“Listen to this.” Belinda cleared her throat and then began to read in her most romantic voice: “Woman of refinement from the East Coast. Late twenties. Pleasant appearance and disposition. Happy to settle down in small town with amiable man. Must be of good Christian character and ready for a family.”
“Ready for a family?” Greta looked at her. “Is George wanting children?”
“I’m sure he wants them eventually,” Belinda said. She paused to think about that. It would be a crime, really, for George not to have children. Why, he would be wonderful with them. She could almost see him now, tossing a ball with his sons or rolling a hoop with a daughter. Yes, surely George would want children.
“Something about that sounds odd,” Greta said. “Do you suppose she already has a child?”
“Ooh, I never thought of that.” Belinda read the advertisement again. “You know, she might. It sounds as if she has a ready-made family. Still, I think I will write to her and let her know about George. But I promise to pray about it first, as always.”
“You’re saying you pray before each transaction?” Greta looked doubtful.
Belinda sighed. “I try to remember to do so, but sometimes forget. I think, when it came to Sarah Jo, I might have forgotten.” She giggled. “Still, that one is George’s fault. He’s the one who actually located her, you know. Not me. He stumbled across her advertisement in the newspaper quite accidentally.”
“So I’ve heard.” Greta stopped working and gave Belinda a pensive look. “But Belinda, I don’t think it was an accident. I love Sarah Jo. She’s an asset to this town, whether she weds or not. She brings life and joy to us all. In a unique way, but life and joy nonetheless.”
“She brings more to some than others,” Belinda said, fighting back the laughter. “But one thing is for sure—she is never boring!”
Her words were interrupted by Peter Conrad, who came racing into the store, breathless. He took one look at her and paled. “Belinda, you’ve got to help me.”
“H–help you?” She stared at him, stunned, and then quickly folded the newspaper. “Help you with what?”
“Sarah Jo Cummings.”
“What about her?” Belinda placed the newspaper on the glass case and focused on Peter.
“She’s after me. Again.” His wide-eyed look let Belinda know this was no joking matter. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Peter, do you mean to tell me that Sarah Jo Cummings—” She never had a chance to finish the sentence, for at that very moment, the fast-footed woman came sprinting into the store. She wore a red plaid dress and a matching bonnet.
Sarah Jo stopped for a moment, her breathing labored, and then grabbed Peter by the arm. “Why, Peter Conrad,” she crooned. “I felt sure that was you. Did you not hear me calling your name out there?”
“Oh? You were calling my name?” He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing. “I will have to get my hearing aid checked.”
Greta perked up at that one. “Hearing aid? Since when do you wear a hearing aid, Peter?”
Belinda jabbed her in the arm.
“Oh. Oh, I see.” Greta giggled. “So sorry.”
Sarah Jo continued on, oblivious to their playful attitudes. “Peter,” she said, her voice dripping like honey, “you simply must help me. I’ve been looking for a book to read and can’t find a thing at that old hotel. But it seems like every time I come to your bookshop, you’re just closing up for the day. My, but you do keep odd hours.”
“Ah. Well, see, I...”
“I’m looking for something romantic in nature,” she said. “Though action stories and adventures are good, too. Do you have dime novels?”
He groaned. “I believe we have a few in stock, though, of course, I prefer the classics.”
“Oh, the classics. Of course. I prefer them myself. My favorite is that Romeo and Juliet story by Frederick Shakespeare.”
“That’s William Shakespeare.”
“William, of course.” She continued to grip his arm and now gazed up into his eyes with admiration. “I just love a man who knows so much. I’m intrigued by your brilliance. Oh, if only I could study and learn as you do. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing?”
Peter muttered something about there not being enough schooling available in the state of Texas to accommodate her, but she appeared not to listen. Instead, she chattered on and on about how his shop needed a woman’s touch. When she got to the part where she said she wanted to reorganize his shelves, his face turned such a deep shade of red that Belinda feared he might have a heart attack right there on the spot.
