Flora's Wish (59 page)

“What have I done?” Violet asked as she ran her hand across her skirt, likely feeling the wooden contraptions.

“You've taken your first step. Well, almost.”

Violet began to giggle, and Flora joined her. “Help me stand again,” she said as she looked down at her legs, now resting straight out in front of her.

“Now what?” Flora asked when the feat was accomplished.

“Read the instructions,” she said as she gestured with her walking stick.

Flora reached for the folded paper and began to read. As her eyes scanned the page, she found herself thinking more of the fact that the words had been written by Lucas rather than actually comprehending what the paper said. She finally shook off the thought of the absent Pinkerton agent and decided to read the thing aloud.

That did the trick. Soon she had Violet standing comfortably for brief periods without leaning on the walking stick. Between taking the waters, attending to a strict schedule of exercises as prescribed by Dr. Jones, and practicing, after a few days Violet took her first tiny baby steps without assistance.

And then just this morning, she had managed to cross the length of the parlor with only the walking stick for help.

The feat had taken just short of two weeks.

Oh, but what a glorious two weeks it had been. Most of the time Flora managed to stop thinking about the man who'd virtually disappeared from her life, only to make such a difference in her sister's. The conundrum confounded her, and yet given the choice, she far preferred to see Violet so happy.

And yet it had been five weeks since the afternoon Lucas McMinn disappeared without so much as a goodbye. The same Lucas McMinn who had declared his love, albeit under medication.

But wasn't that a truth serum of sorts? Flora made a note to ask Dr. Jones when next Violet saw him. And perhaps she would also ask for a remedy for her broken heart.

Not that she expected it to ever heal.

“Look, Flora,” Grandmama said then stepped back to reveal Violet and the new gown the dressmaker had just delivered. “Isn't she lovely?”

Her sister beamed. “I can't remember the last time I wore a party dress.”

“Lovely,” Flora said, “and I hope you will soon have a chance to wear it.”

“Haven't you heard?” Grandmama said. “She shall. And very soon.”

Mrs. Brimm turned to Flora. “It's an Evening in the Ozarks masquerade ball here at the Crescent. Didn't you see the invitation?” She hadn't. Likely it lay in the pile of unread mail that had been stacking up on her writing desk since her arrival.

Invitations were cast aside in favor of her daily search for any sort of correspondence from Lucas. Grandmama dictated her calendar and Violet's anyway. Why bother reading the mail?

Violet looked away. “I've not yet decided… But yes, there is a ball. And perhaps…”

“You shall attend,” Grandmama said. “You just must.” She waved away any possible protest. “Lest you think you might cause a spectacle, don't give it a thought. The doctor has given his permission, and I have a brilliant idea for how we can get you in and out of the event without causing any notice.”

“Truly, Grandmama, I just don't know…”

She patted Violet's shoulder. “Shall we plan on your attendance and then, if you so chose, decline later? The ball is a week away. Imagine what you can do between now and then. You are, after all, a Brimm, dear. And we Brimms are capable of doing exactly what we put our minds to.”

Violet looked to her. “What do you think, Flora?”

“I think it's a grand idea. Now, shall we get back to practicing?”

Though Violet was the one who claimed concern over attending the masquerade ball, it was Flora whose nerves got the better of her as she stepped off the elevator. Grandmama and her sister followed, with Violet looking only slightly less worried than she.

“All right, dears,” Grandmama said. “We are Brimms. Follow me.”

To Flora's surprise, her grandmother bypassed the grand entrance to take a few steps down the side hall. There she had a wheelchair waiting for Violet.

“Trust me,” she said as she pressed past, leaving Flora to push Violet in her wake. After a few turns, Grandmama stopped in what was obviously a servant's passageway. There a silver-haired gentleman was waiting: Violet's doctor and a young man he introduced as his assistant.

He offered Violet his arm, and she took it. “All right,” he said as Flora pushed the chair out of the way. “Remember how we've practiced. Sixteen steps forward and then three to the right.” When Violet nodded, he addressed the assistant. “I'll have you on my opposite side. And Flora, will you bring up the rear and see that your sister remains steady on her feet? Of course, Mrs. Brimm, you enter first and capture all the attention.”

Flora grinned. The cad.

“Whenever you're ready,” he said to Violet.

She grinned and fixed her mask in place. “Now, I believe.”

The door opened and, to Flora's surprise, the room was bathed in darkness except for the tiny bulbs that twinkled on the ballroom ceiling and the candelabras that shone light on each of the tables.

The effect was lovely, turning the ballroom into a nighttime paradise—an evening in the Ozarks. It also served to hide the fact that Violet Brimm was being propelled across the short distance to their table with her feet a few inches off the ground. With Grandmama leading the way and taking the spotlight, depositing Violet comfortably at the table was simply and efficiently done with none of the guests any the wiser.

And with the table set into the corner in an alcove mostly hidden by tall potted palms, the effect was to highlight those seated there without allowing more than one or two persons to come near.

“Oh, Flora,” Violet said. “This is lovely.”

And it was. Truly.

She leaned back in her chair and watched as the doctor captured Grandmama's hand and led her onto the dance floor. As the music began in earnest, the electric lights flashed on, illuminating the room.

