“He’s coming,” Hannah hissed in her ear. “You don’t want to greet your beloved with your bum in the air, do you?”
Cordelia popped up so fast, Hannah had to dodge sideways to avoid a mouthful of bonnet. Her friend spun around, and when she spotted the two men closing in, she started wringing her hands in front of her.
“Ike’s coming.” The dullness of her voice worried Hannah.
“Yes, dear.” Hannah smiled and reshaped an uneven pleat in the gathered fabric that draped delicately over Cordelia’s hips.
“What do I do? What do I say?” The girl’s eyes remained fixed on Ike, but all the color drained from her face. Her fainting into the carrot salad seemed a very real threat.
Hannah stepped in front of her friend and deliberately positioned herself to block Cordelia’s view of Ike. “This is just like any other day when you bring him lunch. You will smile and chat as you always do. You will act as if nothing is different, for truly nothing of importance is. The only thing you’ve changed is your clothes.”
“Nothing’s different,” Cordelia chanted under her breath.
Hearing the men’s footsteps behind her, Hannah modeled a bright smile, holding it in place until Cordelia matched it with one of her own. Then swinging wide like a book cover revealing the tantalizing first page of a love story, Hannah moved aside.
No one spoke for several heartbeats. Ike stared at Cordelia, his mouth slightly agape and his brows arched higher than the windows of a London cathedral. Cordelia’s smile had slipped to a crooked angle, but she had plenty of color in her cheeks now.
A throat cleared behind them. Louisa sidled past. “I’m gonna go fetch my young’uns.”
Ike finally snapped out of his stupor and dragged his hat off his head. “Thank you for inviting me to join you, Miss Tucker. I can’t imagine a place I’d rather be.”
Cordelia ducked her head for only a moment before bringing her chin back up. Seeing that hard-won confidence at work, Hannah’s heart cheered.
“I made several of your favorites,” Cordelia said, gesturing toward the blankets. “Fried chicken, potato salad . . . oh, and pound cake.”
“My mouth is watering already. May I help you lay out the food?”
Cordelia hesitated. “Well, Hannah has—”
“—been waiting for a chance to scout out a suitable place for kite flying.” Hannah gave Cordelia a pointed look before turning her attention to Ike. “If you don’t mind taking over for me, Mr. Franklin. I plan to take the James children kite flying after we eat, and knowing which direction to go would save time and hopefully keep any squabbling to a minimum.”
Ike chuckled. “I would be more than willing to lend Cori . . . er . . . I mean . . . Miss Tucker a hand.”
The poor man’s face turned a vivid shade of red, but Hannah could not have been more pleased. A man who gave a woman a pet name, even unintentionally, must surely be smitten.
“Thank you. We’ll be back shortly.” Hannah tugged on Jericho’s arm.
He cocked a brow at her. “We? I’m not going anywhere.”
Ike swallowed and reached for the edge of his collar.
“Of course you are,” Hannah declared with forced brightness. “I need your expertise. I’m completely unfamiliar with this area. Please?” As unobtrusively as she could, she slid her foot atop his and ground her heel into his toe. His frown held steady as he glared at Ike. Not even a wince.
Drat.
His boots were probably too thick. How was she supposed to signal him to stop his overbearing brother routine if she couldn’t get his attention? She was debating whether or not to pinch the back of his arm when he surprised her by capitulating.
“Fifteen minutes,” he grumbled, and stalked off toward the river.
“Thank you!” Hannah raised her voice, yet Jericho gave no indication that he heard her. She shrugged. “I guess he’s eager to start the search.”
“Or eager to get back,” Ike mumbled.
Hannah bent close to him. “Well, I bought you fifteen minutes. Make good use of it.”
His startled eyes shot to hers, and then a grin stole over his features. “An excellent notion, Miss Richards.”
“What’s an excellent notion?” Cordelia looked as if she wanted to crawl into a hole. Either that or bury her brother in one.
Hannah winked at her. “I’ll let Ike explain.” Then she dashed after Jericho.
When she caught up to him, he started limping. Dramatically.
“What were you trying to do back there, woman? Cripple me?”
She would have felt more guilt if the hitch in his step hadn’t materialized out of thin air. “What were
you
trying to do? Ruin Cordelia’s courtship?”
“I was just setting some boundaries.” His limp miraculously disappeared.
“Well, you didn’t have to scowl so fiercely while you did it.”
A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. “Nope. That was purely for fun.”
