Charlotte tousled her hair. “I have something for you back at the house, Julia.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Let’s go home and I’ll show you.”
Julia brightened and happily took Charlotte’s hand. As the two of them walked ahead, Rose fell in step with Emmy.
They hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Emmy felt Rose’s hand in hers.
Back at the house, Julia could scarcely wait until what they had brought home with them was put away.
“Just let me get Rose settled with her tea and then I’ll show you,” Charlotte said as she put the kettle on. Emmy took the drawing paper and pencils to her room and laid them on top of the brides box on the bedside table. Back downstairs, she got out the cream and sugar while Charlotte poured Rose’s tea and placed the hot kettle in the tea cozy. She handed Emmy two digestive biscuits.
“Give those to Rose, will you, dear?” she said to Emmy, then turned to Julia. “All right. Let me get a torch.” Charlotte grabbed a flashlight from the shelf near the back door and then headed out of the kitchen. “Come along, Miss Julia.”
Julia skipped after her.
Emmy brought the biscuits to Rose, and the two of them watched as Charlotte and Julia left the room.
“Where are they going?” Rose said, her brow furrowed.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t want them going in my room. They shouldn’t be going into my room. It’s my room.”
Emmy could hear Charlotte and Julia on the stairs. So could Rose.
“It’s my room. My things.” Rose didn’t sound agitated and she made no move to rise from her chair. Hers was the weirdest opposition Emmy had ever seen. Resistance without effort.
Emmy’s own interest in what Charlotte was planning to give Julia was also piqued, and not just because of Rose. She turned to the older woman.
“Want me to go see what they’re doing?” Emmy asked.
Rose picked up her cup daintily. “For heaven’s sake, yes. It’s my room. And my things.”
Happy to oblige, Emmy made for the stairs.
But Charlotte and Julia were headed into the yellow room, not Rose’s. Charlotte turned to Emmy when she appeared behind them, happy, it seemed, that Emmy had followed them.
“Rose wanted me to make sure you weren’t traipsing about in her room,” Emmy volunteered.
Charlotte just smiled. She turned back to face the far wall and the desk. She lifted the lace tablecloth off the waist-high table next to it, revealing a crawl space door between the wooden legs.
Charlotte sank to her knees and clicked on the flashlight. “Been a while since I’ve had any need to root about in here. Want to make sure no spiders or such have taken up residence.” The door protested as she opened it, the hinges squeaking at the disturbance.
She bent forward and poked her head in the space, shining the flashlight about. “Hmm,” she said. “Fancy that. Just a few cobwebs.” She pulled her head back out. “Julia, you’re young and small. Could you crawl inside and hand me the box with the pictures of canning jars on the sides? And then the bigger one underneath? I promise neither one is very heavy.”
Julia didn’t need to be asked twice. Charlotte moved out of the way and Julia dropped to her knees. Charlotte handed her the flashlight, and then Julia scooted inside the crawl space and disappeared inside it. Emmy heard scraping on wood and then the first box appeared, and then the second one.
“There’s a box of books in here,” Julia called out.
“They’re just old schoolbooks. They can stay,” Charlotte said, brushing her hand across the dusty surface of the first box. Motes took to the beams of afternoon sunlight slanting in the room.
Julia reappeared, her long blond hair mussed about her face.
“Well done, Julia,” Charlotte said as Julia crawled completely out and Charlotte swung the door closed. She took the flashlight from Julia and switched it off.
“What’s in them?” Julia asked, fully intrigued.
Charlotte smiled and opened the first box. Inside were little lumps of thin muslin. Charlotte withdrew one of the lumps. Inside the fabric was a child-size china teacup patterned in autumn leaves.
“Oh!” Julia exclaimed.
“It’s my tea set from when I was a little girl. I want you to think of it as yours for as long as you’re here, all right?”
Julia was speechless with wonder as Charlotte continued to unwrap the pieces. There were four cups with their saucers, four plates, a creamer and sugar bowl, and a squat little teapot with a swanlike spout.
Then Charlotte opened the next box, which held two dolls, one golden-haired and one brunette, and a smaller box of tissue-wrapped doll clothes.
She placed the dolls in Julia’s arms.
“This one with the brown hair I called Guinevere and the other one Henrietta, but you can call them whatever you want. They are also yours to play with while you’re here. But I want you to take good care of them. No leaving them outside or tearing the clothes or bringing them to the table. Can you do that?”
Julia nodded solemnly, astonishment in her eyes. “I promise,” she whispered. She pulled the dolls close to her chest and kissed each head. “I love their names, Aunt Charlotte.”
Charlotte got to her feet and picked up the smaller box with the unwrapped tea service resting at odd angles inside it. “I’ll just wash the tea set and then it will be ready for you to use. That sound all right?”
Julia nodded, enraptured beyond words. It was the happiest Emmy had ever seen her.
She sought Charlotte’s gaze. “Thank you for doing that,” Emmy said softly.
“I’ve something to show you, too.”
Emmy followed Charlotte to her room across the hall. The woman set the box with the tea set on her bed and walked to a wardrobe. After opening the door, she reached for a long, deep box on a shelf above the rod of hanging dresses and blouses.
This box Charlotte also set on her bed. She lifted its lid, pushed away the tissue paper, and pulled out an ivory gown, its skirt glistening with tiny seed pearls that had aged to twilight gray. Lacy sleeves that buttoned tight to the elbow ballooned to the shoulder in Victorian elegance. A close-fitting bodice completed the top half, and the crushed full skirt hinted at the gown’s former glory.
“My wedding dress,” Charlotte murmured, gazing at the gown, not at Emmy.
“It’s beautiful.”
She turned to Emmy. “I thought it might inspire you. Sometimes an old design will spark a new idea. You—you can take it apart if you want. If it helps you.”
Emmy touched the fabric, a low-luster satin that nearly murmured hello back to her. “I couldn’t do such a thing,” she whispered.
“It is of no use to anyone sitting in a box,” Charlotte continued. “It’s no longer in style and I have no daughter to give it to. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to take it apart and study the construction? You could use the parts to reinvent it, or come up with your own design. Not just a drawing but an actual dress.”
“You would let me do that?” Emmy was incredulous.
“It would make me very happy if you did. Now, I don’t have a sewing machine. But I’ve sharp scissors, several spools of white thread, and lots of sewing needles. You’ll have to do it all by hand, but I’m thinking you’re probably going to have the time during these long summer months.”
Emmy, like Julia, found she could not express the right words of gratitude. To say a simple thank-you to such generosity seemed too shallow.
So she thought of something else to say.
“Would you like to see my sketches?”
For the next few minutes, while Julia played with Guinevere and Henrietta in the other room, Charlotte and Emmy sat on the bed and looked at the sketches in the brides box.
Charlotte said they were the loveliest dresses she had ever seen.
A day that could not have been more surprisingly pleasant for Emmy and Julia became even more so. Late in the afternoon when it was time to take care of the chickens, a gentle rain started to fall. Charlotte let Julia use her umbrella: a red polka-dot umbrella with a curly black handle that looked like licorice.