When Jace stopped singing, the stillness inside the church was profound. No one even breathed—and there was not a dry eye in the building. They had felt the emotion in Jace’s words and responded to it.
At last someone blew his nose, and the spell was broken.
“Sir,” the choir leader said, “we’d like you to sing in our choir. We’d—”
Nellie hurried forward. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said with finality, and she half pushed Jace out the door. Outside he leaned against the church wall, and Nellie took his handkerchief from his pocket (hers was dirty) and gave it to him.
Jace blew his nose loudly, then gave a weak smile to Nellie. “Not much of a way for a man to act in front of his girl, is it?” he mumbled.
His words made Nellie’s heart flutter, but she controlled herself. “Your wife?”
He nodded. “I sang that at her funeral”
“You loved her very much?”
He was recovering himself and realized that for the first time since her death Julie wasn’t quite as clear to him as she had been. He looked at Nellie, and it was her features he saw instead of Julie’s. “Loved,” he said, emphasizing the past tense. “Yes, I did.” He put his hand on Nellie’s cheek. “Could I walk you home, Miss Grayson?”
“Home?” she asked, as though she’d never heard the word before. Then suddenly, like fire drenched by water, she came back to reality. “What time is it? Oh, don’t tell me. Father will be frantic. They’ll not have had their dinner. Oh, no, what have I done?”
“Something for yourself, for a change,” Jace said, but Nellie was already running west toward her house. He ran after her.
While Nellie and Jace were in the park, Terel was entering Dr. Westfield’s clinic. She was beautifully dressed in a suit of dark plum, the tight-fitting jacket covered with black braid sewn on in an intricate design.
The only other person in the office was Mary Alice Pendergast, a thin-nosed young woman some years older than Terel. In Terel’s mind, Mary Alice was an old maid just like Nellie, and therefore not any competition nor worthy of much attention.
She greeted Mary Alice and took a seat.
“I find Dr. Westfield so much more competent than a female doctor, don’t you?” Mary Alice said, referring to the women’s clinic run by Dr. Westfield’s wife.
“Much,” Terel agreed. “I wouldn’t trust a female, especially with something as serious as my heart palpitations.”
“Mmm,” Mary Alice said, agreeing. “And Dr. Westfield is so handsome, don’t you agree?”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Terel snapped, looking away. Dr. Westfield was, in her opinion, the best-looking man she’d ever seen—until Mr. Montgomery arrived in town, that is. Truthfully, it would be hard to choose between the men.
Since Mr. Montgomery had come to dinner Terel had done some checking on him. It seemed that he had some money; she wasn’t sure how much, but her sources whispered that he wasn’t poor. He was a relative of that vulgar Kane Taggert, and that man was certainly wealthy enough.
For a while Terel had puzzled over why Mr. Montgomery had taken a job with her father. Why didn’t he work for his rich cousin? It was when she remembered the way he’d looked at her at dinner that she understood. Mr. Montgomery had, no doubt, taken her father’s job to be near Terel. Terel was used to men looking at her, but Mr. Montgomery had looked at her differently—so differently that she’d felt herself flushing a few times.
Of course, he was the first man who’d looked at her; all the others had been mere boys.
She’d spent today with her dressmaker. It was her opinion that a new wardrobe never hurt when embarking on a new venture. And her new venture was the pursuit of one Mr. Montgomery. He was comfortably well off, if not rich; handsome; and, from the looks of things, he was mad for Terel. Of course, his connections to the rich Taggerts helped. She would be a cousin by marriage, and never again could the Taggerts deny her entrance to that big house of theirs. Perhaps after she married Mr. Montgomery they cou
ld live in the house with the Taggerts. The place was certainly big enough.
Yes, she thought, settling back in the chair. It would work very nicely if she were to marry Mr. Montgomery.
The door burst open, and in rushed three of Terel’s very best friends.
“There you are, Terel,” Charlene said, ignoring Mary Alice. “We have been looking everywhere for you.”
“Who is the divine man with Nellie?” Mae asked.
“With Nellie? Nellie’s at home.”
The girls looked at one another. They didn’t often have news that Terel knew nothing of. They pulled the wooden chairs into a circle and gathered around Terel, noting, of course, that Mary Alice was listening with wide-open ears.
“He took Nellie to tea,” Louisa said.