“I have arranged a meeting with several of the townsfolk for next Saturday,” Sarah Jo said. “We’re going to talk about the new opera house. I believe I’ve located the perfect spot on the south end of town, not far from Grange Hall. The mayor has agreed to lend his support. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Mayor Mueller has agreed to build an opera house without the vote of the people?” Peter looked stunned.
“That’s what the meeting is about,” Sarah Jo said. “To garner their vote. Oh, but I know it’s a shoo-in. Everyone wants an opera house. Right, Belinda?” She turned to face Belinda, her eyes wide with excitement.
“It would bring in revenue,” Belinda agreed. “So I can see the good in it.”
“And talk about fun,” Greta added. “It would certainly draw a new, sophisticated crowd to our town.”
“And I know just who will star in the first performance.” Sarah Jo gripped Peter’s arm, and he groaned.
Belinda felt for the poor man. “Sarah Jo,” she said, taking the woman by the arm. “I wonder if you would do me a favor. I’m searching for a wife for Mr. Ogilvie, the butcher, and I’ve had trouble finding an appropriate match. Perhaps you could help me choose someone for him.”
“Really?” Sarah Jo released her hold on Peter, who looked like he’d been given a reprieve, and clasped her hands together. “Oh, why didn’t we think of this before? I’ve made plenty of wonderful matches in my day. Why, I’m the perfect person to help you. Just watch and see.”
She babbled on about the various women she’d matched up back in her hometown, but Belinda didn’t hear half of it. She caught Peter’s eye and gestured for him to slip out the front door. He did, in record time.
Now for the hard part. She’d promised Sarah Jo she could help find a bride for Mr. Ogilvie. They headed off to the back room to thumb through the newspapers. Sarah Jo squealed with delight at every single advertisement.
“Look at this one!” She pointed to a paper from Boston. “This gal says she’s pretty as a picture!” Sarah Jo snorted. “I’ll tell you right now, Belinda, half of these women exaggerate.”
“Do they, now?”
“Indeed.” She giggled. “I did, myself. All that stuff about being petite and loving Sunday strolls. Not that I’m opposed to a nice stroll, as long as my arm is linked with the right fella’s.” She gave a flirtatious wink then went back to looking at the newspaper.
“Can I ask you a question, Sarah Jo?” Belinda took a seat on one of the barrels and gave her a pensive look.
“Well, sure, honey. Sarah Jo Cummings is an open book. No doubt about that.”
There was no disputing that fact. Still, Belinda had some unanswered questions. “Have you ever been married before?”
Sarah Jo’s expression shifted immediately. Gone were the laugh lines and the upturned lips. Gone was the twinkle in her eye. She paused for a moment and then folded the newspaper and took a seat on the barrel next to Belinda. She whispered, “Yes. I was married for more than thirty years.”
“I see.” Belinda wanted to ask more but now felt hesitant about the matter.
Sarah Jo seemed reticent to say more. At first. Finally, she burst like a dam, talking a mile a minute. “I met my husband, Joe—a railroad man, by the way—when I was working at a shop in town. A general store, much like Poetic Notions. He swept me off my feet. That fella was always such a looker, and k
indhearted too.”
Belinda didn’t interrupt but let her continue.
“We married the year I turned twenty-two. Had a baby girl that next year.” Now the smile returned.
“Oh, you have a daughter?”
Sarah Jo rose and began to pace the room. “Had a daughter. Kelly Jo was only three when she passed. Scarlet fever stole her from me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Belinda hardly knew what do say.
“Joe and I wanted other children, of course, but the good Lord never blessed us with any.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I had plenty of words with Him about that—the Lord, not Joe.”
“I understand, and I’m sure He did, too.”
“Well, we lived our lives the best we could. I took over the running of the shop, and he worked his way up with the railroad. We lived in a fine house and had every good thing at our disposal.” She gestured to her dress and bonnet. “I never went without, Belinda. The man made sure I had the things that pleased me.”
