The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich (9 page)

Mrs. Perry laughed and said, “Oh
, I’m sure you’re up to something, Calliope. You always are! Now you run along and enjoy your post, all righty?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Calliope agreed. “And thank you so much
, both of you,” she said, tossing a wave to Mr. and Mrs. Perry as she hurried out of the general store.

She couldn’t wait to read Amoretta’s thoughts on the Tom Thumb
wedding she and Evangeline were planning. She missed her older sister so much, even for the fact that she knew Amoretta was blissful in her love for Brake.

Calliope was so excited about reading Amoretta’s letter, in fact, that instead of waiting until she arrived home, she hurriedly opened the envelope in her haste to read it while she was walking out of the
general store.

“
My Darlings
,” Calliope read under her breath as she walked, “
I was so very delighted to receive your letters concerning the Tom Thumb wedding! I—
”

Calliope gasped and looked up, astonished into nearly dropping the letter
s, as she found herself face to face with Tate Chesterfield. She’d bumped right into him.

“Oh! I-I beg your pardon, Mr. Chesterfield,” she apologized at once. “I was so engrossed in this letter
, I wasn’t paying proper attention to where I was walking.”

But the tall, dark-haired newcomer simply smiled a handsome and somewhat alluring smile and said, “Oh, never you mind, Miss Calliope. The fault lies squarely on my shoulders.”

“Are you all right, Calliope?” Fox Montrose inquired, taking hold of her arm in attempted support—or to show some sort of possession to Tate. Calliope wasn’t sure which.

Calliope smiled at him and said, “Oh
, I’m just fine, Fox.” Looking to Tate, she added, “And thank you, Mr. Chesterfield, for forgiving me my bad manners.”

“Oh
, I can’t imagine you ever havin’ bad manners, Miss Calliope,” Tate said, taking hold of her other arm. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? That you didn’t twist your ankle or somethin’?”

“No
, I’m fine,” Calliope said. She was uncomfortable. Fox was glaring at Tate Chesterfield, but Tate wore an expression of pure daring—even premature triumph. For pity’s sake! All she wanted to do was read Amoretta’s letter.

“But thank you, gentlemen
, all the same,” she said, gently trying to tug her arm free of Tate’s grasp. But he held tight, as did Fox when she tried to free herself from his hold.

All at once the elation Calliope had felt over receiving a letter from Amoretta evaporated. She was suddenly anxious and felt unhappy. She didn’t like the attention from Tate or even Fox. And she certainly didn’t like the fact that Rowdy Gates had just stepped out of the diner next to the
general store and was watching the goings-on as he placed his hat on top of his head.

Mrs. Ackerman walked past, grinning knowingly
, and said, “Good afternoon, Calliope.” Looking to Fox and Tate, she added, “Boys.”

“Mrs. Ackerman,” Tate and Fox greeted in unison—though they didn’t release Calliope.

Calliope felt her face heat up like a hot coal had been plopped in her head as Rowdy Gates frowned and began walking toward the place where she stood being pulled like taffy.

“Fox. Tate,” Rowdy greeted.

“Rowdy,” Fox returned—still holding tight to Calliope’s arm.

“Boss,” Tate greeted
—also still holding tight to Calliope’s arm.

“You boys best get back before the foreman blows the end of lunch whistle…lest you be counted tardy and get your pay docked,” Rowdy Gates said.

“B-but you’re the foreman, Rowdy,” Fox needlessly reminded. “And you’re still out for midday meal.”

Rowdy grinned a little. “Yep
, but I’m on my way back to the mill now. And when I blow that whistle, if you’re not…”

Tate let go first, bowing a bit to Calliope and saying, “You have a good day now, Miss Calliope.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chesterfield,” Calliope told him as he turned on his boot heel and headed toward the mill.

“Yes, Calliope,” Fox said, also releasing her. “You have a good afternoon. But watch where you’re goin’ next time, all right? Maybe you ought not to walk and read at the same time
, hm?”

