While Love Stirs (9 page)

“And now?” Molly opened her bag and produced a large oatmeal cookie for each of them.

“She got a law degree and a husband. She married an attorney named Lincoln, and they recently had a baby girl named Ellie.” Charlotte took a bite of the cookie. “This is delicious, Miss Molly. Maybe you should be teaching the classes.”

“Heavens, no. I’m still attached to my old range. None of this newfangled gas stuff for me.” She broke her cookie in half, and crumbs sprinkled across the tucking on her white shirtwaist. She
brushed them away. “But I’ll take good care of you and all the travel arrangements. You can be sure of that.”

“I appreciate it.” The quiet humming of the man behind them drew Charlotte’s attention. “Miss Molly, do you know when the singer Mr. Johnson hired will join us?”

“Actually, at White Bear Lake—our first stop.”

“It will be fun to have one more lady traveling with us. I do hope she can sing ‘By the Light of the Silvery Moon.’ It’s one of my favorites. Aunt Sam has a wax cylinder for her phonograph with Miss Ada Jones singing that very tune.”

“Aunt Sam?”

Oh dear. How would this elderly Southern lady view Aunt Sam and her penchant for men’s britches? Not to mention her tireless suffrage work. Did Charlotte even want to broach controversial issues with Molly so soon?

“Aunt Sam is really Hannah’s husband’s aunt.” Charlotte decided to stick to the facts. “She raised Lincoln after his parents died, and now she’s sort of adopted Tessa and me—at least for the summer.”

“That’s mighty generous of her.”

Charlotte dabbed her lips with a handkerchief. “Aunt Sam lives on Summit Avenue.”

“Well, she must be high cotton. Your auntie can afford to be generous.”

Heat warmed Charlotte’s cheeks. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“There’s nothing to be bashful about, sugar. That’s the way the good Lord has laid out your path. Count your blessings.” Molly set her large bag on the floor, then slapped her gloved hands on her legs. “Now, honey, I want to hear more about you.”

By the time they neared White Bear Lake, Molly had extracted a mass of information from Charlotte. As the train rattled and clacked along, Charlotte found herself answering all of Molly’s questions without holding back anything. She shared her dream of someday owning a restaurant. She talked about her passion for improving the food served in hospitals, and even told Molly about
her unsuccessful discussion of the matter with Dr. Brooks. “And then he showed up at the cooking competition just to see if I had any idea what I was talking about. Can you imagine?”

“The nerve of that man.” Molly’s blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “Perhaps he’s more interested in chasing you than changing his hospital.”

“Then he’d better look elsewhere. I’ve already had enough of bossy men to last a lifetime. I’m ready for a sweet man who doesn’t care if I crusade.”

“I see.” The train’s brakes squealed and Molly picked up her satchel. “You want a man who’s as happy as a pig in a peach orchard.”

Charlotte quirked an eyebrow at the older woman’s odd saying, but the train came to a stop before she could inquire further. She drew in a deep breath.

Her journey was about to begin, and with Molly by her side, it should prove quite interesting.

11

“You’re the singer?” Charlotte stared at the well-dressed, lanky young man who met them in the hotel’s lobby.

“Yes, miss. Mr. Johnson said I’d be joining you two lovely ladies in your travels. I’m Lewis Mathis.” He started to offer his hand but then drew it back and stuffed it in the pocket of his tweed trousers.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Molly seemed to recover more quickly than Charlotte. “I’m Molly Larkin, and this is our speaker, Miss Charlotte Gregory. It’ll be as sweet as pie to have a man to serenade us every day, not to mention escort us and carry our trunks.”

Lewis, who had to be nearly the same age as Charlotte, didn’t look like he’d be doing a lot of trunk lifting. He might manage a few satchels—if they didn’t pack them too heavy and the wind didn’t blow.

“I’ll be happy to help you both any way I can.” He pushed up his spectacles and tilted a nervous smile in Charlotte’s direction. He tugged on his starched collar. “As soon as you ladies are settled in your rooms, perhaps we could take a look at the hardware store where the lecture is being held.”