“He sounds wonderful,” Belinda agreed.
“He was.” Sarah Jo sighed as she took a seat once more. “I lost my Joe four years ago. Doc said it was from working around the coal for so long. Damaged his lungs. Terrible way to go.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached for a hankie to dab them away.
Belinda’s heart wrenched as she saw Sarah Jo’s pain. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Did you think I was just an old spinster?”
“No. Well, I don’t know what I thought. When I wrote to you, I only saw those few words in the paper, and they certainly didn’t tell the whole story.”
“Indeed, they did not. And I can assure you, the other women each have a story, as well. We can’t very well sum up our lives in a few lines, anymore than the men can sum up theirs in a love poem. Our stories are longer, more complex. They have their ups and downs and probably a few tears along the way.”
Belinda rose and moved to Sarah Jo’s side. “Thank you for telling me all of that.”
“Well, there’s one more thing, if you don’t mind my saying it.”
“What’s that?”
“I know my Kelly Jo would have been a little older than you are now, but I’d like to think she would have turned out as lovely as you. When I see you, I think of her. I can’t seem to help myself.”
Belinda’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Well, honey, you’re long overdue, then, for you are truly one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met.” Sarah Jo winked. “And if a certain fella hasn’t figured that out yet, then I daresay he’s deaf, dumb, and blind.”
She gave a little wink and Belinda’s heart tumbled to her toes. Surely she didn’t mean...certainly, she wasn’t talking about...George?
They ended their conversation and Belinda returned to her work. All afternoon, she thought about Sarah Jo’s story. She was right, of course. Every one of those women had her own tale. And each carried secret joys and pains. Marta, for instance. Surely she had a story. The worry lines on her forehead said as much. Perhaps, with a little nudging, Belinda could get her to open up. Maybe then she could ease the guilt of mismatching her with Myles Lott.
As the evening shadows fell, Belinda rushed to finish her work. She wanted to head home for supper. Mama was making chicken and dumplings tonight, one of her favorites. As she left the store and made her way down the boardwalk, Belinda couldn’t help but gasp. There, on the other side of the glass in the town’s restaurant, she laid eyes on Reverend Billingsley...and a woman. And not just any woman. Oh, no. The good reverend appeared to be having dinner with Marta Schuller! Right there in plain sight!
Hmm. Perhaps the dear woman needed his counsel. She was, after all, quite disappointed with how the situation had ended with Myles.
Only, she didn’t look disappointed. No, Belinda had to admit while looking through the window, Marta did not look disappointed at all. In fact, she appeared just the opposite. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed as the pastor spoke. Marta took a bite of her steak then dabbed at her lips with her napkin, but she never took her eyes off Reverend Billingsley.
Wonder of wonders. Could it be? Belinda stopped to contemplate the possibilities as she turned toward home. At once, she began to pray. “Lord, You are, indeed, a miracle worker! Your hand was at work in this, after all. You did have a bride for the pastor. Just not the woman I thought.” She paused a moment and then added, “Now, Lord, about Sarah Jo...”
She never had a chance to finish. At that moment, Peter came running out of his shop with the fiery redhead on his tail. Belinda stopped in her tracks, laughter emanating from the deepest places within her without restraint. Oh, how she laughed. One of these days Sarah Jo might actually catch Peter Conrad. In the meantime, it was surely fun to watch her try!
***
George looked out of the barbershop window, smiling as he caught a glimpse of Belinda laughing at Sarah Jo and Peter. He stood, captivated, watching her. Her cheeks were a nice rosy color as she laughed, and as she leaned forward, her pinned-up hair tumbled around her shoulders in golden waves. His breath caught in his throat. George wanted to take a step outside to ask what was so funny, but he got the answer to his question when Peter Conrad came bolting into his shop.
“She—wouldn’t—dare—come—in—here!” Peter dove into one of the barber’s chairs and opened a newspaper, covering his face.
