invite Mercy to the theater tonight.”
“Ah, well then, you’re too late. I’ve already invited her, and if I’m not mistaken, she was about to offer a ‘that would be lovely but’ excuse.”
“You do not know what I was about to say--” Mercy countered.
Eloise twisted her lips, considering Mercy. “She’s very good at thinking up excuses.”
“Excuse me--” Mercy began.
“See, there she goes again,” Trent said.
“My dear, we just said you were very good with excuses, no need to practice,” Eloise tapped Mercy’s arm with the lavender. “And before you continue with your refusal, I feel I need to let you know that I’ve been told a certain someone will be there tonight.”
Mercy stared at Eloise, not comprehending.
Eloise leaned towards Mercy and whispered in her ear. “That man I want to meet. The man of my dreams, remember?”
The smells of the butcher shop came out and surrounded Mercy on a puff of a warm breeze and she felt her stomach turn. “From the sidewalk. The man who kicked the hound.” Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.
“He did not kick a hound!” Eloise laughed.
“A mongrel, then.” Her gaze slid to Trent and she caught his eye. She watched a large brown dog slink past them and creep into the butcher shop. “Have you actually met this man?”
Eloise rocked onto her toes. “Miles is going to introduce him to me tonight.”
Upright Miles and Mr. Steele, Mercy couldn’t imagine a more diverse pair. She instinctively laid her hand on Trent’s arm and he covered her hand with his. No, she didn’t want to attend the theater, especially now that she knew Steele would be attending, but if she could somehow prevent Eloise and Mr. Steele from meeting…
“I have a box seat,” Trent began.
“You do?” Eloise asked, her voice rising a pitch.
“I attend all the performances,” Trent said, sounding dismal. “I can recite the entire first act.”
“Why just the first?” Mercy asked.
“Because I can usually manage to fall asleep by the second.”
“That’s it,” Eloise said. “Mercy, you must come and keep Mr. Michaels amused.”
“Mr. Michaels is amusing all by himself--” Mercy began, but her excuses disappeared when cursing broke out and a dog bolted from the butcher shop, a string of sausages hanging from his mouth.
Mr. Neilson, hot on the dog’s trail, burst onto the sidewalk, looked in both directions and then sprinted after the dog. His long white apron flapped between his legs as he followed the dog up the sidewalk and his large balloon-like hat caught the breeze and sailed into the mud. Seconds later a wagon rolled over the white hat, leaving it dirt-stained and misshapen.
Mercy then decided that sometimes people and things had to go places they would never choose. No matter the risk, she’d do what she could to prevent Eloise from meeting Mr. Steele.
*****
As according to plan, thanks to a misplaced pair of gloves, Mercy, Miles and Eloise arrived at Trent’s box seat moments after the lights went down and seconds before the curtain lifted.
Mercy slid into her seat and sent Trent, who sat beside her, an apologetic smile for their tardiness. Below, the organist in the pit pounded out a rousing tune that shook the walls. The red velvet curtains lifted with a small screech that tried, but didn’t succeed, in drowning out the organ.
Mercy took in the theater. The mornings at the bakery started long before dawn, and so her parents had never taken her to the theater or anywhere else that required staying out past nine. To be out in the evening seemed an incredible indulgence and luxury. Walls covered with trompe l'oeil murals, tapestry runners down the aisles, the balconies and box seats trimmed in gold leaf, the wall sconces and chandelier shimmering with light: the theater was a magical world.
Mercy cast a nervous glance at some of the women in the nearby box seats. They wore velvet, silk, heavy brocade, lacy shawls and mother of
“Ah, well then, you’re too late. I’ve already invited her, and if I’m not mistaken, she was about to offer a ‘that would be lovely but’ excuse.”
“You do not know what I was about to say--” Mercy countered.
Eloise twisted her lips, considering Mercy. “She’s very good at thinking up excuses.”
“Excuse me--” Mercy began.
“See, there she goes again,” Trent said.
“My dear, we just said you were very good with excuses, no need to practice,” Eloise tapped Mercy’s arm with the lavender. “And before you continue with your refusal, I feel I need to let you know that I’ve been told a certain someone will be there tonight.”
Mercy stared at Eloise, not comprehending.
Eloise leaned towards Mercy and whispered in her ear. “That man I want to meet. The man of my dreams, remember?”
The smells of the butcher shop came out and surrounded Mercy on a puff of a warm breeze and she felt her stomach turn. “From the sidewalk. The man who kicked the hound.” Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.
“He did not kick a hound!” Eloise laughed.
“A mongrel, then.” Her gaze slid to Trent and she caught his eye. She watched a large brown dog slink past them and creep into the butcher shop. “Have you actually met this man?”
Eloise rocked onto her toes. “Miles is going to introduce him to me tonight.”
Upright Miles and Mr. Steele, Mercy couldn’t imagine a more diverse pair. She instinctively laid her hand on Trent’s arm and he covered her hand with his. No, she didn’t want to attend the theater, especially now that she knew Steele would be attending, but if she could somehow prevent Eloise and Mr. Steele from meeting…
“I have a box seat,” Trent began.
“You do?” Eloise asked, her voice rising a pitch.
“I attend all the performances,” Trent said, sounding dismal. “I can recite the entire first act.”
“Why just the first?” Mercy asked.
“Because I can usually manage to fall asleep by the second.”
“That’s it,” Eloise said. “Mercy, you must come and keep Mr. Michaels amused.”
“Mr. Michaels is amusing all by himself--” Mercy began, but her excuses disappeared when cursing broke out and a dog bolted from the butcher shop, a string of sausages hanging from his mouth.
Mr. Neilson, hot on the dog’s trail, burst onto the sidewalk, looked in both directions and then sprinted after the dog. His long white apron flapped between his legs as he followed the dog up the sidewalk and his large balloon-like hat caught the breeze and sailed into the mud. Seconds later a wagon rolled over the white hat, leaving it dirt-stained and misshapen.
Mercy then decided that sometimes people and things had to go places they would never choose. No matter the risk, she’d do what she could to prevent Eloise from meeting Mr. Steele.
*****
As according to plan, thanks to a misplaced pair of gloves, Mercy, Miles and Eloise arrived at Trent’s box seat moments after the lights went down and seconds before the curtain lifted.
Mercy slid into her seat and sent Trent, who sat beside her, an apologetic smile for their tardiness. Below, the organist in the pit pounded out a rousing tune that shook the walls. The red velvet curtains lifted with a small screech that tried, but didn’t succeed, in drowning out the organ.
Mercy took in the theater. The mornings at the bakery started long before dawn, and so her parents had never taken her to the theater or anywhere else that required staying out past nine. To be out in the evening seemed an incredible indulgence and luxury. Walls covered with trompe l'oeil murals, tapestry runners down the aisles, the balconies and box seats trimmed in gold leaf, the wall sconces and chandelier shimmering with light: the theater was a magical world.
Mercy cast a nervous glance at some of the women in the nearby box seats. They wore velvet, silk, heavy brocade, lacy shawls and mother of
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