came and went, but one man remained on the edge of the field for quite some time. Although Emily had not been formally introduced, she recognized Carter’s older brother Nathan from school. He lacked Carter’s athletic build but had the same solid lines to his face and jaw. He also lacked Carter’s sense of fun. Seriousness seemed to surround Nathan like a rain cloud.

Poor Carter.

Emily plucked a dandelion from the base of the tree. The once sunny yellow flower had aged and transformed into a ball of downy fluff. She held the dandelion up to her lips, made a wish, and blew the cottony seeds into the air. She’d be tempted to tell Carter her wish when the game was over, but wouldn’t dare. Wishes, like her prayers, never came true.

As soon as he spotted Nathan, Carter wished he could sweep Emily to the other side of the lake before he was forced to make introductions. They already knew each other, of course, but only in passing. As the older brother, Nathan expected to pass judgment on any potential unions. And while Carter wasn’t ready to make that leap, his heart kept telling his head the possibility was there.

“Mr. Stockton, will you show me how to throw a fastball?”

“And me how to hit better?”

“And when you steal a base, is it head first or feet first?”

The boys crowded around him, begging for more, cheeks and noses sunburned from the afternoon game. Carter tapped the bill of Carl Warrington’s cap. “Maybe next week, boys. Right now I have a pretty lady waiting.”

“Ewwww.” Several boys stuck out their tongues.

Ruffling the fair hair of one of the youngest boys, he excused himself with a chuckle. It had been a long time since girls gave him the willies. And the one sitting in the grass blowing dandelions had the opposite effect entirely. He’d missed her and her kisses.

Beneath a wide-brimmed hat, her hair had blown loose from its tight bun, and wisps frolicked in the breeze. The mottled colors of the quilt added more whimsy to the sight. If he were an artist, he would have painted her at that moment. Natural. Pure. Beautiful.

She looked up as he approached, and a soft smile curled her lips as if she’d been caught. She ducked her head and tossed the dandelion stem away.

Carter held out his hand. “I hope you were wishing about me.” He pulled her to her feet and kissed her flushed cheek.

“And why would I do that?”

Laughter bubbled in his chest. “Maybe I’ve already made all your wishes come true.”

“I highly doubt that,” a man’s deep voice said from behind them.

Carter jerked around. “Hello, Nathan.”

“Carter.”

Deciding to get it over with, Carter sighed. “You may remember Miss Emily Graham from school. Miss Graham, this is my brother, Nathan Stockton.”

Nathan tipped his hat. “Miss Graham, it’s a pleasure to see the girl who’s going to make my brother finally grow up.”

“I have no intention of making Carter do anything, Mr. Stockton.” Emily gave a polite smile. “I saw you watching the game. Weren’t you impressed by how well he worked with those boys? He has a real talent for coaching.”

“Boys will be boys.” Nathan grinned and motioned toward the impromptu baseball field. “But he does have a propensity for playing games. How do you feel about that, Miss Graham?”

“What do you want, Nathan?” A familiar tightness spread over Carter’s chest.

“Tsk tsk, Brother. You should know better than to answer for someone as forward thinking as Miss Graham.” Nathan turned his attention back to Emily. “So how do you feel about the games Carter plays?”

“I’m more curious as to why you care.”

“Touché.” He stared at Carter. “Father wants you both to come for dinner.”

“Tonight? We can’t tonight. Emily has a lot to do before the big game against the Bloomer Girls.”

“Yes, the game. Your idea, wasn’t it, Miss Graham? Do you honestly think a woman can compete, say, in the banking world, when even the man beside you doesn’t believe he can cut the mustard there?”

“I’ll not have you speak to her—”

Emily’s fingers dug into Carter’s arm. “Mr. Stockton, I find you sorely lacking in both decorum and common decency. Are you so jealous of your brother’s athletic abilities you cannot celebrate his successes? So threatened by him you cannot handle it if he does not fall into step behind you? I find it odd you believe he’s the one who’s childish and playing games.”

Pride filled Carter’s chest, but he kept his jaw set. “Nathan, tell Dad I’ll drop by tomorrow and arrange something. Thank him for the invitation.”

“I’m not your errand boy. Tell him yourself.”

After Nathan marched away, Carter apologized for his brother’s words. Emily would have nothing of it. “Our brothers have minds of their own. Look at mine over there.”

Carter followed her line of sight and discovered Martin talking with Olivia’s husband. “Your brother’s consorting with the enemy.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t call him the enemy simply because of who he chose to marry, but it does look like Mr. DeSoto made a miraculous, post-Sunday-services recovery.”

