“I say—” Still shaken by the depth and power of that kiss, she was working to put words together, “I say you’re absolutely right.”
She had gone to bed at last, with all the stars in the night sky gleaming with diamond brilliance, and all the bird flocks suddenly fluting in joy.
Chapter Nineteen
SO HERE SHE WAS, BLINKING herself back to the present, still seated at a small round table in a back corner of Forrester’s and being attended to by the kindly and caring Jimmy Dunlap.
Would he feel offended if she asked for the business records? Would he feel she (or, worse yet, Ben) didn’t trust his abilities?
“I wonder,” she asked him now, “since I seem to be tucked out of the way, might I see the account ledgers you keep?”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Forrester. Let me leave you for just a moment, whilst I go fetch what you require.”
Camellia spent several hours poring over the books, making sense of what had been written, trying to understand notes and instructions, and what the figures meant. (In Ben’s scrawled or crabbed handwriting, the words might have compared to Egyptian hieroglyphics.) Orders placed, and with whom, and when; orders received, and the date, and where stored. Cost of goods; final purchase price.
And a separate list of just a few names, originating some number of years ago, showing a balance due for each.
She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Charity. Clearly, Ben was extending charity to those who desperately needed what he had, but couldn’t afford to pay for it.
According to what she could see, Forrester’s was turning quite a tidy little profit. And had been, for some time. That was a relief. Even bereft of a substantial dowry, she would not be a millstone around Ben’s neck. Nor would her sisters, should she try to help them financially until they were able to survive completely on their own.
It was interesting to watch how efficiently and affably both Jimmy and Miss Gotham dealt with customers. And Camellia’s excuse for that watching couldn’t have been more reasonable: she was enjoying a bit of leisure, and what was
left in her pot of tea.
During a lull in business, she asked more questions of both the clerks. She also finally met the two young men who helped out on an irregular basis—Jesse Milgrim, a quiet, dark-haired handyman around town; and Matthew Palmer, a shy blonde boy barely out of his teens.
Thanking everyone for their assistance and information, she left the mercantile much later than she had planned, brimming over with ideas to improve and enhance. The several hours of her absence had doubled, and she found Ben, still ensconced on the settee, looking anxiously toward the door when she walked in.
Of course, that might have been because the doctor was once again in residence, and he and Hannah were wrangling over whether he might just as well pack his bags and move to an upstairs bedroom. Had he mistaken the Forrester home for Mrs. McKnight’s boarding house?
“H’lo, Cam,” Ben greeted her with lighted eyes and enthusiasm but a telltale pallor that did not bode well.
“Hello, husband of mine.” With so many changes recently taking place—“Turnabout,” indeed, in so many ways!—she felt no compunction whatsoever in spontaneously giving him a prolonged and passionate kiss—before witnesses, no less. Then she went after them. “Are you two upsetting my patient with all this bickering?”
Hannah began an immediate protest. “I hardly think—”
Just as Gabe chimed in, “She’s always after me about—”
“Tut-tut-tut,” an irked Camellia interrupted. “Do you see how he looks? I’ll have no more of it, not when it’s adversely affecting Ben’s recovery. So kindly call a truce, right now.”
“Huh,” muttered the doctor. Then he glanced up from under heavy brows to ask meekly, “Can we start up our squabblin’ again once Ben is back on his feet?”
Of course he stayed for supper. That was the man’s primary purpose in showing up. And Hannah’s deliberate slamming down of plates onto the table certainly showed her opinion of having to suffer through yet another visit. They finished off the soup, for which Camellia gave a silent prayer of thanks. Tasty though it was, the fare was beginning to get monotonous.
“I was so pleased to find that you have some lovely fresh fruit at the store, Ben,” she offered, once they had finished eating and the omnipresent dishes were waiting to be cleared. “I must go in and do some actual shopping on Monday.”
He managed a weak, sallow grin. “Forrester’s will appreciate the business.”
After the usual kitchen work had been taken care of, Hannah retrieved her perky little hat and reticule. “I’ll be off now. You won’t need me tomorrow, will you?”
“No, you may have a day to yourself, Hen.” Camellia enveloped her sister in a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
Gabe harrumphed at the door, which he was holding open. “C’mon, princess, I’ll walk you to Mrs. McKnight’s. Wouldn’t wantcha gettin’ lost along the way.”
“It’s still full light outside,” Hannah pointed out with only a slight degree of coolness. “I certainly doubt that—”
“Oh, tarnation, just move it, will you? I’m tryin’ to be nice here, and you’re spoilin’ the whole effect.”