Violet gathered the hem of her traveling skirt and climbed the stairs, her aching feet protesting. At the top was an open room with an arched and draped window facing the rear of the house, and framing a white-blanketed lawn and the copse of trees beyond. The room held floor-to-ceiling shelves of books and assorted plush furniture.
“Tessa!” Mr. Hammond called, startling Violet.
“No need to shout, Ben Charles. I’m right here.” A slim young woman stood from one of the chairs facing the window and rested a book on the seat she’d vacated. Her rose-colored dress was nicer than anything Violet owned, though it was simple in design. The girl walked forward.
“This is Miss Bennett.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Tessa said, without a smile. “Your room is ready. My brother gave you the one next to mine.”
Violet followed her, and when Tessa stepped back, she entered first. Two windows opened to the west, taking advantage of the side of the structure away from the funeral parlor, thank goodness. At least she would be on the opposite side.
A small fireplace burned, warming the room and adding a comforting hiss. The walls were papered with a pale peach wide scrolling pattern. One wall held a bureau. Handkerchief drawers held lamps and the top a trifold mirror. On the opposite wall stood a tall armoire with carved roses adorning the doors and drawers.
The head of the bed, with its white wrought-iron spindles, stood between the windows, and a calico spread in colors matching the throw rugs was topped with comfortable-looking pillows. A plump chair stood near the fireplace.
The room was so bright and welcoming, Violet had difficulty imagining it as part of the funeral parlor.
“Can you start tomorrow?” Ben Charles asked from behind her.
She turned to face him. “What about supper this evening?”
“We’ll make do like we have been.”
“I’m here now, and we will all need a meal. I’d feel better if you let me start right away.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. Poke around the pantry and the kitchen. As soon as you want to shop, either Henry or I will take you. There’s a tub and running water in the water closet across the hall. Also a small coal stove to heat a kettle of hot water. I’ll start the stove now.”
“I can’t imagine I’ll want for anything.” The accommodations were far more luxurious than anything she was used to.
Henry entered with her bag. He set it down and used a hammer he’d brought along to remove the lids from the crates. Once he’d finished, she thanked him and he exited silently.
“Tessa will help you unpack.” Ben Charles turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Tessa studied the door with an uncertain expression.
“You don’t have to stay.” Violet sensed her discomfort and she wondered how Tessa felt about Violet coming to live in their home. “I can take care of my things if you want to run along.”
The girl took a few steps into the center of the room. “I don’t mind.”
She remained quiet as Violet opened the bag and stacked clothing on the bed.
“That’s a pretty watch,” she said finally, as Violet placed her undergarments in a drawer.
Violet stopped to touch the timepiece she wore. “It was my mother’s.”
“Has she passed on?”
Her brother had used the same phrase. “Yes.”
“My mother passed on when I was a baby. And I was only two when my father died.”
“You were still just a baby,” Violet said. “Your brother raised you?”
She nodded. “We had Mrs. Gable to take care of us until a few months ago. Her sister got sick, and she went to take care of her family.”
“Was this her room?”
“No, she stayed downstairs. Ben Charles said this room hasn’t been used much at all. He painted the ceiling and had the wallpaper replaced.”
Violet took out several books and a few framed pictures she’d wrapped in clothing.
“Are those of your family?”
“I don’t have any likenesses of my parents. These are pictures of horses I saved from magazines. I’d like to hang them on the wall if you don’t think your brother would mind.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Once Violet had set down the frames, Tessa looked at the pictures. “You’re fond of horses?”
Violet nodded. “They’re incredible animals.”
“There are several in the stable.” Tessa stepped to the window. “There are two in the corral now.”
Violet joined her and held back the curtain to gaze out at the horses. “Both are black.”
“They’re all black. Ben Charles says they look smart pulling the hearse.”
Violet let go of the curtain.
“Surely after your trip you’re ready for a bath. I’ll go check on the hot water and fill the tub,” Tessa said.
* * *
The best part of her bath was warming her feet. Violet could have stayed in the tub the rest of the day, but the water cooled and she finished bathing. Less than an hour later she let her hair dry by the fire before dressing and making her way to the kitchen. She carried her stack of white aprons, in hopes of finding a convenient place to store them.
Though the house was forty years old, the kitchen held the original charm, but boasted an icebox and two electric pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. Violet tested one by turning the key above the bulb. Incandescent light filled the room. In the town where she’d come from, only stores had used electric lighting.
Turning, she discovered a stove she’d seen only in the Montgomery Ward & Co. catalog. With shiny chrome edges and ornate trim, the range was conveniently waist high with a reservoir in the back and a narrow shelf above. She hoped it wasn’t fueled by gas. She’d read about those and the idea didn’t sit well. Hesitantly she checked behind, to her relief seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She had enough new things to learn. On closer inspection she found ashes inside and a supply of evenly cut wood in a cubby on the brick wall. The supply could be stocked from a small door on the outside.
Through a long window she surveyed the tidy dooryard, spotting no garden or any type of animal. After familiarizing herself with cupboards and the pantry, she made a list. In one cupboard she discovered a row of shapely narrow bottles filled with dark liquid, and recognized the cola drink from magazine advertisements.
“A refreshment is in order after your journey.”
She turned at Ben Charles’s voice. He wore dark trousers, with galluses crossing his shoulders over a white shirt. His hair looked as though he’d run his fingers through it in lieu of a comb. He seemed more approachable this way, less severe. She had an inappropriate urge to reach up and push a lock of hair from his forehead. Her fingers tingled, so she clasped her hands. “Perhaps a cup of tea,” she answered.
“Tea if you prefer. Or you might join me in a glass of cola?”
She wanted to taste the drink. “Yes, thank you.”
“Grab a couple of glasses.” He took a pick and mallet from atop the icebox, opened the insulated door and knelt to chip ice.
Violet brought him a bowl, and studied his wide flexing shoulders as he