Read Online Walking on Air by Catherine Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Catherine Anderson
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going when you damned well please. I wasn’t finished talking.”
• • •
Nan loved her shop. She’d started out small, making only hats, with barely enough room to exhibit her creations and have a few doodads on display for browsers to purchase. Then, two years ago, the space next door, a former shoe repair shop, had come up for sale, and she’d had just enough in the bank to buy it. She and her little sister, Laney, who was believed by the townspeople to be Nan’s daughter, had suffered dearly from the drain of their funds. They’d eaten beans, occasionally flavored with a ham hock, for several months, but they’d survived the crunch, and Nan had been able to expand her business, now making not only hats, but also garments. By knocking out a wall, she had greatly increased her display footage, giving her plenty of extra space to carry sundry items that appealed to women, such as corsets and underthings, ribbons, hat pins, brooches, hair combs, and even a bit of jewelry. As a result, sales were up, Nan had a tidy sum tucked away, and she could finally say her enterprise was a success.
The clock read half past noon, the lunch hour, so she had no customers at present. Most ladies were in their kitchens right then, feeding their children, who raced home from the schoolhouse to eat, and their husbands, if their spouses were fortunate enough to have jobs that gave them a noon break. Laney, unlike most of her classmates, preferred to carry her midday meal in a pail to school so she could eat at her desk and then do homework. She was an intelligent girl, determined to do well at her studies, particularly arithmetic, so she could one day become Nan’s bookkeeper and help with sales. Nan encouraged Laney in her aspirations, even though she secretly hoped her sister, who had so many talents, including a knack for playing the violin like a maestro, would set her sights far higher. Nowadays, some young ladies went to college. A few had even become doctors. In Nan’s estimation, Laney was bright enough to accomplish almost anything she decided to do. Something far more exciting and challenging, Nan thought with a smile, than dusting and polishing display cases and shelves during the mealtime lull.
Not that Nan felt working in the shop was boring. Indeed, just the opposite. She seldom went anywhere unless it was to shop for food or go to church, so she enjoyed the social aspects of dealing with her customers. In fact, every time someone walked in, her spirits lifted. It gave her a chance to chat, catch up on the latest news, and sometimes even hear a bit of titillating gossip.
So her sudden dread when the bell above the shop door jangled was inexplicable. A chill washed over her. She stood too far away for a waft of icy air from outside to reach her. She knew only that the temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly by several degrees, and she sensed another change in the air as well, one of danger. The hairs on her nape prickled.
She froze in midmotion, her hand clenched on the dust cloth. Foolishness. It had been eight years since her flight from Manhattan, and two years ago, on Laney’s tenth birthday, Nan had finally set aside the nagging fear that one day, when she least expected it, she would be found, arrested, and returned to New York to face charges for a crime that she’d never meant to commit. It had been a long time since she’d felt this horrible sense of doom.
The door snapped closed, followed by the sharp click of a man’s boots as he walked across the waxed plank flooring. Mouth cottony, shoulders rigid with tension, Nan reminded herself that men often stopped by to purchase items for their wives. Nan’s displays abounded with pretty trinkets, some inexpensive, some costly, so gentlemen of all means could afford to buy something special.
Slowly, she turned and forced a smile to her lips. “Good day,” she said brightly. “How can I help you?”
The man stood with one hip braced
• • •
Nan loved her shop. She’d started out small, making only hats, with barely enough room to exhibit her creations and have a few doodads on display for browsers to purchase. Then, two years ago, the space next door, a former shoe repair shop, had come up for sale, and she’d had just enough in the bank to buy it. She and her little sister, Laney, who was believed by the townspeople to be Nan’s daughter, had suffered dearly from the drain of their funds. They’d eaten beans, occasionally flavored with a ham hock, for several months, but they’d survived the crunch, and Nan had been able to expand her business, now making not only hats, but also garments. By knocking out a wall, she had greatly increased her display footage, giving her plenty of extra space to carry sundry items that appealed to women, such as corsets and underthings, ribbons, hat pins, brooches, hair combs, and even a bit of jewelry. As a result, sales were up, Nan had a tidy sum tucked away, and she could finally say her enterprise was a success.
The clock read half past noon, the lunch hour, so she had no customers at present. Most ladies were in their kitchens right then, feeding their children, who raced home from the schoolhouse to eat, and their husbands, if their spouses were fortunate enough to have jobs that gave them a noon break. Laney, unlike most of her classmates, preferred to carry her midday meal in a pail to school so she could eat at her desk and then do homework. She was an intelligent girl, determined to do well at her studies, particularly arithmetic, so she could one day become Nan’s bookkeeper and help with sales. Nan encouraged Laney in her aspirations, even though she secretly hoped her sister, who had so many talents, including a knack for playing the violin like a maestro, would set her sights far higher. Nowadays, some young ladies went to college. A few had even become doctors. In Nan’s estimation, Laney was bright enough to accomplish almost anything she decided to do. Something far more exciting and challenging, Nan thought with a smile, than dusting and polishing display cases and shelves during the mealtime lull.
Not that Nan felt working in the shop was boring. Indeed, just the opposite. She seldom went anywhere unless it was to shop for food or go to church, so she enjoyed the social aspects of dealing with her customers. In fact, every time someone walked in, her spirits lifted. It gave her a chance to chat, catch up on the latest news, and sometimes even hear a bit of titillating gossip.
So her sudden dread when the bell above the shop door jangled was inexplicable. A chill washed over her. She stood too far away for a waft of icy air from outside to reach her. She knew only that the temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly by several degrees, and she sensed another change in the air as well, one of danger. The hairs on her nape prickled.
She froze in midmotion, her hand clenched on the dust cloth. Foolishness. It had been eight years since her flight from Manhattan, and two years ago, on Laney’s tenth birthday, Nan had finally set aside the nagging fear that one day, when she least expected it, she would be found, arrested, and returned to New York to face charges for a crime that she’d never meant to commit. It had been a long time since she’d felt this horrible sense of doom.
The door snapped closed, followed by the sharp click of a man’s boots as he walked across the waxed plank flooring. Mouth cottony, shoulders rigid with tension, Nan reminded herself that men often stopped by to purchase items for their wives. Nan’s displays abounded with pretty trinkets, some inexpensive, some costly, so gentlemen of all means could afford to buy something special.
Slowly, she turned and forced a smile to her lips. “Good day,” she said brightly. “How can I help you?”
The man stood with one hip braced
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