Free Constance: Bride of Florida (American Mail-Order Bride 27) by Patricia Pacjac Carroll

passengers?”
    “Oh, Captain wanted you safely ashore ahead of them. He don’t trust that one guy. Shady fella if you ask us. Have a good journey, Miss.”
    And they were gone. She was once again alone and on a dock in a city, she knew nothing about. The warm feelings she’d had with Stubby and Captain Gordon fled as if a storm had blown them away.
    Chills crept down her spine. She looked toward the buildings and began the long walk down the pier. Men tended to boats. Mostly fishing boats, she figured. A few made comments but most were busy.
    She surveyed the men at the end of the dock, wondering of E. Ferris was here to meet her. But by his letter, he didn’t expect her for another week. Clouds scudded in from the gulf and covered the sun and its warmth. It might be Florida, but the wind held a definite chill.
    The smell of fish was overpowering. To her right, she saw a stately home overlooking the waters. How lovely to live in such a place. A far cry from the dark bricked tenements she’d known as home in Lawrence, but the meager wages from the factory had supported little else.
    She pondered her next move when she saw a small café on the corner. She stepped onto the sidewalk, had to reach out to get the support on the wall of a big building, and then walked on. She laughed at being wobbly on dry land because it wasn’t moving.
    A man was just leaving the café and held the door for her. She scooted in, fighting her old feelings of wanting to be invisible. Mad at herself, she turned to the man. “Thank you.”
    He smiled and let the door close.
    Hmm. Well, he had a light build and sandy brown hair. Could he be E. Ferris? At least he’d been kind. Bolstered by her courage and that she’d used her voice and not that of a mouse, she sat at one of the tables, set her satchel down, and rubbed her left leg. Port leg, she laughed to herself.
    A young waitress came over to her. “What can I get you?”
    “Coffee.”
    “Right up. You’re new here aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I just came in on the Journeys end. ” Constance understood why her legs were hurting. She could barely make out the ship and hadn’t realized how far the dock had been from the café.
    Tapping the tag on her chest, the waitress grinned. “I’m Jenny. My mother owns the café.”
    Shaking the hand offered, her heart glowed with warmth. “I’m Constance.” She didn’t think the girl needed a last name. Jenny hadn’t offered hers.
    “Let me get you that coffee.” She rushed to the counter and grabbed a cup.
    Constance breathed a sigh of accomplishment. She was going to set her own course instead of being run over by life. She had enough money, thanks to E. Ferris, to buy some new clothes and find a room for at least a month.
    She had to admit, he had been more than generous, but she wasn’t going to marry just anyone. Even if she’d agreed to come to meet him, they still had to approve of one another. She was sure that must be how the mail-order bride thing worked. She’d been afraid to ask questions when she’d picked the paper up at Roberta’s.
    With a grin, she took a sip of the coffee Jenny had set before her. Yes, she was on her way to making a life for herself. She thought of the prayers she’d said on the ship. More than she’d ever prayed in her life except maybe before her daddy had died.
    A moment of doubt afflicted her as she considered how little good the prayers had done for her parents. They were dead and she was alone. She took another sip and let the warm liquid soothe her.
    Today was a different day. She was a different woman. Both Stubby and the captain had said she was worthy. A treasure and a jewel. That was how she needed to see herself. Perhaps God saw her that way, too. She’d have to buy a Bible and search it out.
    Finished with her coffee, she waved Jenny over.
    The girl came to her. However, Jenny didn’t really look any younger than herself. “I was wondering, is there a hotel or boarding house