“I don't think he actually hates you.”
“He has a funny way of not hating,” Laurel said sarcastically, then immediately felt badly for degrading Celeste's father. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cruel.”
“I know. Dad's changed. He didn't always act like this. It's just been since my mother died.”
“When he pulled Adam out of the river, I saw another side to your father. I'd hoped maybe we could be friends.”
“My mother was everything to him.” Celeste's eyes turned sad. “She was wonderful.” She looked straight at Laurel. “You're lucky to have your mother.”
“I know,” Laurel said, wishing there were some way to take back the harsh words she'd said about Mr. Townsend.
Miram Dexter walked toward them. She wore white gloves, a twill skirt, and a blue velveteen blouse with a matching hat.
“I wonder why she's so dolled up,” Celeste whispered.
Miram joined them and smiled demurely. “Why, hello. How are you?” she asked, her tight nervous voice nullifying her classy dress. She sniffled into a handkerchief.
“Good,” Laurel said. “Your allergies still acting up?”
Dabbing at her nose, Miram nodded.
Laurel hoped she wouldn't have to spend too much time with the nervous woman but immediately felt guilty at her selfishness. Miram had few friends. She wasn't really a bad sort, just different.
“How have you been?” Celeste asked Miram.
“Fine, except for my allergies.” She smoothed back dull brown hair. “Poor Mama's been in bed with an awful headache all day. I almost didn't get to come. She thought it improper for a young woman to go out unescorted. She's so old-fashioned.” Miram giggled. “I finally convinced her it would be fine.” She searched the crowd. “Have you seen Ed?”
“Ed who?” Celeste asked.
“Ed Ketchum. You know, he's tall and blond.”
Laurel remembered the young man. He was a horrible person. Why would Miram ask about him? She might not be a beauty, but even Miram could find someone better than Ed Ketchum. She was too nice for a man like him.
As if reading Laurel's mind, Miram said, “Ed's really not such a bad guy. He can be very sweet.”
Laurel couldn't imagine that the man who'd challenged her father on the ship and who'd partnered up with Felix Pettersson could be sweet. “Oh,” she said. Hoping to change the subject, she asked Celeste, “So, how long do you think until the first snowfall?”
“Anytime. It's awfully cold.” She rubbed her bare arms. “I wish they'd turn up the heat. I'm thinking about putting my coat back on.”
Will Hasper climbed the steps to a small stage at the front of the room. He'd been asked to be the speaker for the night's social. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he looked out over the crowd, waiting for people to stop talking. When they didn't, he raised his arms and called, “Good evening. Welcome.” Gradually the room quieted. Will repeated, “Welcome. It's good to see so many of you here.
“The months have passed quickly. Back in May when we left our homes and headed north, most of us didn't know one another. Now we're neighbors and friends. Together we've accomplished a great deal, and we have much to be thankful for.” People clapped and cheered. Will smiled. “We have a long winter ahead of us, but from what I'm hearing tonight, it sounds like we're ready for it. However, in the months ahead we need to remember the kinship we have and be ready to help one another. Together we'll make this colony a success.” Cheers rose from the crowd.
When the people calmed, a man called out, “Don't forget there's still a lot of work to be done. The school and post office aren't finished. And we can use all the volunteers we can get.”
“Did you hear that?” Will asked. “Our kids need a place for learning. And if you talk to our postmistress, Mrs. Wilkerson, she'll tell you how badly we need a post office. Guess there's not enough room for all the mail coming and going.”
He stopped and gazed at the crowd. “But tonight's not about what we've still got to do. It's about celebrating all we've done. Please enjoy the good food. And I've been told there'll be music and dancing after we eat. First let's thank God for the food.” Will bowed his head and said a short blessing, then looked out at those gathered and said, “Enjoy.”
Laurel joined the food line along with Miram and Celeste. They moved around the table, filling their plates with a variety of family favorites—fried chicken, hot potato salad, biscuits, rolls, carrot salad, relishes, and wild meats. An assortment of cakes, pies, and cookies was at the end of the table.
The three young ladies found a table and sat. Miram barely found time to eat. She talked incessantly about trivial things, endlessly sniffled into her handkerchief, and in her strange way rearranged her glasses by crinkling up her right cheek to lift them. Laurel found her tiresome but tried to focus on what the woman was saying.
“So, my mother and I thought it would be best to use the tulip pattern. What do you think?” Miram asked.
“Tulips would be perfect,” Celeste answered, then quickly focused on Laurel and asked, “So, Laurel, how does it feel to be settled on your farm?”
“Everyone keeps asking me that.” She took a bite of carrot salad. “It's wonderful not to be crowded into that tent. I have my own room upstairs.” She lowered her voice. “But I have to admit, I don't like living with an outhouse. I can't imagine what it'll be like in the middle of winter.”
“I thought you had a chemical toilet,” Miram said. “We do.”
“There are seven … I mean six of us.” A pang of grief hit Laurel. “Anyway, it comes in handy for middle-of-the-night trips, but for all day, every day?”
“You'll get used to an outhouse,” Celeste said. “Well, maybe not.” With a tilt of her head, she flipped curls off her shoulder. “It's all I've ever known, but I still don't like it.” She grinned. “Just don't forget to watch out for moose when you're making a morning trip to the facility.”
“Really? Why?” Miram asked, her voice shriller than usual.
“They're not usually a problem, but you've still got to give them a wide berth. You never know when one might be in a sour mood. And during the rut, they're real nasty.”
“Hello, ladies,” Robert said, planting himself beside Laurel and setting a cup of coffee and a plate piled with food in front of him.
“Hi, Robert,” Celeste said, turning on her brightest smile.
He nodded at her, then turned to Laurel. “Haven't seen you since the day you moved in. How do you like it?” He took a bite of a biscuit.
Laurel looked at Celeste and Miram. “See, I told you that's all anyone asks.” The girls chuckled, and Laurel turned to Robert. “I love it. But there's still a lot of work to do before the snow falls. The barn isn't finished yet, and we've got livestock that'll need shelter before long. One of our milk cows is nearly ready to calve, and we don't want it to become food for the wolves or bears.”
“I heard Mr. Jenkins lost a couple calves to bears,” Robert said, finishing his biscuit.
