A Basket Brigade Christmas (8 page)

The stubborn set of Mrs. Collins’s jaw relaxed. She nodded and said in a hoarse whisper. “Of course, Dorothy. As you wish.”

Mrs. Kincaid released Lucy’s hand. “Thank you,” she said and retreated from the room.

Stunned silence reigned for a moment, and then someone in the back said softly, “Can you really knit a dozen pairs of socks by December 1st, Mrs. Collins?”

Mrs. Collins turned about to face the ladies in the room. She was smiling as she said, “Do you mean to challenge me in regards to the contest, Mrs. Miller?”

Mrs. Miller, a ramrod-straight octogenarian, rose from the settee she’d been sharing with her seventy-five-year-old baby sister. “I believe I do.”

Mrs. Collins nodded. “I believe I’ll accept that challenge.” She glanced over at Lucy. “Now, what was that about refreshments, dear?”

S
ilas and Mrs. Tompkins had stepped onto the sidewalk to view the latest addition to the Golden Needle display when he saw Lucy cross the street about a block away. As soon as she was within earshot, he called out, “Wait until you see Mrs. Tompkins’s latest idea.” He stood back, watching for Lucy’s reaction as she took in the veiled display case in the front window and the sign encouraging citizens to “Watch for the Unveiling of the Golden Needle Award.”

Lucy’s face beamed with pleasure. “You’ve both gone far beyond duty to support this effort. I promise you that your faithfulness will be rewarded in due time.”

“The work is its own reward,” Silas said, and ushered the two ladies inside.

Mrs. Tompkins agreed with Silas. “We’ll all cherish the smiles and thanks we receive from the men on the train until the end of our days.”

“Is there any word on the award itself?” Lucy asked.

“I expect it to arrive any day now,” Silas said. At Lucy’s behest, he’d traveled to St. Louis and ordered a special design from Mr. Meyer Friede, one of the city’s top jewelers. “You’ll be pleased.”

“I expect I will,” Lucy said. The gold hollowware and blue enamel brooch was to feature seed pearls surrounding a center oval crystal. Beneath the crystal, which would normally have showcased hair art, crossed miniature golden knitting needles would be mounted over a blue background. The back was to be engraved with the presentation date and the winner’s initials.

What Lucy did not know was that when Silas told Mr. Friede the reason behind the design, the jeweler suggested a change. “What if, instead of seed pearls, I made that border red, white, and blue. More patriotic, isn’t it?”

“I like the idea,” Silas said, “but my employer didn’t authorize a more expensive version of her design. I’ll have to check with her and telegraph a reply.”

“It wouldn’t be any more expensive if I donated the gemstones.”

“You’d do that?”

“I would. They won’t be first quality, mind you, but I’d wager the ladies will be a lot more excited about a border that sparkles.”

Silas hesitated. “Perhaps, but Miss Maddox isn’t—” He broke off. Lucy would be horrified with anything gaudy. Then again, it wouldn’t do to offend the man making the suggestion.

“You needn’t worry, Mr. Tait.” Mr. Friede indicated the showcase nearby. “As with all of my wares, everything will be done in good taste. Small chips—but still beautiful. Garnet, diamond, and topaz. Understated but elegant.”

“If you’re certain. I will admit, however, that your generosity is a bit overwhelming.”

“I am certain. In fact,” the jeweler said, “I’ll personally deliver it so that I can see the fair lady’s reaction.”

“She’ll be very pleased,” Silas said. All the way home he contemplated the “fair lady’s reaction” to the surprise. It would be a moment to cherish. A memory that he would treasure far more than sparkling gems.

As fall painted the leaves of the trees in town and the air turned cool and crisp, Silas’s anticipation of seeing Lucy’s delight when the jeweler delivered the brooch grew. More than once he very nearly ruined the surprise by telling her. Finally, he told Mrs. Tompkins—in confidence. “She’s going to be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Tompkins said with an odd smile.

Silas tilted his head. “What?”

“Oh … nothing. It just seems that you’ve been unusually happy since Miss Maddox took on her new project—in spite of the fact that the project requires so much of your time. It’s not every shopkeeper who’d risk being gone from his business for so many hours every day. Not to mention the evenings you spend catching up the ledgers and keeping track of shipments.”

“Lucy asked—I mean, Miss Maddox requested that I ‘hover’ a bit until she feels more at ease operating the machine. I’m sorry if my doing so has put an undue burden on you.” He frowned. “And of course it has. I apologize, Mrs. Tompkins.”

The widow waved a hand in denial. “No, no, no, Mr. Tait. I intended my words as nothing more than good-natured teasing. It does my old heart good to see you two working so well together. It’s I who should be apologizing if I seemed to be complaining. I am not. Your support of the Basket Brigade is wonderful.”

