Ramshackle Rose Read online

  “I did nothing; Cordelia is industrious as a bee. Bee—oh, that reminds me. I need honey.”

  “I’ll be happy to get some for you.”

  “Piffle. I’m going to enjoy wandering about. I’ll discover where you’re keeping it.” Rose turned away and sauntered through the mercantile. She hadn’t voiced empty praise. The place shone. In the two years she’d lived here, Buttonhole’s only dry-goods store had been pathetically understocked and dingy. The change was startling.

  Rose finished scanning all of the shelves and displays, then set her wicker basket on the counter. She’d purposefully waited until the end of the day. From the steady stream of folks who went by her street all day, she surmised the mercantile’s opening had, indeed, been a grand one. Plenty of small tasks kept her busy, and she was just as glad to tend to them and avoid the crowds. “Since the store’s been closed a few days, I guess most of the townsfolk were happy to come by.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to meet my new neighbors.” Garret Diamond looked down at the meager contents of the basket she’d brought, then back at her. “Were there other things you required? I’m happy to deliver the order to your home so you don’t have to carry it.”

  “You’re so very kind to make the offer, but I have what I need.”

  He looked at the box of shredded and spindled wheat breakfast biscuits. “I’m carrying a new product. It’s a ready-made breakfast cereal with a far more pleasant flavor and texture. C. W. Post calls it Grape Nuts, but it’s actually a wheat cereal, too.”

  “I already have Cream of Wheat at home, thank you.”

  He nodded. “I had some of that for my own breakfast this morning. I confess, I have a decided weakness for adding raisins to it.”

  Rose smiled and lifted the single banana out of her basket. “Brown sugar is my usual, but when they’re available, I prefer sliced bananas in mine.”

  “Ah, and the very last one, I’m afraid. I’ll be sure to keep them in stock. They’ve become quite the thing, haven’t they?”

  She set it down and remembered softly, “I had my very first one at the Philadelphia Centennial.”

  “I didn’t have the pleasure of going to the centennial, but I went to the Chicago World’s Fair. I count it one of the great adventures of my life.”

  “Oh, my! Did you ride on the Ferris wheel?”

  He nodded. “Fifty cents to rotate on it twice. A shameful extravagance, but I don’t regret it at all.” He patted the counter next to her banana. “But I didn’t have one of these there. Did you see the oranges I have in the crate over by the apples? They’re fresh from California. Train brought them straight through.”

  “I’m sure they’re pure extravagances, too, Mr. Diamond, but my own trees are laden with a variety of other fruits, and I’m already going to be busy trying to preserve their bounty.”

  He propped both elbows on the counter and leaned toward her. “Perhaps I could tempt you to buy some sugar, paraffin, or canning jars?”

  Rose burst out laughing. “I suppose I could use a loaf of sugar.”

  “Ah, but I don’t just carry loaf or cone sugar, Miss Masterson.I have granulated sugar by the bag—so much more convenient, don’t you think?”

  “Buttonhole is going to be spoiled by the fancy goods you’re importing.”

  He winked. “I certainly hope so. The sacks it comes in are double thickness, so you’ll end up with a useful swatch of fabric.”

  Lula Mae Evert had toddled over to hear about the sugar. She reached up to primp her mousy brown marcel waves into place, then patted Rose on the arm. “Useful. Now there’s a clever salesman. He already figured out the perfect word to hook you into making a purchase.” She turned her attention to the storekeeper. “Rose, you’ll soon discover, is the most practical woman the dear Lord ever created.”

  “Now that is high praise, indeed.”

  Rose felt a flush of warmth over those words, because that closely matched her prayer. Each morning, she asked the Lord, “Make me a blessing to someone in Your name today.” It wasn’t pride—it was her calling. God had been faithful in opening her eyes to places where she could be His servant.

  “Five pounds or ten of that sugar, Miss Masterson?”

  The man had an almost playful air about him that could charm even the grumpiest old crone. Rose drummed her fingers on the counter. “Why, Mr. Diamond, I’m shocked. You don’t have it in twenty-five-pound sacks?”

