Recipe for Christmas (Cutter's Creek Book 10) Page 3

She nodded and in turn, looked at Olivia. “See to it.”

  Olivia frowned in annoyance. Aggie hadn’t been gone a day and a half, and already work was being dumped on her. “Do I have to?” she whined.

  Mrs. Bridger grabbed Olivia by the arm. “Yes, you do. Find out every detail, you hear? Especially if there’s to be prize money.”

  Olivia could only stare. Was Daddy in some sort of financial trouble? She knew he hadn’t sought work since they arrived in Cutter’s Creek. He was perfectly capable of going out and finding a job if he wanted, but he hadn’t. Still, there was the money from the inheritance he’d received years ago, wasn’t there?

  “Did you hear me?” Mrs. Bridger asked, squeezing her arm.

  Olivia stiffened. “Y-yes, Mother. I’ll see to it.”

  Mrs. Bridger released her. “You’d better. Now hurry.”

  Olivia went into the kitchen, retrieved her coat and left the house. She looked back at the structure as she reached the road. The Bridgers had set up home in other places for months at a time, places much nicer than this. She thought they took it because it was all that was available, but perhaps she was wrong. They’d been living off that inheritance for a long time – maybe it was finally running out. If that was so, they’d need whatever they could get.

  A thought struck her. Horrors, would she have to go find work?! But no, that was silly – her parents had never made her work outside the house in her life. They’d take care of her until a man came along and swept her off her feet, she was sure. But in the meantime, she’d have to take care of errands like this … until they could find someone to replace the Shrew.

  That led to another, more pleasant idea. The only place Aggie could really have run off to was Cutter’s Creek. Maybe she could figure out where she’d gotten to – and find a way to haul her back. That would take the load off her and put it back where it belonged – on a servant.

  Olivia smiled proudly and continued down the road with a spring in her step.

  Aggie woke up that morning feeling better than she had since her parents had died. Mr. Todd had been a little annoyed at his wife bringing home a “stray,” but he’d agreed that helping the girl was good Christian charity. They’d fed her until she was stuffed, made a bed for her on the sofa in the parlor, even given her an old threadbare coat of Mrs. Todd’s that fit her like a sack but would at least keep her warm. Mrs. Todd had also given her an earful about the Christmas festival, and now she was as excited about it as they were.

  However, the festival wasn’t offering any paying positions, so she still needed to find a job. After a hearty breakfast of eggs and toast, she and Mrs. Todd headed out – Mrs. Todd to the little red chapel at the end of town, and Aggie to the dressmaker’s shop nearby. It wouldn’t take long for the shop owner to say yes or no, and if she turned Aggie down, she’d try the other shops along the main street.

  Aggie entered the shop, a tiny bell on the door ringing as she did. She discovered she was nervous. But why shouldn’t she be? She couldn’t live in the Todds’ parlor forever. Getting a job might mean the difference between life and total destitution, maybe even death. She shuddered at the thought and approached the counter. “Hello?”

  A woman emerged from a back room through a curtain. She was pretty, with high cheekbones framed by sable-brown curls, and the loveliest green eyes. “Hello – may I help you?” she inquired in a New England accent.

  “Are you the owner?”

  “Yes, I’m Mrs. Cornell.” She looked Aggie over carefully. “What can I do for you, young lady? Are you here about a dress?”

  Aggie glanced at the careworn frock she wore, once blue but now faded to grey. Mrs. Cornell’s, however, was a beautiful rich purple, well-made and expensive-looking. No wonder the woman was scrutinizing her. “I was wondering … if …” Oh for heaven sakes, Aggie, this is not the time to get cold feet! “… if you needed any extra help.”

  Mrs. Cornell looked Aggie up and down again. “You sew?” she asked in surprise.

  Aggie swallowed and straightened. “Very well, if I say so. Especially when I have proper tools to work with.”

  Mrs. Cornell came out from behind the counter and studied her more closely. “And did you have proper tools when you made the dress you’re wearing?”

