Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (6 page)

When she got home, she would give Papa a blistering earful. She had four days and the length of a sea voyage to plan what she would say.

Merely walking through the door of the café eased the tension in Kathryn’s shoulders. The smell of savory stewed spices filled the room, along with the tuneful humming of a male voice from somewhere on the floor above. The cheery atmosphere, so different from the Faulkner House, greeted her before a single word had been spoken. A collection of square and rectangular tables, their surfaces covered with white linen cloth that shone brightly in the light of a dozen or so lamps, filled the room in neat, almost military-like rows. With an artistic eye she mentally angled them into a different arrangement, one more aesthetically appealing. Yet this utilitarian organization gave the immediate impression of being full and busy, something the main room at the hotel next door lacked and needed desperately. Of course, this restaurant was as empty of patrons as the Faulkner House was full. Not a single chair bore a customer.

“Welcome.” A cheery voice from across the long room called
a greeting as she stopped in the doorway. “I’m just mixing up the dough for the dumplings, so it’ll be a minute or two before they’re ready. Help yourself to tea. The kettle’s just started whistling.”

A woman in the far corner spoke over her shoulder, her flour-covered hands absorbed in the task of kneading dough on the surface of a long table. Kathryn hesitated. Was she expected to fill a servant’s role here too? But she dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. The invitation to make tea was nothing more than expedient, given that she was the only guest and the cook was elbow-deep in dumplings. She untied the laces of her still-wet cloak and bonnet and hung them from one of a row of pegs on the inside wall.

When she approached the stove, upon which a huge pot bubbled and produced ribbons of fragrant steam, the woman at the table started.

“Oh!” She jerked around, leaving a slab of dough on the work surface. Sticky hands flew to her cheeks. “I beg your pardon. I thought you were Louisa.”

Wisps of dark hair escaped a clasp at the back of her neck to dance around a heart-shaped face. Her lips formed a hesitant smile that Kathryn could not help but answer. The young woman, who looked to be about her age, snatched a towel from her waistband and wiped her hands.

“I’m Evie Hughes, and I’m so sorry to bark an order as if you were a hired hand. Please accept my apology.”

Coming so soon off of the episode with Madame, the apology soothed Kathryn’s raw feelings like a balm. Evie. That must be short for Evangeline, the inspiration for the restaurant’s name. Probably the owner and, judging by the flour-covered hands, the cook as well.

“Kathryn Bergert, newly arrived from San Francisco. No apology is necessary.” She poured warmth into her smile. “I’m happy to make tea, though if you asked me to cook anything I fear you would not be pleased with the result.”

Evie hesitated and bit down on her lower lip. White flour
smudged cheeks made rosy with equal amounts of heat and good humor. “I feel terrible putting you to work, but if you want tea right away, I’m afraid you’ll have to serve yourself.” She held up her sticky hands and shrugged.

Kathryn laughed off her discomfort and headed toward a huge iron stove situated near the back door. Several teapots lined the surface of a high worktable, along with a burlap bag filled with tea leaves. She measured leaves into a porcelain pot, and then retrieved a steaming kettle from the stove.

Evie returned to her dough. “I take it you arrived today on the
Fair Lady.
Staying at the Faulkner House next door, then?”

“That’s right.” She poured water over the tea leaves, leaning well back to avoid getting a faceful of tea-scented steam. Pride urged her to keep her silence concerning the details of her lodging at the Faulkner House, but what good would that do? Since she was forced to spend the next four days in Seattle, word would quickly spread about her employment. Though she had barely known Evie two minutes, she felt an immediate affinity with the young woman. She would enjoy having a friend in this male-dominated wilderness town, even for such a brief time. “Actually, I’ve come to help Madame Garritson.”

“Oh?” Evie once again stopped her kneading and turned with a searching gaze. “How so?”

“I’m to be her assistant.” The pot filled, Kathryn returned the kettle to its place on the stove, thereby avoiding eye contact. “I’ll help with some of the day-to-day details of management.”

Evie considered that for a moment, and then gave a nod and returned to the dumplings. “I’m not surprised, now that I think about it. There hasn’t been an empty bed in that hotel in months.” Her tone became devoid of emotion as she continued. “I’m sure Madame Garritson will appreciate having someone to help.”

Her activity with the dough sped up ever so slightly, a fact Kathryn did not miss, though she watched only from the corner of her
eye. Interesting. Evie did not like Madame and was too polite to say so. They had that, at least, in common.

“If you’re to live next door, that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” She turned toward Kathryn with a charming grin. “There aren’t many women in Seattle, so we tend to spend as much time together as we can. I hope you’ll feel free to visit with me here at the café often.”

Her smile was infectious, and a little more of Kathryn’s tension seeped away as she returned it. It was almost a pity that she wouldn’t be here long enough to get to know this lady. Given the opportunity, they might become fast friends.

“Thank you, I shall. But I won’t be here long. In fact, I intend to leave when the
Fair Lady
sets sail later this week.”

“Really?” Surprise showed on Evie’s face, and once again she turned from the dough. “Arrangements at the Faulkner House aren’t what you expected?”

“Definitely not.”

An understanding look passed between them, and they shared a smile before returning to their tasks. A shelf on the wall held several stacks of cups and saucers, and Kathryn selected one that matched the teapot she had just filled. An intricate ivy leaf design circled just below the rim, and the handle ended in a delicate curve at the bottom.

“How pretty,” she remarked, holding it up to inspect the detail on a leaf.

