cabin; she didn’t know who she’d be in a dress, how she would act, what she would say to her grandparents when she saw them for the first time. In her cabin, she was brilliant. In this world, she didn’t even know how to fasten the shoes they’d seen in a storefront window.
Sometimes Mitch would look at her as if she were something hateful, a dark intense look she didn’t understand. As they stood on the side of the street, he was giving her one of those dark looks. She put that look on the long list of things she didn’t understand.
“Let’s see if we can find you a dress. You ever wear one?”
“Of course I did when I was young. But when I started helping out my father more, it made more sense to wear pants. He didn’t care for it at first, but when I outgrew my dresses he let it go. It’s a bit difficult to hunt in the winter wearing a skirt. The last time I tried to put a dress on, it didn’t fit, and there wasn’t enough material to alter it.”
“When was that?”
“My father’s funeral.” Genny looked away, not wanting to think about it. It had taken her two days to dig a grave, for the ground had already started to freeze. She’d wanted to look her best when she read the Bible before his grave and said good-bye, but none of her dresses had come close to fitting.
When they walked into the dress store, three pairs of feminine eyes looked at them with something close to horror. Genny smiled. “As you can see, I clearly need a dress.”
“Take off your hat,” Mitch whispered, leaning toward her, and she pulled it off, her head feeling naked and her whole being somehow more exposed.
Two of the women looked like a mother and daughter, both wearing fancy dresses and fancier bonnets. She curled her fists into the brim of the battered hat that had once belonged to her father. The third woman, Genny assumed, was the shop owner, who stared at Genny as if she’d just heard a pony ask for a dress. The shop owner looked at Mitch, who was standing slightly behind Genny, and suddenly smiled when he pulled out his billfold.
“Oh, you poor, poor dear. Of course we can find something for you.”
Mitch nodded his head slightly. “Thank you, ma’am.” The words were polite enough, but there was steel behind them that Genny didn’t understand.
“I have dresses, of course,” Genny said. “But I daresay they wouldn’t be appropriate for train travel. My mother brought her best gowns from London, you see, and I hardly would have use for a ball gown, would I? And Mama was much taller than I am at any rate and I haven’t had time to alter them.”
The smile that the shopkeeper had plastered on her face, softened. “Traveling are you?”
“Yes, to New York and then on home to London. So I’ll need something for comfort, ma’am.”
“Please, you may call me Mrs. Courtland,” the owner said, ushering her over to the dresses.
“I am Genevieve Hayes and this is Mitch—”
“Hayes. Her husband.”
Genny nearly burst out laughing, but when Mrs. Courtland narrowed her eyes, she smiled brightly. “ Just married, as a matter of fact,” Genny said, darting a look to Mitch. His lips twitched slightly, and he narrowed his eyes in a subtle warning.
“Oh, lovely,” Mrs. Courtland said. “Newlyweds. And you without any pretty dresses.” She gave Mitch a look of reproach. “We’ll remedy that, won’t we? When are you leaving? Perhaps you have time for me to create something for you.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Mitch said, putting an end to that thought. Genny looked at him curiously, wondering why, when Mrs. Courtland was being so kind, his tone was rather tight. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable in a lady’s store.
Mrs. Courtland began wading through the dresses, once in a while holding one up against Genny, clucking her tongue as she placed it back on the rod.
“Mrs. Hayes,” Mrs. Courtland said, darting a quick look at Mitch. “I’m going to have to measure you. It’s impossible