  Aggie tried to keep her lower lip from trembling with emotion. “My mother made this dress. Before she died.”

  “Oh!” the proprietress said sympathetically. “How long has she been gone?”

  “Five years, ma’am.”

  “I see.” She reached out to finger the skirt. “The dress is worn, but the stitching is still solid. Tell me, is this the only dress you have?”

  “It is, ma’am,” Aggie said, leaving out that at the moment it was the only anything she had – she’d abandoned her few belongings at the Bridgers’ when she left. How much more embarrassing could this get?

  Mrs. Cornell took a step back. “Can you sew as well as your mother?”

  “Why, yes,” Aggie said excitedly. “I can.”

  “Lord knows I could use some help, especially with this Christmas festival coming up. There are already orders for new gowns. I hear there’ll be a dance too.”

  “That’s true,” Aggie told her. “Mrs. Todd gave me all the details. I’m … staying with the Todds at the moment. Until I can get a place of my own.”

  Mrs. Cornell grinned. “That’s Sam and Estelle for you. Maybe the most generous people I know. And good judges of character besides.”

  Aggie smiled too, but hers was fueled by hope. “So … do I have a job then?”

  Mrs. Cornell studied her a moment. “What’s your name?”

  “Agatha Shrewsbury, ma’am, but you can call me Aggie.”

  “Very well, Aggie. Can you bring me samples of your work? I’d take you at your word, but I’ve done that before and been sorely disappointed. You understand.”

  Aggie nodded. “I’m afraid I do. Can I bring you a sample tomorrow?”

  “Fine. If I like your work, then you have a job.”

  Aggie wanted to jump with joy, but didn’t dare. She had to remain professional. “I’ll bring several samples. I’m sure you’ll like them.” Hopefully the Todds had some fabric they didn’t mind parting with. Otherwise she’d have to go back to the Bridgers’ to gather some of her previous work – and risk getting caught by them! Heaven forbid!

  “If they meet or exceed the dress you’re wearing, I’m sure I will. When can you start, providing I like what I see?”

  “Oh, immediately.”

  “Good,” said Mrs. Cornell. “I’m anxious to see your samples.”

  Grateful beyond words, Aggie smiled, then curtsied. This was a dressmaker, not royalty, but anything seemed like a palace after five years with the Bridgers. “Tomorrow, then,” she said, then turned and left the shop. Now all she had to do was ask “the most generous people” Mrs. Cornell knew for some supplies, and work her fingers to the bone the rest of the day. She was used to doing that for the Bridgers.

  But this time, Aggie thought with a smile, she wouldn’t be doing it for those slave-drivers. She’d be doing it for herself.

  “That was one fine meal, Mrs. Judrow,” Eldon said.

  “Please don’t call me that – I’m your sister now,” Emma reminded him.

  “Very well then … Emma. Best pot roast I’ve ever had. My brother’s a lucky man.”

  “Thank you. I got the recipe from our friend Oscar White.”

  “Who got it from a Mrs. Dunnigan of Clear Creek, Oregon,” Lucius added. “I’ve never met the woman, personally that is, but by reputation she’s the finest cook west of Kansas City. I still want Oscar to send Emma the woman’s cherry pie recipe.”

  “I hope someday to find a wife who can cook this well,” Eldon said.

  Emma blushed. “Well, there are some fine cooks right here in Cutter’s Creek. Let me see… there’s Mary Latsch.”

  “The preacher’s wife,” Lucius added.

  “Yes, not an availab
le woman. But she makes the best venison stew …”

  “Let’s not pretend,” Eldon said with a grin. “I know Lucius must’ve told you everything I told him this afternoon. I wouldn’t mind marrying, but I’m in no rush.”

  Emma mock-glared at him. “So you’re just interested in my cooking, hm?”

  “In his defense, it was an excellent pot roast,” Lucius replied with a chuckle.

  Eldon laughed. “You two are a pair. I’m happy for you.”

  Emma smiled. “Thank you. It hasn’t been easy at times getting to know one another, but we’ve managed.”

