Harvest Moon (Jordan-Alexander Family 2)

David was aware of the circus atmosphere the moment he opened the door and crossed the threshold. All movement stopped. Every head turned toward the door. The sound of the brass bell seemed abnormally loud.

David acknowledged the gathering with a nod of his head as he walked across the room to the counter. He smiled a greeting at Lorna Taylor.

“Good afternoon, Miss Taylor. Is Mrs. Jeffers in?”

“David…” In her agitation Lorna addressed him by his first name.

“It’s all right, Lorna.” David’s voice was a rough whisper, his assurance meant for Lorna alone. He raised his voice as he continued. “Will you get Mrs. Jeffers? We have some business to discuss.”

Lorna stepped away from the counter and, turning her back on David, exited through the curtained doorway that led to Mrs. Jeffers’s office.

Moments later Margaret Jeffers stepped through the curtains much like an actress making an entrance onto the stage. She had exchanged her dark blue wool dress trimmed in black velvet for an afternoon gown of crimson silk.

David bit back a smile. He hadn’t seen Margaret earlier in the day, but he recognized full military battle dress when he saw it. He knew his opponent had dressed for the engagement.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Alexander.” Margaret was polite, courteous. “What might I do for you?”

“I think it’s what I can do for you,” David announced. “I’ve come to settle my account.”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Alexander, until the end of the month,” she answered sweetly. Too sweetly for David’s taste.

“But I want to settle up now. I don’t like to leave things undone.” He was implacable. “I’ll be having my household orders shipped from Chicago from now on.”

Some of the customers gasped at his statement. Jeffers’s Mercantile was the largest, finest store in all of Peaceable. Margaret Jeffers carried everything. It was unthinkable to pay the freight costs on orders from Chicago when you could buy what you needed in Peaceable.

“Oh, now, Mr. Alexander, don’t be ridiculous,” Margaret began. Lorna, standing off to one side, winced at her employer’s choice of words. David Alexander wouldn’t appreciate being called ridiculous. “Why, the freight charges alone will be double what you pay right here.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Jeffers, but I assure you that I can afford to pay the cost of shipping. In fact, I prefer to pay it.”

“What?” Margaret Jeffers responded, shocked at the idea.

“I prefer to deal with merchants”—David paused for effect—“who appreciate my business.”

Margaret smiled at him, gritting her teeth. He was a formidable adversary and, unfortunately, one of her most valuable customers. “I have always appreciated and welcomed your business.”

“Until this morning.”

“Oh, now, surely you aren’t going to all this trouble over what happened this morning. Surely you don’t intend to cancel your account here and pay enormous amounts of money to out-of-town merchants and to the UP railroad because of a little misunderstanding.”

“That’s precisely what I intend to do.” David smiled a slight smile. “I was certain you’d understand.”

“But, Mr. Alexander, it was all a misunderstanding,” she said again. “If I had known you wanted the supplies, I’d have put them on your account as always.” Margaret ignored Lorna’s gasp of outrage at the barefaced lie.

David’s face hardened into lines closely resembling the look of fierce determination on the face of a mountain lion stalking its quarry. “I sent Miss Roarke and young Mr. Donegal here this morning to pick up supplies for me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Did you or did you not refuse to add the cost of the supplies to my account?”

“How was I supposed to know that was all right with you?” Margaret asked defensively. “Anyone could come in here and ask to have things charged to someone else’s account.” She looked around to the customers gathered in her store. “I didn’t know the young woman. I pride myself on my diligence in protecting my customers.”

“From riffraff?” David asked silkily. “That is what you called Miss Roarke, isn’t it? Riffraff.”

“Well…” Mrs. Jeffers hedged.

“And when Miss Roarke offered to pay for the supplies in cash, didn’t you refuse to sell them to her?”

“I can refuse service to anyone who enters my store if I choose to do so,” Margaret stated firmly. “It’s my right.”