Read Online Anything But Civil by Anna Loan-Wilsey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anna Loan-Wilsey
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top of the stairs revealed that throughout the entire town every awning, lamppost, bench, boardwalk, parked wagon, and rooftop was blanketed in snow. And the stillness was absolute.
Not a single footprint marked the newly fallen snow on the stairs. I gingerly stepped on the top stair, holding the railing, then decided that I didn’t want to be the first to test the slipperiness of the untrodden stairs. Instead I walked down Prospect to the Green Street, or as the pupils who have to climb them for class every day call them, the High School stairs. Here many footprints marked the passage of other early morning risers, mostly merchants and clerks who worked on Main Street below. I followed in their path and descended the hill to Bench Street without incident. My goal this morning was Mrs. Brendel’s first, to order holly, greens, and several bouquets of cut flowers for the Christmas decorations, and then to the river path that followed the train tracks toward the Mississippi River.
I arrived at Mrs. Brendel’s a few minutes before she opened. I’d planned it that way. Mrs. Brendel had the best selection of cut flowers and Christmas greenery in town, but she was first and foremost a milliner. I’d spent hours since arriving in Galena pursuing the wares of Mrs. Edwards’ Millinery and especially Miss Burke’s, which I passed on Main Street every time I walked to the Green Street Bridge, but I’d never been to Mrs. Brendel’s. I now took the opportunity to admire her latest creations in her shop front window until a young girl with bows in her hair, obviously not Mrs. Brendel, unlocked the door. It took all of my restraint to order only the holly, evergreen rope, and flowers I’d come for. As I left, I pledged to myself I’d be back at a more convenient time for the fancy lace braid hat in the window. The wide satin trim and large spray of velvet forget-me-nots would match my navy brilliantine suit perfectly.
I crossed the river on the footbridge and walked up Park Avenue. When I passed the Starrett house, most of the curtains were still drawn. From previous early morning hikes, I’d presumed that Mrs. Reynard and her grandfather, General Starrett, were both late risers. It seemed Captain Henry Starrett was as well. Mr. Reynard, on the other hand, was always gone to work before even I passed by. This morning seemed to be an exception, as evidenced by the three sets of footprints on the steps leading down from the lawn to the road. As I followed the train tracks south, I noticed that two of those sets of footprints had followed the same path. Who else had been hiking this way this morning from the Starrett house? I got my answer in the form of a distinct giggle a few yards away. Suddenly a snowball whizzed by my head and smacked against an elm behind me. Shouts of glee from the two children filled the still air.
“Can’t a body pass in the early morning without being assailed by a missile of snow?” I mockingly declared. A little girl shrieked.
“It’s not Mrs. Becker,” a boy of ten said. “It’s some lady in funny clothes.” I looked at the short hemline of my hiking skirt and my boots. What was so funny about them? “You can come out now, Sis.” A girl about eight came out of hiding from behind a tree.
“You’re not going to Mama, are you?” his sister said.
“I don’t know, who might your mother be?” I asked.
The boy stood tall and puffed out his chest. “Mrs. Frederick Reynard. I’m Master Edward Reynard and this is my sister, Gertrude.” I knew the Reynards had children, having heard their squeals and the pounding of running feet above General Starrett’s library, but I’d not yet met them.
“Well, Master Reynard, Miss Reynard, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. And I am not some lady in funny clothes; my name is Miss Davish and I’m wearing my very practical hiking costume. And no, Miss Reynard, I’m not going to tell your mother. But I do think an apology is in order,” I
Not a single footprint marked the newly fallen snow on the stairs. I gingerly stepped on the top stair, holding the railing, then decided that I didn’t want to be the first to test the slipperiness of the untrodden stairs. Instead I walked down Prospect to the Green Street, or as the pupils who have to climb them for class every day call them, the High School stairs. Here many footprints marked the passage of other early morning risers, mostly merchants and clerks who worked on Main Street below. I followed in their path and descended the hill to Bench Street without incident. My goal this morning was Mrs. Brendel’s first, to order holly, greens, and several bouquets of cut flowers for the Christmas decorations, and then to the river path that followed the train tracks toward the Mississippi River.
I arrived at Mrs. Brendel’s a few minutes before she opened. I’d planned it that way. Mrs. Brendel had the best selection of cut flowers and Christmas greenery in town, but she was first and foremost a milliner. I’d spent hours since arriving in Galena pursuing the wares of Mrs. Edwards’ Millinery and especially Miss Burke’s, which I passed on Main Street every time I walked to the Green Street Bridge, but I’d never been to Mrs. Brendel’s. I now took the opportunity to admire her latest creations in her shop front window until a young girl with bows in her hair, obviously not Mrs. Brendel, unlocked the door. It took all of my restraint to order only the holly, evergreen rope, and flowers I’d come for. As I left, I pledged to myself I’d be back at a more convenient time for the fancy lace braid hat in the window. The wide satin trim and large spray of velvet forget-me-nots would match my navy brilliantine suit perfectly.
I crossed the river on the footbridge and walked up Park Avenue. When I passed the Starrett house, most of the curtains were still drawn. From previous early morning hikes, I’d presumed that Mrs. Reynard and her grandfather, General Starrett, were both late risers. It seemed Captain Henry Starrett was as well. Mr. Reynard, on the other hand, was always gone to work before even I passed by. This morning seemed to be an exception, as evidenced by the three sets of footprints on the steps leading down from the lawn to the road. As I followed the train tracks south, I noticed that two of those sets of footprints had followed the same path. Who else had been hiking this way this morning from the Starrett house? I got my answer in the form of a distinct giggle a few yards away. Suddenly a snowball whizzed by my head and smacked against an elm behind me. Shouts of glee from the two children filled the still air.
“Can’t a body pass in the early morning without being assailed by a missile of snow?” I mockingly declared. A little girl shrieked.
“It’s not Mrs. Becker,” a boy of ten said. “It’s some lady in funny clothes.” I looked at the short hemline of my hiking skirt and my boots. What was so funny about them? “You can come out now, Sis.” A girl about eight came out of hiding from behind a tree.
“You’re not going to Mama, are you?” his sister said.
“I don’t know, who might your mother be?” I asked.
The boy stood tall and puffed out his chest. “Mrs. Frederick Reynard. I’m Master Edward Reynard and this is my sister, Gertrude.” I knew the Reynards had children, having heard their squeals and the pounding of running feet above General Starrett’s library, but I’d not yet met them.
“Well, Master Reynard, Miss Reynard, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. And I am not some lady in funny clothes; my name is Miss Davish and I’m wearing my very practical hiking costume. And no, Miss Reynard, I’m not going to tell your mother. But I do think an apology is in order,” I
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