“I need your help. There is a woman living at my house and I don’t want to give the idea of anything improper.”

  “A woman?” Frances asked. This was interesting. She knew Max valued his privacy, so to admit that he had someone living at his house was incredulous.

  “Yes. She and her father came in last night on the train. They were sleeping in the stable:”

  “The stable?” Max nodded. “Do you even know them, Max?” she asked. “You invited two strangers into your home, one of whom is a woman. There are many improper things about this.”

  Max looked annoyed. “I know, but please listen to what I have to say. I think I know a way to help them without giving the appearance of impropriety.”

  Frances gave a sigh. “Alright Max. What can I do to help?”

  Max pulled out several more bills from his wallet and handed them towards her. “I was wondering if you could cook two meals a day until they are gone.” That didn’t sound so difficult. Frances nodded her agreement. “Maybe do some light housework or laundry?” Frances shook her head. She wasn’t a maid. She loved cooking. Laundry, not so much. “You can hire out anyone you need. I just don’t have time to make arrangements.”

  Frances signed. “Alright, Max. I can do that.”

  “And there is one more thing.” Max reached out and put his hand on her arm. “Can you please act as a chaperone to the young lady? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

  A chaperone? Frances thought about it for a minute. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Max conceded. “Her father is there too. He is… how shall I say it? Difficult.”

  A young lady. A difficult father. What had Max gotten himself into? If she wasn’t so pressed for money, she would have told him no. But her purse strings were becoming tighter every day.

  “I’ll help you Max, but not today. I’ll be over tomorrow morning before church to make breakfast. Now if you excuse me, I need to figure out what else I’ll need for the next few days and make arrangements for the other tasks.”

  Max said he would never get married, yet here he was worried about a young lady’s reputation. Very interesting indeed.

  She picked up her basket and left the haberdashery, headed towards the butcher. She knew she would need an extra chicken, but she wasn’t sure what else. She would wait until she met the father and daughter before church the next day.

  Chapter 2

  Frances placed her basket on the table and then handed a nickel to the boy who helped carry her purchases home for her.

  “If you are available, Tommy, I’ll need your help again this week.”

  “Sure thing, Missus Brown,” the young boy said. Tommy’s parents were sharecroppers outside of town. They worked on the Abrahams’ farm growing corn and other vegetables for the town. In exchange for the use of the land, the sharecroppers simply paid the Abrahams’ family a portion of their harvest. “You tell me what day you need me, and I can meet you at the market.”

  “How about Wednesday?” She would definitely have a plan by then. Tommy nodded and ran out of the house down towards the alleyway. He was a sweet child, she thought as she closed the door.

  She removed her bonnet and wrap and hung them on the peg by the door. She noticed the door to the root cellar under the house was open. Perhaps she forgot to close it before she left for the store? There wasn’t anything down there apart from a bunch of old root vegetables and several items she had canned the previous year.

  France opened the door and stepped back, allowing the light to shine inside. There were shadows in the corner, but she didn’t see anything amiss, so she simply closed the door and went back to unload her groceries.

  She placed the chickens in the icebox. She would take them to Max’s the following morning when she went to prepare breakfast before church. She had just closed the ice box door when she jumped back, spying a woman on a chair in the kitchen.

  “Who are you?” Frances asked. Her eyes darted around. Was that woman in her root cellar? It might explain the dust on her dress, but not why she was wearing a mourning dress.

  The woman had to be at least sixty. A bit older than Frances. She appeared very pale, as if she wasn’t feeling very well. Her hair was curled around her face, the curls peeking out from a black bonnet covered in lace.

  The dress had a big hoop skirt, with a dark jacket on top of it. Frances thought the woman must be extremely warm in all those clothes.

  “Tommy is such a dear boy,” the woman said. “You are very kind to help him. He is going to go through a dark period very soon.” She brushed some dust off her black skirt. Frances watched it swirl in the air and then disappear. She thought hoops went out after the Civil War. “They did,” the woman responded to Frances, unspoken question.

  “How did you know what I was going to ask?”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled brightly as she looked at Frances. “You have the same look as everyone I’ve met, so I naturally surmised it was about my outfit. Shame they still aren’t in style,” she said, holding the skirt out by her sides. “You can hide a few extra pounds in a skirt like this.” The woman giggled at her own joke, her white curls dancing around her forehead.

  “That doesn’t tell me who you are or why you are in my house.”

  “Oh,” the woman lifted her fingertips to her lips. “I do apologize.” She hopped from the chair and stood in front of Frances. “My name is Mrs. Louisa Pennyworth. I came to talk to you about the people you are going to meet tomorrow.”

  Frances breathed a sigh of relief. Max must have sent her. “Do you know them?”

  “Well,” Mrs. Pennyworth hesitated. “I know Cassandra. Lovely girl. Lovely, lovely.” Mrs. Pennyworth sat back down on the stool. “Met her on a train out this way.”

  Frances didn’t remember seeing Mrs. Pennyworth in town, and if she just arrived by train, that would explain why. She went back to her purchases and started removing items from the basket and box, placing each item on the table.

  “Max said they had just arrived in town.”