“That would be perfect.” Molly passed Charlotte one of the room keys. “As soon as we freshen up a bit, we’ll be down, and then you’ll have to tell us all about yourself while we’re setting up.” Molly nudged Charlotte’s arm. “Right, Charlotte?”

She forced her lips to curve upward to ease a bit of Lewis’s discomfort. “Yes, of course. Give us half an hour.”

A genuine smile graced his boyish face. “I’ll be waiting in the café next door. I’m sure you’re hungry after your journey.”

Easing open the doors to the Metropolitan Opera House’s auditorium, Tessa waited for her eyes to adjust to the black emptiness yawning back at her.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed. “Is anybody here?” The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she shivered. How could something so alive in the evening seem so dead at nine in the morning?

“Miss Gregory, there you are.”

She whirled at the sound of a man’s deep voice and heavy footfalls on the tiled floor. “I-I was looking for the office.”

“Of course you were.” The middle-aged man’s lips curved in a welcoming smile. “It’s a good thing I recognized you from your aunt’s description. I’m Mr. Jurgenson, the manager of the Metropolitan Opera House.” He motioned to the heavy mahogany doors. “And I see you found the theater.”

“What little of it I could see.”

Tessa stepped back and sized up Mr. Jurgenson. Time had not been kind to the poor man. More hair poked out of his ears and from his bushy eyebrows than grew on the top of his head, and deep wrinkles fanned his steel-gray eyes. Still, he seemed pleasant enough.

She hiked one shoulder. “It was as dark as an inkwell inside the theater. I couldn’t see a thing.”

“Yes, without the lights, it is rather ominous looking, isn’t it?” Mr. Jurgenson tugged on the lapels of his plaid suit jacket. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the office and get you started on your duties.”

Tessa followed the manager across the Minton-tiled floor of the theater’s foyer. She glanced at the arched doorways leading into the theater, each one adorned with crimson velvet curtains tied
back at the sides. She passed the upholstered chairs and couldn’t help but run her hand along their backs. Even though she’d been there before with Aunt Sam and her sisters, the lavish surroundings robbed her of breath. How did she get so lucky to work here?

She gripped the brass handrail as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, and then Mr. Jurgenson led her down another hallway and finally stopped in front of a room. He held open a door for her. “Welcome to the office of the Metropolitan Opera House, Miss Gregory.”

By stark contrast, the office lacked any finery. One desk faced the doorway as they entered, and two others faced one another in the center of the room. Tall windows made the room bright and sunny, but nothing else added to the room’s warmth. Tessa noted the absence of any pictures. Why wouldn’t they have pictures of the actors and actresses hanging around the room?

A typewriter sat on each desk, as well as a lamp. Her gaze landed on a large stack of posters. She flexed her fingers. Were those playbills?

A prim-looking woman wearing a crisp white shirtwaist stood. “Good morning, Mr. Jurgenson.”

“Miss Gregory, may I introduce you to Miss Walker. You’ll be assisting her with filing and other general responsibilities.”

“Filing?” She wrinkled her nose, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Why had she spoken it that way?

Mr. Jurgenson chuckled. “You didn’t think you’d be working backstage, did you?”

She didn’t dare admit she’d hoped she would. “No, sir. I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say something else and I wanted to clarify.”

“Very well.” He checked his pocket watch, then slipped it back into his vest pocket. “As you can see, my office is over there, so I’m sure you’ll see me later today. Right now I have a meeting to get to, but Miss Walker will keep you busy.”

As soon as the door shut behind the manager, Miss Walker turned to Tessa. “I run a smooth and orderly office. I’ll do my
best to make sure you understand the tasks assigned to you, and I’ll expect you to complete them in a timely manner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tessa glanced at Miss Walker’s crisp white shirtwaist. How did she keep it so wrinkle free?

“And if I happen to send you to the theater or backstage to deliver something to a member of the cast or a director, you are to return immediately. These actors can be of questionable character, and I won’t be responsible for the degradation of a fine young lady such as yourself.”

A little thrill shot through Tessa. She might be sent backstage after all. She’d bide her time here until she got her opportunity.