“May I join you?” the intern asked, though the effort of speaking appeared to cost him reddened cheeks.

“Yes, of course,” Violet said. “Do, please.”

A moment later the pair were in deep conversation about who knew what, leaving Flora to gaze out the windows and try not to think of the last time she danced beneath these chandeliers. Of her climb out on that ledge and the exit she and Lucas McMinn made by dancing across the ballroom.

He was a wonderful dancer.

Flora sighed as Grandmama waltzed past, this time on the arm of yet another gray-haired gentleman. A moment later the pair disappeared into the crowd, leaving her to wonder.

“Flora, do stop your woolgathering.”

She looked over at Violet, who nodded toward the intern.

“May I fetch you something to drink?” he asked solicitously.

At her nod, the fellow made haste toward the refreshments.

“Well, now,” Flora said as she leaned toward Violet. “Aren't you the belle of the ball?”

“Don't be silly. He's just a dear fellow who happens to work for Dr. Jones.”

“Oh?” she said, though she knew what she saw on Violet's face. It was the same expression she'd once looked at Lucas with. Despite all predictions to the contrary, Violet Brimm was falling in love. And from the look on the intern's face as he earnestly balanced two glasses of punch, that love was reciprocated.

“How long have you known him, Violet?”

Her shrug was anything but casual. “Since the first time Grandmama took me to see Dr. Jones. Rudolph is a dear man, and he's been most helpful in my recovery.”

“Rudolph?” She stifled a smile. “I see.”

“Am I late?” Cousin Winny slid onto the chair beside her with Dora Lennart in tow.

“Winny? What are you doing here?” She glanced past him to his companion. “Hello, Miss Lennart.”

“Are we late?” he repeated.

“Late for what?”

Winny shrugged. “Grandmama said she wanted us gathered precisely at eight.” He removed his watch and checked the time. “And it's ten after.” He looked at Dora. “We're late.”

“I'm terribly sorry, darling,” she said. “I—” Any further conversation ceased as Grandmama arrived at the table.

“Excellent, you're all here. Dora, dear, wouldn't you like to mingle?”

“Mingle, Mrs. Brimm? Why would I want to do that?”

Grandmama fixed her with a look. “Because it would be the appropriate thing to do at this moment.” She paused and then, when it appeared Miss Lennart still did not understand, she leaned toward her. “Leave, dear. Winny will fetch you when we're finished.”

At Winny's wave, she slipped away from the table to move toward the refreshments.

Grandmama nodded to the doctor, who gestured to his intern. Together the pair moved into position. Now the table was completely blocked off from the rest of the room.

“I made the decision to meet here in this public place to avoid any unpleasant scenes.” Her gaze swept the three cousins seated before her. “So should any of you wish to cause trouble or complain, you will need to do so elsewhere, please.”

“Grandmama,” Flora said, “is something wrong?”

“No, dear,” she said, her smile radiant. “Something is very right, though I will require you all to remove those ridiculous masks. I simply cannot hold this conversation while you are thusly costumed.” She paused while they complied and then continued. “Though we are all far too well-bred to bring it up, each of us has been affected by my late husband's will. You,” she said to Winny, “have spent what you don't have in hopes of getting Brimmfield. You,” she indicated Violet, “have used Brimmfield as a place to hide.” Grandmama met Flora's gaze. “And you have allowed it to be an excuse not to live the life you were intended to live.”

Because neither Winny nor Violet had voiced a response, Flora didn't dare be the first. And yet words of complaint were on the tip of her tongue, ready to be unleashed. How dare Grandmama think that she knew what sort of life she was supposed to be living?

“Winthrop, your debts have been paid and the Lennart family has been the recipient of a generous insurance policy they believe Martin Lennart purchased. You will not disabuse them of this belief. Do you understand?” He nodded but did not speak.

“Violet, an allowance has been settled on you that will allow you and your beloved nurse or whomever you choose to travel in safety and comfort. Or, if you choose, to settle somewhere and live a comfortable life.”

Her sister reached over to grasp Flora's hand, smiling. Flora returned the smile.

“And Flora.” Grandmama sighed. “Dear Flora. Oh, this was a difficult decision.”

Flora's heart sank. “I still have time to inherit Brimmfield—”

“No, dear. I've sold it.”

“Sold…Brimmfield?” Flora shook her head. “But how? The will—”

“Had a loophole. It took some doing, but after reading that brilliant piece of work he did for you in the form of the marriage contract, I had our mutual legal friend look it over again. Indeed, the judge intended for one of you two to inherit upon my unfortunate demise. However, there was no mention of me being unable to sell the property as long as I own it.” Her smile brightened. “And be assured, I do own it.”

“Actually,” a familiar voice said, “I own it. As of yesterday afternoon, that is.”

The doctor and his assistant moved aside to allow Lucas McMinn into their midst.

“You own Brimmfield?” Flora could barely breathe as she tried to get the question out.

“He has generously leased the property back to your father for a small sum,” Grandmama said. “And I understand plans are underway for Mr. McMinn to build a home for himself on the easternmost side of the property.”

“About that,” he said as he extended his right hand to Flora. “I thought we might discuss the matter in private.”