“Jericho Tucker.” She meant to scold him, but the laughter bubbling out of her throat got in the way. “You’re terrible.”
“Not always.” His eyes changed. Their sparkle melted into a heated glow that made her insides flutter. He drew a line down her arm from her shoulder to her wrist and clasped her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. “Hannah, I—”
“J.T.!” A huffing Tom jogged up to them.
Jericho dropped her hand. A chill passed through her as the wind erased the warmth of his grip.
“I signed us up for the three-legged race. The Harris brothers think they can beat us this year, but I told ’em not to get their hopes up.” Tom glanced over at Hannah and grinned. “We ain’t been beat in three years, not since my legs grew long enough to keep up with his.” He thrust his thumb at Jericho, who was doing an admirable job of hiding his disgruntlement over the untimely interruption.
Hannah tried to do the same, but as Jericho turned the conversation to kite flying and the best location for such sport, she bit her lip in frustration.
Five minutes. If Tom had taken just five minutes longer to find them, Jericho would have told her . . . told her . . . well . . . something important—she was sure of it. She had felt the significance of the moment all the way down to her toes. Now all her toes felt were the pebbles that poked against the soles of her shoes as they made their way back to the picnic.
The day was too fine for Hannah to let regrets weigh her down for long. Food, however, was a different story. She couldn’t remember ever having eaten so much. Hoping to walk off the lethargy that tempted her to lie on the quilt and nap in the sunshine, she let Tessa talk her into a game of graces.
Margaret Paxton, the banker’s wife, had brought a crate full of supplies for the game, and several pairs of young ladies loitered near the mill testing their skill. Tessa skipped up to the box and selected a set of dowel rods for each of them.
“What color hoop should we use?” she asked when Hannah caught up to her.
Each of the wooden circles, about the size of a large embroidery hoop, had been decorated with different colored ribbons.
Hannah peered into the box. Three hoops remained: red and white, green and yellow, or brown and orange. “You pick. Just not the orange one.” She scrunched up her nose and Tessa giggled. They had long ago agreed that orange was only attractive on round fruit, wildflowers, and butterflies.
Opting for the red and white, Tessa held it away from her and ran to her position a couple yards away, letting the ribbon tails stream out behind her. She hung the hoop over the end of one dowel, then brought the tip of the second into the circle, crossing the two sticks to form an
X
.
“Ready?”
Hannah nodded and stepped out with one leg to broaden her stance. “Ready.”
In a quick motion, Tessa flung her arms up and out, uncrossing the dowels. The hoop flew through the air. The object of the game was for Hannah to catch it on both her rods, but Tessa’s throw was short and the wind was tugging the hoop to the left. Too much of a competitor to let the hoop fall to the ground, Hannah grabbed a handful of her skirt and dashed forward. Like a fencer brandishing a foil, she stabbed her dowel through the center of the beribboned hoop and snatched it out of the air.
“Yay!” Tessa cried. “Good catch, Miss Hannah. Nine more and you win!”
She was ahead seven to five when Cordelia and Ike strolled by to watch. Her hand tucked securely into the crook of Ike’s arm, Cordelia was beaming. Hannah smiled as the couple passed, so caught up in her friend’s happiness that Tessa’s next shot arched over her head before she even realized it had been launched.
“Ha! You missed. My turn.”
Hannah used her rod to retrieve the hoop from the ground. “All right, you little imp. See if you can catch this one.” Hannah sailed it a bit higher than usual, but Tessa got under it and made the snag.
“I did it!” She jumped and gave a little whoop of glee, earning a smile from Mrs. Paxton, who had just refilled her lemonade glass.
“A fine catch, Tessa,” the banker’s wife said. “But remember, this is a game of elegance and poise, not a rough-and-tumble sport.”
Hannah couldn’t help wondering if the gentle reproof wasn’t as much for her as Tessa. None of the other girls were playing with the same degree of zealousness. Of course, none of the others seemed to be having half as much fun, either. Nevertheless, she supposed she ought to set a more decorous example for her young protégée. Especially with a lady like Margaret Paxton looking on. The woman exuded class and sophistication. All without ever making one feel inferior. It was quite a remarkable talent and surely stemmed from a humble spirit. She would be the ideal client for a dressmaker who longed to promote a balance between inner and outer beauty.
