Читать книгу Groom by Design - Christine Johnson - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Sunday dawned still and sunny, one of those lazy summer days that inspired picnics, fishing and rowing on the pond. The latter was out, since Ruth’s family owned no rowboat, but, if Sam accepted their invitation to a picnic, she might be able to persuade him to dip a line in the river. Jen loved to fish. It was the perfect opportunity for romance to flower.

But first Sam had to show up for the church service so she could invite him.

“How long do we have to wait?” Minnie fussed with her hair in the dress-shop window. “The service is going to start soon.”

“I know.” Ruth bit her lip and glanced left and right to see if Sam were coming. “I told him to meet us here.”

Jen grinned. “You like him.”

“He’s simply a nice gentleman.”

The church bells rang. A rooster might as well have crowed, for like the apostle Peter, Ruth had denied the undeniable. She did like Sam. Seeing him with another woman had hurt more than it should.

“A nice gentleman,” Jen mimicked, and then both she and Minnie burst into giggles.

“Hush!” Ruth hissed as she glanced left and right again.

He wasn’t coming. All those nerves had been spent on nothing.

“We’d better go.” She blinked back the disappointment.

Jen hugged Ruth around the shoulders. “I’m sorry. Something must have come up. We can still have a picnic. I’ll pack the basket.”

That promise would be forgotten as soon as they returned home, but Ruth accepted the offer with a squeeze of gratitude. “Let’s hurry. The bells have stopped.”

“Wait!” Jen pulled her to a stop. “Here he comes. Ruthie, he’s perfect for you. So tall and distinguished, like a congressman or company president. Look at that suit! It must have cost a fortune.”

Sure enough, Sam had rounded the corner and was headed their way, his fedora at a jaunty angle and an ease in his step that made Ruth’s stomach flutter. No moving-picture actor could look finer or cause such a rush of emotion. He’d hounded her thoughts since they met. She hoped he couldn’t see it in her eyes. She ducked her head and pressed a gloved hand to her abdomen to still her nerves.

“And the way he’s smiling at you,” Jen continued, apparently unaware how far her voice carried. “If you ask me, he’s already in love.”

“Jen!” Ruth twisted the handle of her bag in consternation.

Surely he’d heard Jen and was just as mortified as Ruth. Yet his gait never slowed and his smile never wavered.

“Fine morning, ladies.” He tipped his hat.

Ruth couldn’t breathe, least of all say anything. Maybe he hadn’t heard Jen after all.

“Yes, it is, Mister...” Jen paused dramatically. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

Ruth wanted to shrink into the boxwood shrub between the dress shop and the old carriage factory, but there was no escaping this encounter, especially since she was the one who’d suggested it.

“Sam,” she hissed at Jen. “I told you his name is Sam.” She mustered a weak smile for him. “Forgive my sister’s poor manners.”

Sam grinned at each of them in turn, ending with Jen. “Nothing to forgive. We haven’t met yet. Mr. Roth, but you can call me Sam.”

Roth. Nearly the same as Ruth. Ruth Roth. It sounded ridiculous. On the other hand, Jen Roth had a nice ring to it, confirming those two were meant for each other. Even Jen’s despised full name, Genevieve, sounded good.

Sam extended a hand, which Jen pumped vigorously. Considering the way he winced, she’d probably gripped him with her usual enthusiasm.

“I’m Jen, and you already met Ruth. That’s our little sister, Minnie.”

Minnie grimaced. “Jen makes me sound like a baby. I graduated from high school last month.”

If Sam’s head was spinning at being surrounded by three women, he never let on. He congratulated Minnie on the accomplishment and turned to Ruth. “Am I late? I heard church bells.”

Jen shot Ruth a look that translated “church bells” into “wedding bells.”

Ruth tried to ignore her sister. “If we hurry, we’ll arrive before the opening hymn.”

