“We take on different problems at different times.”
“And the . . . ah, tea parties?”
In spite of herself, Houston blushed. “It was my grandmother’s idea. She said she went to her own wedding night knowing nothing and terrified. She didn’t want her friends or her daughters to have the same experience. I think perhaps the pre-wedding celebration has evolved slowly into what you”—she swallowed—“saw.”
“How many women in Chandler belong to The Sisterhood?”
“There’re only a dozen active members. Some, like my mother, retire after they’re married.”
“Do you plan to retire?”
“No,” she answered, looking up at him, because, of course, her participation could depend on him.
He turned away from her. “Kane won’t like your driving the wagon into the coal fields. He won’t like your being in jeopardy.”
Houston moved to face him. “I know he wouldn’t like it, which is truly the only reason I haven’t told him. Edan,”—she put her hand on his arm—“this means so much to so many people. It took me months of work to learn how to act like an old woman, to be able to really become Sadie. If I stopped now, it would take more months to train someone else and, in the meantime, so many miners’ families would go without the little extras I give them.”
He took her hand. “All right, you can get off your pulpit. I guess it’s safe enough, even though it goes against everything I believe.”
“You won’t tell Kane? I’m quite sure he won’t be understanding in the least.”
“I’m sure that’s an understatement. No, I won’t tell him if you swear to only deliver potatoes and not get involved with the unions. And about this seditious magazine you women want to start—.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek to cut him off. “Thank you so much, Edan. You are a true friend. Now I must go dress for my wedding.” Before he could speak, she was at the door, but paused, her hand on the knob. “What did you mean about Kane’s connection to the Fentons?”
“I thought you knew. Jacob Fenton’s younger sister, Charity, was Kane’s mother.”
“No,” she said softly. “I didn’t know.” She left the room.
Houston was in her bedroom only minutes when Sarah Oakley said, as she held out Houston’s wedding dress, “I just saw the oddest thing.”
“What was that?”
“I thought it was Kane in the garden wearing his old clothes, but instead it was a boy who looks like him.”
“Ian,” Houston said with a smile. “He did come.”
“If there’s anything left of him,” Nina said, looking over the rail. “Two of the Randolph boys and Meredith’s two brothers started laughing at him and your Ian attacked them.”
Houston’s head came up. “Four against one?”
“At least that many. Now they’ve gone behind a tree and I can’t see them.”
Houston took her hands off the wedding dress Sarah was still holding and went to the window. “Where are they now?”
“There,” Nina pointed. “See the commotion in the shrubs? That’s one heck of a fight going on.”
Leaning far out the window, Houston surveyed the garden area. Most of the scene was hidden from the house by trees.
“I’ll send someone to stop the fight,” Sarah was saying.
“And humiliate a Taggert?” Houston said, going to the closet. “Not on your life.” She again pulled on her dark blue satin dressing gown.
“What in the world are you planning, Houston?” Sarah gasped.
“I am going to stop a fight and save a Taggert from a fate worse than death: humiliation. There’s no one in the back.”
“Just a few dozen waiters and guests and . . . ” Nina said.
“Houston, dear, aren’t there some fireworks downstairs? If someone were to light them it would create a diversion,” Opal said softly. She knew from experience that it was useless to tell her daughter that she needed to get dressed. Not when one of her girls wore that expression.
“I’m on my way,” Nina called, running out the door as Houston put her foot out the window and onto the rose trellis.
The east lawn was alive with the explosive noise of fireworks, with early guests all looking that way, as Houston made her way diagonally across the stretch of west lawn and into the trees.
Deep in the shade of a grove of black walnut trees, Ian Taggert uselessly fought the four stout boys on top of him.
“Stop that!” Houston said in her sternest voice.
Not one boy paid her the least attention.
She moved into the flailing arms and legs, grabbed an ear and pulled. Jeff Randolph came up swinging but stopped when he saw Houston. She motioned him to stand back while she went after George and Alex Lechner, pulling up both boys by their ears.
Only Steve Randolph remained on top of Ian and when Houston touched Steve’s ear, he came up flying, an uncomprehending mass of rage. The three boys standing in the background gasped when Steve sent a fist sailing toward Houston’s jaw. She ducked and, seeing no other way, decked young Steven with a right. Months of handling a four-horse wagon had given her quite a bit of strength in her arms.
For a moment, no one could move as Steve slowly fell across Ian’s legs.
Houston recovered first. “Steve!” she said, kneeling, slapping the boy’s face. “Are you all right?”
“Damn!” Ian breathed. “I ain’t never seen no lady punch like that.”
Steve groaned, sat up, rubbed his jaw and looked at Houston in wonder. In fact, all five of the boys were gaping at her.
She stood. “I don’t appreciate such behavior on my wedding day,” she said regally.
“No, ma’am,” four of the boys mumbled.
“We didn’t mean nothin’, Miss Blair-Houston. He—.”
“I want no excuses. Now, you four go back to your parents and, Steven, put some ice on your jaw.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he called over his shoulder, all of them getting away as quickly as possible.
She held her hand out to Ian to help him up. “You may come with me.”
