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Her face lit up. “Yes. I’m going to be an abuela.”
“Is this your first?”
“Yes.”
Then they got down to business. For the next hour Portia asked questions about payroll, suppliers, the operating structure, and how they handled their banking. Luisa answered each question succinctly and expanded the explanations when it was warranted. By the time the men returned, Portia had a good handle on all she needed to know. With Mr.Nogales in the room, they then discussed rates. Portia envisioned having to negotiate what she felt would be fair compensation but she was surprised when they offered a figure that exceeded her expectations.
Mrs.Nogales explained why. “Because of bigotry it’s sometimes difficult for us to find someone we trust to provide us the service you’re offering. The reason I’ve handled our ledgers all these years is because those we hired in the past either treated us with contempt or thought we were too ignorant to know they were bent on cheating us.”
Her husband added, “If you do as good a job as I think you will, MissCarmichael, you’ll be worth every dollar we pay you and we will spread the word, not only to the people we know but to the Chinese businessmen and women facing the same prejudices. Don’t be surprised when they come courting, too.”
Touched by that, Portia said, “I’ll do my best to honor the faith you’re putting in me. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Luisa said. “And congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you for that, too.”
The couple stood. In parting, Mr.Nogales said, “I’m looking forward to building the house for you and your husband. I’ll see you soon.”
After their departure Portia sat at her desk and thought about the conversation. Would she be embraced because of she was a person of color? Truth be told, she’d never envisioned filling such a niche, but thinking about it, she supposed it made sense considering the times and mood of the country. It meant her business could be all she imagined, and maybe more.
Kent and Portia had a late afternoon appointment in Tucson with Reverend Cordell to receive wedding counseling, a service he offered to all couples as a condition of his conducting the ceremony. In the buggy on the way there, Kent looked over from his seat behind the reins and noted Portia’s quietness “Penny for your thoughts, Duchess.”
“The reverend is not the most progressive thinker so I’m trying to prepare myself.”
He laughed.
“I’m serious, Kent. I can only imagine what kind of advice a man like him will give us. He’s given sermons denouncing female suffrage as a tool of the devil, for heaven’s sake. If Eddy didn’t have her heart so set on having a wedding with all the pomp and circumstance, I would’ve been content having Sheriff O’Hara marry us in his office.”
“There you go being kind again.”
“I suppose.”
He tried to reassure her. “It’ll be fine. We’ll grit our teeth, smile, and head home. It won’t be that painful.”
He was wrong. This being Kent’s first dealing with the corpulent Reverend Bertram Cordell, he now understood why James rarely had much to say. His father spoke nonstop. For over an hour he detailed Portia’s duties to her husband from a list that included everything from always being obedient and cleaning house to nightly foot rubs. Kent covered his snort of laughter with a cough. His duchess was not pleased. Dressed in a black suit and vest with a gold pocket watch chained to it, he looked for all the world like a politician. He certainly pontificated like one. When he told Portia to always defer to her husband no matter how much she disagreed because the male mind was far superior to the female mind, Kent saw her jaws lock so tightly he thought her teeth might shatter.
Three-quarters of the way through yet another long-winded soliloquy, this time on a woman’s duties to her children, Portia asked him, “So, Reverend, what are Kent’s duties?”
So far he hadn’t mentioned anything specific.
“Why to be the head and mind of the household, Portia. Haven’t you been listening?” He turned to Kent and said, “See? This is why females need our guidance. I don’t think they hear a word we say sometimes.”
Finally, after ninety long minutes of rambling sentences, cock-eyed opinions, and questionable Bible verses, they were allowed to leave.
Outside, Portia climbed into the buggy and folded her arms in a huff.
Kent got in on his side and said, “Obviously I was wrong.”
“Thank you for loving me, Kent, because if I was married to him, I would have killed him so many years ago, I’d be paroled by now.”
Howling with laughter, he slapped down the reins and drove them home.
After dinner, the women left for the guest suite Rhine had dubbed Wedding Headquarters to handle whatever details still needed their attention and Rhine retired to his office to do business. That left Oliver and Kent alone, so he asked, “Would you like to ride over and see the property where Portia and I are having our house built?”
“Sure.”
Kent brought the buggy around and the shadow crossed his heart again as he watched his father slowly make his way onto the seat. Oliver winced a few times in response to what must have been sharp flares of pain but he didn’t ask for help and Kent didn’t offer so as to allow him his dignity.
