Free The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich by Marcia Lynn McClure Page B

hold.
    All at once the elation Calliope had felt over receiving a letter from Amoretta evaporated. She was suddenly anxious and felt unhappy. She didn’t like the attention from Tate or even Fox. And she certainly didn’t like the fact that Rowdy Gates had just stepped out of the diner next to the general store and was watching the goings-on as he placed his hat on top of his head.
    Mrs. Ackerman walked past, grinning knowingly , and said, “Good afternoon, Calliope.” Looking to Fox and Tate, she added, “Boys.”
    “Mrs. Ackerman,” Tate and Fox greeted in unison—though they didn’t release Calliope.
    Calliope felt her face heat up like a hot coal had been plopped in her head as Rowdy Gates frowned and began walking toward the place where she stood being pulled like taffy.
    “Fox. Tate,” Rowdy greeted.
    “Rowdy,” Fox returned—still holding tight to Calliope’s arm.
    “Boss,” Tate greeted —also still holding tight to Calliope’s arm.
    “You boys best get back before the foreman blows the end of lunch whistle…lest you be counted tardy and get your pay docked,” Rowdy Gates said.
    “B-but you’re the foreman, Rowdy,” Fox needlessly reminded. “And you’re still out for midday meal.”
    Rowdy grinned a little. “Yep , but I’m on my way back to the mill now. And when I blow that whistle, if you’re not…”
    Tate let go first, bowing a bit to Calliope and saying, “You have a good day now, Miss Calliope.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Chesterfield,” Calliope told him as he turned on his boot heel and headed toward the mill.
    “Yes, Calliope,” Fox said, also releasing her. “You have a good afternoon. But watch where you’re goin’ next time, all right? Maybe you ought not to walk and read at the same time , hm?”
    “Good afternoon, Fox,” Calliope said—though she thought the slight snip in her voice probably revealed how irritated she was at being reprimanded by him.
    Fox cleared his throat, turned, and headed toward the mill.
    Calliope’s blush deepened as Rowdy Gates looked to her then, an amused glimmer of understanding in his dark eyes.
    “I thought them boys were gonna yank you clean apart,” he said. “It looked like two youngsters fightin’ over the turkey wishbone at Thanksgivin’ dinner.”
    “Th-they were just concerned for my welfare, I suppose,” Calliope stammered. “I rather bumped into Mr. Chesterfield on my way. I was reading a letter and walking home, and…I-I didn’t see him there and…”
    “Well, you have a good afternoon, Miss Calliope,” Rowdy said, saving her from any further awkwardness in trying to explain the situation he’d happened upon.
    “Thank you, Mr. Gates,” she managed.
    Rowdy Gates nodded at her, touched the brim of his ha t, and turned toward the mill. Calliope watched him go, fanning herself with Amoretta’s letter—for she felt very overheated all of a sudden.
    Glancing up into the blue, sunshine-kissed sky, she mumbled, “Hmm. It must be hotter out than it looks.”
    “There you are, darlin’!”
    Calliope turned when she heard Blanche’s voice from behind her.
    Hurrying to meet Calliope, Blanche took her arm, exclaiming, “I have it, Calliope! I have found the most delicious cake recipe on the face of the earth. It was my grandma’s, but Mama and I had misplaced it somehow. But we found it today, and believe me, it will make the most scrumptious weddin’ cake ever for the Tom Thumb weddin’!”
    Instantly, Calliope was caught up in renewed excitement about the event she and Evangeline —and now many other ladies in town—were planning.
    “Wonderful, Blanche!” she exclaimed. “What sort of cake is it?”
    Blanche sighed with contentment. “It’s a buttercream spice cake, and, Calliope, I promise, you’ve never had anything at all like it. Not in all your life, even in Boston! It’s truly delectable.”
    “Oh , how divine, Blanche,” Calliope giggled. “I’m so excited that you and your mother have agreed