“Good afternoon, Fox,” Calliope said—though she thought the slight snip in her voice probably revealed how irritated she was at being reprimanded by him.

Fox cleared his throat, turned, and headed toward the mill.

Calliope’s blush deepened as Rowdy Gates looked to
her then, an amused glimmer of understanding in his dark eyes.

“I thought them boys were gonna yank you clean apart,” he said. “It looked like two youngsters fightin’ over the turkey wishbone at Thanksgivin’ dinner.”

“Th-they were just concerned for my welfare, I suppose,” Calliope stammered. “I rather bumped into Mr. Chesterfield on my way. I was reading a letter and walking home, and…I-I didn’t see him there and…”

“Well, you have a good afternoon, Miss Calliope,” Rowdy said, saving her from any further awkwardness in trying to explain the situation he’d happened upon.

“Thank you, Mr. Gates,” she managed.

Rowdy Gates nodded at her, touched the brim of his ha
t, and turned toward the mill. Calliope watched him go, fanning herself with Amoretta’s letter—for she felt very overheated all of a sudden.

Glancing up into the blue, sunshine-kissed sky, she mumbled, “Hmm. It must be hotter out than it looks.”

“There you are, darlin’!”

Calliope turned when she heard Blanche’s voice from behind her.

Hurrying to meet Calliope, Blanche took her arm, exclaiming, “I have it, Calliope! I have found the most delicious cake recipe on the face of the earth. It was my grandma’s, but Mama and I had misplaced it somehow. But we found it today, and believe me, it will make the most scrumptious weddin’ cake ever for the Tom Thumb weddin’!”

Instantly, Calliope was caught up in renewed excitement about the event she and Evangeline
—and now many other ladies in town—were planning.

“Wonderful, Blanche!” she exclaimed. “What sort of cake is it?”

Blanche sighed with contentment. “It’s a buttercream spice cake, and, Calliope, I promise, you’ve never had anything at all like it. Not in all your life, even in Boston! It’s truly delectable.”

“Oh
, how divine, Blanche,” Calliope giggled. “I’m so excited that you and your mother have agreed to do the cake. I can bake a good enough cake, but I’m all thumbs when it comes to icing and decorating one.”

“Well, no worries about that, Miss Ipswich,” Blanche assured her. “Mama and I will have it well in hand. And with roses from Mrs. Montrose’s rose garden
, it’s bound to be the most beautiful
and
delicious cake anyone in Meadowlark Lake has ever eaten!” Blanche’s gaze fell to the letters Calliope was holding, and she inquired, “What are those? Letters? Is one from Amoretta? Has she agreed to write out the invitations?”

Still smiling, Calliope sighed. “I don’t know for certain,” she answered. “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. But I’m sure she’s agreed to do the invitations.”

“Perfect!” Blanche pronounced. “Oh, it’s all comin’ together so marvelously, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Calliope agreed. “I really do.”

“By the way,” Blanche began, quirking one eyebrow, “what was goin’ on with Fox and Tate before?” she inquired. “As I was walkin’ up, I saw them both tuggin’ on you like…like…”

“Like two youngsters fighting over the turkey wishbone at Thanksgiving dinner?” she finished, echoing Rowdy Gates’
s comparison.

Blanche laughed. “Exactly
. You said it exactly!” She paused, her lovely dark brows puckering with curiosity. “But what was it all about?”

Calliope shook her head
, however, wanting only to forget the incident. “Nothing. I-I stumbled coming out of the general store, and…and…it was nothing.” She linked arms with her friend, smiled, and said, “Let’s get back to my house and see what Amoretta has said in her letter. Evangeline will be very excited to see she’s got another letter from her friend, as well.”

Blanche grinned and nodded. “Yes. Let’s.” She exhaled a happy sigh. “Oh, Calliope
, I’m so glad you thought of this Tom Thumb weddin’. I think we all need something as entertaining and untainted as it promises to be.”

“I think so too,” Calliope agreed. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Rowdy Gates had almost reached the turnoff leading to the mill. “I just hope everyone will enjoy it as much as I hope they will,” she sighed.