Evie glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you. That set came all the way from Tennessee. I hope you got one that isn’t chipped. Several didn’t fare well on the journey, but I can’t bear to throw them away. They belonged to my grandmother.”

The sugar bowl had been filled, and Evie directed her toward a jug of cream keeping cool on the back windowsill. Kathryn took a seat at the table nearest the stove so she could watch the process of dumplings being produced while she sipped her tea. When the giant
mound of dough resting on the floured surface looked like a sticky lump, Evie reached for a spoon. She plunged it into the mass and scooped out an uneven dollop, which she plopped into the huge, simmering pot. She repeated the process quickly, pausing every so often to give the liquid a gentle stir.

The sound of humming above had blended into the background, forgotten until it stopped. A pair of boots appeared at the top of a ladder in the corner and started the descent, followed by trousers, a flannel shirt, and finally, a man. Once on the floor he glanced her way, and then smiled a greeting.

“Hello!”

Evie didn’t pause in her work, but spoke over her shoulder. “This is Miss Bergert from San Francisco. Kathryn, this is my husband, Noah Hughes.”

He was a handsome man with dark, curly hair and a ready smile, a suitable match for the pretty Evie.

“Welcome to Seattle, Miss Bergert. I hope you’ll find our town to your liking.”

“Thank you.” She set the cup in its saucer. The way he said
our town
indicated a sense of pride. Of course, he would have to like the place since he and his wife owned a business here. A lot of people did prefer small towns over bigger cities, even though the smaller population meant less in the way of entertainment and culture. Granted, she had not seen much, only what had been visible from the wagon on the short trip from the pier, but she very much doubted that Seattle could compare to San Francisco in any way that mattered to her.

“I’m sure it’s a…” She grasped for a word. “A lovely town. Though a bit wet for my tastes.”

He laughed, not at all offended. “The area really is beautiful, especially when the sun is shining. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen as often as we’d like. Still, if you stay long enough you get used to the rain.”

From the stove, Evie answered. “Kathryn won’t be here long enough to see our beautiful summers. She came to help out at the Faulkner House, but once here has had a change of heart.”

Husband and wife exchanged a glance, and when Noah turned back to Kathryn, his face bore a knowing look. “I see. Well, in that case we’ll say a prayer that we get a break from the rain while you’re here.”

Judging by his carefully arranged expression, Noah shared his wife’s opinion of Madame. More evidence that her decision to leave was a good one. She would be able to report to Papa that the owners of the neighboring businesses did not hold his distant cousin in high regard, and, therefore, having his daughter in the woman’s employ would be entirely unsuitable. She picked up her teacup and sipped from the milky liquid.

The door opened and within the space of a few seconds, the restaurant filled. A string of men filed in noisily, talking and laughing with each other and shaking rain out of their hair. Their deep male voices combined to form a cheerful roar, a pleasant sound that Kathryn enjoyed. One man, a redhead, seemed to be the recipient of much good-natured kidding regarding something that had happened earlier in the day. She caught mentions of a grinding wheel and bark, and someone mentioned the foreman. They must be employees of the steam mill, then, and their shift had just ended. Apparently Evie expected their arrival, which explained the timing of her dumplings. They approached the tables without pausing to make a selection, which spoke of a familiar routine.

When one of the men caught sight of her, he halted in the process of winding his way between two tables. He was a huge man of near-giant proportions, with powerfully muscular arms bigger around than either of Kathryn’s thighs.

“It’s a
wo
man.”

He pronounced the word
woe-man,
and stared at her through eyes so wide she might have chuckled if she had not then found
herself the focus of every soul in the crowded room. The easy chatter fell silent. Every face turned her way, most of them covered with thick beards. No one moved.

After a second that seemed an eternity, Noah came to stand beside her chair. “Men, this is Miss Bergert. She’s just arrived today.”

In the next instant, Kathryn’s table was surrounded with an unbroken wall of flannel and cotton. Greetings of “Welcome to Seattle, Miss Bergert” and “Glad you’re here” flew at her with such a rapid pace that she could not answer them all. Instead she fixed a smile on her face and tried to nod toward each man. But there were so many! Wet sawdust clung to many of their shoulders, and the smell of raw wood vied with the odors wafting from Evie’s stew pot. Everywhere she looked an eager face greeted her, and they pressed around, towering above her until she began to feel out of breath.

From somewhere behind the crowd came Evie’s voice. “Let’s everyone take a seat, shall we? Give Miss Bergert some breathing space.”

A minor tussle occurred over the chairs at her table. A man with a thick thatch of bright red hair scooted out the one on her right, only to have it jerked out of his hand by the giant.

“Hey, what’s the idea, Big Dog? I was fixing to sit there.”

“Well, now you can sit somewheres else.”

The man appropriately named Big Dog lowered himself into the seat with a sideways grin at Kathryn. At first she thought the redhead might put up a fuss, but then he dove for the chair directly across from her, the only remaining unclaimed seat at the rectangular table, and slid into it a moment before someone else. He rested his folded arms on the surface in front of him and leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her. His friends up and down the table did the same, and Big Dog actually turned sideways in his chair to face her. Those left standing backed away, disappointment clear on their faces, but as they claimed their chairs most angled themselves to be able to see her. Kathryn scooted to the left side of her seat, away from Big Dog’s
hulking form, as unobtrusively as possible. Thank goodness she had selected a place at the corner of a table against the wall. Otherwise she would be boxed in on all sides. How could she possibly manage to eat a bite beneath the weight of all those stares?