Page 3 of Brian and Cora (The Bachelors of Three Bend Lake #2)
A month later, at the entrance to her grandfather’s home, Cora paused and clutched the gold locket she always wore. With a pit of grief in her stomach, she glanced through the door’s window, bordered in stained glass, nerving herself to go inside.
Even after two weeks, Cora failed to become accustomed to the knowledge Grandpapa wouldn’t be inside.
Away from the house, even though she knew better, she could pretend he was still alive.
Now his house held emptiness, even though Rose still resided there—for a few more weeks, anyway—until Papa would callously sell the place where he’d grown up.
When he does, I’m leaving New York.
A deep breath had her unlocking the door with her key and stepping inside, her foot almost sliding on the letter that the postman had shoved through the mail slot.
She stooped to pick up the envelope, glanced at the address, recognized Andre Bellaire’s handwriting, and had to hold in a whoop of excitement.
Time to call upon all my acting ability. Aunt Rose must not suspect I’m complicit in Mr. Bellaire’s scheme.
Cora moved into the entryway, her footsteps echoing on the patterned tile, no longer cushioned by a faded Turkish rug. “Aunt Rose,” she called. “Where are you?”
“In the library.”
Figures. After her father and stepmother had descended like locusts on her grandfather’s possessions, every room but the library was stripped of anything of value.
But the books, aside from those willed to Mr. Bellaire, belonged to Rose.
The process of sorting, cataloguing, and separating the books kept her great-aunt busy.
Cora bounded through the doorway to throw her arms around Rose, giving her an extra hard squeeze and, with concern, feeling the slenderness of her body. Her great-aunt had lost weight these past weeks, and only her seemingly indomitable spirit kept her from appearing frail.
In Cora’s opinion, Rose was the loveliest woman she knew.
Her great-aunt was not conventionally pretty.
But even in her forties, she possessed a reserved beauty and looked much younger than her age.
When comfortable, most usually while discussing literary topics, she glowed with an inner light.
Due to her shyness, most people, especially potential suitors, didn’t notice.
Tonight, though, her great-aunt looked pale and tired. Behind her spectacles, sad shadows lurked in her gray eyes. Still, the smile she gave Cora was the same warm one as always.
To hide her dismay, Cora flung her arms out wide. She took in a breath of the familiar, musty-book-smelling air. “It’s so dreary here without Grandpa. How can you stand it?”
“I know, darling, but I do because I must.” Rose’s lips seemed to tremble, and her smile appeared forced. “These books won’t sort and pack themselves.”
“I hate that Papa is selling this house.” Cora stepped around Rose and gazed at the partially empty shelves and the stacks on the floor, her stomach squeezing. Sunlight beamed through the large windows, topped with lead glass panels, scattering prisms of light around the room.
She touched her locket. “You’ll be at this for days.” The longer, the better, as far as she was concerned, before her grandfather’s house was gone forever, and Rose moved to rooms in some dreary lodging house.
“Now that you’re here, can you make yourself useful and help me locate these two?” Rose extended a paper. “Or is there another reason you’ve dropped by, oh niece of mine?”
“Another reason.” Cora held up the letter, and, from long practice, did her best to appear innocent.
“I saw the mail arrived, so I picked this up rather than allowing the envelope to stay on the floor and be stepped on. It’s for you.
Why don’t you read it while I look for these books?
Then we’ll talk.” She reached out, deftly swapping the envelope for the list, and, hiding a surge of sneaky glee, she moved toward the shelves.
After selecting a spot where she could keep an eye on her great-aunt, she grabbed a volume at random and pretended to peruse the pages.
“Absolutely not!” Rose dropped the letter into her lap, her lips pressing together.
Cora looked up from the book she was ‘reading.’ “Absolutely not, what?”
Her aunt’s pale face flushed with anger. “I have no intention of moving to Sweetwater Springs, living with that man, being beholden, dependent on him. To?—"
Pasting an innocent expression on her face, Cora crinkled her forehead. “What man?” She put down the book and lifted both hands, palms out, fingers wide. “Wait, Sweetwater Springs. Mr. Bellaire lives there.”
“Yes, and he has…has….” Rose took a breath of obvious outrage. “The affronty to invite me to live with him.”
Erudite librarian Rose losing her words? She must still feel something for Mr. Bellaire.
