The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

Lord Barnes laughed. “As usual, my dear, you’re correct.”

“The Barnes ladies open libraries, chop down trees, and roam the woods, and what else?” Phillip’s blue eyes twinkled as he gazed across the table at me.

A little buzz started in my chest. He was absolutely too handsome and personable. He already had my sisters twisted around his finger. If I weren’t careful, I might like him. No, my heart belonged to my poor dead soldier. I’d promised him.

“My wife was our first schoolteacher,” Papa said.

“What about you, Miss Fiona?” Phillip asked. “What will you do?”

“I sing and play the piano,” Fiona said. “I might be a teacher like Mama was before I get married and have lots and lots of babies.”

“Fiona’s a very good singer,” Cymbeline said, sounding proud. “She’s going to sing in church this coming Sunday.”

“Would you like to come and hear me?” Fiona asked Phillip.

“I’d love nothing more.” Phillip returned his attention to his soup.

Mama smiled over at me before taking a bite of her soup.

“Speaking of businesses in town, I spoke with the boys who run the saloon,” Papa said. “They’re worried about January.”

Prohibition took effect in January. The café, as it was now called, would most likely still serve drinks but in secret. Fortunately for them, our local law enforcement were frequent patrons of the saloon. Papa felt certain they would look the other way. He purposely stayed quiet about how he felt about the Eighteenth Amendment for fear of alienating either side of the political argument. He was a businessman and the self-appointed father of Emerson Pass. He saw his job as one of support and inspiration, not rules.

“What’s your opinion of Prohibition?” Mama asked Phillip. “The twins are adamantly opposed. I suppose coming from their time in Europe, the idea seems provincial.”

“I can’t say I have an opinion one way or the other,” Phillip said.

Papa chuckled. “Very diplomatic of you.”

“I’m quite for it,” Mama said. “Nothing good ever happened between the walls of a saloon.”

“How do you know?” Cymbeline asked.

“Have you been to one?” Fiona asked.

“I’ve never set foot in a place like that, no. However, some things a woman just knows,” Mama said. “Are you a drinking man, Phillip?”

“I’ve had a drink before,” Phillip said.

“Quinn, stop quizzing our new friend,” Papa said, laughing. “If he’d like a whiskey with me after dinner, then he shall have one.”

“I shouldn’t like to upset the mistress of the house,” Phillip said, smiling. “So whatever she advises is what I’ll do.”

“That’s wise,” Fiona said in her innocent way. “Mama only wants what’s best for us.”

“You’re very lucky to have a mama such as this one,” Phillip said.

“We know,” Cymbeline said. “Our other mother died.”

“And God sent Mama to us,” Fiona said.

“We don’t remember her,” Cymbeline said. “But we’ve seen a painting. Jo looks just like her.”

My stomach churned. I didn’t like it when the girls talked about how much I looked like our mother, even though it was true. She’d left us when we needed her. I couldn’t forgive her for that. We were better off with our Mama Quinn anyway. But still, thinking of the way Mother had died angered me. How could she leave us that way? She’d purposely walked into a frozen world where she knew she would die. Leaving Papa to raise five children on his own. Leaving me, at nine years old, to take her place, robbing me of my childhood. I knew the answer. She’d been unwell. Her sense of reality damaged. Yet there it remained. The anger like a red-hot knot in my stomach.

I looked up from my soup to find Papa watching me. I smiled at him to assure him all was well. He knew my thoughts, though, and where I went sometimes in my mind. We’d lived through all of it together. Only once in a long while would I see him drift away to that dark time. Theo, too. The others had escaped without the permanent damage we’d endured.

“You’re absolutely right, dear husband,” Mama was saying. “I’m only teasing you, Phillip. You may do as you please. Consider our home your home.”