Page 22

“She’s mean.” Avery whispered as the woman walked away, tightening her grip on Tresia’s hand.

She glanced down at Avery holding the little brown bag with the just purchased ribbons. “She’s not mean, sweetheart. She’s unhappy. There’s a difference.”

“Why isn’t she happy?”

“I don’t know. I do know there are some people in this world who are never happy, either because life isn’t treating them like they think it should or because they don’t know how to be happy.

” Her gaze roamed over the little girl’s face.

“You can’t depend on anyone else to make you happy, Avery.

You have to start with yourself, and sometimes, it takes a lot of work and searching your heart, but there is always something to be thankful for, and that can make you happy. ”

Avery looked at her. “Are you thankful?”

“I am. Very much so.”

Curiosity sparkled in her bright eyes. “Why?”

“I’m a very lucky person.” She bopped the girl on the tip of her nose. “Because I have people in my life that I love….like you.”

Avery giggled, which touched her heart. “Like me?”

Tresia laughed in response. Yes, she did love this child, which didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her was how quickly she’d fallen in love with her. “Yes, like you.”

“And Daddy?”

That answer came swiftly as well. She didn’t even have to think about it as she’d grown quite fond of Devlin Goodrich. “Yes, your daddy, too.”

How quickly that happiness faded to be replaced with disappointment as Willetta stepped out of the office, the account ledger in her hand.

There were scraps of paper hanging out of the book in every which way and Tresia knew, without even opening the ledger, that nothing had been recorded since she’d quit.

She’d be lucky if all the receipt stubs were there as well as the total amount from the register at the end of each day.

Her gaze fell on the word “Invoice” printed on a piece of paper extending from the ledger and she surmised it hadn’t been paid.

This was no way to run a business which depended on people acting responsibly as well as ethically and if it kept up, Sullivan’s would cease to exist, which made her heart hurt even more.

Reluctantly, Willetta handed over the ledger, stooping low to pick up a piece of paper that fluttered to the floor. She said not a word as she handed the paper to her, but her face was still bright red.

Disappointment rippled through her, but it was her own fault. She should have picked up the ledger last week. Or even the week before. Now, it looked like she had her work cut out for her. “Thank you. I’ll have this back to you by tomorrow afternoon.”

The woman just nodded, dislike flashing in her eyes.

“Come on, Avery.” Tresia tugged on her charge’s hand and headed toward the door. The little bell tinkled as she opened it wide.

Avery stopped before passing through and turned to face Willetta still behind the register. “I’m sorry you’re sad,” she said then skipped outside.

If the words had any effect on Willetta, she didn’t show it. In fact, she heaved in her breath, and turned away, but not before Tresia saw her mouth the word ‘brat.’

Tresia decided to ignore it as she did with most things Willetta did or said and left.

Once outside, she looked down at Avery. “Are you ready to see Lucy now?”

She nodded. “She’s nice.” She slipped her hand into Tresia’s as they walked up the raised sidewalk.

Several men going about their business doffed their hats to both of them as they passed, showing the utmost respect.

A few women stopped to talk with them for a bit, while some others simply nodded a greeting.

As they turned the corner, she saw Lucy on her front porch, shaking the hand of Mrs. Filmore, who was surrounded by her eight children, all dressed in their Sunday finery. They must have had their photographs taken.

She waited until Mrs. Filmore and her brood got into the carriage waiting in the street before she moved forward. She waved at them as the carriage pulled away.

“Well, good morning! I wasn’t expecting to you see today.” Lucy welcomed her with a warm hug.

“I just thought we’d stop by…if you aren’t too busy.”

“Never too busy for two of my favorite people.” She opened the door and ushered them inside, her smile, as always, warm and happy. “I’ve been taking photographs. Mrs. Filmore was my last appointment so your timing is perfect. My first appointment, believe it or not, was Polly.”

“Polly?”

Lucy smiled and closed the door behind them. “Things seem to be getting very serious between Deputy Shotton and her. She wanted him to have a photograph of her.”

“Oh, so your plan is working.” Tresia laughed.

“It seems so. From what I understand, the man is truly smitten with her. It’s a good thing.

She deserves to be loved.” She bent low and took Avery’s hand.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, Savannah isn’t here today, but we can still have fun.

