Icecutter's Daughter, The Read online

  Nils seemed to understand her discomfort and immediately apologized. “I suppose that was again rather bold of me. You no doubt have many suitors vying for your attention.”

  Again, she wasn’t at all sure what to say, so Merrill hurried to change the subject. “What did you do in Kansas . . . for a living?”

  He frowned. “My family runs a large dairy.”

  “Oh, that’s very nice. You might find it interesting to learn that we have a new Waseca Creamery. There are a good many dairymen in the area, and everyone believes it will be beneficial to the town.”

  “I’m afraid my interests have never lingered long on my father’s passions. I’m more of a book man.”

  “A book man?”

  “Numbers and such. I find I have a head for mathematics, so I prefer to keep books.” He shrugged. “I kept them for my father, but Rurik and I have long planned to go into business together.”

  Merrill nodded. It made sense that since Rurik was to marry Nils’s sister, he had come to Waseca with her in order to get involved in the furniture business. “Have you known Mr. Jorgenson long?”

  “All my life. We have always been the best of friends. Our fathers were good friends, as well. In fact, it was they who arranged Rurik and Svea’s marriage.”

  “Arranged it?” Merrill asked. “That seems a very old-fashioned notion. Here we are, approaching a new century. I thought such things had passed away.”

  “I suppose they have for many. Ours is an old Swedish family, and traditions are highly regarded.”

  “Merrill, why don’t you introduce us,” Granny Lassiter said, coming up alongside her.

  Relieved to have someone else in the conversation, Merrill provided the introductions. Granny looked Nils up and down and nodded. “It’s good to meet you. We think highly of Rurik, and if you’re his friend, we’re sure to think quite highly of you as well.”

  Nils smiled and took the opportunity to introduce Svea as she approached with Rurik. “This is my sister. Svea Olsson, meet Mrs. Lassiter.”

  Svea smiled, but clung to Rurik’s arm as if she would drown should she let go. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Call me Granny. Everybody does,” the older woman said. “Where’s your uncle, Rurik?”

  “He wasn’t feeling well this morning. I told him he needed to stay in bed. He wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I think he knew it was for the best.”

  “I’ll send him over some soup. In fact, why don’t you and your friends come for dinner, and I’ll send some food back with you for Carl.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lassiter. I cannot speak for my friends, but I would be honored,” Rurik said with a smile.

  Granny looked to Nils and Svea. “Will you join us?”

  “Of course,” Nils replied. He looked toward Merrill. “Will you be there, as well?”

  Merrill shook her head. “I’m afraid I have a family to see to myself.”

  Nils looked around. “You are married?”

  Merrill laughed. “No, but my father and brothers would be quite beside themselves if I failed to have Sunday dinner on the table—and quite soon.”

  Granny shook her head. “I think they could spare you, and you are more than welcome. You always have a place at our table, you know.”

  Merrill saw Svea frown and almost wished she could accept just to see what might be going on in that pretty little head. “Thank you, Granny, but I must decline.”

  “Are you sure?” Rurik asked, his tone almost pleading.

  Merrill caught the look in his eyes and wished with all her heart that she hadn’t. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “Well, next time then, my dear,” Granny assured her. “Rurik, you know the way to our house. Just be there at one o’clock, and we’ll be ready to sit down to dinner.” She started to leave, but Merrill reached out to touch her arm.

  “Granny, I wonder if I could speak to you for a moment.”

  She stopped and nodded. “What is it, Merrill Jean?”

  “I wondered if you might give me the names of the women who were looking to hire out. Father has agreed to let me bring someone in on the days when I’m here in town painting furniture.”

  “Wonderful!” Granny declared. “Glad to see that Bogart finally has some sense. But what’s this about painting furniture?”

  Rurik spoke before Merrill could reply. “Carl and I have asked her to add her charming paintings to the doors on pie safes. She’s very talented, and the decorations add much value to the pieces.”

  By now Svea was scowling, and Merrill couldn’t help but feel her piercing stare. Ignoring the woman, however, Merrill nodded and smiled at Granny. “I’m going to have a little workshop all my own.”