  Lucius put an arm around her. “I grow more in love with her every day, brother. I want you to have the same in your life.”

  “I will. Eventually.” Eldon let his eyes wander around the humble dwelling. “If I stay in Cutter’s Creek, I’d like to look at some land.”

  “If?” Lucius said. He leaned forward. “You will stay on.”

  “That a threat, little brother?” Eldon asked, amused.

  “That’s a promise.”

  Eldon chewed his lower lip a moment. “Say I buy some land and build a house. Would the two of you consider living with me?”

  Emma and Lucius exchanged a glance. “Of course,” Lucius said. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

  Her eyes flicked between the brothers. “What about children?”

  “There’ll be plenty of room,” Eldon said. “I’d build it with two families in mind.”

  Tears formed in Emma’s eyes. “That’s so generous. We’ve been fine here, but …”

  “But you’d be finer in a bigger house,” Eldon said, cutting her off. “Face it, you’re gonna need more room when you start having babies.”

  Emma gasped, turned and buried her face in her husband’s chest. Lucius wrapped his arms around her as she wept.

  “I say something wrong?” Eldon asked.

  “No, she just cries when she’s happy. We’ve been trying to figure out how to afford a larger place. Being a small-town deputy doesn’t pay much …” Then Lucius’ smile faded as realization dawned. He looked at Emma, tucked a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  She smiled, tears in her eyes, and nodded.

  Eldon laughed. “Congratulations, little brother!”

  “I want to hear her say it,” Lucius said then gulped. “Emma?”

  “Yes!” she blurted. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  Lucius whooped. “Land sakes, woman – you told Eldon and not me?”

  “She didn’t tell me anything, honest,” Eldon assured him. “I only figured it out when she started blubbering.”

  “I do not blubber!” Emma blubbered.

  “Oh my,” Lucius sighed, then sobered. “Should you be cooking? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “For Heaven’s sake, Lucius – I’m not going to break.” She sniffled and leaned back against him.

  Eldon watched with a pinch of envy. He always imagined himself being the first to have a wife, children, a little farm somewhere. But if there was one thing the war had taught him, it was that things didn’t always go as planned.

  “Mother!” Olivia screeched. “When’s breakfast?”

  Amara Bridger, sitting in the kitchen, frowned. Olivia hadn’t brought back any information about the Christmas festival – a sudden snow flurry had caused her to turn back halfway to town. Instead, she’d brought home a cold that made her even more difficult than usual. Which was saying something. Worse still, now Amara was stuck doing the work previously performed by Aggie.

  “Mother!”

  “In about twenty minutes,” Amara yelled back. Then she muttered to herself, “and to think she called Aggie a shrew.” Right now, Aggie looked like the best thing that had ever happened to them, despite the dousing the girl had given her two days prior. But her own daughter was the real shrew – and perhaps was in need of taming …

  “Is all that caterwauling back and forth necessary?” J. Wayne Bridger bellowed as he entered the kitchen. “Good thing we’re not near a cemetery, or you two would be waking the dead.” He looked his wife in the eye. “From now on, when someone wants something, why don’t you go see what, instead of screaming it to the rooftops?”

  Amara sighed. There was only one answer her husband would accept. “Yes, dear,” she groused.

  “Good. Now when’s breakfast?”

  Amara gritted her teeth. Really? He had to ask that after just scolding her for yelling the same answer to Olivia? “Twenty minutes.”

  “Hurry up, then,” Mr. Bridger said coolly. “I’m hungry.”

  Amara shook her head and went to the stove. She checked the stack of pancakes sitting in the warming oven, then examined the bacon she’d prepared. “I just need to fry up some eggs.”

  “What do you want, a medal?”

  For the umpteenth time that morning, Amara wondered why she put up with the old goat. Yes, “’til death us do part” … but sometimes he made death look awfully attractive. Oh, Aggie, why did you leave us here? she moaned inwardly. What did we ever do to you?

