Brad had a sudden, chilling thought. “Suppose the gal won’t take it and tries to hold me up for more money? You know them damned Yankees.”
“An old maid schoolteacher from Boston?” Dewey snorted. “Why, she’ll jump at the chance to sell a property she’s never seen. I’ll write an official letter for you. I reckon by late May, you’ll own the Texas Lily outright without ever having to meet this lady.”
Brad heaved a sigh of relief and drained his glass, stood up, and set the tumbler on the edge of the desk. “Reckon I got upset for nothin’. Yep, you do that. Let me know when you hear from her.” He opened the door and stood looking out, mumbling under his breath. He was more than a little annoyed with Lil, not trusting him to do the right thing by her niece. Not that she didn’t know him pretty well. “A thousand dollars, a damned goat, and a bird bath. If that don’t beat all.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Dewey called after him as Brad started out the door, “I almost forgot; Miss Lil said there was a box of stuff that’s up on her closet shelf. She said Delilah would know what to do. Will you tell Delilah?”
“Sure, sure.” Brad was only half listening as he closed the door and started down the wooden sidewalk. One thousand dollars, a goat, and a damned birdbath. Yes, by borrowing, he could afford to pay the old maid niece ten thousand dollars. The Texas Lily was profitable and he could soon be a rich man once he owned it outright, but he felt insulted and slighted. He’d thought Lil had had more affection for him than that. Oh, well, he was a helluva lot better off now than the poor white trash way he’d grown up. That thought cheered him as he started walking toward the big white Victorian house on the hill at the end of Main Street.
Miss Pickett’s Female Academy,
Boston, Massachusetts
Miss Lillian Primm sat in her small, sparse room and reread the lawyer’s letter as she poured herself a cup of tea. She felt little at the news of the death of her mother’s younger sister and only relative, except that now Lillian was truly alone in the world. But then Lillian had met her namesake only one time as a child and barely remembered it. There seemed to be tension between her strict widowed mother and Aunt Lil, so she never asked about her.
Yesterday she had received notice from the Boston bank that the monthly stipends that had been arriving for ten years would now be ending. Her titled father’s estate was exhausted, no doubt. Well, it had been a Godsend in helping Lillian and her sickly mother survive. Since her mother’s death, Lillian had been helping pay impoverished girls’ tuition by living frugally. Now this morning, this letter had come from Texas.
Did she dare add sugar to her tea? It was not a luxury Lillian allowed herself often, nor jam for her toast. A teacher barely got by on her meager salary, and she spent every extra penny helping poor students as she had been helped with a scholarship. Yet with this letter, she could afford to splurge. The three students she was aiding at the moment would graduate next month, ending that expense. Now five thousand dollars was hers and another ten thousand when she signed over her share of the hotel. She would be a woman of considerable means.
Brushing a wisp of red hair back into her tight bun, Lillian went to the window and looked out at the girls crossing the campus. She had hoped for a husband and children of her own, but it looked like that was not to be. In the years after she graduated, when she might have met a nice young man, Lillian had been busy nursing her sick mother so there was no time for socializing.
Besides, as Mother had so often pointed out, Lillian was tall and thin and very plain to look at, with undignified freckles across her nose. At thirty-two, she had long since stopped hoping, although one student’s father had once hinted that he could be very generous for a little warmth, wink, wink. She had stopped him in his tracks with a frosty glare. Mother and her aunt had both been redheads, too, but both so much prettier than Lillian. Perhaps she took after her highborn father, whose ship had been lost at sea before she was born.
Outside, spring was still weeks away in this northern state. She wondered what Texas was like. Warm, most certainly, a vast place of cows and cowboys and savages, according to the books she read—certainly more interesting and challenging than spending year after year teaching rich spoiled girls grammar and etiquette. A cool wind rattled the building and she shivered in her plain dark dress. So now she owned half a hotel in Texas. Or she could take the money and stay in Boston. Should she be daring? Lillian had never done anything daring in her whole life. Mother would have frowned on anything that wasn’t highly respectable. Her sickly mother had been dead now five years. She hadn’t written Aunt Lil when her mother died; she’d had no idea how to reach the woman.
On the other hand, Texas sounded full of possibilities, and at least a change from her mundane life. At that moment, Lillian made her decision. She would journey to Fort Floppett and see this hotel herself before deciding whether to sell or not. After all, her aunt had also left her five thousand dollars and school would be out soon. If she decided she didn’t like Texas, she could always sell out to her aunt’s partner and be back in Boston in time for fall classes. Should she write this lawyer and tell him she was coming? No, she shook her head. She wanted to look things over before she announced herself. The Texas Lily. It certainly sounded like a strange name for a hotel.
Late May, the train station in Fort Floppett
It was sundown on a warm Saturday night as Lillian stepped off the train. The weather was so hot, she regretted wearing the dark serge, high-necked dress. She stood there holding her small carpet bag and looking around. It was supper time and there weren’t many people on the street. Fort Floppett looked to be a prosperous town with many shops up and down Main Street. Behind her, the train whistled a warning and then began to puff and hiss as it started out of town. She had a sudden impulse to run after it and get back on, return to the safe, secure life she knew so well.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she reminded herself, straightening her thin shoulders as she looked around, wondering where she could rent a buggy. But of course a hotel should be right in the heart of town.
A very respectable looking woman in a blue dress with a little boy in tow came out of a shop and walked past her.
“Excuse me,” Lillian said, “Could you direct me to the Texas Lily?”
The woman stopped in her tracks and glared at her. “How dare you!”
“I beg your pardon?” Lillian blinked in confusion and stepped back, but the woman only huffed and strode on, almost dragging the small boy.
A young army lieutenant had just stepped out of the tobacco shop on the corner and looked at her strangely. He was handsome but short, with brown hair and a wispy mustache. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he took off his hat and bowed. “Perhaps I misunderstood what you asked?”
“I don’t know why she was so upset,” Lillian stammered, “I’m new in town and I was looking for the hotel—”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, “I am Lieutenant Buford Fortenbury of the Philadelphia Fortenburys. I can tell by your accent that you’re not from around here.”
“Hardly.” Lillian said. “I am Lillian Primm, lately of Boston, and I’m looking for the Texas Lily.”
“Indeed.” First he looked confused, then mystified as his pale face turned a rosy blush red. “And may I ask what business a lady would have—?”
“No, you may not.” Lillian snapped, and then regretted her peevishness. This officer was obviously attempting to be of service, but she was weary, hot, and a little cross now that darkness had fallen. “Now sir, if you would kindly direct me to the Texas Lily Hotel, I would appreciate it.”
“You could have fooled me,” the Lieutenant winked at her, “You don’t look like the type Brad O’Neal hires to—”
“To what?” Lillian drew herself up to her full height,