  “I think that’s marvelous,” Granny said, clapping her hands. “And you must come and have lunch with me every day you’re here, and tell me all about it.”

  “I think that would be great fun,” Merrill agreed. “I won’t be here every day of the week, however. Just a day or two now and then.”

  “And in time that will no doubt increase,” Rurik interjected. “I would imagine once her pieces start selling and the public sees what’s available, Miss Krause will find herself with more work than she can manage on merely a day or two. It’s my hope that she’ll eventually join us on a more permanent basis.”

  Merrill’s eyes widened at this declaration. She found Rurik smiling at her. “I . . . well . . . I suppose we shall see.”

  “Goodness, Rurik, I doubt her father and brothers would stand for that,” Svea said, almost as if she held great authority on the matter.

  “Speaking of your father, where is he?” Granny asked. “I want to congratulate him on this great idea to hire some help. I’m quick enough to criticize and lecture the poor man. Praise should be just as quick to come when the right course is chosen.”

  “He went over to see my uncle.” Rurik again spoke before Merrill could respond.

  She had been so surprised by Svea’s interjection into the discussion that she almost missed Granny’s question. Merrill cast a brief glance at Svea, then returned her attention to Granny. “I’m sure Father will support anything we suggest. Why don’t we leave Mr. Jorgenson and the Olssons to meet others in the congregation, and I’ll take down those names?”

  Granny seemed to understand and nodded. “See you at one, Rurik. I’ll look forward to getting to know you better, Miss Olsson—Mr. Olsson.” She took hold of Merrill’s arm and led her away. In a whisper she murmured, “I don’t think that little girl liked you much, but her brother seems quite smitten.”

  Merrill drew back to look at Granny in shock. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He hung on your every word and looked really disappointed that you couldn’t join us for dinner. I’d say you have a would-be suitor. If he sticks around Waseca, I’d plan to see him come calling.” Once they were well away from the others, Granny stopped. “Now, let’s see about the women who might help you.”

  Granny grasped Merrill’s hands in her own and looked so delighted she thought the old woman might well do a jig. “I’m pleased as punch over this, Merrill Jean. Just pleased as punch. Not that I want you working a job for long, but with you over there—why, you’ll have any number of bachelors to vie for your attention. Carl has at least ten men on his payroll, and only about half are married. This will be a great opportunity to get you fixed up with one of them.”

  “Granny! That’s not what this is about.” Merrill realized she’d been rather loud with her response and lowered her voice. “I like to draw and paint . . . you know that.”

  The older woman nodded. “I do, but you’ll have to excuse me if I see this as an answer to my prayers for you, Merrill Jean.” She laughed and patted Merrill’s arm. “God’s got a hand in this, mark my words.”

  Merrill wanted to agree and be happy that she would spend time in Rurik’s company, but of course that wasn’t fitting, and she felt guilty for even consideri
ng it. Rurik belonged to another, and it wasn’t going to be otherwise by any interference on her part. At least that was Merrill’s sincere prayer—even if it wasn’t quite what her heart was telling her.

  Chapter 12

  Merrill took a seat on Granny’s newly upholstered sofa and gave her approval of the gold-and-white fabric. “This is very pretty, Granny. I couldn’t quite picture it when you first told me about it, but now that I see it . . . well, it’s a perfect match for this room.”

  “The shop in Minneapolis said it was a very durable material,” Granny declared. She took a seat in a chair across from Merrill. “The store manager was quite impressed with our little sofa. He said it was quite a nice piece of Queen Anne styling.”

  “Queen Anne?” Merrill asked.

  Corabeth floated into the room wearing her hair up in a new style. “What do you think, Merrill Jean? Granny helped me fix it in the latest fashion. We saw pictures in one of the magazines. It’s English.”

  “Is that a Queen Anne, too?” Merrill asked with a grin.

  “No, silly.” Corabeth looked a bit deflated, and Merrill immediately regretted teasing her friend.