“Actually, Peter, I was just closing up shop for the day.” George didn’t have a chance to finish his explanation before Sarah Jo Cummings appeared at the door.
“Oh, George!” she called out. “I do wonder if you would be so kind as to ask that handsome man in the chair to come out and speak with me.”
“I’m busy, woman,” Peter said. He gestured for George to grab a razor, and George flew into action at once.
“Shave or haircut, Peter?”
“Both.”
“Both?” George leaned down and whispered, “I can’t tell if you’re pretending or if you’re serious. You really want a shave and a haircut?”
Peter spoke through clenched teeth. “If it will keep that woman from chasing me all over town, yes. A shave and a haircut.”
“Oh, but Peter!” Sarah Jo’s voice rang out. “You can’t cut your hair! Why, it could turn out like that tragic story in the Bible. You know the one?”
“Samson?” George interjected.
“Yes. He cut off his hair, and you know what happened next. He lost all of his strength.”
“I’ve already lost it, woman!” Peter hollered back. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really need some time to myself.”
“But I need to speak with you.” Sarah Jo rambled on—something about Romeo and Juliet. Something about Frederick Shakespeare. But George never really heard the particulars. He was too overcome by Peter’s impulsive decision to shave and cut his hair. And intrigued, as well. No one had seen Peter clean-shaven for thirty years. What sort of transformation were they talking about here?
He went to work, staring first with the hair. Before he took the first cut, George whispered, “You’re sure about this?”
“Sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”
Sarah Jo watched in rapt awe from the doorway, finally disappearing from view when the pastor and Marta happened by in conversation with the mayor. George could still hear her voice ringing as she moved away from the store.
Peter whispered the words, “Good riddance” and then focused on the mirror.
George drew in a deep breath and then clipped away the first long piece of hair. Then the second. Then the third. Within minutes, he worked skillfully to bring shape to what was left of the man’s hair. Turned out, the salt-and-pepper strands looked mighty nice short. Mighty nice.
Now to deal with that scraggly beard. He’d imagined cutting it dozens of times before but never thought he’d have the honor. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, he could hardly think where
to begin.
“Take it off, George.” Peter stared at his reflection in the mirror, lips pursed. “All of it. No arguments, now.”
“Even the mustache?”
“No.” Peter fingered his bushy mustache and appeared to be deep in thought. “Leave it. Just trim ’er back a bit.”
George did as he was told, though it took awhile to accomplish the task. When he finished, both he and Peter stared in awe in the mirror. The transformation was unbelievable. Underneath that rough, hairy exterior, a handsome, clean-cut man resided. It made George wonder what Peter had been hiding from all these years. He also couldn’t help but wonder what Sarah Jo meant with that comment about Samson. Would the strong, confident Peter Conrad crumble like a wilted flower without his hair to protect him?
George never had the chance to voice his thoughts. The second the haircut and shave ended, Peter sprang from his seat, tossed a few coins George’s way, then headed for the door. George grabbed a rag, following behind him, pretending to wipe down the store’s windows. In truth, he wanted to see how this might end.
Peter didn’t make it three paces into the street before Sarah Jo’s squealing voice rang out. “As I live and breathe! Why, forget everything I said back there about Samson! You are the handsomest man I’ve ever clamped eyes on!” She turned away from Marta, the reverend, and the mayor and focused all of her attention on Peter, who headed up the road toward his house.
Mayor Mueller headed George’s way. “I’m not sure I would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Whatever possessed him to do it?”
“I haven’t got a clue.” George shook his head. “Maybe he thought it would act as a deterrent, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. Looks like Delilah got to him.”
“Delilah?” The mayor looked puzzled.
“Ah, never mind.” George chuckled. Maybe he could explain later.
“Any logical man would’ve known that a woman prefers the clean-cut look.” Mayor Mueller said, shaking his head. “If you ask me, he was asking for it.”
“Asking for it?” George shrugged, not quite understanding. “Asking for what?”