He extended an arm to her, and a little thrill bubbled up Ruth’s throat. Even though she wanted him for Jen, she warmed to the fact that he’d chosen to escort her over her younger sisters. It must be because she was the oldest. Of course. Good manners dictated he escort the oldest sister. That was all. If she hadn’t been here, he could have escorted Jen. That could be a problem at the picnic. She hoped Sam liked to fish so she could send the two of them off together.

“Well,” Jen said, “we don’t have all day. Let’s get going.” She grabbed Minnie’s arm and the pair took off in the lead.

Ruth hesitated. She didn’t want him to think she held any affection for him when he needed to fall in love with Jen. So she kept her hands on her bag and began walking after her sisters. “So glad you could join us, Mr. Roth.”

Sam frowned before matching her stride. For half a block, silence reigned between them. She looked at the storefronts. He apparently felt no compunction to talk. She fidgeted with the handle of her bag. He whistled an unfamiliar tune.

He was the first to speak. “No repercussions?”

“Of what?”

“Mrs. Vanderloo was pleased with the gowns in the catalogs?”

“Oh. Yes.” Ruth couldn’t tell him how humiliating yesterday’s encounter had been. Without Sam’s calming presence, the woman had again threatened to withdraw all business until Ruth threw in a third gown at no charge. How she would pay for that in addition to the other two was beyond imagining, but, as Mrs. Simmons always said, God would provide. Somehow.

“Good.” His tone softened and deepened. “Why don’t you show me her selections after church?”

Ruth fixed her gaze on her sisters’ backs, afraid to look at him. Sam needed to fall for Jen, not her. Definitely not her. In the end, she would only disappoint a man like Sam Roth. Jen was right that he must come from money. His good suit was even more finely tailored than the one he’d worn Friday. The linen appeared to be mixed with silk. Silk. Goodness! Never in all her life would she be able to afford a silk garment. The closest she’d ever get to silk was smoothing her hands over the fabric she fashioned into a client’s gown.

“I can stop by the shop,” he added, “or your home, if the catalogs are there.”

Ruth reined in her wandering thoughts. Sam had presented exactly the opportunity she needed to get him together with Jen. All she had to do was act. No hesitation this time. Once he fell for Jen, she’d be relieved of this terrible emotional roller coaster. “We are planning a picnic this afternoon. In the park. Why don’t you join us?”

“Your whole family will be there?” He sounded skeptical, as if he feared she was trying to trap him.

She rushed to reassure him. “Yes, my sisters and I.”

He grinned. “Sounds nice.”

She took that as acceptance, and her stomach settled back in place. “Shall we say two o’clock? Near the pavilion?”

“Two o’clock.”

They’d reached the church steps at the same time as Ruth’s oldest sister, Beatrice, and her two children. Upon spotting Sam, four-year-old Tillie planted her hand firmly in her mouth while the two-year-old boy did his best to tug away from his mother’s grasp.

“Ruth,” Beattie gasped, “I’m so glad to see you. Would you be willing to take Tillie? Little Branford is testing my patience this morning.”

Naturally, Ruth agreed. Watching Tillie meant she would have to sit in the Kensington pew. That would leave Sam with Jen and Minnie.

Jen apparently figured that out at the same time. “But you have to sit with us,” she hissed, tilting her head toward Sam.

“You’ll be fine.” Ruth smiled at her sister’s panic. “It’s only for an hour or so.”

Jen’s frown deepened as she watched Beattie attempt to calm her son. “Where’s Blake?”

Beatrice’s shoulders stiffened at the same moment that Ruth’s stomach tightened. She could guess. He’d doubtless visited the speakeasy again last night.

Beatrice, her back to them, murmured, “He’s not feeling well.”

Jen’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe he should see Doc Stevens.”

“It’s not serious.” But Beattie’s shoulders drooped, and Ruth ached for her sister. In such a small town, people had a tendency to think they knew what was going on and offer unsolicited advice. Ruth suspected this was not the first time her sister had heard such comments, but it couldn’t be welcome coming from family.