  “You know I have little knowledge of such things,” she said quickly. “I think it’s quite lovely.” Merrill knew that such creations often seemed to appeal to the opposite gender. She studied Corabeth for a moment, wondering if she could ever imitate the fashion. “Please let me see the back also.”

  The burst of curls that surrounded Corabeth’s forehead gave way to rolls of twists and intertwined hair that ascended ever higher upon her head. It was quite a lot of work, Merrill decided.

  “You truly look beautiful, Corabeth.”

  Her friend turned, her expression restored to jubilation. “Do you think Zadoc would like it?”

  “I’m sure he would,” Merrill replied. “Don’t most men like their ladies to be all frilly and full of curls?”

  Corabeth took a seat in a chair beside Granny and folded her hands. “I keep hoping he’ll ask me to the winter party. I could wear my hair like this if he did.”

  Merrill was relieved when Granny changed the subject. “So tell us, how is Mrs. Niedermeyer working out?”

  “Wonderfully. The benefit of hiring an older married woman is that she already knows so much about running a household. Father seemed pleased with her cooking, too.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. You know little Margaret Niedermeyer has worked so hard to keep their family from losing the house after George’s accident,” Granny said, smoothing the well-worn material of her work skirt.

  “I remember when Father told me about George falling from the grain elevator and breaking his back,” Merrill said. “Poor man. It must have been a terrible ordeal to go through.”

  “Well, I’m certain Margaret is excited to have some steady income by helping you out.” Granny smiled and winked at Corabeth. “Now maybe you and Corabeth can do some courting. I understand your brother is finally showing some interest.” Granny reached over and patted Corabeth’s folded hands.

  Merrill had hoped the subject would remain on households and duties. Instead, she found herself back on uncomfortable ground. She finally said, “Zadoc was clueless until I spelled it out for him. Now he seems quite delighted to know that Corabeth might be available.”

  “I’ve been available for years now,” Corabeth said, crossing her arms. “Goodness, but a girl could get old and die before she manages to get a fella’s attention. If I hadn’t had you helping me, Merrill, Zadoc would still be thinking about . . . about . . . well, whatever it is he was thinking about.”

  Laughing, Granny pointed a finger at her granddaughter. “Mark my words. By this time next year, you’ll be wed—maybe even have a little one on the way.”

  Corabeth blushed and lowered her head. “Granny, don’t say such things. You’ll jinx it.”

  “Nonsense. This family doesn’t believe in jinxes. Never have, never will. You make your own path with the Good Lord to guide you. So, now, why don’t we make some plans? Merrill, I know that Nils Olsson fella is interested in you. Why don’t I invite him and Zadoc to come to dinner here with you and Corabeth? It will allow the four of you to get better acquainted in a proper setting.”

  Merrill felt she already knew Corabeth and Zadoc well enough. As for Nils, she really had no interest in knowing him better. She’d seen him a couple of times around the Jorgensons’ shop but always avoided any long conversations.

  “I really don’t think I would want to encourage Mr. Olsson,” Merrill finally said. She looked toward the fireplace and shook her head. “I can’t say that he interests me in the least.”

  “Well, what about one of the other men at Jorgenson Furniture?” Granny questioned. “I could extend the invitation to any one of them.”

  “I’d rather a fella ask me himself,” Merrill said slowly. “Of course, given my appearance that isn’t likely to happen anytime soon. I’ll never have beautiful hair like you, Corabeth.”

  “But you can change how you look,” Corabeth countered.

  “Perhaps I shall.” Merrill raised her skirt to reveal stockings instead of trousers. “I knew it would please you if I left the long pants at home. These are not nearly as warm, but I threw on an extra petticoat.”

  Granny laughed and clapped her hands. “Merrill Jean, we can fix you right up. I’ve long wanted to help you, but with the heavy workload you had, it didn’t seem possible.” She turned to her granddaughter. “Corabeth, run fetch that trunk I have at the end of my bed. Oh, and bring my brushes and combs.”