  “Yes, they have.” Mrs. Pennyworth tilted her head. “And you are going to be her chaperone?”

  “Yes… yes,” Frances said.

  “You must allow as much time as possible for her and Max to be together.”

  Frances turned and looked at Mrs. Pennyworth. She placed a can of peaches down with a thud. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having a chaperone?”

  Mrs. Pennyworth giggled. “Of course not. It is just once you see them together, you’ll know they are meant to be.”

  Frances didn’t feel convinced. “So, you want me to push them together?”

  “Oh, no, no,” Mrs. Pennyworth quickly corrected. “I just want things to progress naturally.”

  “What does her father think about this?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  Frances picked the can of peaches back up and went to place it in the cupboard on the far side of the kitchen.

  “Mr. Stockton is a very interesting character. He is like Max in many ways.”

  “How so?” Frances asked, returning to get a few more items for the cupboard.

  “He thinks he can never love again. He has some… well, rather odd habits. It is up to you to change his mind.”

  “Me?”

  Mrs. Pennyworth nodded. “You have been alone too long, Frances. May I call you Frances?” Mrs. Pennyworth didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “You see, you will help heal his broken heart. And Hal is going to protect you when you need it the most.”

  The idea of falling in love again didn’t appeal to Frances. While she loved her husband, their last few years had lost most of the romance. Frederick was too busy to spend time with her. He became more secretive in his actions.

  “What do you mean protect me? What do I need protection from?”

  Mrs. Pennyworth shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes it is just memories. Sometimes it is something else. Just know that both of you need a friend; and friendship can develop into something more.”

  Frances put the cans in the cupboard and shut the door. She placed her hand against the latch and counted to three. “I don’t think that will be feasible.”

  “Why not, dearie?”

  “Because I’m not young. Love is for other women, not for an old widow like me.”

  Mrs. Pennyworth gave a little bark. “Who said anything about love? I just said you’ll help heal his heart.” She gave Frances a little wink. “As for you falling in love,” she insisted, “you just haven’t allowed the possibility of it.”

  “I’ve been married. It wasn’t that spectacular.”

  “But it can be,” Mrs. Pennyworth sighed. “My Edward and I had the most wonderful marriage.”

  Frances looked at the woman once more. “How do you know all this?”

  “Because, dearie, I’m your guardian angel.”

  Frances wanted to roll her eyes, but she refrained and instead gave a sharp laugh. “I don’t believe…” she looked back at the woman and she was gone.

  Frances didn’t sleep well that night. This time the nightmare was different. She was still searching through the fire for Frederick, but this time she felt something sinister in the smoke. A dark figure grabbed her and held a gloved hand over her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. Each time she inhaled, the smell of smoke, fire and the leather glove would overcome her senses.

  She sat up in bed. She was safe in her own home. Her night clothes were drenched. She tried to catch her breath. It took a few minutes for her breathing to resume to normal.

  She would need to change her gown. Looking at the clock next to her bed, she decided to simply get dressed and start her day.

  It didn’t take her long to get ready and gather up everything she needed to take to Max’s. She quickly fed the cat and then picking up her wicker basket and bean pot, she walked down the alley to Max’s house.

  She opened the back door with the key Max provided when she first started cooking for him. She slipped her key into her pocket as she entered the kitchen and placed her bean pot on the stove before pocketing the key. The beans would soak all day and she would be able to cook them tomorrow for dinner. She placed the two chickens in the ice box and went to find the apron Max left hanging behind the door.

  She heard movement in the house, signifying that the guests must be up and starting their day. The sound of footsteps could be heard thumping against the wooden floors. She checked her watch. She had a little over an hour before they needed to leave for church.

  Mentally preparing breakfast in her mind, she decided to keep it simple – eggs, toast and bit of the smoked pork that was hanging on a hook in the corner. This was her first day preparing breakfast in quite a while.

  Smoked pork and eggs were one of her favorite meals, so Max’s house guests would probably like it as well.

  She tied the apron around her waist. Grabbing a large skillet from the wall, she set it on the stovetop to heat. Slicing thick pieces of pork, she dropped the slices in the skillet and they began to pop happily against the heat. Frances loved the scent of smoked pork belly in the cast iron pan. It had been so long since she cooked it, she almost forgot how the scent made her mouth water.

  “Oh, I wasn’t expecting anyone here,” a voice called from behind her.

  Frances nearly dropped the fork she was using to turn the bacon. She turned around and gave the young lady a big smile.

  She was a petite woman, no more than twenty, Frances guessed. She had a peaches and cream complexion, with light brown hair and golden eyes that looked rather sad.

  “You must be Cassandra.” Frances wiped her hands on the apron and took one of Cassie’s hands in her own. Max’s guest was not at all what she was expecting.

  “Call me Cassie. Who are you?”

  “I’m Mrs. Brown. Max asked me to come over and help tend the meals and do some light housekeeping for him. I hope that is alright?” Frances returned to flipping the meat in the pan. “We don’t have much time this morning, as church will start soon. How about some eggs and salt pork for breakfast?”

  “That… that would be lovely.”

