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The knitting circle was to meet again at Verena’s on Saturday. Leah swallowed her distress and decided that yes, she must join them; she needed the companionship and the distraction of the ladies’ talk—at least as much of it as she could stomach.
And the plan she had adopted called for her not only to remain strong, but if at all possible, to keep a serene face.
Besides, she needed a packet of needles and another bottle of Thad’s whiskey from the mercantile. Her breath hitched in at the thought of dealing with Carl Ness, especially after he and Thad had come to blows, but she could not avoid it. Her throat ached as if she had swallowed a lumpy rock, but she vowed to go into town, do what she had to do and smile no matter what.
On Saturday the air hung hot and heavy in the small bedroom, so stifling it was hard to breathe. She stood in her muslin camisole and pantalets, staring down at the long flounced skirt and petticoat and high-necked red calico shirtwaist laid out on the bed. Any breeze on this oppressively warm afternoon would never reach her skin through all those buttoned-up layers; it was simply too hot and sticky to be wrapped up like a Chinese steamed bun.
Her Chinese silk tunic beckoned from the armoire. That and the loose trousers would let the air circulate and cool her skin. Why, she wondered, did not every woman in Smoke River wear similar comfortable garments during the hot summer days?
When she was dressed, she saddled up Lady and slowly rode into town, keeping her fears under control by focusing her tearblurred eyes on the horse beneath her. The afternoon sun beat down on her wide-brimmed straw hat, and by the time she’d finished her business at the mercantile, calmed her nerves after Carl Ness’s rudeness and climbed the rickety wooden stairs to the dressmaker’s shop, her temples were pounding.
A familiar voice stopped her halfway up the stairs.
“Leah!” Ellie called from the landing. “My goodness, you’re wearing Chinese—” Her friend broke off as Leah panted up the last few steps.
“Leah, are you all right? You look pale and your eyes—” Again she broke off.
She knew what her eyes looked like; they were swollen and puffy from crying. She could not explain, because Ellie, so in love with her devoted husband, would never understand.
“Come in, Leah. Verena has made lemonade. It will help you feel better.”
At the doorway, Leah hesitated, pinched her cheeks to bring some color to her face and marched into the lion’s den.
Everyone was present, even young Noralee Ness, whose lap robe for her mother was half-finished. Jeanne Halliday patted the chair next to her, and Leah sank onto it. How she wished she had brought Uncle Charlie’s Chinese fan! Instead, she snatched off her sun hat and waved it back and forth in front of her face.
“How come you’re wearing those Chinese clothes?” Noralee inquired with typical directness.
Leah took a deep breath. “Because they are cooler in hot weather.” She looked at the flushed faces in the circle. “If I might suggest,” she began with trepidation, “these loose-fitting garments are simple to make. I will donate an old tunic you could use for a patt—”
“Never!” Verena spit the word in Leah’s face. “What an outrageous suggestion. Thad would never—”
Leah stopped her fanning. Outrageous, was it? What was outrageous were Verena’s constant veiled hints about Thad.
“What an insane idea!” Darla blurted. “Are you suffering from sunstroke?”
Ellie shoved a tall glass of lemonade into Darla’s hand and followed with a plate of cookies. Chewy ones, with raisins, Leah noted. They must have come from Uncle Charlie’s bakery, and she wondered who had brought them.
“Didja all hear ’bout the town meeting tonight?” Noralee asked excitedly. “My father is organizing it.”
Leah’s spine stiffened. “Town meeting? No, I had not heard. What is the meeting about?”
A silence descended in the stifling room, so thick Leah could hear the beating of her own heart. At last, Jeanne raised her head and cleared her throat.
“Alors, the meeting was called by Monsieur Ness and Monsieur Poletti, the barber. It is about the new bakery in town. Uncle Charlie’s bakery.”
“My Uncle Charlie?” Verena gave an undignified half laugh, half snort. “Well, Leah, no one else in Smoke River has a Chinese uncle, now, do they? The town meeting is to decide what to do about it.”
Ice water pooled in the center of her belly. “What do you mean, ‘do about it’?”
Verena looked away. After an awkward moment, Darla spoke up. “It means deciding whether the people of Smoke River are going to stand for a Celestial moving into our town and starting his own business.”