How Carter managed to convince Emily to meet him at the ball field on a Sunday, she’d never know. His weak excuse that they needed to make up for yesterday’s washed-out practice didn’t ring true for Carter’s usual insistence that they all take Sundays off. The only Sunday they’d practiced so far had been on the day they’d ended up in the Kursaal.

It must mean she really needed more work than she thought.

Try as she might, she could not force her feet to move any faster. Carter would already be waiting for her at the field and wouldn’t be pleased at her tardiness. Earlier he’d proclaimed he had no intention of losing to a bunch of women, no matter how talented they were.

“Miss Stockton.” Elwood Taylor jogged up beside her. “Good to see I’m not the only one late. At least if I’m with you, Carter won’t yell at me.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

Elwood’s face darkened. “Does Stockton raise his voice to you?”

Emily laughed. “Oh, heavens no. I only meant—well, you know how seriously Carter is taking this game.”

“And rumor has it I have you to thank for not having to wear a dress to that game.”

“Carter and I discussed it and came to a mutual agreement.” She paused. “But how did you hear about that? We only came to the decision after church services.”

“That’s funny, Carter told me the other day.”

Joy swelled inside her. He’d given in to her wishes long before they’d talked.

Elwood cleared his throat. “He told you I was against you playing, didn’t he?”

“He mentioned it.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea, but I have to say you’re good for him.” Elwood stretched his right arm across his chest, warming up as they walked. “Stockton thinks he has all the answers. You let him know he doesn’t.”

“And what about you?”

Elwood flashed a cocky grin. “Naturally, I know everything.”

As soon as Carter spotted the two of them approaching the baseball diamond, he ran out to meet them. He halted on the path and a cloud of dust flew. He glared at Elwood. “Emily, is he giving you any trouble?”

“Absolutely not. Elwood’s been a perfect gentleman.”

The two men kept their gazes locked in a silent competition.

She pushed past both of them and looked back over her shoulder. “You two coming, or are you going to stand there all day acting like eight-year-olds?”

Before either man could catch up, she reached the field. The team gathered around her, each man grinning like he knew Santa Claus was about to arrive in his sleigh.

Emily searched the crowd for the familiar catcher. “Ducky, what’s going on?”

Carter divided the crowd and came through with a box. “We got you a present.”

“For me?”

“Well, we could make Elwood wear it,” Digger said, elbowing Mac beside him.

Carter shot the boys a glare and held out the box. “Just open it.”

The twine binding the cream-colored box gave way with only one tug. Emily lifted the lid off the box and passed it to Ducky beside her. Inside, a bright red
M
stared back at her. She traced it with her finger as tears filled her eyes. Her very own uniform.

“Do you like it?” Carter’s voice held a note of concern.

She lifted it from the box and held the striped shirt to her chin. “I love it.”

“There are . . . a . . . bloomers too.” Carter’s cheeks tinged with red, his coffee-colored curls flopping on his forehead. He took the hat from the box and stuffed it on her head. “There. Now you’re an official Owl.”

Emily pulled the cap in place. “Thank you. Thank you all so much.”

“Well, let’s not stand around here all day.” Elwood grinned at her. “This is our day off.”

She caught Carter’s sleeve. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“We all pitched in.”

“Carter?”

“Anything that makes your green eyes sparkle like that, well, I’d be a fool to say it wasn’t.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’ll make you proud.”

“You already make me proud.”

“I’m not sure about this.” Emily stopped at the base of the steps leading up to Olivia DeSoto’s large brick home. The wraparound porch, usually so inviting on most homes, seemed like a barrier between her and the women gathered beyond the front door. Her stomach clenched.

Lilly closed her parasol and hooked it on her wrist. “Uh-uh, young lady. You’re going to march up those steps between Marguerite and me and walk into that tea with your head held high.”

“But—” Emily turned to Marguerite for support.

“Don’t look at me.” Marguerite tugged on the hem of her sky-blue jacket, which matched her eyes perfectly. “I’m with Lilly. It was wrong of Olivia to slight you, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you here anyway.”

“What if she makes a scene in front of Mrs. Coggeshall?”

Marguerite nudged her toward the steps. “She wouldn’t dare. Now let’s get on in there. We’re late enough to make a grand entrance, but any later would be in poor taste.”

Emily pressed a hand to her churning stomach. “Oh, I hope this is the right thing to do.”

“It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” Lilly looped her arm in Emily’s.

Marguerite flanked her on the other side. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Tripping on the first step, Emily clutched at their arms. “Do you even need to ask?”

The two friends laughed and climbed the steep stairs to the porch. Emily felt a solid object in the pocket of her skirt brush against her leg. The bust food. Aunt Millie had received a second canister and had thrust it into her hand as she left. Maybe she could throw it away while she was in town.