“Hurry,” Ruth urged in order to break this train of thought. “The opening hymn is starting.”

Naturally little Branford chose that moment to voice an earsplitting shriek of displeasure. Through the open door, Ruth saw the people in the last pew turn to see who was making such a fuss. Mrs. Grattan frowned until she spotted Sam. Then her displeasure turned into avid interest.

Sam didn’t appear to notice. He swooped to Beatrice’s rescue and knelt before the unhappy little boy. “Good morning, Master Kensington. What seems to be the trouble?” His calm, respectful tone quieted little Branford at once.

The boy, nose running and hair mussed, stared at Sam.

“Could you show me where to sit?” Sam held out his hand.

Branford took it, still wide-eyed.

Ruth had to admire Sam’s calm in the midst of the storm. By giving the little boy a solemn duty, he’d distracted Branford and elevated him at the same time. She smiled her gratitude.

“Thank you, sir.” Beatrice looked from Sam to Ruth and back again.

She looked so worried that Ruth realized her sister had no idea who Sam was. “This is Mr. Roth. He’s a salesman and new to town. We met Friday, and he proved most helpful with a little problem I encountered. He agreed to join us at church today.”

Beatrice’s concern eased. “You are quite the rescuing knight, Mr. Roth. Thank you again.”

Sam bowed slightly. “Glad to be of assistance.”

The hymn had entered the third verse. “We should find our seats,” Ruth said. “Mr. Roth, you can join Jen and Minnie.”

Sam tapped the little boy’s hand, still firmly holding on to his. “I believe this young man has a duty to perform first. He agreed to show me to my seat.”

“Please join us, Mr. Roth.” Beatrice looked so relieved to have Sam’s assistance that Ruth couldn’t very well drag him away from her. “You already know Ruth, and little Branford seems to have taken a liking to you. It would be a big help.”

“Then how could I refuse?”

Ruth tried hard to swallow as Sam showered her with one of his oh-so-charming smiles. As if released from indenture, Jen and Minnie scurried to their regular pew, leaving Ruth with Beatrice, the children...and Sam. Her perfect plan had failed.

* * *

Sam heard little of the sermon with Ruth and a squirming toddler nearby. When he wasn’t prying the boy from under the pew or blocking him from shooting out into the aisle, Sam peeked at the fair beauty beside him. More than once he spotted a delightful flush on her cheeks.

Any interest on her part would vanish the moment she discovered his father was buying her family’s shop. The points he’d gained by helping her sister with her rambunctious boy would vanish. Sam found himself in a pinch. Father would never allow a dress shop next door to Hutton’s. He would raze the building and extend the department store. If Sam hoped to win Father’s confidence, he had to facilitate the purchase. But what would happen to Ruth?

He mopped his brow. All around him, women fanned themselves and men undid the buttons on their jackets, but his discomfort came more from dismay than the heat. Four women and one sick father would soon lose their livelihood, thanks to his insistence the company open a store in Pearlman.

It’s not my problem. He’d repeated those words often the past two days, but it sounded even less convincing in church.

Sam was never so happy to rise for a benediction. He’d barely heard a word of the sermon. Something about doing unto others. Standard material. The moment the benediction ended, the congregation headed for the doors, where the minister greeted them before they scattered for the shade. Sam waited in line behind Ruth and her older sister, exuberant toddler still in hand.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mrs. Beatrice Kensington sighed as she reached for her son. “I can take him from here.”

She’d have a struggle. The boy had found his legs and wanted to run.

“Let’s wait until we’re outside.” Sam kept hold of the squirming toddler’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Truly he didn’t, for it kept him close to Ruth and her family. The sisters did resemble one another, but each had somewhat different features. Most people would consider Beatrice the beauty of the family, but Sam preferred Ruth’s paler blue eyes and fairer complexion. Her features were also finer, more delicate. Her skin looked soft as silk.

