she knew Julia was a rather private person, almost a recluse. Suddenly, she was uncertain whether she should have come at all.
It was such a squat little structure, completely uninviting. And it looked as though a strong wind would blow it over, making it tumble like the strange bushes that sometimes rolled through town. Agatha had called them tumbleweeds, a name, Amelia thought, that was perfectly appropriate.
She needn’t have worried about knocking, for the door opened long before she reached the house.
“Lady Amelia. Is something wrong?” Julia was in the shadows of her house and not yet visible, but for one pale hand braced against the door.
“No. I’ve come for a visit if that’s all right. I’ve a present for you.” Silence. “I’d like to give it to you, if you don’t mind.”
“You can leave it outside the door.”
Amelia nearly did just that. But she’d always been a bit stubborn about such things, and instead said, “I could hardly allow you to be so rude. So if you don’t mind—” And she walked toward the door with determination. Julia let out a sound, and backed away. But she’d left the door open.
Amelia braced herself for what she was certain would be a poor little place, but as soon as her eyes adjusted, her mouth opened in awe and she stared about in complete wonder. The room sparkled, rays of light bursting from tiny crystals that seemed to hang in the air like magic. Brightly colored feathers, pretty rocks, and even tiny bits of bleached bone covered nearly every surface of the home.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Simply exquisite.” She quickly realized that the “crystals” were really nothing more than bits of broken glass suspended by delicate threads from a beamed ceiling. Still, the effect was stunning and whimsical.
“It’s pretty this time of day. And in the firelight,” Julia said, coming toward her as she finished tying a scarf around her face.
“I’m afraid my gift will seem rather dull now,” Amelia said, laughing and handing the woman the vase.
The one room was all there was to the home. A bed covered with a patchwork quilt filled nearly a quarter of the space. The only other furniture was a small table and a single chair. Julia motioned toward the chair, and Amelia felt a stab of sadness for this woman who’d likely never had a need for a second chair until this very moment. Julia sat down on the bed, the gift in her hands, and slowly pulled on the ribbon until the small vase was revealed. With a single finger, she traced the curves of the vase as if she were holding a priceless item.
“Thank you.”
“You were the only person in Small Fork who didn’t come to stare at me,” Amelia said. “Boone has gone to Abilene to send a telegram for me, and I’ve been minding the store. I do believe every resident of Small Fork has suddenly run out of flour and cornmeal.”
“We don’t get many strangers here,” Julia said, still holding the vase in her hands.
“Next time you come by, I’ll get some flowers for you from Dr. Kitteridge’s garden.”
“Oh, no, you can’t do that.”
“Why ever not? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“Then you don’t know Dr. Kitteridge.”
Amelia smiled. “Don’t tell me he’s as particular about his garden as he is about his store.”
“Even more.”
Suddenly, a memory flooded her, of Carson snapping off a rose from someone’s Mayfair garden without a second thought and presenting it to her with a flourish.
“We’ll simply have to get him to change his mind. There’s no sense having a vase if you cannot put flowers in it.”
Julia stood and placed the vase in the center of her little table where it looked rather forlorn, in Amelia’s opinion. “I don’t think you should,” she said, staring at the vase as if she were trying to picture flowers in it.
“I suppose he does like things just so,” Amelia said.
“He doesn’t like my house. It’s too cluttered, he says. I think it
It was such a squat little structure, completely uninviting. And it looked as though a strong wind would blow it over, making it tumble like the strange bushes that sometimes rolled through town. Agatha had called them tumbleweeds, a name, Amelia thought, that was perfectly appropriate.
She needn’t have worried about knocking, for the door opened long before she reached the house.
“Lady Amelia. Is something wrong?” Julia was in the shadows of her house and not yet visible, but for one pale hand braced against the door.
“No. I’ve come for a visit if that’s all right. I’ve a present for you.” Silence. “I’d like to give it to you, if you don’t mind.”
“You can leave it outside the door.”
Amelia nearly did just that. But she’d always been a bit stubborn about such things, and instead said, “I could hardly allow you to be so rude. So if you don’t mind—” And she walked toward the door with determination. Julia let out a sound, and backed away. But she’d left the door open.
Amelia braced herself for what she was certain would be a poor little place, but as soon as her eyes adjusted, her mouth opened in awe and she stared about in complete wonder. The room sparkled, rays of light bursting from tiny crystals that seemed to hang in the air like magic. Brightly colored feathers, pretty rocks, and even tiny bits of bleached bone covered nearly every surface of the home.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Simply exquisite.” She quickly realized that the “crystals” were really nothing more than bits of broken glass suspended by delicate threads from a beamed ceiling. Still, the effect was stunning and whimsical.
“It’s pretty this time of day. And in the firelight,” Julia said, coming toward her as she finished tying a scarf around her face.
“I’m afraid my gift will seem rather dull now,” Amelia said, laughing and handing the woman the vase.
The one room was all there was to the home. A bed covered with a patchwork quilt filled nearly a quarter of the space. The only other furniture was a small table and a single chair. Julia motioned toward the chair, and Amelia felt a stab of sadness for this woman who’d likely never had a need for a second chair until this very moment. Julia sat down on the bed, the gift in her hands, and slowly pulled on the ribbon until the small vase was revealed. With a single finger, she traced the curves of the vase as if she were holding a priceless item.
“Thank you.”
“You were the only person in Small Fork who didn’t come to stare at me,” Amelia said. “Boone has gone to Abilene to send a telegram for me, and I’ve been minding the store. I do believe every resident of Small Fork has suddenly run out of flour and cornmeal.”
“We don’t get many strangers here,” Julia said, still holding the vase in her hands.
“Next time you come by, I’ll get some flowers for you from Dr. Kitteridge’s garden.”
“Oh, no, you can’t do that.”
“Why ever not? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“Then you don’t know Dr. Kitteridge.”
Amelia smiled. “Don’t tell me he’s as particular about his garden as he is about his store.”
“Even more.”
Suddenly, a memory flooded her, of Carson snapping off a rose from someone’s Mayfair garden without a second thought and presenting it to her with a flourish.
“We’ll simply have to get him to change his mind. There’s no sense having a vase if you cannot put flowers in it.”
Julia stood and placed the vase in the center of her little table where it looked rather forlorn, in Amelia’s opinion. “I don’t think you should,” she said, staring at the vase as if she were trying to picture flowers in it.
“I suppose he does like things just so,” Amelia said.
“He doesn’t like my house. It’s too cluttered, he says. I think it
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