He ignored her hand. “I ain’t goin’ into his house if that’s what you mean,” he said angrily.
“Perhaps you’re right. For this fracas, I’m using a rose trellis as a staircase. Any boy who’d lose a fight probably couldn’t climb a trellis.”
“Lose a fight!” He was as tall as she was and, at sixteen, already big, showing promise of reaching Kane’s size. He almost put his nose to hers. “In case you cain’t count, there was four of ’em on me and I woulda, won if you hadn’t come along and interrupted.”
“But you’re afraid to enter your own cousin’s house,” she said, as if it were an observation. “How odd. Good day to you.” She started briskly toward the house.
Ian began walking beside her. “I ain’t afraid. I just don’t wanta go inside.”
“Of course.”
“What’s that mean?”
She stopped. “I agree with you. You aren’t afraid of your cousin, you just don’t want to see him or to eat his food. I understand perfectly.”
She watched emotions play across his face.
“Where’s this damned rose trellis of yours?”
She stood rooted to where she was and looked at him.
He stopped glaring. “All right then, where’s the rose trellis you’re usin’ as a staircase?”
“This way.”
Kane was just returning to the house when he was halted by the extraordinary sight of his wife-to-be, wearing only a garment he knew no lady wore outside her own house, climbing down the rose trellis.
More than a little curious, he stepped behind a tree to watch her and saw her fling herself into the midst of a pile of wrestling boys who were as big as she was. He was halfway there to help her when he saw her flatten a boy with a championship right.
The next minute, she was arguing in her own cool way with a big, sullen-looking boy. “Might as well give up,” Kane
said aloud, laughter in his voice. He’d already learned that when Houston looked like that, a man might as well give in because that delicate little lady was going to get her own way.
He laughed again when he saw the boy start up the rose trellis ahead of Houston. But as Kane watched, he saw Houston’s gown snag and saw her struggle to free herself. Around the corner three men and a woman were walking and, in another minute, they’d see her.
Quickly, he ran across the lawn and put his hand on her ankle.
When Houston looked down and saw Kane, she nearly fainted. What in the world would he think of the woman he was going to marry? She knew quite well what Leander or Mr. Gates would say if they saw her now, in public, wearing her bedroom clothes, and climbing a rose trellis.
As Houston looked down at Kane, she said the only thing she could think of. “My hat isn’t on straight.”
She hoped that the sound he made was a chuckle.
“Honey, even I know that ladies don’t wear hats with their bathrobes.”
Houston was paralyzed. He didn’t mind!
“Unless you want ever’body to see you like that, you’d better get inside.”
“Yes,” she said, recovering herself and climbing to the top while he watched. Once on the balcony, she leaned over the side. “Kane,” she called to him, “your wedding gift is in your office.”
He grinned up at her. “See you real soon, baby.”
With that he stuck his hands in his pockets and went away whistling, nodding at the people he passed.
“Houston,” Opal said from behind her. “If you don’t get ready now, you’re going to miss your own wedding.”
“I’d rather die,” she said with great feeling and returned to her bedroom.
Ten minutes later, Kane was unwrapping the package Houston’d put on his desk. Inside were two boxes of cigars and a note.
These are the finest Cuban cigars made. Each month two more boxes of the best cigars available in the world will be delivered to Mr. Kane Taggert.
It was signed with the name of a cigar store in Key West, Florida.
Kane was just lighting one when Edan entered. He held out the box to him. “From Houston. How in the world do you think she got these here in time?”
Edan took a moment to enjoy the cigar. “If I’m learning anything in life, it’s to not underestimate that lady.”
“Any woman who’d buy cigars like these is indeed a lady. Well,” he said heavily, “I guess I better go get dressed. You wanta come help me tie things?”
“Sure.”
Chapter 14
The wedding dress was of Houston’s own design, simple but elaborate in its simplicity. It was of ivory silk satin cut in a long, gentle princess style with no horizontal seams from the high neck to the tip of the twelve-foot train. About the waist, extending over her breasts and flowing down her hips, was an intricate Persian design done in thousands of hand-applied seed pearls. The sleeves from shoulder to elbow were huge, their size further emphasizing the tiny waist of the dress. The tight cuffs that extended from elbow to wrist carried a repeat pattern done in pearls.
Houston stood very still as her friends attached the veil to her head. It was a five-yard-long froth of handmade Irish lace called Youghal, a bold design of wild flowers set off by spiked leaves. The complicated pattern of the lace complemented the satin smoothness of the dress.
Tia held out Houston’s teardrop-shaped bouquet of orange blossoms and white rosebuds, made to reach from her hands to just graze the floor as she walked.
Opal looked up at her daughter with tears glistening in her eyes. “Houston . . . ” she began but could say nothing else.
Houston kissed her mother’s check. “I’m getting the best of men.”
“Yes, I know.” She handed Houston a little corsage of pink rosebuds. “These are from your sister. She thought that she’d wear red roses and you could wear pink. I guess she’s right that you don’t have to dress alike.”
“Our veils are different,” Houston said as Sarah pinned the flowers over the veil just above Houston’s left ear.