  “I do, but I’m afraid if I tried to sell it to you, picnic ants might carry you off.”

  She smiled at the outrageous picture his words painted. “Very well. I’ll take ten pounds since I’m starting to can fruits. If you have any more of the bags with the tulips on them like you sold to Mrs. Sowell, I’d like that print, please.”

  It didn’t take Mr. Diamond long to tally up her order. The man was quick with ciphering but accurate. He settled each item back into her wicker basket with care to keep it balanced—something most men wouldn’t have thought to do. Rose tucked that fact away in the back of her mind. Mr. Diamond was not only clever and conscientious, he was also thoughtful.

  As if he could tell what she’d been thinking, he turned the basket toward her and pushed the sugar off to the side. “I’ll bring that sugar by after closing. It’s too heavy for a lovely lady to carry.”

  Lula Mae Evert giggled. “Rose is strong as an ox, Mr. Diamond.”

  Rose gave him exact change and lifted her basket, then hefted the ten-pound bag of sugar—in the tulip print, as requested. “I’m quite capable. I thank you for your offer. I do hope many of your customers have thought to extend an invitation to church tomorrow.”

  “A few have.”

  Lula Mae lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler. “Well, of course you’ll come, Mr. Diamond. Afterward, you just march right on over to my house. We’re having pot roast, and I insist you share it.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your kind invitation, Mrs. Evert. I’m going to Sunday supper at the reverend’s.”

  Rose headed out the door and dipped her head just a shade so no one could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Gossip swept through Buttonhole at hurricane speed. The moment someone learned that the new owner of the emporium was a bachelor, every last mama with a marriageable daughter revised the Sunday supper menu, thus providing a dandy excuse to visit the store today. Lula Mae would mope all week for having missed this opportunity to snap up a fine young man for her daughter, Patience. By showing up so late in the day, she’d given all of the other mamas and daughters a head start at trying to attain the attentions of the charming—and probably richest—eligible man who’d just moved to town.

  Oh, and if things went as Rose suspected, the matchmaking was going to turn into quite a show. Handsome Mr. Diamond would be in church tomorrow, but if any of a dozen young ladies had her way, he’d be at the altar for an entirely different reason within the season. Poor Mr. Diamond.

  ❧

  Mrs. Evert watched Rose Masterson leave, then murmured, “Bless her heart.”

  Garret knew full well those three fateful words were a Southern belle’s stock phrase for jumping in and dishing out gossip. He wasn’t one to tolerate talebearing, even if it came wrapped up in pretty words or under the guise of news.

  “She’s just as sweet as that sugar you sold her.”

  “What a kind thing to say.” Garret felt a twinge for having misjudged the woman.

  She fussed with the large jet button at her throat. “Well, I’m only speaking the gospel truth. Rose Masterson is a dear, dear woman. She’s different, you understand.” The woman’s voice dropped. “We all make allowances for her. Somewhere along the way, her parents failed her miserably.”

  “I though it Miss Masterson just said she’d only been living in Buttonhole a short time.” Garret had the feeling if anyone needed allowances to be made, it was more likely Mrs. Evert. She wasn’t making sense. “You knew her parents?”

  “Of course, I didn’t know he
r parents. They’re dead, young man. She’s an orphan.”

  “Such a shame. It’s a good thing they reared her to be so capable and independent, though.”

  Mrs. Evert ignored every word he said and babbled on. “They went on to the hereafter due to the same tragedy, so she lost them both at once. Terrible as it is that she was left alone to fend for herself—they left her virtually penniless, too. She ekes by in that little house of hers and declares she’ll never marry. Have you ever heard of such nonsense? Well, at first, we all assumed she was heartbroken from her loss; but she’s never snapped out of her strange notion. She wouldn’t do a body harm—so you needn’t ever fret yourself over that. The woman’s a glowing example of Christian charity. It’s just that she’s. . .well, dotty.”

  The minute Mrs. Evert paused to draw in a breath, Garret cut in so she’d cease the talebearing. “It’s always a pleasure to learn a sister in the Lord is gifted with such charity. Was there anything else you’d like to buy, Ma’am?”

