âBusiness is good, and needing socks gives me an excuse to visit you.â Charlotte took her time, choosing two pair each of brown and black stockings, darting occasional glances at the proprietor. It was as she had feared. Though Mr. Yates had appeared chipper when sheâd entered the store, his demeanor changed when he didnât realize she was watching him. âIs something wrong?â she asked. âYou look a bit glum.â
His eyes clouded as he nodded slowly. âNothingâs the same without Prudence.â His wife of more than forty years haddied six months before Charlotte arrived in Cheyenne, and Gwen, who had known the elderly man for the half dozen years she had been in Wyoming, claimed that the difference in the manâs attitude had been dramatic. âItâs like he lost his zest for living,â Gwen had said. âPoor man.â That was one of the reasons the two women insisted that Mr. Yates join them for Sunday dinner a couple times each month. Even though Davidâs and Roseâs antics tired him, Charlotte knew he enjoyed both Gwenâs cooking and their company.
âSome days I donât even want to get out of bed,â Mr. Yates admitted. âMy sister down in Arizona keeps telling me I should move there. She says the weather would be kinder to these old bones.â He frowned as he calculated the cost of Charlotteâs purchase. When sheâd handed him the few coins, he said, âThe trouble is the store. I donât want to sell it to just anyone, not when Prudence and I worked so hard to turn it into a success. I want someone whoâll do right by the customers.â Mr. Yates paused for a moment, his expression lightening. âI donât suppose youâd be interested in taking over, would you?â
âI wish I could.â Charlotteâs heart went out to Mr. Yates and his dilemma. He had once told her and Gwen that since he and Prudence had had no children, the store was their only legacy, and they had hoped it would continue, even when they were both gone. âI donât know anything about running a store like this,â she said, wishing she had another answer for her neighbor. âItâs much different from Ãlan.â And then there was the money. She had none to spare.
The gleam in the shopkeeperâs eyes faded. âI figured youâd say that.â As his lips tightened, he nodded slowly. âItâll be all right. Iâll figure something out.â
Charlotte wished she were as confident.
 5Â
C harlotte retrieved a hat pin. Though the plain black bonnet with the heavy veil that would hide her face fit well, she would take no chance of the wind dislodging it. Once her arms were filled with packages, she would be unable to clasp the hat if it started to shift. Fortunately, this early in the morning, the wind had diminished. Even more importantly, David and Gwen were still asleep, and there would be few people on the streets. Few if any would see her, and anyone who did would not realize that it was Madame Charlotte who was approaching the boardinghouse. That was why she had chosen 5:30 as the time to make her delivery. Gwen had mentioned that Mrs. Kendall started breakfast preparations at that time but that none of her boarders entered the kitchen until close to an hour later. If Charlotte hurried, sheâd be gone less than half an hour, and neither David nor Gwen would know that sheâd left. But, just in case David wakened, Charlotte had left a note in her room, telling Gwen sheâd be back soon.
Tiptoeing, she made her way to the door, closing it as quietly as she could. Moments later, sheâd descended the stairs and was headed south on Ferguson. Mrs. Kendallâs boardinghouse was less than three blocks away, and yet as Charlotte turned onto 15th Street, she felt as if sheâd entered a different city. There were no fancy houses or shops like Ãlan here.