“Ready?” Tia asked. “I believe that’s your music.”
Blair was standing at the head of the double stairs waiting for her sister. Solemnly, they embraced.
“I love you more than you know,” Blair whispered. There were slight tears in her eyes as she pulled away. “I guess we should get this spectacle over.”
The polished brass rails of the staircase were covered with fern leaves and at regular intervals hung clusters of three calla lilies. Beneath the arch of the stairs was a twelve-piece string orchestra now playing the wedding march.
With heads held high, both twins walked slowly down the stairs, one curving east, one curving westward. Below them, in silence, the guests looked up at the beautiful women. Their tightly-fitted dresses were identical except for the lace veils, which varied in pattern and type of lace. The color of rosebuds at the sides of their heads also distinguished one twin from the other.
When the women reached the main hallway, the crowd pulled back and the twins walked straight ahead, down the short corridor outside the library door.
Once outside the door, they paused and waited for the six organs placed around the enormous room to begin playing. Inside, seated, but now rising, were the close friends and relatives of the couples.
As Houston looked down the aisle, she saw Jean Taggert standing between her uncle and her father. And ahead of the guests, on a raised platform that was canopied in greenery and roses, stood the men—in the wrong places.
Houston should have known it was too good to be true that all her plans would come about without anything going wrong. As it was now, she was walking up the aisle toward Leander. Quickly, she glanced at Blair to share the joke, but Blair was looking straight ahead—toward Kane.
Houston’s stomach began to turn over. This wasn’t just a simple mistake. With a pang, she thought of the flowers that Blair had sent her. Could Blair have arranged this so she’d not have to marry Leander? Did she want Kane?
The thought was ridiculous. Houston smiled. No doubt Blair was making a noble sacrifice and taking on Kane so Houston could have Lee. How sweet, but how wrong she was.
Still smiling, Houston looked toward Kane. He was staring at her intently and Houston was glad that he recognized her.
At least for a moment she was happy, but when his face darkened and he turned away, the smile left Houston’s face.
He couldn’t believe she’d arranged this switch so she could marry Leander, she thought. But of course he could.
As they drew closer to the platform, Houston tried to think of how to get out of this gracefully. Miss Jones thought she’d covered every possible situation that a lady could get herself into, but she’d never thought that a lady would find herself marrying the wrong man.
As the twins stepped onto the platform, Kane kept his head turned away, and Houston couldn’t help feeling a pang of resentment that he was going to do nothing to change positions. Didn’t he care if he got one twin or the other?
“Dearly beloved, we—.”
“Excuse me” Houston said, trying to keep her voice low so that only the five of them could hear. “I’m Houston.”
Leander understood instantly. He looked at Kane, who was still facing straight ahead. “Shall we exchange places?”
Kane didn’t look at either woman. “Don’t much matter to me.”
Houston felt her heart sink. Leander wanted Blair and Kane would take her, too. Quite suddenly, she felt as useful as a fifth wheel on a wagon.
“It matters to me,” Leander said, and the two men traded places.
Behind them, during the discussion, the audience had begun to twitter, but when Kane and Lee switched places, there was full-fledged laughter. Even though the people tried to cover their amusement, they weren’t successful.
Houston stole a glance at Kane and saw the anger in his eyes.
The service was over quickly and, when Reverend
Thomas said to kiss the brides, Lee enveloped Blair with gusto. But Kane’s kiss was cool and reserved. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
“Could I speak to you in your office, please?” she asked. “Alone?”
He gave her a curt nod and released her as if he couldn’t bear to touch her.
The four of them walked out of the room very fast and, once outside the library, people descended. Kane and Houston were quickly separated, as one guest after another wedged his way close to the bride. There was much giggling about the mix-up at the altar. Not one person could resist the temptation to remind everyone how Lee never could seem to make up his mind about which of the twins he wanted.
Jean Taggert pulled Houston aside. “What happened?”
“I think my sister thought she was doing me a favor by giving me Leander. She was going to sacrifice herself by taking the man I love.”
“Have you told Blair that you love Kane? That you wanted to marry him?”
“I haven’t even told Kane. Somehow, I felt that he might not believe, me. I’d rather show him how I feel over the next fifty years.” In spite of herself, tears sparkled in her eyes. “At the altar, he said he didn’t care whether he married me or my sister.”
Jean grabbed Houston’s arm and pulled her away from an approaching relative. “When you marry a Taggert, you have to be strong. His pride’s been wounded and he’s liable to say or do anything when he’s hurt. Find him now and tell him what your sister did, or tell him it was just an error in planning—anything—but don’t let him brood in silence. He’ll build everything into a mountain of anger, and then there’ll be no hope of reaching him.”
“I asked him to meet me in his office.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
With the beginning of a smile, Houston deftly flung the long train twice over her left arm and marched down the hall to Kane’s office.
He was standing in front of a tall window watching the people outside, an unlit cigar in his mouth. He didn’t look around when she entered.
“I’m very sorry about the mistake at the altar,” she began. “I’m sure it was just a flaw in my planning.”