Page 30 of Wyoming Promises
“Miss Lola!” Mr. Anthony greeted her. “How-a you doing this fine day?”
“Very well, thank you, Mr. Anthony. It is a beautiful morning out there.”
“You come to order your seeds?”
Lola laughed. “I was just thinking about that. Maybe next week. Today I’m only here for some staples.”
“Ah, and perhaps to take a look through the new spring catalog? Just arrived last-a week....” Mr. Anthony drew his words out in a cajoling tone. “Latest ladies’ fashions for any stylish young girl.” A young woman of twenty-three could hardly be considered a girl by anyone in Quiver Creek other than Mr. Anthony, who had been an old man as long as Lola had known him.
She leaned over the counter and patted his meaty fist. “No wonder you’ve managed to stay in business so long, sir. You certainly know how to charm your customers into purchasing more than they intended. You know all too well I’ll have to take the time to look through that catalog today, don’t you?”
“I only know you always look-a so stylish, and that warm spring days make the ladies itch for a fresh touch to their wardrobe. My dear Maria, God rest her soul, she say to me every year about this time, ‘Cecil, when you going to get those new bonnets for the window?’ Then, soon as they come, she make the display in the window, and one of those-a bonnets come home with her and never make it to the window.” He smiled fondly, rubbing strong hands along the counter and giving it a gentle thump. “My Maria, she always such a beautiful woman.”
Lola squeezed his hand. She never knew the late Mrs. Anthony, save through the love this man still held for her. “Then you must have made quite the handsome couple.”
“Beh!” Mr. Anthony waved a gentle hand at her. “You charm an old man. Anything else I can do for you?”
Lola stepped among the tables and shelves, picking up the toiletries she needed. “Not today. I only need a few things, but I will take a look at that catalog.”
Mr. Anthony bent to pull the thick volume to the end of the counter. Often the latest trends weren’t practical for any woman of Quiver Creek, let alone a woman of her profession, but she still enjoyed looking to see if there were any she could accommodate for her own wardrobe. She thought of women like Mattie, her flamboyant style, compared with her own plain shirtwaists and skirts. No wonder men like Bridger Jamison took more notice of Mattie than her.
Lola stopped short, glancing at Mr. Anthony as if he read her thoughts...or noticed the blush crawling across her face. Instead, she found his back to her as he dusted cans stacked on high shelves behind the counter. The twinge in her chest caught her off guard. Why should she be jealous of Mattie? Or of anyone, for that matter, who could catch the eye of Bridger Jamison and rowdies like him who wandered through town?
But it did remind her, he had skills she needed. And Mr. Anthony had the supplies. “Has a Mr. Jamison been in to order pine boards? I told him they could go on my account. I’m anxious to have him start his work for me.”
Mr. Anthony’s head snapped around. “The order should be in by early next week.” He adjusted his spectacles over his firm gaze. “This man, he is doing a good job for you?”
“He needs the supplies before I can check his skill, but he appears to be a hardworking sort. He’s been in the shop for several days, cleaning and organizing the tools to his own liking. I know Ike keeps him busy with the hotel construction, too.”
Mr. Anthony landed his fist on the counter with a thud. “Oh, yes, Mr. Tyler keeps him very busy these days. Is he bothering you?”
Lola shook her head. She felt his care wrap around her like a grandfather’s sweater. “He only stops in to get the key and return it most days. He’s there for an hour or so, early in the mornings before he starts work for Ike. Longer on Mondays.”
“You a big girl, Miss Lola, a smart girl. But you watch yourself with this Mr. Jamison. He hides something, and he works for Mr. Tyler, and that’s two-a strikes against him already!”
Lola bit back a smile. Mr. Anthony didn’t approve of Ike Tyler any more than her father had. Ike had proved himself a philandering cad, and to have discovered it before a walk down the aisle with him flooded her with gratitude.
But men could change. Ike had been nothing but helpful and supportive of her decision to continue her father’s business after his death. Sometimes she wondered if he was giving her time to mourn before suggesting they take up where they’d left off. While she could not entirely forget the heartbreak he’d caused, nor excuse his choice of business, she couldn’t deny he had done more than a mere friend would have in the months since Papa died.