Read Online Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) by Cindy Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cindy Caldwell
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Family Life, Western, Short-Story, Twins, Religious, Christian, Christmas, holiday, Inspirational, Bachelor, wealthy, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, Mississippi, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Seasonal, Deceased, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Christmas Time, Mistletoe, Cousin Josephine, Sewing Skills, Clothing Business, Twin Sister, Tight-Fisted
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here shortly. But follow me. I’ll show you around.”
She opened a narrow door on the side of the kitchen and grabbed the tray, nodding for Michelle to follow her. Michelle peeked down dark stairs as Mable disappeared down them, the scent of moisture tickling her nose.
“Grab that candle and follow me, Mrs. Michelle,” Mable said from somewhere lower, maybe the bottom of the stairs.
Michelle grabbed the candle and followed, lifting her skirts as she felt with her foot for the next short, narrow stair of the winding staircase.
As she reached the bottom, she glanced around the small room--more like a root cellar than a room, really, with shelves on all sides. Sacks and boxes were marked with things like potatoes or onions . Some of the other shelves had writing on them, things like Christmas ornaments , Grandmother’s china or Great-grandmother’s silver.
Mable carefully wiped off the silver tea set, gently placing it on one of the shelves--the one marked Great-grandmother’s silver--and wiped her hands on her apron.
“It’s really a beautiful set of silver, Mable. Thank you for getting it out for us,” Michelle said as Mable set the last piece on the tray and covered it gently with a piece of black velvet, tucking the sides of it under the tray.
She stepped back and nodded, turning to Michelle. “It is. Like I said, it was Mrs. Chandler’s favorite, and it’s the last...”
Michelle cocked her head to one side, waiting for Mable to finish. Instead, she gestured around the small room and said, “This is the root cellar, and a bit of storage. I’ve been canning for months, and we should be good all winter.” She pointed to the shelves of clear, glass jars holding all sorts of different fruits and vegetables, from what Michelle could see.
“You certainly are prepared,” Michelle said as she crossed to one of the jars and picked it up, squinting at the contents. “What is this?”
“Oh, that’s okra. One of Mr. Anthony’s favorites.”
She laughed as Michelle licked her lips. “I like everything. I’ve never met a vegetable I didn’t like. I look forward to trying it.”
Mable grabbed her hand and pulled her back upstairs. “Not only can you try it, but I’ll teach you how to make all of Mr. Anthony’s favorites later, if you like. Right now, it would be a load off of Mr. Anthony if you could take care of the twins.”
“Oh, I’m anxious to.” Michelle dropped her skirts as she reached the top of the narrow stairs and turned to close the door behind her.
Mable sighed. “I’m grateful. I been with the family a long, long time, Mrs. Michelle, and there never was a time where they needed help more than now.”
“It must be so difficult for all of you, losing Mr. And Mrs. Chandler and the twins’ parents so close together.”
“Oh, yes. That, too.” Mable looked up at Michelle after untying her apron and hanging it on a hook by the back door.
Michelle’s stomach flipped. What could possibly be worse than such loss in a family?
Chapter 14
A nthony took his scarf that Mable held out for him and wrapped it tightly around his neck. He peered out the window at the dark clouds gathering in the sky and reached for an umbrella at the last moment.
“Gonna be a cold one today, Mr. Anthony. Good idea,” Mable said as she handed him his warmest gloves. He shrugged on his overcoat and reached out for them, smiling at Mable. She always took such good care of him and he sighed with gratitude.
Mable handed him a cloth bag which he assumed was his lunch. He’d long ago stopped closing the shop for an hour and heading down the street to get something to eat. It was more expensive--much more--than having Mable pack some small leftovers from the previous evening’s meal.
The porridge she’d made for breakfast for him warmed his stomach and he opened the front door, again frowning as the sky threatened above. Judging from the bite of chill on his nose, he guessed it might be snow rather than
She opened a narrow door on the side of the kitchen and grabbed the tray, nodding for Michelle to follow her. Michelle peeked down dark stairs as Mable disappeared down them, the scent of moisture tickling her nose.
“Grab that candle and follow me, Mrs. Michelle,” Mable said from somewhere lower, maybe the bottom of the stairs.
Michelle grabbed the candle and followed, lifting her skirts as she felt with her foot for the next short, narrow stair of the winding staircase.
As she reached the bottom, she glanced around the small room--more like a root cellar than a room, really, with shelves on all sides. Sacks and boxes were marked with things like potatoes or onions . Some of the other shelves had writing on them, things like Christmas ornaments , Grandmother’s china or Great-grandmother’s silver.
Mable carefully wiped off the silver tea set, gently placing it on one of the shelves--the one marked Great-grandmother’s silver--and wiped her hands on her apron.
“It’s really a beautiful set of silver, Mable. Thank you for getting it out for us,” Michelle said as Mable set the last piece on the tray and covered it gently with a piece of black velvet, tucking the sides of it under the tray.
She stepped back and nodded, turning to Michelle. “It is. Like I said, it was Mrs. Chandler’s favorite, and it’s the last...”
Michelle cocked her head to one side, waiting for Mable to finish. Instead, she gestured around the small room and said, “This is the root cellar, and a bit of storage. I’ve been canning for months, and we should be good all winter.” She pointed to the shelves of clear, glass jars holding all sorts of different fruits and vegetables, from what Michelle could see.
“You certainly are prepared,” Michelle said as she crossed to one of the jars and picked it up, squinting at the contents. “What is this?”
“Oh, that’s okra. One of Mr. Anthony’s favorites.”
She laughed as Michelle licked her lips. “I like everything. I’ve never met a vegetable I didn’t like. I look forward to trying it.”
Mable grabbed her hand and pulled her back upstairs. “Not only can you try it, but I’ll teach you how to make all of Mr. Anthony’s favorites later, if you like. Right now, it would be a load off of Mr. Anthony if you could take care of the twins.”
“Oh, I’m anxious to.” Michelle dropped her skirts as she reached the top of the narrow stairs and turned to close the door behind her.
Mable sighed. “I’m grateful. I been with the family a long, long time, Mrs. Michelle, and there never was a time where they needed help more than now.”
“It must be so difficult for all of you, losing Mr. And Mrs. Chandler and the twins’ parents so close together.”
“Oh, yes. That, too.” Mable looked up at Michelle after untying her apron and hanging it on a hook by the back door.
Michelle’s stomach flipped. What could possibly be worse than such loss in a family?
Chapter 14
A nthony took his scarf that Mable held out for him and wrapped it tightly around his neck. He peered out the window at the dark clouds gathering in the sky and reached for an umbrella at the last moment.
“Gonna be a cold one today, Mr. Anthony. Good idea,” Mable said as she handed him his warmest gloves. He shrugged on his overcoat and reached out for them, smiling at Mable. She always took such good care of him and he sighed with gratitude.
Mable handed him a cloth bag which he assumed was his lunch. He’d long ago stopped closing the shop for an hour and heading down the street to get something to eat. It was more expensive--much more--than having Mable pack some small leftovers from the previous evening’s meal.
The porridge she’d made for breakfast for him warmed his stomach and he opened the front door, again frowning as the sky threatened above. Judging from the bite of chill on his nose, he guessed it might be snow rather than
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