The Christmas Bargain (31 page)

“I believe I would,” she said, standing imperiously in the kitchen.

Filly picked up the basket then looped her arm through Dora’s. “Let’s find your coat and we’ll be on our way.”

Stopping in the front hall, Filly held Dora’s coat while she slipped it on then watched as her mother-in-law fastened a hat half as wide as a wagon wheel onto her head. Filly wondered how she’d get out the front door with it on. Fastening her own simple hat on her head, Filly opened the front door and watched. Dora tilted her head at an angle and sailed through the door. Shaking her head at the spectacle the hat made, Filly was quite impressed.

“I’ve never seen a hat quite like that,” Filly said as they strolled down the sidewalk and along the drive.

“It’s the latest fashion, of course,” Dora said, eyeing Filly’s ensemble critically. “Where do you get your clothes?”

“Abby made my wardrobe,” Filly said, proud of her friend’s talents. “She has her own dress shop and runs a thriving business, but she hasn’t been able to do much the past few weeks with the baby. She hopes to be able to get back into a more regular schedule once Erin is a little older.”

“You mean this backwater town finally has its own dress shop?” Dora asked, astonished at this tidbit of news.

“Yes, it does,” Filly said, insulted on behalf of their wonderful little community at being called backwater. Instead of saying something she shouldn’t, Filly kept her thoughts to herself. She was very good at biting her tongue after living with her father for so many years.

“Well, perhaps I’ll have the opportunity to visit Abby’s store before we leave,” Dora said, looking critically around town as they walked to the parsonage.

“Yes, Mother Granger. I’m sure Abby would be happy to show you what she has available,” Filly said, feeling sorry for subjecting Abby to Dora’s presence, but hoping Abby wouldn’t mind.

“Good. It appears that the woman has some idea of fashion and style,” Dora said. Filly accepted the backhanded compliment by nodding her head.

Instead of traipsing in the parsonage’s back door as was her habit, Filly instead led Dora up the walk to the front door.

“Isn’t this a quaint little cottage,” Dora said, surveying the parsonage with a hint of disdain.

“Abby and Chauncy have made it into a charming home, so warm and inviting,” Filly said as they waited for someone to answer the door. Abby soon turned the knob and smiled at her friend.

“Well, Filly, no need to knock…” Abby said, noticing Filly didn’t come alone. “Oh, hello. You must be Luke’s mother. I’m Abby Dodd, how very nice to meet you.”

Abby pulled the older woman into a hug before she had time to protest, somehow managing to bob under the huge hat.

Opening the door wide, Abby invited them in.

“I just put Erin down for a nap and Chauncy is at the church, practicing his sermon for tomorrow night’s services,” Abby said as she ushered them into the sitting room, where a fire popped merrily in the fireplace. Greenery lined the mantle and a few holiday decorations rested on a table behind the couch.

“Let me take your coats,” Abby said, helping Dora off with hers. Filly removed her outerwear and hung it by the door, along with her hat. Dora finally removed her hat and allowed Abby to place it on a bench by the door, while she took a seat in a chair by the fire.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Abby asked her guest.

“That would be lovely, dear,” Dora said, looking around, trying to decide if the room looked charming or shabby. Somewhat peeved, she realized Filly was right. The Dodd home was quite charming.

“I’ll just take this basket into the kitchen,” Filly said, following Abby down the hall.

“How are you holding up?” Abby asked quietly as she quickly made a pot of tea.

“Fine,” Filly said, setting the puppy’s milk and meat on the table along with the bread and caramels. Looking around she saw the puppy asleep in a box near the stove. “How’s the puppy?”

“He is so cute,” Abby said, adding the teapot, cups, sugar and cream onto a large tray. “Chauncy thinks he’ll be fine. He’s already starting to lose that starved look.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have to figure out a way to sneak over here tomorrow night to get him,” Filly said, taking the tray from Abby as they heard the baby let out a cry.

“Maybe Chauncy can think of a plan,” Abby said, hurrying down the hall to get the baby while Filly set the tray on a low table by the fire in the front room.

When Abby returned with baby Erin, Filly poured the tea, handing a cup to Dora.

“Mrs. Granger, would you like to hold Erin?” Abby asked, beaming as only a new mother can.

“Certainly,” Dora said, setting down her tea and taking the baby in her arms. The lines in her face softened and her carriage relaxed as she held the baby. “Isn’t she a darling little thing?”

“We like to think so,” Abby said, pride ringing in her voice.

Cooing at the baby, Dora missed the knowing look pass between the two younger women. When Erin grew fussy, Dora handed the baby to Abby who covered them both with a light blanket and let the baby nurse while the three of them chatted.

“You know, Filly, you and Luke should make beautiful babies,” Dora commented in a tone that said she was stating the obvious. “You both are quite striking and with your coloring, your offspring should be most appealing, although most likely abnormally tall.”

Filly almost spewed her tea across the room, managing to keep it in her mouth by tightly clamping her lips together. Although not exactly what she would call a compliment, she decided to take it as such.

If only Dora knew there was absolutely no possible way of them creating a baby under the current circumstances. Blushing, Filly decided she was glad Dora didn’t know. She could only imagine the lecture that would conjure from her mother-in-law.