Silas shrugged. “I want to do my part.” He bent his knee and lifted his false leg. “Some would say that since I can’t fight, I should do
more
than my part.”

“Well, you are. All the squares you’ve cut after the store closes each evening. I know you’ll deny spending your own funds, but really, Mr. Tait, I’m not quite so absentminded as to have lost track of entire bolts of cloth that you seem to find a reason to declare as ‘old stock we need to be rid of.’ And please allow an old woman her dreams. There’s no better way to court a lady than to show yourself willing to support what’s important to her. Miss Maddox has fairly blossomed in recent days, and I suspect it has as much to do with the gentleman who calls each day as it does with her pet project.”

“That’s absurd,” Silas protested. “What’s more, such a thing would be—unsuitable. Please don’t mention it again.”

Mrs. Tompkins frowned. “What an odd use of a word. Why would you say it’s ‘unsuitable’?”

“You need ask?” Again, Silas indicated his false leg. He allowed a sad laugh. “I learned long ago that ladies see me as ‘unsuitable’ when it comes to—that kind of relationship.”

“And now who’s being absurd?” Mrs. Tompkins said firmly.

“Only the woman in the room who refuses to acknowledge the evidence presented in this store every single day. Silas Tait is the skilled tailor. The capable storekeeper. The dependable errand boy. I will never be more, and I have accepted that.”

“Balderdash. I’ve seen the way you look at Miss Maddox. And I see the way she’s blossoming before our very eyes as she works with the Basket Brigade—and you. Your feelings for her are certainly nothing to be ashamed of. She’s a kind, unselfish, intelligent woman.”

“You don’t have to defend Miss Maddox’s virtues to me. I am well aware of every single one of them.”
And they’ve caused me no small amount of anguish.

“And you, Mr. Tait, are equally kind, unselfish, and intelligent.”

“Thank you. Now it is your turn to be kind and find something to do besides tempting me to hope.”

Mrs. Tompkins sighed. “As you wish. I shall keep my own counsel in the matter. And take it up with the Lord.”

Silas said no more. He and the Lord had shared many discussions over the years regarding Miss Lucy Maddox. For a very long while, Silas had insisted on believing the Lord’s answer was
“Have patience. Not yet.”
The fact that Lucy kept the mercantile and asked him to stay on after Mr. Maddox’s death helped the flame of hope continue to flicker. Until, at some point in the last year, he’d faced the truth. She was ten years his junior. She was far above him in social standing. She thought of him only as a reliable fixture in her life. The real answer to his longing was
No. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.
Facing that truth had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

Mrs. Tompkins’s teasing aside, Silas gained a deep sense of satisfaction from supporting Lucy’s “Golden Needle endeavor,” for the phrase had been adopted by everyone involved. They welcomed Silas’s assistance with open arms, and their kindness not only soothed his sense of guilt at not being able to fight but also applied balm to the deep loneliness he’d felt ever since moving to Decatur.

Lucy was pedaling away on the treadle sewing machine when, one week late in October, Silas strode into the parlor and leaned down to say quietly, “I have news. May I speak with you privately?”

Lucy rose, took her cape down from the hall tree, and led the way onto the front veranda. She had barely closed the door behind them when she asked, “Is it the award? Is it ready?”

He sighed with exasperation. “Is it even possible to surprise you, Miss Maddox?”

“Probably not.” Lucy grinned. “I know you too well. I could see happy news in your eyes. I immediately thought of the award.”

“Mr. Friede sent a telegram. He will bring it day after tomorrow on the morning train from St. Louis. How do you wish to proceed? Shall I bring him here to the house, where you can share the award with the ladies here at the time, or do you wish to make the unveiling more of a ceremony?”

“Which do you prefer?”

“If you unveiled it in the display case in the windows …”

“… there’d be a crowd.”

“And more attention brought to the effort.”

“As well as more anticipation for the contest participants.” Lucy laughed. “I like the way you think, Mr. Tait. We could meet Mr. Friede at the depot, perhaps have tea in the hotel café, and then have a ceremonial unveiling at the store thereafter. Say, at eleven o’clock. It will give people something to talk about.”

Mr. Tait agreed. “Word of mouth is the best promotion a project could receive.”

“I should like to ask Mrs. Tompkins to join us at the depot,” Lucy said. “If you’ll agree to closing the store until the unveiling. The display case was her idea and a very good one.”

“Closing the store will emphasize the importance of the moment,” Silas said. “Shall Mrs. Tompkins and I call for you at nine in the morning, then?”

“There’s no need for you to go to so much trouble,” Lucy said. “Henry and I will call for you both at the mercantile.”

Silas barely slept on Thursday night for the pure excitement of seeing Lucy when she caught her first glimpse of the Golden Needle Award. He had, however, been a bit taken aback by her refusal to let him do the calling.