Free A Chance at Love by Beverly Jenkins Page B

noticed on her initial visit. “What’s behind that door?” she asked curiously.
    â€œThe attic,” Bebe said. “Uncle Jake says grandpa lived up there before he died. We’re not allowed up there.”
    â€œI see. Well, lead on.”
    Loreli followed where the girls led and was once again struck by the interior’s lack of frills. There were no prints or framed pictures on the walls, no knick-knacks, doilies or fancy lamps. In the sitting room that also served as the dining room was a settee—old, but clean, and in a corner by the far wall, a serviceable wooden table and chairs. That was it. There were no end tables, no china cabinet, or hutches of any kind.
    It took her a moment to get settled on the terribly lumpy settee, but she kept her face free of complaints as the girls took spots at her side.
    Bebe raised her eyes to Loreli and asked, “What did you want to talk to us about?”
    â€œWell, I suppose I should start at the beginning. Yesterday your uncle stopped by my room and asked me if I wanted to be your mama.”
    The girls looked stunned. Dede finally gasped, “He did?”
    Loreli nodded. “Yes, he did. What do you think of that idea?”
    The girls shared a silent glance, then Bebe answered excitedly, “We like that idea very much, Loreli.”
    Loreli smiled. “I like the idea too, but—”
    â€œBut what?” Dede asked in a worried voice.
    â€œI’m only going to stay until he finds a real mama for you girls. Shouldn’t take him more than a year, he thinks.”
    â€œAnd then you’d go?” Bebe asked.
    Loreli nodded solemnly. “Yes, pumpkin, I would.”
    Neither girl had much to say after that. The twins shared another look, then Bebe asked Loreli, “Can Dede and I talk by ourselves?”
    â€œCertainly. How about I step out onto the porch? You can come and get me when you’re done.”
    The girls agreed.
    Loreli struggled to her feet. As she left, she swore the settee was stuffed with potatoes and that it had left bruises all over her behind.
    Out on the porch, Loreli looked out over the blue-skied horizon, at what might very well be her home for the next year or so. There wasn’t another house for miles. This could be a lonely, isolated life for a woman accustomed to the fast-paced, hurly-burly, comings and goings of the big cities. There’d be no piano players, loud saloons, or big shops like New York’s Bloomingdale Brothers to spend her hard-earned gold in. There were no high-priced hair dressers, well-known dressmakers, or fancy candy stores. She’d have the companionship of the girls and the brides from the wagon train and little else. Living here would be like falling off the face of the earth in many respects; no one from her past would think to track her here unless she told them where to look. Admittedly, she found that to be a blessing of sorts. The straitlaced Reed and his neighborswould undoubtedly be disturbed by the types of people she called friends, not because her friends were unsavory individuals but because of the way they made their living. Her longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Oliver, would undoubtedly faint upon receiving a telegram announcing Loreli’s plan. Amused by the thought, Loreli just hoped her old friend recovered enough to be able to gather up all the items she would want shipped.
    Loreli walked to the edge of the long porch and scanned the cornfields and other crops stretching off in the distance. She took in the barns, the hogs pens, the two milk cows grazing in the field, then smiled at the sight of a line of baby ducks waddling single-file behind a brown, feathered parent. There were chickens scratching about, two sheep dogs pacing about as if on patrol, and two long-necked geese causing a commotion near one of the barns. The geese were repeatedly charging and squawking angrily at a young goat tied to a post. The goat was fending off the charges