The clock on the mantel over the rock-faced fireplace chimed twice. Velma cleared her throat, a signal that their social time was over. Their secretary, Ida Franklin, with pencil and tablet in hand, was ready to record the minutes.
“The July meeting of the CWAOF is called to order.” Velma opened her leather journal. “We haven’t received any new requests for assistance, but Giles Brown has taken care of the repairs to Widow Foster’s barn that we’d discussed at our last meeting. He did a fine job.” The competent woman smiled at Giles’s wife, Patty, who had suggested her carpenter husband for the job.
“Giles was happy to help.”
Velma pulled out a loose sheet of paper tucked between the pages of her journal. “Here’s what we paid him for his labor and the supplies. We received a reduced rate, thanks to our association with him.” She handed the list to Meribeth Mortenson, their treasurer and Coralee’s longtime friend. Meribeth and her husband, Michael, who were expecting their first child, ran Mortenson Mercantile. She kept the ledgers for their business, too.
Record keeping was something Coralee had no desire to do. She’d looked at Calvin’s books once and could make no sense of them. While Meribeth’s figures were fairly easy to follow, her brother’s smudged and crooked columns were anything but.
Meribeth examined the numbers and nodded. “This is a significant reduction, indeed. It’s twenty-five percent lower than what we’d allocated.”
“We have even more good news.” Velma looked from one member of the committee to the next, building the suspense. Her gaze came to rest on Coralee. “Our gracious hostess will tell you about it.”
A surge of excitement rushed through Coralee. “As most of you know, I’m also a member of the committee that plans the annual Christmas Eve Ball. This year, the committee has chosen the CWAOF as the charity that will receive the proceeds. We’re expecting a wonderful turnout. Last year we had guests from as far away as San Antonio. With the plans the committee has, this year’s event might rival those of the early Christmas Eve Balls put on by Victoria Hart herself.”
Joyous exclamations filled the room. Patty Brown brought her hands together with a loud clap. “That’s marvelous! This donation will enable us to continue our work for years to come.”
Clarice brushed a crumb from her ample bosom. “Your relief is understandable. I heard your primary benefactor has ceased making contributions.”
Velma’s jaw went slack. She caught herself and brought her teeth together with a clack. “I’m not sure where you got your information, Miss Spanner, but that is speculation. Nothing has been confirmed. When it is, Meribeth will apprise us of our financial situation. Until then, we’ll continue to operate as we have. I, for one, trust the Lord to provide for our needs, as He has so faithfully done since our group was formed.”
Clarice ran a hand over the skirt of her amethyst gown, a silk creation that showcased her talents but put undue strain on the jet-black buttons of her form-fitting bodice. “That’s not all I heard. Young Hays Hart was in town this morning spreading the word that everyone is invited to a barbecue at the 7 Heart tomorrow evening to celebrate his brother’s return.”
The news hit Coralee like an icy blast, chilling her to the bone. Chisholm’s visits to El Regalo between his Ranger assignments were a regular occurrence, and Crockett wouldn’t return from the cattle drive for another three weeks. That had to mean—“Houston’s here?”
“I believe that was the name I heard, yes.”
Meribeth, bless her, chose that moment to drop her ledger. On Miss Spanner’s toes. “How clumsy of me! I’m so sorry. Would you mind getting it? I would, but…” She patted her rounded abdomen.
Miss Spanner bent over to retrieve the book. Meribeth took advantage of her well-timed accident to telegraph her concern to Coralee. She managed to produce a smile, but it felt wobbly.
Houston was back. She’d wondered whether he might return someday, but to have him here was … unsettling. She was sure to run into him at some point, which could be awkward. Twelve years had passed since he’d walked out of her life without a backward glance. Seeing him again could cause the feelings she’d experienced to come rushing back. She couldn’t allow that.
She wouldn’t. Sam Houston Hart-breaker didn’t need to know what his failure to put her before his desire to leave Texas and make his fortune in California had done to her. How she’d cried herself to sleep for weeks after he left. Her younger self had been devastated to lose the man she loved, but she was a woman now, strong and capable. She refused to let his return upset her.
Velma tactfully steered the discussion back on track. “Coralee, would you please tell us more about the ball?”