  The remainder of the day flew by. Garret finally swept up, locked the front door, and counted out the till. Business had boomed today, but that could be attributed to curiosity and the fact that he’d kept the store shut for almost a week. Of course, the volume of customers was astronomical. Sales showed it, too. He’d turned a tidy profit. Good thing he’d filled the storeroom and had another shipment of goods due in on Monday.

  It didn’t take long to fill out his account book, but Garret had always found working with numbers quite easy. Organization was the key. He kept the financial ledger, then a record book for stock on hand and what he’d ordered. In a matter of a few months, he’d have a fair notion of the volume sold on average of each item, so he could keep his store stocked appropriately.

  Garret knelt behind the counter, removed the secret panel he’d installed, and opened the lock on the Gruberman and Sons wall safe. He’d need to make a bank deposit on Monday. For now, he’d keep his funds secured here. He set them inside but kept out his tithe and offering for tomorrow. Once the secret panel clicked back in place, Garret stood and stretched. It had been a long day.

  For the next hour, he restocked his shelves. Funny, how he’d learned so much about his neighbors by what they bought. Lumbago salve, Belgian lace, paregoric, and a Bailey teething disc—Garret had a glimpse of the town and its individual inhabitants.

  And Rose Masterson—what did her purchases tell him? He turned a jar of honey so the label faced the front. She’d bought only necessities. Staples. No frills—nothing but the basics. Even if he’d had several bananas, would she have bought more than just that one? For all of the customers he’d had throughout the day, he could still recall each of the items that barely filled the bottom of Miss Masterson’s basket: honey, a single banana, cereal, yeast, one can of Borden’s condensed milk, and half a pound of lentils. Oh—and the bag of sugar. Mrs. Evert’s comments led Garret to believe Rose didn’t have any leeway in her budget. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed the young lady by suggesting purchases she couldn’t afford.

  If Miss Masterson suffered a pinching purse, why had she recommended he ask Cordelia Orrick to assist him with the store? As it was, he’d already arranged with Mrs. Orrick to come dust and mind the store for a few hours a week. Depending on how the store did, Garret figured he could probably also hire Rose Masterson. The Lord instructed His sons to mind the widows and orphans, didn’t He?

  The lamplighter passed by, singing as he lit the fixtures along the way. The man had a pleasant baritone. Who was it that said she was his sister-in-law? The sparrowlike woman with the two hip-high sons who nearly danced a jig when Garret offered them each a sour ball—Mrs. S—it started with an S. Sowell—that was it. Garret smiled to himself. He wanted to put names and faces together as rapidly as he could. Miss Masterson was right about the confusion of meeting so many new people at once.

  Rose. The name suited her. Oh, she wasn’t a hothouse rose. If anything, she was a wild rose—a hearty yellow one with a fair share of thorns and a heady fragrance. Between watching the Widow Orrick’s daughters and Prentice, she seemed to collect children about her. This Rose, no doubt, would have a handful of crickets and ladybugs about her. Garret shook his head. Normally not given to fanciful thoughts, he chalked up that whole vision as one triggered by overwork and exhaustion.

  He turned off the light and headed up the stairs to his living quarters. He’d no more than made it up a few of the risers when a knock sounded on the store’s door.

  Three

  Rose shoved an errant curl back from her forehead and tried her best to ignore the mosquito bite on her right shin. The more she tried to forget that silly irritation, the more it itched. She’d dabbed camphor on it earlier today and gotten some relief, but her petticoats must have rubbed off the cure. Then again, the benefit of wearing long skirts was that she could balance on her right foot and use her left heel to—

  Fingertips resting on the building, Rose nearly tumbled into the emporium when Mr. Diamond abruptly opened the door. “Mercy me!” she exclaimed.

  His strong hand caught her arm and righted her. “Miss Masterson, are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She could feel the warmth clear through the wool of her cape and the serge of her gray dress. She couldn’t very well explain what she had been up to. No lady confessed to scratching as if she were a mangy pup, and she certainly didn’t refer to her limbs in the presence of a man. “Thank you. I momentarily lost my balance.”