“No need to blush, dear,” Dora said with a wave of her hand in Filly’s direction. “It is a fact.”

“Thank you,” Filly managed to say, hiding her face behind her tea cup while Abby bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

When the baby burped loudly, both Filly and Abby erupted in giggles, which caused Dora to raise an eyebrow, although a small smile did flutter around her mouth.

“It sounds as though she enjoyed her meal,” Dora said, which produced another round of giggles. When they quieted down, Dora asked Abby about her business, where she got her patterns, and how current she stayed on modern trends.

“I’d love to show you the store before you leave,” Abby said, handing Erin to Filly to rock back to sleep. “Maybe you can come in after Christmas.”

“That would be acceptable,” Dora stated, sipping her tea and watching Filly cuddle the baby. Her daughter-in-law seemed quite taken with the child.

A thump from the kitchen interrupted the conversation and Abby sent Filly a look. Filly got up with Erin in her arms, heading that direction. “I’ll go see what made the noise. Probably just a piece of wood rolling in the stove. You two should continue your discussion about Abby’s store.”

“Indeed,” Dora said, proceeding to question Abby about fabrics, trims and her selection of hats.

Filly hurried into the kitchen to see the puppy lapping from a water dish with one paw in the saucer. When he lifted his paw, the dish thunked against the floor.

“Well, aren’t you a messy little fellow,” Filly said, pouring the stew meat into a second saucer for the dog. He greedily nipped at the tender meat. With little need for much chewing, he soon licked up the last of it then pawed at Filly’s skirt, as though begging for more.

“That is enough for now, puppy. You’ll make yourself sick eating too much and I’ll not have a greedy hound.” Patting his head with her free hand, he flopped down on the floor and enjoyed the attention. Quickly going to sleep, Filly put him back in his box and rinsed off her hand.

Returning to the front room, a glance at the clock reminded Filly she needed to get home and see to their dinner.

Handing the sleeping baby back to Abby, Filly announced it was time to head home. She carried the tea tray back to the kitchen, then helped Dora on with her coat. She slipped on her own outerwear while Dora pinned her hat in place.

“That is quite the hat, Mrs. Granger,” Abby said, trying not to laugh at the milliner’s nightmare perched on Dora’s head.

“It is, isn’t it? When I saw it in the window, I told Mr. Granger I had to have it. Absolutely had to have it,” Dora said, adjusting the tilt of the brim before slipping on her gloves. “I can see you have excellent taste, Abby. We’ll get along famously. And I think you should call me Dora.”

“Thank you, Dora,” Abby said, watching her guests leave. “Have a wonderful evening.”

Filly looked back over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Abby, causing her to fight the urge to giggle as she shut the door.

It wasn’t lost on Filly that Dora gave Abby permission to call her by her first name when she insisted Filly call her Mother Granger. Irritated, Filly walked back to the house in silence, listening to Dora go on about how dreadful the town had been when she lived there and all the reasons she had to move back to civilization.

“I never could understand why Luke refused to leave. He could have done so much better somewhere else. Somewhere civilized,” Dora said, removing her coat and hat in the entry, hanging them on the hall tree.

“I suppose he refused to leave because he likes it here,” Filly said, absently. She felt a headache starting to pound behind her left eye and the more Dora spoke, the harder it pounded. Hoping the woman would decide to take another rest, Filly was quite disappointed when she followed her into the kitchen.

“Oh, I forgot you have to make dinner. I should very much like to witness the proceedings,” Dora said, pulling up a chair at the table and turning watchful eyes to Filly. “I am intrigued by all your domesticity.”

“Very well, then,” Filly said, washing up at the sink, as the headache went from a dull pounding to a full roar.

Filly was counting the minutes until Luke and his dad came home. Her ears hurt from listening to Dora talk about her cook, her friends and their household staff, who she liked and didn’t like and why, how Filly really needed to hire some help, and how Luke needed to move to New York.

“Although, dear, I just don’t see how you would possibly fit in,” Dora said, looking at Filly like she wasn’t fit to be seen in proper society. “Especially since you are so tall and gangly.”

Ignoring the comment, Filly began mashing the potatoes with much more force than necessary.

When the back door opened and the men came in, laughing and joking, she shot Luke a look that quickly quelled his laughter. Hanging up his coat and hat, he gave his mother’s upturned cheek a kiss then walked to the stove where Filly gave a pan of gravy a vicious stir.

 Never witnessing his wife riled up before, Luke could judge by the high color in her cheeks and the sparks shooting from her eyes that his mother had stepped over the line, probably more than once since he’d seen her at lunch.

“Ready to throw her out yet?” Luke asked quietly as he put his arms around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“If I agree, can I watch you toss her out? Would you make sure she lands head-first on that ridiculous hat?” Filly whispered hotly, too angry to form tears or be concerned what she was saying about her husband’s mother.

Luke threw back his head and laughed, causing his parents to look his direction. His father grinned while his mother stared.

“Luke, such outbursts are just not civilized. See what living out here at the end of nowhere has done to undermine all that I taught you,” Dora said, in a no-nonsense tone.

“Aw, Dora, give it a rest,” Greg said, sitting down beside her and slapping her leg. “Leave the boy alone. He’s done very well for himself, both with his business and his choice of a bride. If she makes him laugh, then I say more power to them both.”