Helen Heals A Hotelier (Brides With Grit Book 10) Read online

  “Getting the chance to be Lorna’s husband and the father to her baby was all the motivation I needed to turn my life around. Love is a wonderful thing, my friend.” Lyle admitted. “It’s time you look for a woman to spend your life with.”

  Ethan knew Lyle meant it was time for him to get over with his pining for Sarah. Looking back, Ethan and Sarah never had the love and connection that Sarah and Marcus have now. Sarah had been right not to go through with their wedding. He still felt a twinge in his chest, reliving the moment of standing at the altar and seeing Sarah blast by the church window on Hilda Wilerson’s race horse, Nutcracker. She didn’t come in to tell him she’d changed her mind, just took off after Marcus Brenner, an army soldier who was returning to Fort Wallace.

  Ethan’s mother had insisted they drive out to the Cross C Ranch to confront Sarah, knowing that’s where she was headed. Turns out Sarah hadn’t left the ranch, but helped a widow woman deliver triplet boys instead. The woman hadn’t survived the delivery. When Ethan and his parents arrived, Sarah and Marcus were trying to take care of three newborns, plus the woman’s other three young children.

  He couldn’t believe his mother had insisted the children be taken into town and placed in stranger’s homes, separated after the traumatic loss of their mother. Luckily, Sarah stood up to his mother and told her in no uncertain terms that she and Marcus would be raising the family as their own. That’s when Ethan realized he’d been going along with whatever his mother told him to do. He vowed when he found the right woman for his future, his mother wasn’t going to have any say about it next time.

  So far no woman in town had caught his eye, until yesterday when a woman—with four little girls—walked into the hotel. Wouldn’t his mother have a fit with Helen and her girls running through their hotel? Ethan smiled, relishing the thought.

  “I’m not sure if two weeks will be enough time for Mrs. Higby to find a job and home, so if need be, her stay can be funded for a longer time.” Lyle pulled Ethan out of his daydream.

  “I’m sure as long as there is money covering their room, my mother won’t have any problems with them staying here.” Ethan absent-mindedly agreed.

  Ethan realized Lyle was staring at him with a strange look.

  “What?”

  “What does your mother have to do with them, or anybody else, staying here? I thought your parents had turned the hotel over to you to manage so they could travel?”

  Ethan blinked, shocked at what Lyle said. And why? His parents had turned the hotel over to him. So why was he not thinking of himself in charge?

  Lyle’s attention shifted from Ethan to Lorna descending the staircase. If Lyle’s smile was any broader his tonsils would be showing.

  “How are they doing?” Ethan had to know before the two love birds drifted out the door, ignoring him standing at the desk.

  Lorna’s smile dimmed with his question. “Mrs. Higby is very distraught, but trying not to let the girls catch on to their dire situation. One of the girls blurted out they have been living in train depots the last few months because her husband divorced her and kicked them out of their house. What kind of a man does that to his family?”

  “One of the girls said something along that line at lunch, something to do with her little sister’s foot problems.” Ethan couldn’t imagine the type of man who would turn his back on his family. He certainly wouldn’t.

  “Helen is going to need the town’s help, so I hope you’re on board with them living here a while. There isn’t room in the boarding house for five more people,” Lorna stated, like she expected him to comply. Ethan guessed Lorna would become their friend and sponsor because her wayward husband had lured Helen to Clear Creek.

  “You can count on me for their shelter and food. I’m sure Mrs. Reagan and Miss Ramsey will stop in about school and church services, too, as soon as the family’s plight is circulated around town.” Clear Creek had an excellent gossip chain.

  Lyle was grinning again, holding out his hand to Lorna. “I’m sure you’re tired from the day’s events, Lorna. How about we go home?”

  Ethan watched the two practically float, arm in arm, out of the hotel. Ethan was sure he and Sarah never looked that way at each other. Were they ever in love, or just filling an obligation to his mother’s wishes? Sarah’s brothers had joked their engagement was a business arrangement, and now Ethan realized what they meant.

  Maybe now he was ready to move on with his life.

