bangs reminded her of all that had happened.
How was she going to explain this to her sisters? Thanks to the marshal, she would be going home today, but her abduction was shameful to other people. What if the marshal was wrong? What if word somehow reached back home about what happened to her?
Steps tapped on the floor behind her. A slender, dignified lady in her middle years studied the dress’s reflection before raising her eyes to meet Callie’s in the mirror. Kindness shone there.
“That color is just perfect on you.” Miss Lindylee smiled, producing an iris-blue and purple sunbonnet. “Try this on. I think it will match both dresses perfectly.”
“Two dresses seems extravagant.” She would have refused the hat, but it was difficult to say no to the gentle-voiced seamstress, so she took the sunbonnet. She settled it over her blond locks, tugged the ties down beneath her chin and considered her reflection. The hat was lovely, as fine as any Emma or even Maggie had sewn—and they were fine sewers. Guilt was the problem. She didn’t want to spend so much of the marshal’s money. “I should just take this one.”
“You’ll need something to wear when you get home.” Lindylee’s words were gentle, like silk over unbendable steel. “You’ll take both dresses. I won’t go against what Mason wants, oh no, I think too highly of him. He said at least two dresses and that’s what you’ll get. You really ought to have a third one, since all your clothes are who-knows-where.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She thought of her satchel and sighed. “This is going to be quite costly for Mason.”
“It will be all right,” Lindylee assured her, studying the bonnet carefully before giving an approving nod. “Yes, that’s a darling combination. It will match the purple dress perfectly too. Now, I’ll get your other items wrapped up, or would you rather I deliver them to Mariel’s house?”
“How did you know I’m staying with Mariel?”
“Gossip spreads fast in a town like this.” Lindylee gave an apologetic shrug. Something sad lurked in her voice. “I’m afraid when it concerns you, the gossip isn’t good. You know how folks can be. Overly concerned with a lady’s virtue. One hint of a taint on your reputation, and you are an outcast. It isn’t right.”
“No,” Callie said quietly, wondering what had happened to Lindylee. “It isn’t right.”
“Perhaps in time things will change. Maybe women won’t always be judged the way we are now.” Lindylee tapped over to the front counter and circled behind it. “You never said if you wanted this delivered?”
Callie considered the brown paper wrapped bundle sitting on the counter. “I’ll take it with me. That will save you a trip.”
“Then let me just tie this string and I’ll be finished.” Lindylee bent over the task, her brown hair tumbling over her forehead as she tied a bow with a flourish.
The bell on the door chimed cheerfully as an elderly woman and two little girls swept into the shop. The nearly identical-looking sisters appeared to be a year or so apart in age, their brown hair in tidy braids, their matching blue frocks carefully tailored.
“You girls may go look at things.
Quietly.”
The older woman gave them a warning look. “I need to speak with Miss Lindylee.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the girls said in unison and walked quickly out of sight behind a large bonnet display.
Seeing that the shop owner was about to become busy and perhaps make more sales, Callie took her package, thanked Lindylee again and headed for the door.
“Hello, Mrs.
Reynolds.”
Lindylee emphasized the name, stopping Callie in her tracks.
Mrs. Reynolds. The older lady had to be Earl’s kindly, good mother whom he’d written about so glowingly in his letters. Her hand lingered on the doorknob as she turned, gazing with longing at the mother figure she’d been hoping for. It felt as if someone had reached in and grabbed her heart in a
How was she going to explain this to her sisters? Thanks to the marshal, she would be going home today, but her abduction was shameful to other people. What if the marshal was wrong? What if word somehow reached back home about what happened to her?
Steps tapped on the floor behind her. A slender, dignified lady in her middle years studied the dress’s reflection before raising her eyes to meet Callie’s in the mirror. Kindness shone there.
“That color is just perfect on you.” Miss Lindylee smiled, producing an iris-blue and purple sunbonnet. “Try this on. I think it will match both dresses perfectly.”
“Two dresses seems extravagant.” She would have refused the hat, but it was difficult to say no to the gentle-voiced seamstress, so she took the sunbonnet. She settled it over her blond locks, tugged the ties down beneath her chin and considered her reflection. The hat was lovely, as fine as any Emma or even Maggie had sewn—and they were fine sewers. Guilt was the problem. She didn’t want to spend so much of the marshal’s money. “I should just take this one.”
“You’ll need something to wear when you get home.” Lindylee’s words were gentle, like silk over unbendable steel. “You’ll take both dresses. I won’t go against what Mason wants, oh no, I think too highly of him. He said at least two dresses and that’s what you’ll get. You really ought to have a third one, since all your clothes are who-knows-where.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She thought of her satchel and sighed. “This is going to be quite costly for Mason.”
“It will be all right,” Lindylee assured her, studying the bonnet carefully before giving an approving nod. “Yes, that’s a darling combination. It will match the purple dress perfectly too. Now, I’ll get your other items wrapped up, or would you rather I deliver them to Mariel’s house?”
“How did you know I’m staying with Mariel?”
“Gossip spreads fast in a town like this.” Lindylee gave an apologetic shrug. Something sad lurked in her voice. “I’m afraid when it concerns you, the gossip isn’t good. You know how folks can be. Overly concerned with a lady’s virtue. One hint of a taint on your reputation, and you are an outcast. It isn’t right.”
“No,” Callie said quietly, wondering what had happened to Lindylee. “It isn’t right.”
“Perhaps in time things will change. Maybe women won’t always be judged the way we are now.” Lindylee tapped over to the front counter and circled behind it. “You never said if you wanted this delivered?”
Callie considered the brown paper wrapped bundle sitting on the counter. “I’ll take it with me. That will save you a trip.”
“Then let me just tie this string and I’ll be finished.” Lindylee bent over the task, her brown hair tumbling over her forehead as she tied a bow with a flourish.
The bell on the door chimed cheerfully as an elderly woman and two little girls swept into the shop. The nearly identical-looking sisters appeared to be a year or so apart in age, their brown hair in tidy braids, their matching blue frocks carefully tailored.
“You girls may go look at things.
Quietly.”
The older woman gave them a warning look. “I need to speak with Miss Lindylee.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the girls said in unison and walked quickly out of sight behind a large bonnet display.
Seeing that the shop owner was about to become busy and perhaps make more sales, Callie took her package, thanked Lindylee again and headed for the door.
“Hello, Mrs.
Reynolds.”
Lindylee emphasized the name, stopping Callie in her tracks.
Mrs. Reynolds. The older lady had to be Earl’s kindly, good mother whom he’d written about so glowingly in his letters. Her hand lingered on the doorknob as she turned, gazing with longing at the mother figure she’d been hoping for. It felt as if someone had reached in and grabbed her heart in a
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