Free Embrace the Day by Susan Wiggs Page B

Greenleaf burst into tears. Genevieve swallowed hard to relieve the tension in her throat. She, too, felt like weeping with relief. After all the months of being alone, wondering whether she'd ever do anything other than scratch out a meager existence on her lonely farm, her life was suddenly full of plans and people and hope.

    Dancer's Meadow was a tiny hamlet embraced by the Rivanna and Dancer's Creek, dwarfed by the line of the Blue Ridge to the west. Its single street, unpaved and dotted by tree stumps, was lined with a few buildings that managed to look neat despite the dust.
    The town boasted one tavern. Its name, the King's Arms, was the only grand thing about it. Walls of rough-hewn timber and plaster surrounded the dirt-floored taproom, which was furnished with stump-legged tables clustered around a large central hearth.
    A few patrons had gathered at the front door to look across the road at the trading post. Roarke joined them when he heard Genevieve's name mentioned.
    "Lookee there," said Elkanah Harper, gesturing with his mug of cider. "The Widow Culpeper's got herself a gang o' slaves." She was standing on the dock, supervising the unloading of Luther Quaid's boat.
    "Lot o' seed there," said Simon Gray, the barkeep.
    Elk Harper's boy, Wiley, came running into the tavern, puffing with exertion. "They ain't slaves," he announced. "I heard Mrs. Culpeper say they was business partners. They're gonna raise tobacco."
    Roarke couldn't suppress a grin at the open-mouthed astonishment on the men's faces. They'd always regarded Gennie with curiosity and not a little resentment; she'd made it clear from the start that she was quite happy without a husband.
    He wasn't at all surprised to hear of the plan. It was exactly like her, plunging headlong into a plan so audacious that it just might work.
    "Tobacco, eh?" Elkanah slurred. He liked to call himself a philosopher so as to excuse his disdain for an honest day's work, but everyone else knew him as the town drunk, one who had a tune for every occasion. "What's a green Londoner know about tobacco?"
    The other men laughed in concurrence. "She'll be wiped out by summer," Simon claimed. "Maybe then she won't be so disdainful of us menfolk."
    Roarke knew then that Simon had been one of Gene victims.
    "Like to lay odds on that, Simon?"
    The barkeep laughed. "Hell, yes, if you're fool enough to bet in her favor, Roarke." Simon scratched his head. "I'll give you three to one she doesn't even see a crop through to the first harvest."
    Roarke raised his mug. "Done," he said, and took a long drink to Gennie's health.

    Seth Parker had hewn a stump into a low seat for Amy. She called it her weeding stool, and the profusion of herbs and flowers that grew around it attested to her care. Seth brought out two stools from the house so that Amy and her friends could sit in the herb garden in the soft autumn sun.
    Genevieve sipped her tea, savoring its rich herbal flavor. "This is lovely," she said to Amy. "What is it?"
    "Raspberry, comfrey root, sassafras. Seth won't allow a single leaf of English tea in our house."
    "Roarke is the same way," Prudence admitted. "He's very much in sympathy with Boston and won't stand for paying the tax." She set her cup aside with a little
moue of
distaste. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, "But I managed to lay in a supply of good English tea. Rather dear, but Roarke knows nothing of it."
    Genevieve and Amy exchanged a look. Amy excused herself to check on the bread she was baking. Genevieve forced the matter of the tea from her mind and turned her eyes to the brooding line of the Blue Ridge to the west.
    "It's beautiful here, isn't it, Pru?" she said.
    Prudence shrugged. "In a wild sort of way, I suppose, it is." Catching the look on Genevieve's face, she added, "I know you're disappointed in me, Genevieve. But I just can't be happy here."
    "Good God, Pru, why not? You've a lovely house, a husband who treats you like a queen—"
    "I know,"