  ***

  For the past month Helen had been dreaming of living in a spacious home in the countryside. The girls having plenty to eat and not a care in the world. They’d go to school, play with new friends, and have a normal life. She’d have an attentive husband and not ever have to worry about money problems again.

  Instead she lay in a bed staring at the ceiling in a hotel room, her girls quietly sleeping or deep in their own thoughts. With two beds in this room, there wasn’t room for a settee or group of chairs. It was a nice overnight sleeping quarters for a family, but it wasn’t a large enough room to be lived in day and night. And the girls couldn’t play in the hotel lobby all the time. That wasn’t fair to the other guests.

  Helen closed her eyes, feeling the trickle of warm tears slide down her cheeks. Why couldn’t things have worked out this time? She’d buried two husbands, and been mistreated by two other men, all before her thirtieth birthday. If she didn’t have the girls to worry about, she’d have jumped off a bridge and ended her life. But she’d never leave them, so it was time to end her pity for herself and think of what was best for them.

  “Momma,” Avalee’s small hand brushed her cheek, wiping away her tears. Avalee was the compassionate one of the four, even though she was so young, she wanted everything to be all right for everyone.

  “What, love?” Helen looked up and brushed Avalee’s hair out of her eyes. Her curly dark copper curls never stayed in her braid. “You hungry?” Helen’s own stomach growled, reminding her she never got the chance to eat her chicken lunch at the café.

  “Yes, can we go downstairs? Miss Naomi will feed us.” The waitress, not their mother. Avalee’s innocent words stabbed her heart. What was she going to do? Lorna said there was a family fund through the church to help them, but she couldn’t count on charity for more than a short time.

  Helen flinched when Luella dragged her bad foot across her hipbone as the toddler crawled up to sit on her chest. Helen had gone without food so her girls could eat, resulting in no padding on her bony body.

  “I hungry.” Luella whined as Helen pulled the toddler down to cradle her beside her instead of on top of her.

  Helen sighed, then pushed herself up between the girls piled beside her on the bed. There may be two beds in the room, but all five of them slept in the same bed last night and again this afternoon.

  “Let’s brush our hair, wash our faces, and then we’ll go downstairs to eat.” They were hungry, because Iva Mae handed Helen the brush and stood to grab the washcloth hanging on the wash stand. She dipped it in the basin, wrung it out and commenced to wipe the face of her little sister. Luella squawked “no” in protest. She was at the age where she wanted to do everything herself, but of course couldn’t yet. Each girl had gone through the stage so Helen had learned patience and tactics around her tantrums.

  “As soon as we’re done making ourselves pretty, we will go downstairs and eat, Luella.”

  “Ribbon!” Luella patted her hair, then looked around for her length of pink ribbon. Of course her hair wasn’t long enough to braid yet, but she wanted a bow in her hair like her sisters.

  Helen repeatedly tied a little bow on a lock of Luella’s hair daily, but Luella pulled it out almost every time she rubbed her head.

  “Here it is,” Maridell pulled the length of ribbon out from under Luella’s bottom still planted on the bed. At least it wasn’t hard to find this time. Crisis averted.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting around “their” table in the dining room, impatie
ntly waiting for their “Miss Naomi” to bring food to the table.

  “Irma’s chicken and dumplings were sure good. I wonder what she fixed us for supper,” Maridell mused as she set up on her knees so she could be higher in her seat. She wasn’t much taller than her four-year-old sister, who was tall for her age due to her father’s height.

  “What happened to staying in our room, and eating bread and cheese, like you were supposed to do?” Helen asked the group; even though she wasn’t surprised they’d wandered out, considering she was gone much longer than she’d anticipated this morning with going to Ellsworth and back, plus time in the jailhouse. They hadn’t talked about anything that happened this morning except that Mr. Jensen was no longer going to be their father, and they would be staying in the hotel for a while.

  “Well, you were gone so long and we got hungry,” Maridell would argue about anything, “So Mr. Paulson took us to the dining room. He even fed Luella himself.”

