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“Darling!” Mother didn’t quite make it into the hallway before she hollered for my father. “Darling, where are you!”
Chapter Three
Not more than a week after my ‘friendly’ visit to Greta, I returned to town alone. It was unseasonably warm; the rain spluttering by the time Samuel and I were halfway to town. My instincts told me to stay home, but I refused, believing merely that I was in denial of having a celebration without my brother. I was hell bent on doing it, to bring some sort of life to the season, to distract from my drama with William and Greta.
Mother had sought Father after finding out I had been threatened by Mr. McCloude and the fall out that had ensued was astonishing. Father had ridden for the McCloudes’ that afternoon and returned flustered to his office.
When I arrived in town, it was all but deserted. I quickly went into the hat shop first, looking to see if Mrs. Hall had anything at all new for my mother. She was leaning against the counter of her store, picking at her nails before I stepped into the door, wiping off my sleeves and skirts. She stood straight and smiled; a woman of pale white, strawberry blond hair, and bright blue eyes. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her face, and deep dimples in her cheeks. She was plump, busty, with a very thick Georgia accent.
“How are you this evening, Miss Abbott?” she asked happily. She was always so overtly happy, I envied her.
“I am doing about as well as this weather, Mrs. Hall,”
“Oh yes! How dreadful it is! I wonder at all if we'll have a white Christmas like everyone always talks about up here,” she rambled mindlessly, smoothing her skirts. “We don’t often get those in the South.”
“Mrs. Hall,” I began, not really of the mind for her small talk, “have you anything new?”
“My, Rosemary, you are awful tart today, aren’t you? I have some wonderful new hats over there in the window.” She pointed toward three hats; two purple with black and white feathers, and a teal with a single brown feather. I frowned, growing frustrated. They were not at all what I had in mind.
“I'm afraid we already have something like that,”
“Oh, well how about the lovely yellow hat there on the wall?”
Yellow just didn’t seem like something Mother would find fashionable, especially for the season, but would it be something to look forward to for spring? I inspected it, running my fingers over the felt.
“No, thank you.”
“Why are you so sour, Rosemary? I’d think you’d be right as rain seeing as how you’ve been snaking your way in between Mr. Blackwell and Miss McCloude!”
Something like acid drenched over my skin, souring in my stomach. I set the hat down roughly, cheeks heated. “Good day, Mrs. Hall.”
I quickly walked out, letting the rain wash away the sick feeling before I entered Katherine Harold's mother's store. I loathed the idea of entering the shop with her in it, to be accosted once today was more than enough, but twice? She’d surely let me have it, Katherine was never one to bite her tongue.
She stood by the register while her mother tallied the stocks. The two of them were in some deep conversation about a soldier she'd met while he was in town for the most recent wedding and she smiled at me, continuing with her mother bitterly.
“Good evening, Miss Abbott,” Mrs. Harold called, unamused as ever. “Can I help you with anything, dear?”
“I'm just peeking around for my mother,” I answered, walking toward a lovely calico fabric.
“Your mother has decided to celebrate Christmas this year? I thought they had boycotted the entire holiday because of Adam?”
“Well, yes, they have, but it has been so dreadful. I'm hoping that if I can bring the spirit out in them, they will reconsider,”
“Or maybe you just desire an excuse to have William Blackwell call?” Katherine pestered, sneering.
“I don't know what you're on about, Katherine, but I am sure whatever it is, it's not true.” I pulled the calico fabric off of the shelf, not even bothering to look in her direction. I would not allow her that satisfaction.
“Oh, everyone knows you've been throwing yourself at him since he came to the McCloudes' Thanksgiving feast. You are such a bad liar, Rosemary.”
Katherine spoke the truth, but it sounded horrible.
“What about when you so rudely showed up to Greta’s tea with Mr. Blackwell? And that wedding a few days ago?” she continued.
Ihadsought his attention and conversation. He seemed just as interested in the same thing when we were huddled in a corner without onlookers. In the presence of others, there was that same cold indifference I’d received after the tea fiasco.
When my family arrived to the wedding, there was tangible tension between our family and the McCloudes. Mother knew the bride through a family connection and the groom was a cousin of Mr. McCloude. I thought perhaps it would be a gathering without incident, but when I entered the church with Mother and Father to be seated for the ceremony, William was standing by the door.
I stopped in the entryway, slipping out of the throng of extended family members who walked in with my parents, watching Mother and Father find a pew without me. They never noticed I had left them. Mr. Blackwell stood on the opposite side of the threshold and tsk’d me, his stare intense.