Marguerite rapped on the door, and an apron-clad maid opened it. She took Lilly’s umbrella and said, “Welcome. The ladies are in the garden. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you there.”

Emily bumped the foyer table with her hip as she passed, and the crystals on the lamp jingled. She quickly stilled them with her hand. The maid jerked around, frowned, but said nothing.

Marguerite offered a reassuring smile.

Olivia’s home reflected her pension for drama. Too many knickknacks and baubles littered the tables. The heavy scent of mint filled the air, and an immense grandfather clock, complete with a myriad of curlicues and swirls, gonged at fifteen minutes past the hour. They were tardy. Wouldn’t Olivia like that?

With a sweep of her hand, the maid indicated the tea was beyond the French doors at the end of the dining room. The tinkle of teacups on saucers and the twitter of the ladies’ laughter drifted in through the open doorway. Emily took a deep breath.

Lilly turned to her. “We’ll go first, and you come behind us. It will be like a big surprise party.”

As Emily’s turn came to step onto the veranda, her stomach knotted. Some surprise. Parties were welcomed. She absolutely was not.

But she should have been.

The thought spurred her forward. She stepped onto the veranda.

“Emily?” Olivia’s eyes widened.

“Good afternoon, Olivia.” She crossed the open space to her hostess. “What a lovely home you have, and such a nice turnout.”

Lilly nudged Olivia. “Aren’t you glad Emily was able to come after all?”

“Yes, I figured my invitation got lost somewhere in the mail.” She turned to the unfamiliar elderly woman seated at the table. “And you must be Mrs. Coggeshall.”

She offered her hand. “I am, and you are . . . ?”

“Emily Graham, president of our local suffrage association.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I certainly hoped you’d be here. I want to hear all about your idea for the game with the Bloomer Girls. Come sit with me and we’ll talk.”

Emily glanced back over her shoulder at Olivia. Fury sparked in her eyes, but she seemed to check her tongue. The ladies around her whispered, giving one another sidelong, knowing glances. A little thrill climbed in Emily’s chest. With Mrs. Coggeshall’s obvious approval of Emily’s presence, Olivia couldn’t say anything or she’d look like a fool.

“Now . . .” Mrs. Coggeshall pulled Emily into the chair beside her. “Tell me all about how you came up with such a brilliant idea.”

The hour flew by as Emily shared her passion for women’s suffrage, her grandmother’s friendship with Amelia Bloomer, and her commitment to the cause. After a while, she asked Mrs. Coggeshall to say something to the Council Bluffs Equal Suffrage Club that would inspire them to keep fighting.

The sixty-some-year-old woman stood and eyed the ladies gathered. “I will tell you all what I told the Polk County Women’s Suffrage Society on the silver anniversary of that esteemed group. Twenty-five years has but deepened our conviction that reform is the need of the age. We only hope that the next generation of women may find their work made easier because we have trodden the path before them.”

Emily marveled at how the women hung on every word spoken by the elderly suffragist. What would it be like to have devoted one’s entire life to this work? Emily could only hope she had the opportunity.

After Mrs. Coggeshall answered nearly a dozen questions, the tea drew to a close. Emily thanked her and said goodbye before joining Marguerite and Lilly at the door. She had no intention of being the last to leave and risk being cornered by Olivia.

“Emily!” Olivia’s grating voice rang out. She held up the canister of Sears Bust Food. “I believe this fell out of your pocket.”

Cheeks flaming, Emily stared at the container. She could fess up, but not now after she’d made such a good impression on Mrs. Coggeshall. A thought tickled her conscience. “Oh, I brought that for you, Olivia. I’m glad you found it. Thanks for the invitation.”

Emily swiped the tears from her eyes as she clicked down the sidewalk beside her friends. Unable to contain her giggles, she pressed a hand to the stitch in her side.

“Did you see her face?” Marguerite sucked in her cheeks. “My face hurts from smiling so much.”

Lilly dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Emily, that was perfect.”

A new fit of contagious laughter erupted from the women, and Emily paused on the sidewalk to attempt to regain control of herself. She sensed the other departing suffrage club members staring at them as they passed, but she didn’t care. Infectious laughter was one of the joys of friendship.

Lilly took a deep breath. “Well, since we certainly can’t go home like this, what do you two say to some lunch? My treat.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Marguerite said.

“Do you realize how good it feels to be able to be the one doing the treating?” She linked arms with Emily. “And how good it feels to laugh like this?”

Emily tugged her vest down into place. “But Ben is such a character. I thought he’d have you in stitches all the time.”

“He’s been away on business, and I can assure you, his parents talk to me as little as possible.”

“Those old stuffed shirts.” Marguerite stopped at the corner beside Lilly. After a buggy passed, they continued down the block toward Main Street. “Have you spoken to Ben about getting a house of your own?”

