To Love and Cherish by Tracie Peterson

smile with folded hands resting on her lap, as though all remained perfect with the world. She silently berated herself for daydreaming instead of keeping an ear on the conversation.
    Mrs. Mifflin frowned and clucked her tongue. “Such an unpleasant topic to discuss during tea, Martha.”
    â€œIt wasn’t my idea to discuss the disaster. Edward reminded me several times that I should inquire. He’ll be unhappy if I have nothing to relate. The newspapers have reported a variety of articles, and all of them differ. He doesn’t know what to believe.”
    Disaster? Melinda heard the word as clearly as the chimes of the parlor clock. Myriad questions lodged in her throat, but she dared not say a word. She pressed her damp palms down the front of her silk moiré skirt and strained forward, afraid to miss a word yet frightened of what would be said.
    â€œNow, Martha, you know how newspapermen like to exaggerate. They all want fascinating headlines so they’ll sell more papers than their competitors.” Mrs. Mifflin tipped her head toward Mrs. Genesee, but she cast a quick glance at Melinda.
    Sally stepped into the kitchen doorway, and the moment Mrs. Mifflin looked in her direction, the maid gave an affirmative nod. Mrs. Mifflin stood and invited the ladies into the dining room. As they made their way into the other room, Mrs. Mifflin approached Melinda.
    â€œI’ve decided you should begin to play now. Please take your place at the piano.” Mrs. Mifflin looked at the piano and then back at Melinda.
    She stood, but her feet wouldn’t move. “Has Bridal Veil been struck by a hurricane?” Her throat caught as she awaited an answer.
    Mrs. Mifflin’s eyes turned dark. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Mrs. Genesee, Melinda?”
    â€œI wasn’t—”
    â€œGo to the piano. We will discuss this after my guests depart. And play well. I don’t want my guests to hear any sour notes.”
    Hands trembling, Melinda took her seat at the piano. Worried or not, she must play well. Otherwise, she’d gain little information from Mrs. Mifflin. She inhaled a deep breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth. She must concentrate. “Please, Lord, help me play well,” she whispered.
    For the remainder of the afternoon, her fingers moved effortlessly across the keys, playing the concertos of Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin that she’d memorized during her endless hours of practice. Now she was thankful for the years of piano lessons that made it possible for her to perform under such pressure and worry. Several of the ladies clapped when she completed Mozart’s Concerto no. 21.
    Mrs. Genesee strolled toward the piano. “I do love that piece, and you play beautifully.”
    Melinda glanced at Mrs. Mifflin. Had she been playing too loudly? The matron’s expression appeared detached, which generally was not a good sign. The ladies had finished their tea, and more of them now strolled into the parlor and gathered around the piano.
    Mrs. Williston took a seat near the piano. “I’m so pleased you supplied us with entertainment, Dorothea. I do appreciate an opportunity to enjoy artistic talent along with our tea. I had planned to have poetry readings at my next gathering. I think we could all benefit from more than idle chatter, don’t you agree, ladies?”
    â€œIndeed! Leave it to Dorothea to be the one who encourages us to expand our cultural horizons.” With a smile large enough to swallow her face, Mrs. Genesee gestured toward their hostess.
    A polite round of applause followed. While Melinda worried over the news she’d heard and the safety of Evan and the other employees on Bridal Veil, the ladies discussed a variety of offerings they might introduce at future gatherings. She longed for them to leave so that she could make further inquiry. None of the servants had mentioned anything about a storm, but