*

As expected, Amoretta had proven in her letter that she was more than willing to write out the invitations to the Tom Thumb
wedding. Calliope had read the letter aloud to Evangeline, Blanche, Kizzy, and Shay once she and Blanche had arrived at the Ipswich house. After Amoretta’s letter had been read, the five of them lingered in the parlor discussing details of what the invitations should say.

Yet an hour or so later, Blanche had decided she should probably get home and help her mother with the laundering, Evangeline was wanting to answer Jennie’s letter, and Kizzy went about preparing a dessert for dinner that evening. Thus Calliope and Shay found themselves sitting in the parlor
, still excited about the wedding plans but with no one about still willing to discuss them.

“I was plannin’ on havin’ tea with Molly out on the back porch if you’d like to join us, Calliope,” Shay offered.

Calliope smiled, her heart swelling with love and compassion as she saw the pleading hope bright in Shay’s eyes.

“I’d love to join you and Molly, Shay Shay,” she said. “It is a lovely afternoon
, just perfect for cucumber canapés and butter cookies.”

Shay giggled
. “And don’t forget the raspberry tarts, Calliope!”

“I could never forget the raspberry tarts, my darling
,” Calliope assured her little sister. “Now, you gather the cucumber canapés and set up the tea on your table, and I’ll gather the butter cookies and raspberries, all right?”

“Yes!” Shay exclaimed
, hopping to her feet. “And we can use the doilies Evangeline made for me today.”

“Oh yes
, we must use those,” Calliope agreed. “Now off with you! Collect what you need, and I’ll meet you on the back porch as soon as I’ve gathered everything.”

Shay nodded with emphatic agreement and delight and hurried off in search of the things she needed to gather.

Calliope sighed with a feeling of mingled discontent and contentment. She so enjoyed playing with Shay. Furthermore, she knew that one way or the other, the moments with Shay would lessen, or at least slowly grow into something else. Shay would, after all, eventually stop playing ponies in the meadow, just the way Calliope had. Her pretended tea parties with Molly would give way to real tea parties with friends, or even sewing circles with the ladies of the town. This thought caused discontent in Calliope—a sadness that things would change. After all, things had changed when Amoretta married Brake and moved to Langtree. Things had changed when Calliope’s father had married Kizzy and brought Shay into their lives along with her. But those were good changes, whereas the idea of Shay grown up and no longer a little girl distressed Calliope.

Simultaneously
, however, Rowdy Gates had championed her in town that day. Calliope knew that Rowdy probably had no intention of docking Fox’s or Tate’s pay if they were a bit tardy getting back to the mill. He’d just somehow sensed Calliope’s distress, or the impropriety of Fox and Tate taking hold of her the way they each had, and he’d diminished the situation instantly and without incident—and Calliope was much more flattered by the fact Rowdy had intervened on her behalf than with Tate and Fox pulling at her like taffy. The knowledge offered her quite a measure of contentment.

Thus, Calliope headed out to the grassy expanse behind the
Ipswich home in search of butter cookies and raspberries with conflicting emotions jostling around in her mind and heart. Yet she smiled when she saw that, indeed, the space behind the house was simply speckled with buttercups and red poppies.

“Butter cookies and raspberries,” Calliope giggled to herself as she began to gather the colorful blooms to use as treats at Shay’s pretended tea party. She smiled as she held a buttercup to her nose
, dusting off the pollen afterward. Her own mother had taught her to use different flowers to represent different sorts of foodstuffs when playing tea party—when she was just a bit younger than Shay was now. It was one of the most vivid memories Calliope owned of her mother, and it always made her a little melancholy to think on it.

When Calliope arrived at the back porch, she was delighted when she saw that Shay had already set up her tea set on the little round table their father had made for Shay at Christmas. Using round, short pieces of wood from the woodpile that hadn’t been split yet as seats, Shay had set three places at the little table. Molly the marmalade was already positioned on her wood seat. As usual, Molly looked dreary
-eyed but patient.