Jen, on the other hand, was dark and tall. The family resemblance could be found in her facial features, though her eyes bordered on hazel, as if all the colors on the palette had been thrown together. Minnie was the shortest, her hair a muddy-blond, almost brown, but her eyes matched those of her oldest sister.

“New in town?” The minister’s question pulled Sam from his assessment of the sisters.

Beatrice took her son, allowing Sam the opportunity to shake Pastor Gabe’s hand.

“Just arrived on Friday.” Sam was surprised by the minister’s strong grip.

“Thought I saw you the other day,” the minister said. “You’re working on the new store, right? Peter Simmons mentioned you had him do some carpentry for you.”

Ruth’s head turned at those words, her approval clear.

Sam, on the other hand, suspected the minister really wanted to know what type of store Sam was opening. He tried to relax his shoulders. The questions would get more and more probing by the day, and people would expect answers. He shouldn’t have come to church today. He shouldn’t have agreed to spend any time at all with the townsfolk. In the past he’d maintained his distance until after the grand opening. But it was too late now. He’d introduced himself to Ruth and her family, and there was no going back.

He concentrated on the minister and forced what he hoped was a casual smile. “Peter does fine work for someone his age. I was quite impressed.”

The minister proved just as unshakable. “He certainly has God-given talent and the willingness to share. That’s what we’re all about here. Sharing.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on Sam. Pastor Gabe expected open communication and honesty. Ruth expected the same. Both hung on Sam’s response.

He used his smile to deflect the question. “Wouldn’t expect anything different.”

“Neither would I.” The minister’s grin told Sam he understood the bluff, but wasn’t calling him on it this time. “Let me add my welcome to the others. Staying long?”

“Can’t say yet.” That was true. After the grand opening, he would probably go to another location. “I hope it’ll be a while.” He was surprised to find that was also true. In just two days, Pearlman’s tidy homes and friendly folk had captivated him.

“If you need anything while you’re here, just ask,” Pastor Gabe said.

“Thank you, but I can’t see what I’d need.”

“The offer’s open. I know pretty much everyone in town. We might be small, but we have big hearts.”

That sounded like a great advertising slogan. Sam mentally tested it for his store but dismissed the idea. In a town the size of Pearlman, Hutton’s was anything but small. When finished, it would be the largest retail establishment in town. Only the airplane-engine factory covered more square footage.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, glad to escape into the fresh air.

Beatrice followed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“My pleasure,” he said, though an hour tending the boy had exhausted him more than a full day of work.

Ruth, still holding Beatrice’s little girl, joined them in the shade of a large maple. “We’re having a picnic this afternoon. In the park. You should join us, Beattie. The children would love it. Maybe Blake would come, too.” She glanced toward Sam. “Mr. Roth agreed to join us. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“The more the merrier,” Sam dutifully replied, though the presence of Beatrice’s family would put a crimp in talking to Ruth.

“I—I don’t think so.” Beatrice’s gaze flicked to the street. “We’re busy.”

That sounded like an excuse, but Ruth didn’t press the point. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” Beatrice hurried toward a sleek black Cadillac that had just pulled to a stop. She opened the rear door and lifted the children inside.

What a cad of a driver! A hired man ought to get out of the vehicle and assist the lady.

Sam started forward until he noticed that the dark-haired man behind the wheel sported a fashionable suit. The little girl called him “Daddy.” That cad was Beatrice’s husband. Sam recognized the distracted self-absorption of careless pleasure-seekers, whose quest for self-indulgence knew no limits because they’d been born privileged. Money bought them out of scrapes. Money insulated them from recrimination. Sam’s wife had been one of that set, and, to some extent, so had he. But she had paid the price for her sins, while he lived to regret his every day.

The driver leaned across to open the passenger door. Beatrice grabbed her expensive beaded bag off the fender and climbed in. Her diamond ring flashed in the sun, and the truth finally sank in. Beatrice had married into money.

The Foxes would not lose their shop. Beatrice could bail them out.