  Nonetheless, she got breakfast on the table and had Jonathan take a tray up to his sister. Once he returned to the dining room, the three of them ate. Jonathan wolfed down extra – he was a growing boy, after all.

  And today, with Olivia in bed, he’d be a busy one. “Son,” Mr. Bridger said. “I want you to run an errand for me today. I want you to go to that church in town and find out about this Christmas festival they’re having. Get all the information you can, especially about the prizes.”

  “Sure, Pa,” Jonathan said, then paused. “You mean I can go alone?” He’d never been allowed to go by himself before.

  “Of course,” his father replied. “You’re almost a man, son. About time you started taking on a man’s responsibilities.”

  Jonathan didn’t worry about the cold, or the dangers of the road. He was going to get to go to town without his mother looming over him! “Yes, sir! I’ll go right after breakfast. And we got a piece of harness needs mending – I can take that to the blacksmith’s.”

  “Good boy,” Mr. Bridger said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “And you can go to the mercantile for me, too,” Mrs. Bridger added. “I’ll give you a list.”

  “Glad to do it, Ma,” Jonathan told her. He was getting to do grownup’s work! And furthermore, with no one watching over him, he’d be able to ask around to see how Aggie was doing. She was his friend, and a lot nicer than his bossy big sister. He hoped she was making out all right.

  Chapter 5

  As it was, Jonathan didn’t need to ask anyone – once in town, he saw Aggie a few doors down from the chapel and ran over to her. “Hey, Aggie – how’ve you been?”

  Aggie didn’t say anything at first, but waved him over between two buildings. “Please don’t tell your family where I am,” she hissed.

  “I won’t, I promise. They’re real sore you left, though. And Ma was mad as a … well, she kinda looked like a wet hen after you poured the wash water on her.” He tried to stifle a giggle, and couldn’t. “But don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

  Aggie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a good friend. And for not telling them about me.”

  Jonathan beamed. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m the one stuck with them, at least ‘til I’m older. But it doesn’t mean you have to stay with us, not if you can find something better.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding.”

  “I understand all right. If I wasn’t related to them, I might’ve left a long time ago. But what can I do? Even when I’m older, I’m afraid if I leave, Ma and Olivia will kill each other. The only time they get along is when they have a common cause.”

  “Like picking on me.”

  “Exactly.” He shrugged. What else could he say? She knew how they could be. “At least Pa sent me to
town on my own today, so I could get a break. I’m taking this harness to the blacksmith, and getting some stuff for Ma at the mercantile, and going over to the church to find out about that Christmas festival. What are you up to? And what’s in the sack?”

  Aggie smiled. “It’s a dress I made last night – I’m taking it to the dressmaker’s shop. If it’s good enough, she might give me a job.”

  Jonathan’s eyes widened as he smiled. “Really? Neat! I hope you get to work there.”

  “So do I,” Aggie said. “Let’s go. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

  They headed back to the boardwalk. “I think it’s cold enough to snow,” Jonathan commented.

  “I wouldn’t mind if it did. It makes everything so pretty.”

  “You’ll mind if you have to walk around in those worn-out shoes.”

  Aggie glanced down. He was right – her shoes were almost worn clean through. “When I have enough money, I’ll buy myself a new pair.”

  “So where are you living? I promise I won’t tell.”

  “I know. A nice elderly couple is letting me stay with them until I get on my feet. But even if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t go back. Not even if I had to sleep in a hayloft.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “You’re one of the few people I know that gets by on pure stubbornness.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all – how else could you survive my ma and sister for so long?” They both laughed.

  Before long they reached the livery stable. “I’ll tell you what,” Aggie said. “Take care of your business here while I go to the dressmaker’s. We can meet back here and I’ll help you with your mother’s list.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Good luck. I mean it.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile was heartfelt.

  They each went their way, and Aggie felt a prick of regret. She felt sorry for Jonathan Bridger, who was too young to leave home as she had. But even when he was old enough, she didn’t see it happening. He was too loyal to his family, as horrid as they were. Perhaps he thought he could protect them from themselves – which, she admitted, maybe he could.