  Oh, dear. Did the poor man have to change his clothes after feeding the toddler? Luella was good at launching food while trying to feed herself. She had been the worst of her girls at insisting she fed herself at that age.

  “Then you came back so we didn’t get a dessert,” Annalee stressed it was her fault they missed out on a sweet at the end of their meal. Helen should be glad that was the worst of their worries, but it still hurt she hadn’t been able to give her girls what they needed, and wanted, the past months. It was all supposed to change today with her marriage...

  The waitress came bursting through the kitchen door carrying a tray of food and drink and set it on the end of their table.

  “Little ladies, tonight’s special, made especially for you is chicken pot pies. Irma made them this afternoon, and I just pulled them out of the oven so watch out for steam,” she pointed out as she set a small-crusted meat pie in front of each of the girls.

  “Two are bigger,” Avalee pointed out.

  “They are for the adults, your momma, and Mr. Paulson. They have larger tummies to fill than yours,” Naomi patiently explained to the girls as she set a large pie in front of Helen. Oh my, she hadn’t had this big of a meal since...she was cooking for a husband.

  “Mr. Paulson is joining us?” Helen felt self-conscience in his presence so she needed to know whether to brace herself for the encounter.

  “He needs to eat too, so he just as well join your table.” Naomi stated matter-a-factly before walking into the foyer next to the dining room, probably to tell her employer his meal was ready. What would Mr. Paulson say when he found out Naomi had set his supper at their table?

  “Good evening, ladies. I hope you rested well this afternoon and are ready for Irma’s special meal.”

  He sat down, spreading the cloth napkin on his lap before looking at Helen. “Did I miss grace?”

  “Excuse me?” Who was Grace? Helen looked around the dining room, but they were the first ones to come down for the evening meal.

  “I usually say a prayer before meals, so I wondered if you did also.”

  “Well lately, we haven’t...,” had much to pray about?

  “I’ll say Luella’s poppa’s prayer,” Maridell offered.

  “No, Maridell...” Helen’s warning came too late as her daughter folder her hands, bowed her head and started in.

  “Good food. Good meat. Good God! Let’s eat!” Helen felt the red flush instantly shoot up to her hairline. What must Mr. Paulson think of that crude prayer?

  “Amen to that, Maridell.” He was trying his hardest not to laugh at her daughter’s words as he intently studied his plate and poked his fork into the pot pie.

  You’d have thought her girls had never eaten in public, even though she’d taught them manners at home. But then the last months had been eating food on the train, on park benches, anywhere but in the dining room of a home, or as nice a hotel as this one.

  “Luella, let’s cut up the pie a bit to let it cool.”

  “No!” Luella reared up in the high chair, pushed her good foot against the edge of the table, causing the high chair to start to tip backwards. Mr. Paulson, who was sitting on the other side of the high chair, caught it before it went over.

  Once it was back in place, he leaned over to look at the toddler’s face at her level. “Miss Luella, you don’t do that in my dining room. Please sit up pretty in your chair and eat your pot pie.”

  Helen was shocked at what he’d said to her daughter, but yet all four of the girls set up straighter in their chairs and dug into their meal. She didn’t dare call him out for saying it since his words had made Luella mind. The girls had been missing a father figure in their lives, and today her plan to add one fell through.

  Mr. Paulson did catch Helen’s eye above Luella’s head and mouthed the word, “sorry” and shrug his shoulders up, realizing he’d overstepped her authority over the girls. What could she do except say a silent “no, thank you” in return? It was nice to have an extra helping hand with her young children.

  Naomi used her backside to push through the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room. She held a large plate high enough so they couldn’t see what was on it.

  “I assume you girls still have room in your tummies for dessert?” Naomi teased then grinned as the girls “I do, I do!” filled the room.

  Helen noticed another woman followed Naomi from the kitchen with a small stack of plates.

  Mr. Paulson rose from his chair and spoke to her. “Mrs. Higby, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Wilerson, the marshal’s wife and the best baker in town. She bakes cakes and pies for both us and Clancy’s Café.”

