KeepingFaithCole Read Free Page A

with a fierce grip. “The truth is, I don’t think Mrs.
Henderson is a good woman.”
    “It’s not our place to judge
others.” The smile faded from Olive McIntyre’s face. “And you know better than
to listen to gossip. It’s evil. Remember our last meeting?”
    She referred to the ladies’
society at church. In addition to the charitable work they performed, they met
regularly to discuss righteous behavior. Lucille and her mother both attended
regularly. The previous week, the lesson had come from St. Paul who, in his
letter to Titus, taught “to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be
gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people.”
    A good lesson. Definitely
one worth remembering.
    Chastised, Lucille cast her
gaze down to the buttons once more, then jumped when the bell above the shop
door jangled. The canister fell from her lap, scattering its colorful contents
across the floor.
    “I’m sorry, Mama. I’ll pick
them up.” She knelt down and began gathering the buttons with shaking hands.
She wished she could settle her nerves and not always be so edgy, but too many
things had happened in   recent
months. Too many bad things.
    Ever since that horrible
winter afternoon when her father got the crazy notion of stringing garlands of
tinsel to decorate the mercantile they owned in celebration of the Christmas
holiday, then fell to his death when he lost his footing on the icy rooftop,
Lucille’s life had become a nightmare of apprehension and uncertainty.
    Her mother had made one poor
decision after another. She’d sold the mercantile to a fast-talking businessman
who assured her she was making a good deal. Once the creditors were paid and
the legal proceedings completed, however, there was barely any money. The last
of it had run out weeks before. To make ends meet, Lucille and her mother
turned to their talent for sewing. Their knowledge and skill served them well
in the little shop they set up.
    “Don’t worry about those
buttons now.” Her mother’s voice held an unusual sharpness. “Get up off the
floor and come greet our visitors.”
    She sucked in a breath, and
when a pair of big leather boots came into her line of vision, Lucille slowly
lifted her gaze.
    “Can I help you, Miss
Lucille?” Tom Henderson held out a thick, callused hand.
    “No, I’m fine.” Shaking her
head, she clambered to her feet, then brushed the dirt and dust from her somber
black skirts. How incongruous it looked to see the rough, solid-built cowpoke
there in the dressmaking shop amidst the delicate laces and wispy fabrics. All
Lucille could do was stand and stare at him while her heart pounded out a crazy
beat. She’d never really noticed how handsome the man was.
    Finally she forced herself
to look past him to the tall blonde woman who stood near the door. With another
deep breath to steady herself, Lucille approached her.
    Her mother reached out and
placed a hand on her arm. “Remember what we spoke about earlier,” she said in a
low voice.
    “Yes, Mama.” She would be
kind, she would be courteous, she would be gentle and polite. Unsure, however,
of precisely what to say or how to proceed, she stepped closer and extended her
hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Henderson. I do hope you had an
agreeable journey.”
    The woman glanced down at
the outstretched hand but chose to ignore it. Her pale blue eyes narrowed. Her
nostrils flared, and her lips curled. She turned toward her son. “Likes to put
on airs, doesn’t she? Does she think she’s better than the rest of us?”
    Tom’s face colored. “Ma,
mind your manners,” he said in a rough voice, nudging her with a crooked elbow.
“This is Miss Lucille McIntyre. And that’s her mother, Olive.” He gestured
toward her. “These ladies have been kind enough to offer you employment. I
expect you to treat them with respect.”
    Mrs. Henderson nodded. Her
shoulders sagged, her chin drooped, and a heavy breath shuddered from her
lungs. The