Cora suppressed a laugh. “I don’t think affronty is a word,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Well, it feels like it should be,” Rose muttered, looking uncommonly young and flustered. Then, as if trying to seem calm, she repeated the word, sounding out every syllable. “Ef-fron-te-ry.”
Cora moved to the nearest stack of books and used them as a seat.
With a tug of grief, she remembered all the times she’d sat this way by her grandfather’s chair, starting from when she was tiny.
Once, a visiting bibliophile scolded her for not treating the volumes with respect.
But Grandpapa had come to her rescue and chided him.
Wrenching her thoughts to the present—to this important discussion—Cora prepared to tiptoe over the rough patch of Rose’s long-ago broken heart.
“Mr. Bellaire is a nice man. I write him from time to time. His letters are always so interesting.” All true.
She waited with bated breath for her great-aunt’s reaction.
Eyebrows high with shock, Rose stared blankly at Cora.
“When I was little, he’d always slip me pennies. He gave me this necklace for my sixteenth birthday.” She touched her locket. “And sent pearl earrings for my eighteenth.”
“I didn’t know about those gifts.”
From the prune face Rose made, one Cora had rarely seen from her, Rose would have preferred not to know now, either.
Cora frowned. “You haven’t seen them because Step-mama won’t allow me to get my ears pierced. Also, Grandpapa warned me not to talk to you about Mr. Bellaire. He said that you’d taken him in dislike.” And you’ve always avoided anything to do with him.
“I gather pierced ears is a more popular fashion in New Orleans than in New York. Perhaps you can change the backs of yours to screw on.” Rose paused and took a careful breath. “Has Mr. Bellaire given you any other presents?”
“I saw him before he moved back to New Orleans, and he gifted me with several silver dollars and told me to buy something pretty.” Cora didn’t say that she’d added them to her escape fund.
“Then, there’s this.” She removed her necklace, opened the two halves to expose the miniature photographs of her grandfather and grandmother on one side and Cora’s parents on the other, and handed the locket to Rose. “He made sure I had them.”
Rose gazed at the photographs in silence, her throat moving, and the corners of her mouth turning down.
The sadness back in her eyes, she gave Cora the locket.
“I mean… I saw you wearing the locket, but I assumed it was from your grandfather. I’d told my brother that I thought a necklace would be a suitable sixteenth birthday gift… ” Her voice trailed off.
“You know Grandpapa always gave me books.” Sneakily, Cora plucked the letter from Rose’s hand and began to read. Thank goodness! “He’s invited me, too.” With a deep feeling of relief, she realized her escape was at hand. “Oh, this arrangement is perfect.”
“What?” With dismayed expression, Rose grabbed for the letter. “What do you mean, perfect?”
“I came here today to tell you that I’m leaving New York.
” Foreseeing Rose’s objections, Cora raised her chin.
“Step-mama is insistent I marry that dismal Richard Frishman—he of the clammy hands and fish mouth. Ick. All she cares about is his fortune. With my inheritance from Grandpapa, I’m free to leave. ”
“Your paltry inheritance will not get you far,” Rose warned with a shake of her head.
Cora dug in her heels. “I’m not afraid to work hard.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I’m concerned for you.”
I‘m concerned for me, too. But I can’t let Rose see my doubts.
Cora continued reading and, when finished, clutched the letter to her chest. “Oh, Aunt Rose, this is perfect! I’d love to live with Mr. Bellaire’s family.
Grandpapa shared many of his letters with me, and I feel I know his daughter, Delia, and Reverend Joshua, and dear little Micah as well as if I’d met them in person. ”
Grief showed on Rose’s face. All of a sudden, she appeared her age.
Moved by compassion, Cora leaned forward to take Rose’s hand. “Oh, Auntie Great, I will miss you.” But even for you, dearest Rose, I can’t stay and be badgered into marrying Mr. Cold Fish.
Rose squeezed Cora’s hand and released. “I’m sure you’ll miss more than me.”
“I’ll miss Papa and the children.” A bit. “Not Step-mama, of course.” The idea made her giggle.
How sad that, aside from missing Aunt Rose, the only other person I’ll really miss is my best friend. “Ivy, also.” Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to go on. “I don’t know how I’ll manage with my best friend living half a continent away.”
“I suspect you two will spend a lot of money on stationery and stamps,” Rose said in a dry tone.
“Ivy wants to be a teacher. We’re hoping wherever I end up, she can join me there, finding employment as a schoolmarm or governess.”