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“We can read more of the journal,” I suggested, knowing she would like the distraction.
She brightened. “You get the wine and meet me back here.”
* * *
We were like amateur sleuths,the two of us. I hadn’t been as excited to read something in a while, and that was saying something. I opened the journal to the page after the one we’d already read.
“You read this time,” Jamie said. “I’ll listen.”
“Yes, sure.” As a teacher, I was used to reading out loud. Yet now, in the cozy living room of the girl I was starting to fall for, my tongue seemed to have tripled in size. Regardless, I began.
September 20, 1924
The Hunting family sent for me only two weeks ago, asking that I come to Florida to make the wedding dress for their eldest daughter, as well as dresses for the bridesmaids and Mrs. Hunting, mother of the bride. I didn’t want to go so far away. Florida! The swamp.No, my husband said,you must go. It will be a chance to see the ocean.I begged him to go with me, but he said he couldn’t leave his brother to do all of the work at the shop. Since my business does not fully pay our bills or for the fine house we had built, I understood his logic. But I also knew that he was a simple man. One who did not want to leave the comfort of his own home and community. He had not left since his arrival as a young man and probably won’t again. As much as I adore him, this frustrates me a little. We’re not exactly newlyweds. I could bear to be apart from him for a month or two. Or could I?
I thought my sister Quinn would try to talk me out of it, but she, too, thought it was a grand idea. An opportunity to meet the kind of people willing to pay for my craftsmanship (or woman-ship in this case) would open up another world to me. Knowing they were both right, I plucked up my courage and am now sitting on a train on my way to Florida. The woman next to me is snoring rather loudly. Not that I could sleep anyway. I’m already homesick, and I miss my husband.
“It’s not the life I thought I would have,” I’d told Quinn. “I thought it would be a traditional life with a husband and children.”
“Alas, the Lord has provided a different kind of life altogether,” Quinn said. “There’s no use to fight against it. You must go where the fates take you. Look at me.”
She often mentioned how her life had changed and fallen into the right place when she came to Colorado. My sister took on the raising of five of her widowed husband’s children and then had two more of her own. A happy seven. Whereas I have none. We tried, of course. The pain of it takes my breath away. I’ve thrown myself into my work, growing my business year after year until now I’ve been summoned to Florida by the Huntings. What awaits me? I cannot know. I must only fulfill the promise I made to Clive and Quinn—to be brave and do my very best.
I looked up at Jamie. She was on the couch curled up in one corner. “This is a great mystery. Do we have time to read one more?”
I nodded. “But after that, I should head home. School starts early.”
“Okay, just one more.”
She was so cute, like a kid begging for another chapter before going to sleep, that I wanted to kiss her again. I held back, however, practicing that annoying self-control once more.
I’ve arrived in Florida and have been shown to my room in this giant house. Only the head of housekeeping was here to greet me. The family was out at a neighbor’s beach but would be back in time for evening cocktails. I was instructed to dress for dinner and that we would enjoy our meal on the terrace that overlooks the sea. This house! I’ve no idea how many square feet, but it seems as large as a resort.
The Hunting estate is built on the beach. It’s ungodly hot, and I’ve opened the windows to allow the ocean breeze into the room. My view looks out to the blue water and the white sand. From here, I spotted large-beaked pelicans and a few other birds I didn’t recognize.
I’d been picked up at the railroad station by one of their staff, apologetic that no one from the family was available to greet me. I assured him that it was no matter. I was only one of the staff, really, here to do a task.
“And what a great one it will be, Mrs. Higgins.” I don’t know what he meant by that, but I’m trying not to be worried. I can handle whatever comes my way. My needle and thread have never let me down.
Palm trees line the driveway toward the house. I was sweating in my dress and thankful for the open top of the car, even though I had to hold on to my hat for fear it would become loosened by the intense jostling as we bounced down the dirt driveway.
Then we came upon the estate. Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful. The house looks like a painting, all white with pillars holding up a long front porch. Beyond that, the sea.
I unpacked and changed into a sleeveless cotton dress. Happy to be done with them, I discarded my stockings and stood under the shade of my patio awning watching the waves roll gently into shore. It was not like the ocean had been in Boston, cold and frightening at times. This was a gentle beast, with waves small and harmless.
The air, albeit hot, felt good on my bare skin. Dinner was still hours away, and I was contemplating a walk on the beach. I longed to put my feet into the water, which the housekeeper told me was warm here on the Gulf. I’d told her about the cold, clear waters of our creeks and rivers, and she’d said the thought of them made her thirsty.
Deciding I must be brave, I risked being seen in my bare feet and stockingless legs to head out to the beach. The sand was hot under my feet and so fine that it felt a little like walking on air. I hustled to the shore, anxious to cool my toes in the water. The water was not a disappointment, warm and smelling of seaweed and brine.
“Excuse me? What are you doing here?”
I jumped at the sound of a man’s voice and turned to see who it belonged to. Flushing at the sight of him, I stammered an explanation. “I’m here by the family’s invitation.” He wore nothing but a swim outfit, his skin tanned and golden. He was golden all around, actually, with yellow hair and blue eyes that matched the sea behind him. Saltwater crusted on his skin and made the bleached hair of his arms even whiter.
“And who might you be?” He looked at me with cold, suspicious eyes.
He might look angelic, but his personality didn’t match his appearance.
“I’m Mrs. Higgins. The wedding dress designer.” My straw hat wavered as a sudden gust of wind brought an intense scent of fish.
