A Basket Brigade Christmas by Judith Mccoy Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

arranged to what we’re serving and on to every other detail. And she’s convinced herself that what she’s planned to say is entirely insufficient.”
    The two of them had barely entered the kitchen when Lucy swept in with such force that her hooped skirt swung about her like a bell. “Thank goodness you’re here!” she cried out.
    Silas set the box of sewing paraphernalia on the table. He’d never seen Lucy so lovely. She’d coiled her dark hair about her head in a new way that made her look regal.
    She put her hand to the fringe of black lace accenting the square neckline of her day dress. “Is it too much?” She looked down, nervously trying to smooth out the black-and-white striped ivory skirt. “I didn’t want to appear to be casual about the project, but now …” She patted the wide lace extending from beneath her bell-shaped sleeves and glanced at Mrs. Jefferson. “It is too much, isn’t it? They’ll think I’m flaunting my—”
    The housekeeper interrupted her. “I haven’t changed my mind since the last time you asked me ten minutes ago. It’s perfect. They’ll expect you to look like the lady of this house, and that dress says that you are.”
    Miss Maddox turned to Silas. “What do you think, Mr. Tait?”
    He looked up. “Of …?”
    “The dress,” Miss Maddox said. “Is it too ostentatious?” She touched one of the scarlet silk rosettes at her waist.
    Silas looked over at Mrs. Jefferson, dismayed by the housekeeper’s knowing smile. “Well, Mr. Tait. What do you think? Since the opinion I’ve given at least half a dozen times since dawn doesn’t seem to have convinced her that she looks lovely, perhaps you can.”
    Silas cleared his throat. Swallowed. “I am hardly a proper judge of ladies’ fashion, Miss Maddox. However, since you’ve requested an opinion …” He could feel the warmth climbing up the back of his neck again. He could not meet Lucy’s gaze, and so he grabbed the two baskets Mrs. Jefferson had helped him bring in and motioned toward the front of the house. “You are a vision. The dress is perfect. Everything is perfect. Now, if I may, I should be preparing the display you wanted in the dining room.”

    Lucy stood at the base of the stairs in the front hall, her hands folded in a way she hoped belied the pounding of her heart. She was trembling with fear. Not just nerves but true fear, for Mrs. Collins was standing on the other side of the front door. Of course she would be the first to arrive.
    Lucy looked across to the dining room, where a perfectly composed Silas Tait stood beside the perfectly composed display of sewing goods and cloth he’d arranged atop the dining room table. He’d protested what he called “such a prominent station” and suggested that he should wait in the kitchen until she called the meeting to order, at which time he would quietly slip in and stand beside the sewing machine at the back of the room. But Lucy had insisted.
    “I need every friendly face I can muster,” she’d said. “And if I try to flee, you’re ordered to stop me.” She’d laughed nervously as if making a joke, but at the moment every fiber of her being wanted to do just that. She actually glanced behind her toward the upstairs hall.
    “You’ll be fine,” Silas said. His quiet voice steadied her.
    “He’s right,” Martha said. “Just think about the suffering you’ll relieve through this work.”
    Lucy nodded. Yes. That was the secret, wasn’t it? Serving the wounded was the thing—not what others thought of her or the house or—anything. If only the ladies would agree to help. “All right,” she said. “Let us begin.”
    Martha nodded. And opened the door.
    “How kind of you to come,” Lucy said, smiling as Mrs. Collins stepped through the doorway.
    The older woman did not even try to hide her curiosity. Instead, she ignored Martha’s offer to take her wrap and swept across the foyer to drop a calling card on the silver tray atop the hall