While Love Stirs (30 page)

“Will fifty cents be enough for you to do it quickly?” She held out a coin. While she was certain she could have billed the gas company considering the circumstance, she didn’t dare reveal her connection to them to the operator.

“That ought to cover it.” He took her money and deposited it in his cash register before pushing a lined telegram form in her direction. “Once you fill this out, I’ll get started.”

“I might need two of those.” She took the second one he offered and began to copy her list, the pencil scratching across the paper as she scribbled the ingredients on the form.

Lord, please let this telegram get
to him on time.

35

The train rumbled into the station right on time. Charlotte stood on the platform waiting to see if her vessels would be full tomorrow. Her stomach churned. Had her telegram gotten through on time?

Passengers exited one after another, but she didn’t recognize any faces. Finally, a familiar lanky figure emerged. Lewis glanced around, spotted her, and started walking in her direction.

“Did you get my message?” The words burst from her lips.

His eyebrows scrunched together. “What message?”

A lump of dough dropped in Charlotte’s stomach. What would she do now?

“Sorry, I’m teasing you.” He chuckled. “Yes, I got your telegram, and I have everything you need. It’s probably being unloaded as we speak.”

She threw her arms around his neck. “How can I ever thank you?”

“Have dinner with me?” He stepped back and took hold of her hands. “That’s how you can thank me.”

Charlotte’s corset suddenly felt too tight at the look of hope in his eyes. After all he’d done, she couldn’t dash his hopes right now. “Molly is waiting for us at the hardware store, and she’s made plans for us all to eat together at the hotel.”

“Then promise me you’ll go to the show with me after dinner.”

She gave him a slight smile. Taking in a picture show would be
the least she could do to say thank you. “As long as we come right back. I have a big day tomorrow. I’m speaking at the hospital in the morning, and then there’s the lecture in the afternoon.”

“It’s a deal.” He released her hands. “Now, let’s go get your food.”

How empty Mrs. Phillips’s home seemed without Charlotte.

The butler told Joel that Mrs. Phillips and her nurse were in the garden, so he wound his way through the halls and stepped out on the veranda. Mrs. Phillips leaned heavily on her cane as she walked beside Nurse Pierce. He admired the elderly lady’s fierce determination to walk again without a cane, but he wondered if it would ever happen.

He grinned. Charlotte might not be her blood niece, but they were certainly both strong women, so Mrs. Phillips would probably be running footraces soon.

“Psst.”

Turning to his right, he spotted Tessa kneeling by a rosebush. “Don’t look at me.”

He quickly averted his gaze. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“I need your advice, but I don’t want Aunt Sam to see us talking or she might ask you what we were talking about. Then you’d have to lie to her.”

“Why would I lie to your aunt?” His brows arched.

“Because I’m about to swear you to secrecy.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. This was not looking good. “Tessa, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Yes. I think so.” She hesitated. “Remember, you’re sworn to secrecy. Agreed?”

“Maybe you should talk to Charlotte or Hannah about this.” He glanced her way.

“I told you not to look at me. For a doctor, you don’t have a very good memory.” A spade scraped against dirt. “I can’t tell my
sisters because they’ll think I’m making this up. I can’t tell Aunt Sam because her friend might be involved.”

Taking a seat on a bench to the side of the rosebushes, he finally agreed to her vow of silence. “This is starting to sound serious.”

For the next several minutes, she explained how she’d discovered strange things in the theater’s bookkeeping ledgers, like payments made to a Mr. K. O. and deposits that had been changed after she’d entered them. “Then when I was snooping around—”

He fired her a stern look.

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “Anyway, when I was snooping around, Miss Walker, who’s the most prim woman you’ve ever met, walked in. I was scared to death. When I mentioned someone had changed the figures, she tried to get me to believe I’d counted wrong, but I told her I didn’t and that I thought Mr. Jurgenson should know about the discrepancy. Lo and behold, she basically confessed to taking the money.”

“The office stenographer is embezzling funds? Tessa, you need to go to the manager.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll go with you, or you can talk to Lincoln, or something.” He heard scissors clip something.

“Mr. Jurgenson may be in on it too.” There was a long pause. “If I say anything, Miss Walker said she’d make sure I lost my role in
Peter Pan
. I just have to stay quiet until the end of the week, but I wanted to tell someone in case something happened to me.”

