RR05 - Tender Mercies by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online

if the business continued to pick up as it had been.
    She set the food in front of the man. “You know my name, but . . .”
    “Oh, pardon me.” He half rose and ducked his head. “I’m Alfred Drummond, proud purveyor of Singer sewing machines, the latest invention to make life easier for America’s women.”
    “Sewing machines?” Via some of the others who provided her with merchandise for her store, Penny had heard tell of some newfangled machine that could sew faster and stronger than anyone with a needle.
    “Wait until you see how fast you can sew a seam.” He talked around a mouthful of molasses cookie. “Making a dress takes no time at all. And strong, just like store bought.” He slurped his coffee and dunked the crisp cookie again. “Why, you could carry a line of Singer sewing machines right here in your store, like you do the John Deere plows outside.”
    Sewing had never been Penny’s favorite pastime, so when he said speed, he had her undivided attention. “How much are the machines?”
    “See those curtains up there, why you could hem a houseful in a short afternoon.” He drained his cup. “If I could set one up and show you, I know you would be both surprised and pleased. Every woman in Blessing will want one.”
    Penny glanced at the clock. Anner Valders, who did the bookkeeping for the bank and sometimes worked in the store for her when cousin Ephraim was needed elsewhere, had asked if he could go home early today. Since he never asked for favors, she had agreed.
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time today. Will you be coming back through here again?”
    “I can wait.”
    “Until tomorrow?” Hjelmer had gone to Grafton on the morning train, or she would ask him. There was no one else unless Ephraim came back early too.
    “I could set it up in a corner of your store, and then if any ladies come in, they could come and see what I was doing. Surely you have some tea towels or sheets or something that needs hemming.”
    If he only knew . Her basket of sewing and mending had been mushrooming lately. Somehow she just never got to it. And with all her dinner guests, she needed more napkins every day, as well as tablecloths. Even though she knew the railroad men ate in cookshacks at long trestle tables and were lucky if the plates were clean, she made sure they had a taste of home in her kitchen. If only she had room and time to set up more tables.
    If Bridget doesn’t build that boardinghouse, I will. And hire her to run it . The thought made her catch her breath. That’s what she would tell Hjelmer the next time the discussion arose. And since he already thought she had more than she could handle, he would be forced to agree to his mother’s petition for a loan.
    “Miz Bjorklund.” Anner Valders’ call from the store brought her back from her musings. She looked up to find Mr. Drummond staring at her. He must think her addled.
    “Coming,” she called to Anner, then nodded to the man at her table. “Come, I’ll show you a place and bring you some muslin to hem for napkins.”
    “Thank you. You won’t regret this, you know.”
    A long whistle blew south of town. As the train drew nearer, the floor began to shake, and the pots hanging above the stove rattled together. Since Valders was leaving, she would have to put the mail out too. And she hadn’t set the chicken to roast for supper yet. They might be having pancakes again. She could always serve chicken and dumplings tomorrow to the dinner crowd.
    “Mail’s here,” sang out the conductor. She heard the sack thunk on the counter in the store.
    “Come, Mr. Drummond, I am needed in the store.”
    She showed the man where to set up his machine, provided the chair he asked for, and took over from Anner Valders in sorting the mail, inserting it into the slots with the names of the area families written below.
    “See you tomorrow, then?” Valders untied his apron.
    “Sure enough.” Penny reached into the peppermint stick jar.