Holm, Stef Ann Read Free Page A

braced herself for what would come—"if we'd
been able to keep Will White."
    "Will
White!" Her father's temper exploded like a blast from the lumbermill's
lunch whistle. The feather duster came to an abrupt halt and his face grew
ruddy. "When I find that young no-account, he'll be sorry he ever ran out
on his contract."
    Between
paying Will White a bonus—just before the man skipped town, paying Ned Butler a
partial salary the manager hadn't earned, and building a new clubhouse this
year, James Kennison couldn't invest much more money into his team without its
becoming a financial burden.
    The
Keystones had had a chance of seeing a pennant when her father signed the
quick-delivery pitcher this past February. He'd cost a handsome price, but Will
brought the most hope to Harmony's baseball fans they'd had in years. But he
left in the middle of spring training, taking off with his contract pay before
ever pitching a scheduled game.
    If
Will hadn't gone to the Elm Street theater to watch a performance of Antony
and Cleopatra, he wouldn't have seen Pearl Chaussee. Or her legs in a pair
of opaque tights and her ample bosom in a low-necked silk tunic. The Women's
League had drawn the curtain on the "scandalous" production after two
nights. If they'd shut it down after the first performance, Will wouldn't have
become lovesick over Pearl and left the Keystones high and dry.
    Dr.
Teeter, realizing he'd struck a nerve—which didn't bode well for his dental
skills, focused on Camille. "How's that third molar of yours you had me
check in January?"
    "It's
still rooted to the spot," she replied.
    The
dentist guffawed, all teeth. "That's a good one. I'll bet next to my wife,
you were the smartest girl in your finishing-school class."
    Johannah
Treber Teeter and Camille had both graduated from Mrs. Wolcott's Finishing
School this spring.
    "She
doesn't need to be smart," her father informed the dentist, laying the
duster back on the shelf. "She's pretty. With her looks, she could have
any man for a husband." He scowled at her. "She's just picky."
    Camille
did her best to hide her embarrassment. Her father had been saying things like
that since she turned thirteen. She only wished he wouldn't say them in public.
It made people look at her differently. As if she were stuck up. She had never
considered her appearance an attribute. In fact, she thought it a nuisance.
    "I
suppose I should be on my way," Dr. Teeter said, adjusting the angle of
his hat. "Nice talking with you, James."
    "See
you again," her father said in farewell as the dentist retreated out the
door. As soon as the man was gone, her father whined, "Doesn't he have any
patients to occupy his time? Make another appointment with him, Camille."
    "I
don't need to." She squinted in an effort to read the items on her list,
then glanced at the light flickering above her head. "When are you going
to tap into the city's electrical lighting instead of using kerosene lamps?"
    "Never.
I don't want my store so bright that anyone standing clear over on Hackberry
Way can see inside. If the place were lit up like a Roman candle, I couldn't
see what Bertram Nops was up to without him knowing I was watching him."
    James
Kennison and Bertram Nops had been having a hardware feud since back in '89
when Camille's family arrived in town. Nops Hardware Emporium was located
directly opposite of Kennison's. Hack-berry Way and Sycamore Drive separated
the two businesses, the town square sandwiched in the middle. If the two men
spent less energy trying to outdo each other with sale prices, giveaways, and
dastardly tricks, they'd have more time to actually enjoy doing business.
    Camille
sighed in frustration. "I just think electric lights would improve things,
is all."
    "You
leave the thinking to me, Camille sugar. All you need to worry about is what
hat to wear and who you're going to marry."
    How
could he not see she had interests other than hats? She was twenty-one. She did have a brain in her head, and she