  “Nice to meet all of you. Please call me Millie, or Aunt Millie, if you girls would give me the honor.”

  “I’m Helen Higby, and these are my girls, Iva Mae, Maridell, Avalee and Luella.” Helen pointed to each girl so Millie knew who was who around the table.

  “Well, I baked something special today just for your family’s welcome to town. I assume you girls like fairy cakes?”

  Naomi lowered the plate of white cupcakes with pink frosting and the girls oohed with anticipation. Millie took a cupcake and placed it on a small plate and set it beside each girl’s supper plate, being sure it wasn’t close to the edge of the table.

  “Why did you call them fairy cakes, when they’re cupcakes?” Iva Mae asked after wiping a finger on the edge of the frosting and sticking it in her mouth to suck off the sugary topping.

  “My parents grew up in Ireland and that’s what my mother always called these special cakes. I suppose it’s because people share the cakes with the fairies who live in the woods there. Because we don’t have wooded areas in this part of Kansas, we share these fairy cakes with little girls instead.”

  “Do I get a fairy cake, too, even though I’m not a little girl?” Mr. Paulson solemnly asked, causing the girls to giggle.

  “Yes, you do, since you’re hosting this party this evening,” Millie promised him as she placed a plated cupcake beside his elbow. “Just be sure you don’t brush your coat sleeve in the icing. I imagine your customers would be wanting a fairy cake, too, if they saw the pink frosting on your sleeve.”

  Helen loved the girls giggling, happy in the moment, even though it was a temporary situation. They needed good attention besides full stomachs.

  “I love the color of all your girls’ hair. Your reds are similar to my two-year-old nephew, Tate and baby niece, Amelia.” Millie commented when stroking Avalee’s head.

  “Millie and her nephew, Tate, moved to Clear Creek this last May,” Mr. Paulson said as a way of introduction of the woman standing by their table.

  “I was a mail-order bride, but I ended up marrying the marshal instead of the man I had corresponded with,” Millie continued. Helen liked listening to her slight Irish brogue.

  “Oh, why?” Helen felt a kindred spirit since her mail-order bride arrangement fell through today.

  Millie looked at the girls before looking up to Helen. “He...passed before I arrived in to
wn. So I worked as the marshal’s housekeeper, until I became his bride.” Millie’s smile said it all. Everything turned out for the best for Millie. Will I be as lucky?

  “Do you girls have any requests for desserts? I bake almost every day.”

  “Millie, the girls don’t need sweets...” Helen started to say, but stopped talking when Mr. Paulson put up his hand.

  “The hotel features a dessert for both noon and evening meals, so Millie is always looking for suggestions,” Mr. Paulson’s declaration was followed by Millie’s nodding.

  “I try to vary my selection due to the season and what’s available for fruit and fillings. What may be popular in Pennsylvania wasn’t known to me in Chicago, so I’m always looking for new ideas.”

  “Shoofly pie!” Iva Mae suggested. “Momma used to make that at the hotel in York.”

  “Where?” Mr. Paulson asked, probably picking up on the word “hotel”.

  “I worked in a hotel in York, Pennsylvania after the War.”

  “Avalee’s poppa owned the hotel, so we lived there, too...until he died,” Iva Mae offered more information than Helen wanted people to hear. Was Ethan keeping track of her children’s fathers?

  “Well, we’ll get to know each other later then, Helen. Adam will be home shortly for supper so I’ll see you later—perhaps in church on Sunday?”

  “I’m sure Pastor Reagan’s wife will see they are in attendance,” Mr. Paulson answered for Helen before Millie nodded and left the dining room.

  After being on their own, roaming the Pennsylvania rail system for months, Helen didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset that the citizens of Clear Creek were planning their social agenda. Well, she assumed they would have been sitting in a church pew with her new husband this next Sunday. They just as well face the congregation and get it over with.

  “Mrs. Higby, I’d like to have a word with you in private when we’re done with our evening meal. Would it be all right for the girls to adjourn to your room to play a while?” Helen knew this conversation was coming, but she hoped it would be another day before they were told to find another place to live, as soon as possible.