Look out, world. Here
comes America’s sweetheart, Miss Tessa Gregory.

Nearly thirty women crowded into the hardware store. Charlotte wiped her sweaty palms on her white apron and scanned the ladies who’d come. They’d turned out in their Sunday best. At least with her new shirtwaist with its well-shaped collar and three-quarter-length sleeves, she knew no one could fault her fashion. Her words? That was another thing altogether. Had she bitten off more than she could chew?

Her eyes widened. What was Kathleen O’Grady from the cooking contest doing here? She was bound to bring trouble. Charlotte drew in a deep breath. Well, if she could handle Kathleen’s snide remarks, she could handle anything.

However, she had best manage the situation from the start. She strode over to greet the young woman. “Hello, Kathleen. What brings you here to White Bear Lake?”

“My brother Kelly had business here, so I decided to join him. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were giving a cooking demonstration. I simply had to come and cheer you on.”

Charlotte doubted that. “I appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy the lecture.”

Moving back to the stove, Charlotte waited for Lewis to perform. He stood off to the side. She’d been so busy getting her own things ready, she hadn’t been able to ask him if he was nervous, but one look at him now told her he most certainly was.

The bell on the hardware store jingled, and Charlotte turned to see a man walk in. She gasped. Mr. Johnson? Had he come all the way from Saint Paul to check up on her? What if she didn’t live up to his expectations? If Kathleen interfered with her lecture, her time with the gas company could be over before it began.

No. She wouldn’t let that happen. She wanted this too much. She could do this.

Lewis stepped beside the hardware store owner. She gave him an encouraging smile. With his hair parted down the middle and slicked down on the sides, he looked even younger than he had yesterday. Could this tall, slender young man really croon?

Last night, Charlotte had discovered that Lewis was an agreeable fellow, quick to laugh and quick to lend a hand. The two of them worked side by side, unpacking her pots and pans. She’d set her lima beans to soaking while they talked. Meanwhile, Molly had taken Charlotte’s list of groceries and made arrangements with the local mercantile and the butcher to have the necessary items delivered.

Now, as the hardware store owner stepped forward, Charlotte sent up a quick prayer for Lewis’s performance and a longer one for her own success.

The owner inserted his thumb and pinky into his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Immediately the room fell silent. “That’s more like it.” He glanced at Lewis. “Now, before I introduce our guest speaker, we have a special treat. Mr. Lewis Mathis, a bass from Stillwater, is going to perform for us.”

Lewis moved to the front of the room. Could he be a bass? Truly? Not a tenor? Or a baritone?

“The first song I’m going to sing is one I believe you’ll all recognize.” All his nervousness seemed to vanish as he spoke to the crowd.

How odd. She hadn’t noticed the deep timbre of his voice.

He smiled at the audience. “Here’s my version of ‘Shine On, Harvest Moon.’”

With no accompaniment, he began. His voice, strong and full, filled the room. Ladies smiled in appreciation and Charlotte blinked. Lanky Lewis Mathis could sing! News of that voice was sure to travel. By tomorrow, more women would surely attend. Would they be able to fit another twenty or thirty women in the hardware store?

After “Shine On, Harvest Moon,” Lewis sang a fun rendition of “Good Evening, Caroline” and finished with “Then You’ll Remember Me.” By the end of that song, surely he’d won the hearts of nearly every lady who’d come to the lecture. He’d be a tough act to follow.

From the applause, Charlotte guessed the ladies would have liked to hear more, but Lewis bowed and the hardware store owner stepped forward to introduce her. Her stomach jiggled like unmolded gelatin as the man explained she was a graduate of Fannie Farmer’s School of Cookery and would now delight them with her culinary skills, using the marvels of the gas range.

“Welcome, ladies. Thank you all for coming.” Charlotte flashed her best smile to the crowd. “I know all of you work very hard. How would you like to have at least an hour of your day to do as you wish?”

The ladies murmured their agreement. Charlotte grinned. She had their attention, but a glance at Kathleen told her that girl was waiting for a moment to stir up trouble.