roses into matching fine china. Angel eyed the setting, sure she’d seen it somewhere before.
“These are quite lovely,” she stated, taking the cup from the woman’s unsteady hands.
“Oh, why thank you. It’s not easy to find a young person who appreciates older things. This set has been in my family for years. I was told they belonged to a proper woman of the church. She wrote a book about the life and times in an old mining town. She gave the set to my great-grandmother as a way of thanking her for helping to edit her book.”
“How wonderful it must be to know so much of your family history,” Angel remarked.
“Well, my dear, I can’t say I’ve always agreed with everything my relatives did, but I suppose knowing where one is from makes it much easier to know where you want to go.” She took a sip of her tea and then placed her cup in the saucer with a decisive gasp. “My heavens and garters, where are my manners? We have not yet been formally introduced.” She stuck out her wrinkled hand. “My name is Rosalee Brisbee. My great-grandfather helped start a small mining town near here. Of course, most of them no longer exist. Going the way of the desert wind, returning to dust as the good Lord says we all must do one day.” She released a squeaky, dry laugh. “A few had bigger towns built nearby, and some were preserved in order to be tourist traps.”
Brisbee ? The name resounded like a gong inside of Angel.
“And pray tell me, child, what is your name?” Rosalee patted the back of her hand.
“Angel,” she responded, still sorting out in her mind why the name Brisbee should strike such concern in her mind. “Angel Marie Sutter.”
“What a grand old name, Angel Marie. Certainly not a name you hear very often anymore. Seems like young folks don’t appreciate the older names as much.
Sad.” She tsked and shook her head as she sipped her tea.
Angel enjoyed the soothing warmth of her drink and the company, nearly forgetting why she’d come by in the first place. “Um…Shado mentioned how wonderful your chili smelled the other night when he came home. Might I trouble you for the recipe?”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. “And you like to cook, too. I told that boy you were something special. He should hang onto you.” She pushed from her chair and toddled over to a shelf of books with worn bindings. “I’ve used the same recipe for years. Know it now by heart, but I have it written down. Ah, here it is. I put it in my great-grandmother’s book. Technically, she was my great-grandfather’s second wife. So I suppose that makes her my step-great-grandmother…here you are.” She handed Angel a folded piece of paper with intricate penmanship.
“This, too, was passed down through my family. It’s an old recipe taken from a bordello called the Sweet Magnolia. Story goes my great-grandfather played cards there on Sunday afternoons.” Her brown eyes shone when she smiled. “But you can be sure my grandmother Dessie didn’t know the real reason he was there.” Angel stared at the paper in her hand, sensing a tingling in her fingertips. “Did you say the Sweet Magnolia?”
“Why yes, have you heard of it?” Rosalee adjusted her pale blue glasses on her nose.
“Just that parts of it were moved here to the place called the Imperial.” Angel eyed the book on the table where the woman had laid it. “Do you mind if I take a look at this?”
She shrugged a bony shoulder. “It’s an interesting story to be sure. Tragic in some parts. We can only hope Sheriff Jake and Miss Lillian somehow managed to be together, at least in the afterlife.”
Angel studied the black and white photo on the front. The faces of the women standing on the porch of the old clapboard house were obscure, but Angel was drawn to it in a way she couldn’t understand. Lucky Lil and Tales of the Sweet
Magnolia . She folded the recipe and slipped it inside the cover. “Thank you, Miss Brisbee for the tea. I
“These are quite lovely,” she stated, taking the cup from the woman’s unsteady hands.
“Oh, why thank you. It’s not easy to find a young person who appreciates older things. This set has been in my family for years. I was told they belonged to a proper woman of the church. She wrote a book about the life and times in an old mining town. She gave the set to my great-grandmother as a way of thanking her for helping to edit her book.”
“How wonderful it must be to know so much of your family history,” Angel remarked.
“Well, my dear, I can’t say I’ve always agreed with everything my relatives did, but I suppose knowing where one is from makes it much easier to know where you want to go.” She took a sip of her tea and then placed her cup in the saucer with a decisive gasp. “My heavens and garters, where are my manners? We have not yet been formally introduced.” She stuck out her wrinkled hand. “My name is Rosalee Brisbee. My great-grandfather helped start a small mining town near here. Of course, most of them no longer exist. Going the way of the desert wind, returning to dust as the good Lord says we all must do one day.” She released a squeaky, dry laugh. “A few had bigger towns built nearby, and some were preserved in order to be tourist traps.”
Brisbee ? The name resounded like a gong inside of Angel.
“And pray tell me, child, what is your name?” Rosalee patted the back of her hand.
“Angel,” she responded, still sorting out in her mind why the name Brisbee should strike such concern in her mind. “Angel Marie Sutter.”
“What a grand old name, Angel Marie. Certainly not a name you hear very often anymore. Seems like young folks don’t appreciate the older names as much.
Sad.” She tsked and shook her head as she sipped her tea.
Angel enjoyed the soothing warmth of her drink and the company, nearly forgetting why she’d come by in the first place. “Um…Shado mentioned how wonderful your chili smelled the other night when he came home. Might I trouble you for the recipe?”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. “And you like to cook, too. I told that boy you were something special. He should hang onto you.” She pushed from her chair and toddled over to a shelf of books with worn bindings. “I’ve used the same recipe for years. Know it now by heart, but I have it written down. Ah, here it is. I put it in my great-grandmother’s book. Technically, she was my great-grandfather’s second wife. So I suppose that makes her my step-great-grandmother…here you are.” She handed Angel a folded piece of paper with intricate penmanship.
“This, too, was passed down through my family. It’s an old recipe taken from a bordello called the Sweet Magnolia. Story goes my great-grandfather played cards there on Sunday afternoons.” Her brown eyes shone when she smiled. “But you can be sure my grandmother Dessie didn’t know the real reason he was there.” Angel stared at the paper in her hand, sensing a tingling in her fingertips. “Did you say the Sweet Magnolia?”
“Why yes, have you heard of it?” Rosalee adjusted her pale blue glasses on her nose.
“Just that parts of it were moved here to the place called the Imperial.” Angel eyed the book on the table where the woman had laid it. “Do you mind if I take a look at this?”
She shrugged a bony shoulder. “It’s an interesting story to be sure. Tragic in some parts. We can only hope Sheriff Jake and Miss Lillian somehow managed to be together, at least in the afterlife.”
Angel studied the black and white photo on the front. The faces of the women standing on the porch of the old clapboard house were obscure, but Angel was drawn to it in a way she couldn’t understand. Lucky Lil and Tales of the Sweet
Magnolia . She folded the recipe and slipped it inside the cover. “Thank you, Miss Brisbee for the tea. I
Similar Books