“It’s a touchy subject. Their house is plenty big for all of us and my mama. Thank the good Lord she’s there. She’s so good with Levi, and even with the nurse there, I couldn’t leave him unless she was around.”

“My parents miss having your mother as their cook.” Marguerite stepped over a puddle. “I don’t think they realized how good they had it with her until they tasted Verla’s cooking. Even I can make better biscuits.”

Lilly raised one eyebrow. “I highly doubt that.”

More giggles followed as the three crossed the last blocks leading to the café. Emily’s stomach rumbled. The bells in St. Peter’s, perched high on a bluff, pealed twelve times over the bustling city. No wonder she was hungry.

They reached an iceman’s delivery wagon and paused to catch a cool breeze wafting from the back when he opened the compartment. Using enormous tongs, he lugged a block out of the back and carried it inside the ice cream parlor.

Emily glanced in the window. Ice cream would be almost as good as lunch. After all, they’d had cucumber sandwiches at Olivia’s tea.

She stopped when s
he spotted Carter inside the parlor. Who was he speaking to?
Nothing about his bowler hat or handlebar mustache seemed familiar. He pushed a set of papers in Carter’s direction. Carter folded them and inserted them in his jacket pocket. The two stood and shook hands.

“Emily?” Marguerite held open the door to the café. “You coming?”

Emily hurried to the entry, guilt pricking her conscience. She’d been spying on Carter, but what were those papers, and what kind of deal had Carter struck with the man? Investments? But Carter didn’t have any money of his own to invest. The family’s money was all wrapped up in the bank and under Nathan’s control. On one of their outings, Carter had alluded to some kind of allowance his father provided, and he’d said he received a modest sum playing for the Owls. He probably made a bit more from his work for her grandmother. Even with all that, it wouldn’t be enough to make any kind of investment on his own.

Maybe he’d come into some other money. Her heart skipped, and she uttered a prayer before giving it a second thought.
Please, God, don’t let this have anything to do with Grandma Kate’s missing funds.

“You look like a princess.”

Twirling to look at the back of the dress in the seamstress’s full-length mirror, Emily frowned. “I don’t know, Marguerite. With all this green, I hope I don’t look more like a frog.”

Lilly stepped forward to adjust the ruffle around the scooped neckline of Emily’s dress. “It matches your eyes perfectly. Carter won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“Mary, you really outdid yourself.” Marguerite thumbed through the seamstress’s book of drawings she displayed in her shop.

Emily studied the dress. Was she being too critical? The moss-colored gored skirt with a short train was accented with dainty lace. She rubbed her upper arms. They were so bare, so vulnerable. Her cheeks warmed. Carter’s hands would touch her skin.

But the dress did bring out the green of her eyes, and she loved the beadwork on the bodice.

“She’s liking it,” Marguerite said. “Look at the smile on her face.”

“Do you?” Concern etched soft-spoken Mary’s voice. “I so wanted you to be happy with it.”

“Oh, Mary. It’s lovely. You did a miraculous job.” She twirled and swished the skirt in a circle. “I can’t wait to dance in it.”

“I’m so glad you like it.” Mary continued hemming another gown.

Lilly fingered the golden silk. “Whose gown is that?”

“Mrs. DeSoto’s.”

“Olivia’s?” Emily swished over. “It’s gorgeous. It looks like spun gold.”

Mary wrinkled her nose. “I wish it was for one of you three. She still won’t like it.”

Marguerite set the sketchbook on the table. “Why?”

“No dress is going to make her husband pay attention to her.” She sighed. “I can mend about anything except broken hearts.”

Emily stepped back. Surely Mary had misread the cues. Olivia, the belle of every ball, commanded attention. She didn’t need to beg for it anywhere.

Still, her husband had been less than attentive at the play. And on Sunday, he’d not come to services with her. In fact, he was seldom with her anywhere. Could things not be happy at home?

Casting a glance toward Marguerite, Emily sensed her friend considering the same question. Guilt poked Emily in the chest. With Olivia always such a thorn in her side, Emily had never taken time to think beyond those nasty occurrences. Would that explain why Olivia did what she did? And had they all been so irritated by her that they’d failed to see the truth behind her actions?

Lilly placed a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Well, if she doesn’t want it, I’ll certainly take it.”

“You should have ordered a new ball gown, Lilly.” Marguerite carried the sketchbook over and flipped it open to the middle. “This one would be perfect.”

“Sorry. No husband in town. No ball.”

“You’re not going?” Emily asked.

“Not unless I plan to dance by myself. Ben won’t be back until late that night.” She shrugged and then winked at Mary. “But I’d look mighty fine sitting in my rocking chair wearing that gold dress when he finally got home.”