  Merrill held up her hands. “Granny, it’s not so dire a situation that you need to work on me right now.” They all three laughed at her quip, but Granny was already on her feet and motioning for Merrill to follow her into the dining room. “We’ll have better light here and more space to spread out.”

  Before Merrill knew what was happening, Corabeth had returned with the requested items, and Granny was pulling numerous things from the small trunk. “Now, the winter church party will be in just a few weeks, and we need to make sure you both are ready for this adventure. Starting with someone to escort you to the party.” Granny threw Corabeth a glance. “I’m sure Zadoc will ask Corabeth, but we need to figure out a man to accompany you, Merrill.”

  “Honestly, is all of this necessary?” Merrill shook her head as she looked at the lace fans and gloves. There were beads and baubles, feathers and ribbons enough for twenty young women.

  “It’s definitely necessary,” Granny replied. “A man wants to know that his woman is soft and gentle. He wants her to be frilly and feminine, just like you mentioned earlier.” She held up a fan to her face and waved it ever so slightly. “Try this. You can look quite enticing with a fan in your hand.”

  Merrill took the fan and tried to open it. She pushed the wrong direction and found the piece unyielding. Turning it around, she finally managed to open it, but not with any kind of grace.

  “Now put it to your face,” Granny instructed. “Cover your mouth and nose and just peek over the top.” Merrill did as she was told while Granny inspected the result.

  She nodded encouragingly. “We need to figure out what to do with your hair,” she said. “You look like you’ve been running wild in the forest.” Granny selected a brush and several combs. “We need to figure a way to make your hair look soft and alluring. Corabeth, go heat the curling iron.”

  “Really, Granny, you don’t need to go to so much trouble—”

  “Bah, we’re gonna have you gussied up so that every fella in town will be vying for your attention.”

  Merrill knew in her heart there was really only one man she wanted to impress. A wave of guilt washed over her at the thought, however. Rurik Jorgenson made her feel things she’d never felt before. She longed to know him better—to be with him.

  He belongs to Svea Olsson, she reminded herself sternly. Granny pulled hard on an errant strand of hair, and Merrill couldn’t help but give a yelp.

  “Sorry
, Merrill Jean. Sometimes these things come at a price. Even so, you’re quite blessed to have naturally curly hair. A few snips here and there and some turns of the curling iron, and you’ll be the height of fashion.”

  She continued to pull and brush at Merrill’s hair for some time. Instead of protesting, Merrill decided to yield to the attention and say nothing more. Corabeth returned with a curling iron and carefully handed it over to Granny. “It’s hot, and I put two more on the stove,” she told her grandmother.

  “Good thing. We’ve got our work with this one. Never did see hair so unmanageable. You ought to try egg whites on your hair, Merrill Jean. Take about four eggs, separate out the yolks, then whip it into a froth and massage it all over your head down close to the roots. Let it dry and then wash it out. It’ll do wonders to soften your hair.”

  “And what will I use for my sponge cake?”

  Granny ignored her and continued to work.

  “You know, Merrill,” Corabeth said, sounding quite excited, “that material is still available at Finsters. I think after we finish here we should go buy it. Granny and I can work on a new dress for you—can’t we, Granny?”

  “Of course we can. We’ve enough time before the party. I’ve already finished putting the trims on Corabeth’s gown, so it won’t be any problem to put something together for you.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Merrill protested. “A new gown is a lot of work . . . and money. I’m already helping to pay for Mrs. Niedermeyer.”

  “Pshaw. You haven’t had a new dress in years. Your father would be happy for you to have it. I remember when you were in town buying material to make the boys some new shirts—he suggested then that you pick something out.”

  It was true. Her father was always generous and had encouraged her to even buy one of the ready-made dresses at Finsters. Not that any of them would have fit. Merrill would have had to add several inches to the length of any store-bought gown.

  “Oh, look, Granny,” Corabeth exclaimed. “These blue feathers would go perfect with that material, don’t you think? We could weave them into Merrill’s hair and use silver ribbon to set it off.” She turned thoughtful. “Do we have any silver ribbon?”