  “It’s my fault. I need to sand the step. It’s a tad rough, and I can’t have any of my customers tripping. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “I’m fine. Just fine. You’ve had a busy day. I thought you might be tired. Here.” She stooped and lifted a basket, then shoved it into his hands.

  “What is this?”

  “Just a warm supper. I doubted you’d feel much like cooking anything after working so long and hard.” She flashed him a smile. “The jar ought to look familiar enough. It’s one of your own.”

  He lifted the blue gingham cloth and smiled. Rose was glad she’d decided to bring by the simple meal, after all. It didn’t take any longer to make a big pot of chicken stew and a large pan of corn bread than it did to make small ones for herself.

  Mr. Diamond closed his eyes for a second and inhaled. “This smells great. I’m hungry enough to eat the basket, too.”

  “I slipped a pair of peach tarts under the corn bread, thinking you could have one for dessert and the other for breakfast. If you’re that hungry, you could eat them both tonight. I hope you enjoy your meal.” She stooped again and lifted her other basket.

  “I will. But wait—what is that?”

  “Oh—this is for Mrs. Kiersty. Bless her heart, she’s down with a terrible case of quinsy. Soup and tea are about all she can tolerate.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Doc Rexfeld started her on slippery elm lozenges, and that honey I bought from you today ought to be quite soothing, too, don’t you think?”

  Garret looked into her eyes and nodded. “I’m sure the honey will be helpful. I recall using honey and lemon for coughs and sore throats. Permit me to send along a lemon.”

  Her lips parted in surprise but quickly lifted into a smile. “Oh, that would be so kind. I’m sure she’d appreciate your generosity.”

  He left the store’s door wide open and set his supper basket on the counter. “It’ll only take me a second.” The fruit display to the left of the register held a full complement of choices. Rose watched the storekeeper ripple his long fingers over the fruit to select the lemon. He returned to the door. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Diamond.” She accepted the fragrant lemon, slipped it under the cloth and into the basket, and turned to leave.

  “Wait. You shouldn’t be wandering alone in the dark. Let me escort you to her place and back home.”

  Rose gave him a startled look. “The lamps are lit, and Buttonhole is safe as a sanctuary. You’re kind, but your wo
rry is needless. God bless you, Mr. Diamond.”

  “God bless you, too, Miss Masterson.”

  She made it all of three steps down the walk before he had hold of her arm. “Where does Mrs. Kersey live?”

  “Kiersty. She’s at the boardinghouse.”

  “Why doesn’t the cook at the boardinghouse make her soup?”

  “Mrs. Kiersty is the cook. I’m afraid the owner, Mr. Hepplewhite, is able to scramble eggs and sear meat, but that’s about the full extent of his culinary skills.”

  Garret chuckled. “Add to those two skills the fact that I can make hot cereal and slap together a sandwich, and you have the full extent of my kitchen expertise.”

  “Ah, but you can always open up a jar or can of something.”

  “Eating into my profits, eh?” He swiped the basket from her. “I confess, I’ve had the Hormel canned meat. Smoked oysters and tinned sardines aren’t too bad. Tonight, I strongly considered celebrating by sitting down with a box of Cracker Jack.”

  Rose stopped beneath the lamppost and gawked at him. “Mr. Diamond, you cannot be serious!”

  “Truth is the truth. You’re right. After such a busy day, I was far too tired to bother cooking.” He hefted the basket. Jars clinked against one another. “This basket is far too heavy for you to carry. How much soup did you put in this?”

  “Two jars. I also included some applesauce.”

  “I smell bread, though.”

  “Yes, well, Mr. Hepplewhite and the others need bread. There are a few loaves for them.”

  Garret stared at her for a long moment, then quietly stated, “I’ll bring flour, yeast, and eggs to you tomorrow.”

  “There’s no need—”

  “I agree,” he interrupted smoothly. “There’s absolutely no need for you to do the labor and supply the ingredients. I’m new here, but I aim to be part of the community. You wouldn’t want to make me feel unwanted or unnecessary, would you?”