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“You know criminals.”
Snip snip
—she sliced through the air with her garden shears. “They might have to do away with me to keep their secret safe.”

At first Joel wanted to chuckle, but then his gut tightened. What if Tessa were in danger? This was probably her overactive imagination, but did he dare take that chance? If Charlotte found out he’d kept this kind of secret from her and her family, she wouldn’t be happy.

“Tessa, has this Miss Walker said anything to you since that day—like threaten you?”

“No. She watches me like a hawk, but she’s back to being the model of efficiency.”

“And this Mr. Jurgenson?”

“He seems clueless.”

Joel risked a glance behind him. “Tessa, you need to tell someone.”

“After this weekend. Remember, you’re sworn to secrecy until then.”

Why did he have the feeling he’d been hoodwinked into a Tessa-size scheme?

Charlotte couldn’t sleep. In the twin bed beside hers, Molly lay snoring—a snort followed by a faint whistle. Lying on her side, Charlotte stared at the window. A soft breeze made the curtains billow and sigh in the moonlight.

Accompanying Lewis to the picture show had been a mistake. Although he was a perfect gentleman and she’d insisted on paying for her own ticket, Charlotte sensed he wanted more than friendship to grow between them. The triple feature included Mary Pickford in two different shows, as well as a poor adaptation of Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein
, produced by the Edison Company. She’d nearly screamed during
Frankenstein
, and she’d wished Joel had been there so she could grab hold of his hand. Instead, she had to press her knuckles against her lips to keep from crying out.

Since each film lasted less than fifteen minutes, the sun had not yet set when they returned to the hotel. She had started to tell Lewis about Joel, but the words simply wouldn’t come, and guilt knifed through her. Her reasons for not telling him the truth were selfish.

Joel. She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Thinking about him sent warmth radiating through her limbs. Every
thing in her wanted to enjoy these feelings, but every time she started to relish them, doubt dampened her thoughts like rain on a picnic.

Joel was strong, yet he didn’t make her feel like she couldn’t be herself when she was with him. In fact, she was almost more herself than ever. He brought out parts of her she dared not show anyone else. Still, would he change in a few weeks? A month? If only she could learn to trust her own judgment again.

She glanced at Molly. What would her wise traveling companion tell her to do? Most likely she’d say Charlotte should pray about it. Drawing in a deep breath, Charlotte felt her eyes begin to droop.

She’d talk to God about everything in the morning.

The nurses at Red Wing’s small hospital listened intently to Charlotte’s words. She explained the caloric needs of various patients to the ladies, gave them some simple ways to cut costs, showed them how to make trays more attractive, and even introduced them to a list of common ailments and food that worked well for patients suffering from those illnesses.

“And one more thing—cold foods are often the best way to entice a sick person with little appetite.” She held up a tin can and a crock. “You can buy a miniature ice cream freezer that makes a pint of ice cream at a time, or you can make your own freezer by placing a smaller can inside a larger crock. You’ll need to stir the contents of the can every three to five minutes, and the ice cream in your smaller freezer won’t be quite as smooth, but it will still be quite popular with your patients. Cold puddings and custards work well too.” Charlotte set down the tin can and crock, turned to face the audience, and clasped her hands in front of her. “Does anyone have a question before I go?”

Several nurses raised their hands. She answered questions until she finally had to excuse herself for her lecture. After inviting them all to join her and receiving several promises from those
who planned to attend, she said goodbye and hurried to the hardware store.

She came to a halt a block from the door. Outside the hardware store, about ten demonstrators lined the walk. Four women held a fabric banner on which someone had painted the words, “Go home, gas lady. It’s lights out for your company.”

At least they were creative.

When she considered the effect this would have on attendance at her lectures, she shuddered. She’d have to make a note to Mr. Johnson so he’d understand the sharp decline here in Red Wing when she turned in her reports. Even so, since he was counting on her, she’d do her best to mend the situation.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched forward. “Hello, everyone.” She flashed them a gracious smile. “I’m Charlotte Gregory, the gas company employee who is giving the cooking lecture today.” She extended her hand to the lady in front, but the woman simply stared at it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I want you to know I respect your right to express your dissatisfaction, and I’ll be sure to relay it to the gas company.”