The red hoop sailing toward her head snapped Hannah out of her preoccupation. She leapt backward and raised her sticks at the last minute, deflecting it before it collided with her chin. Unfortunately, she was not deft enough to catch it, only knock it to the ground. Tessa laughed as Hannah retrieved the hoop. The sound was so playful and jolly, though, Hannah couldn’t help but smile. She flung the hoop back into the air, and the girl caught it easily.
“Better watch out, Miss Hannah. We’re all tied up now.”
“So you think you can beat me, do you?” Hannah waved her sticks at Tessa. “Give me your best shot.”
In her enthusiasm, Tessa lofted the hoop high and dangerously off course. It veered to the right, directly toward the spot where Cordelia had stopped to chat with Mrs. Paxton. Hannah bolted after it, but she knew she’d never get there in time.
“Look out!” she cried.
Mrs. Paxton turned, and with a skill unexpected in one so genteel, caught the hoop with one hand and flicked her wrist to send it back to Tessa in a perfect arc.
Hannah stuttered to a halt and stared.
“Bravo, my dear!” Elliott Paxton called out from his seat near the cider table. “Just like the old days, eh, Maggie?”
Pink streaks appeared across the lady’s cheeks as she waved away her husband’s comment, but she turned to Hannah with a welcoming smile.
“Don’t look so surprised, Miss Richards,” she said. “I haven’t always been a staid banker’s wife.”
Hannah grinned.
“I was just complimenting Miss Tucker on her beautiful new dress,” Mrs. Paxton said, expertly shifting the subject away from herself. “The change in her is extraordinary, and she tells me that you are the one responsible for it.”
Excitement fluttered in Hannah’s stomach. The lady admired her work.
“Cordelia’s been a lovely client. She has a wonderful eye for fashion, as you can see in the colors she selected.”
“And you have a wonderful skill with a needle to craft such a becoming design.”
Cordelia nodded, her eyes bright as they slid from Hannah to Mrs. Paxton. “Oh, yes. Miss Richards tailors everything to perfection. I doubt you could find a better dressmaker in all of Texas.”
The banker’s wife gave Cordelia’s polonaise and skirt another perusal, then assessed the one Hannah wore. “I usually have Elliott drive me to Waco when the girls and I need new gowns, but now that Coventry has a qualified seamstress, I may have to forfeit those shopping trips and invest our funds closer to home.”
Fireworks of glee exploded inside Hannah’s chest, but she forced her features into a serene expression. “I would be glad to assist you, Mrs. Paxton. Please stop by the shop at any time.”
“Thank you. I just might do that.”
At that moment, Tessa ran up, grabbed Hannah’s hand, and started tugging her toward the center of the glen. “Come on, Miss Hannah. The race is about to start. We’ve got to cheer on Tom and Mr. Tucker!”
“Tessa, it’s not polite to interrupt.”
The little girl’s face looked properly contrite . . . for all of two seconds. “I’m sorry, but this is important. We don’t want to miss it.”
No, they didn’t. Hannah surveyed the grounds, searching for Jericho in the crowd of men and boys who were lining up at the start. Her heart longed to be at the race; however, responsible business practices dictated she not rush off and risk offending an important potential client.
“Oh my. We can’t have you miss the excitement.” Mrs. Paxton’s hand closed over the end of Hannah’s dowel rods, graciously solving her dilemma. “Let me put these away for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Hannah said.
“Hurry on, now. You don’t want to miss the start.”
Hannah gave Tessa’s arm a little shake. “Let’s go.” The girl took off, dragging Hannah behind her. Hoping that Tessa’s enthusiasm would rate as an adequate excuse for her own hurried pace, Hannah did nothing to slow the girl down. The sooner they got there, the better.
J.T. toed the imaginary starting line, one arm behind Tom’s back as the partners gripped each other’s shoulders for balance. The Harris brothers stood two pairs down, shooting taunting looks J.T.’s way as the judge inspected the bandanna tied around his and Tom’s ankles. Will and Archie would be the only real competition. Most teams consisted of kids or young men with their sweethearts. Fellows typically cajoled their gals into participating just to have an excuse to wrap their arms around them. Such pairings always led to a surplus of silly giggling and quick tumbles.
Although J.T. had to admit that he’d much rather be holding on to Hannah right now than his stablehand. It might be worth a loss. Then again, recalling how hard she’d pushed when she’d challenged him to try those clubs and rings of hers, she might prove to be the toughest competitor of the lot. He wondered if being in a fashionable dress would slow her down at all. He grinned. Probably not.