  Frances turned and looked at the young lady. “Max mentioned you like tea, but we only have coffee this morning. Is that alright? Or would you prefer milk.”

  “Coffee is fine,” Cassie said. “May I help you with anything?”

  “Oh heavens, no, child. I have almost everything done. Coffee is on the stove. Milk is in the pitcher. You can find a cup over there.” Frances pointed to a cabinet in the corner. “If you have a seat at the table, I’ll bring your breakfast right over.”

  She watched Cassie pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the table. The young miss looked around. “Where is Max?” she asked as she blew on her coffee. She took a sip of the bitter brew and made a face.

  Frances gave a little giggle. “I think he is looking for that cat of his.”

  “I wonder where he goes.”

  “Max or the cat?”

  Cassie laughed. “Maybe both?”

  “Max probably to Maybelle’s garden. Mr. Gladstone, probably under the shed.”

  Before Cassie could respond, Max entered the kitchen. He greeted the ladies and Frances returned to the stove, ignoring the young couple as they engaged in idle chatter.

  She slid a plate in front of Cassie and another in front of Max. Cassie bit into the fried meat and then closed her eyes, savoring the treat. “Oh my, this is good.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Frances said. She made a mental note to get some more smoked pork belly. Cassie looked like she hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks, if not years. And there must be something amiss if she had never experienced bacon before.

  “Are you joining us, Mrs. Brown?” Max asked.

  “I need to make a few more eggs. You said there is one more person here?”

  “Yes,” Max replied. “Cassie’s father, Hal.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Frances returned to the kitchen to fry up some more eggs and then she created a plate for herself and Hal.

  She had just put the plate down when a man walked into the room. This must be Hal.

  He had stooped shoulders. Frances wasn’t sure if he had a disease or his shoulders were curved from something else. Even with the curvature of his shoulders, this man was taller than Frederick. He had a head of light brown hair, that was thinning in spots.

  His shirt was a bit wrinkled. Frances watched as he tried to remove the wrinkles by pressing his hands down the front of his shirt.

  His hair stood in all directions. No matter how hard he tried to flatten it with his palms it still stood out.

  So, this was the man Mrs. Pennyworth wanted her to help? Frances nearly scoffed out loud.

  Frances was about to dismiss him when he turned to look at her. Her breath caught in her throat as piercing blue eyes gazed on her. He wasn’t an especially handsome man, but he was steadfast in looks.

  “Forgive me,” he said. He appeared to stand a little straighter. “I didn’t realize we had company. I would have been down sooner.”

  “Oh, I’m not company,” Frances said. “I’m here helping out. I made you breakfast,” she said pointing to the plate in front of him.

  Hal took a seat and looked at the plate. He turned the plate several times, stopping when the eggs were directly in front of him. His movements didn’t go unnoticed by Frances. She had seen Max do the same thing.

  He picked up a utensil and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  “Oh my,” he said, closing his eyes. “These are really good. I can’t think of when I had eggs last.”

  Cassie laughed. “It was when Mrs. Graham brought those chickens home. Remember how that rooster would crow? It only took two days for the apartment manager to find it and make them dispose of them.”

  Hal gave Cassie a smile. “I think all the children in the building were sad about that.” He scooped up another forkful of eggs and shoved them in his mouth. “However, that was the best chicken stew,” he said between bites.

  “Did you live in the city, Mr. Stockton?” Frances asked.

  “Call me Harold. Hal for short. Yes, we just moved to Creede from New York City.”

  “That is a distance from here.” Frances paused for a moment and looked at the eggs on her plate. They were light and fluffy. She couldn’t imagine not having them available to her at any time.” “Why haven’t you had eggs, Harold?” She asked.

  Hal stopped and looked at her, a forkful of eggs hanging between the table and his mouth. He placed his fork back on the plate. “Eggs were very expensive. We didn’t get them very often.”

  “Expensive? Didn’t they have stores in the city?” Harold nodded his head. “And you couldn’t afford eggs?” Frances couldn’t believe it. Eggs were practically free here in Creede, as there were many chickens running around. Hal looked embarrassed and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,” Frances said. She felt bad that she made Max’s guest feel uncomfortable.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hal said. “Almost everything in New York is expensive.”

  “What did you normally eat?”

  Hal pushed his plate aside. “Cassie, here,” he began, pointing to his daughter, “she can cook bread. We at a lot of beans and sometimes we had a bit of meat to flavor them with. But not very often.”

  Frances finished her eggs. “Were you poor?”

  Hal shifted in his seat. “Still are,” he simply replied looking at the table. Frances would swear if his shoulders appeared any rounder, he would curl himself into a ball.

  “I am so sorry, Harold,” she said, reaching over to pat his hand. “Sometimes my brain and mouth don’t work together and things pop out that sometimes shouldn’t. Just tell me to mind my own business.” She made a mental note not to serve beans if she could help it. She thought about the pot she placed on the stove. Those beans were already soaking. She could add meat and seasonings and make it into chili instead.

  Hal looked at her. His blue eyes stared at her as if determining her intentions. This was a man that didn’t trust too much.