How would you like to have your photograph taken? Have you ever done that before?”

Avery’s brow furrowed as she shook her head just seconds before her face lit up. She held up her doll. “Cecily, too?”

“Cecily, too.”

“As long as you’re here, you might as well have one taken of yourself, Tresia,” Lucy said as they walked into the small studio she had set up.

“No, that’s all right. Just take some of Avery for her father. I think he’ll like that.” Tresia let go of Avery’s hand, allowing her to explore the room that was filled with expensive photography equipment. She didn’t touch anything, but Tresia could tell she was fascinated with the cameras.

“Whatever you say,” Lucy said, then took charge of the situation, positioning Avery on the stool in front of a neutral color canvas spread from one corner of the wall to the other.

Tresia took a seat at a little table and opened the Emporium’s ledger.

A sigh escaped her. She’d been correct when she assumed that nothing had been recorded since she’d quit.

A quick glance told her nothing had been paid, either.

She gathered all the scraps of paper as well as receipts and invoices into a reasonably coherent pile, then pulled a pencil from her drawstring bag and began cleaning up the mess Arnold and Willetta had made of the previously immaculate ledger.

“So, tell me what’s happening with the marshal,” Lucy said as she adjusted the height of the tripod that held one of her cameras, put her eye to the viewer and focused on Avery, who sat completely still on the stool and smiled her brightest.

“What do you mean? Nothing is ‘happening.’ We are becoming friends…I think.”

When Lucy didn’t respond, Tresia glanced up from the receipt on the table and stared at her.

The truth hit her like a sledgehammer. “I can see the wheels turning in your brain, Lucy! You’re still thinking the marshal and I would make a great match, even though I’ve told you, time and again, I’m not interested. He is not part of The Plan.”

And yet, even as she said the words, she couldn’t lie to herself. The marshal was a genuinely nice man. He had a good heart. He was kind and solicitous. All the qualities she admired. And she did like him. Very much.

Lucy said nothing, her focus on Avery. She adjusted the camera on its tripod a little more, then looked through the viewer again and snapped a photograph.

“Ah, that was beautiful, Miss Avery,” she said, obviously satisfied with what she saw through the camera lens.

“Why don’t you cradle Cecily in your arms and sing to her. ”

Avery did exactly that, her sweet voice filling the small room as she crooned a lullaby to the doll.

The sound was so heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, that it drew Tresia’s attention away from the ledger and piles of paper.

Someone sung those words to her so often that she’d memorized them.

It must have been Hannah. As far as she knew, Devlin didn’t sing. At least, she’d never heard him.

“Why don’t you go stand with Avery? I think the two of you would be a beautiful photograph.”

When Tresia didn’t move, Lucy turned her attention to Avery. “Wouldn’t you like a photograph of you and Miss Tresia?”

Avery nodded, so vigorously, she almost lost her balance on the high stool.

Realizing she had no choice, Tresia stuck the pile of receipt stubs and invoices into the ledger and closed the book. She moved toward the set, patting her hair as she did. “Is my hair all right?”

“Pretty,” Avery said.

Standing behind Avery, she rested her hands gently on her small shoulders.

“Lovely,” Lucy said as she gazed through the camera lens and snapped another photograph. Then another and another. Avery was photogenic, her smile wide. She chattered away, clearly at ease. And she was animated, striking poses and making faces that made Tresia laugh.

“Last one, I think.” Lucy stood back, her fingers coming up to tap on her lips. “Avery, why don’t you give Miss Tresia a hug?”

Avery climbed up on the stool until she was standing then threw her arms around Tresia. “I love you, Miss Tresia.”

Oh, though the words were a surprise, they settled in her heart, and she couldn’t help the smile that made the corners of her mouth rise up. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Perfect!” Lucy snapped the photograph at that moment then moved away from the camera. “You can pick up the photographs in a few days.”

“That’s fine. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. I enjoyed today.”

“I refuse to pay you nothing, Lucy. There has to be some kind of charge, at least for the materials you used and for taking up your time.”

Lucy laughed. “I’ll send you a bill,” she said, though Tresia knew a bill would never come.

She glanced at Avery, who had climbed down from the stool, Cecily clasped tightly in her arms. “Are you ready to see Mr. Crandall at the butcher shop?”