Tracie Peterson: Dawns Prelude

"I am sorry to hear that," Evie said absentmindedly

Jeannette touched her hand to her head. "Sometimes even my hair pains me."

Evie shrugged. "Perhaps you should cut it off."

"You are speaking nonsense. Does one cut off one's head just because it pains them? I'm merely trying to help you understand the degree to which I suffer."

Probably like I'm suffering right this minute, Evie wanted to retort. She remained silent, however. For several moments neither sister said a word. Jeannette stuffed her mouth with lemon tarts and motioned the waiter to pour more tea.

"Well, I know our brothers will not rest until this matter is resolved," Jeannette said after a long sip from her teacup. "I'm glad that they are working to see it made right. I can hardly sleep nights, knowing she is in our mother's house, probably stealing the very heirlooms that belong to us. I cringe when I think she might have already taken the sherry glasses that Grandmother Beecham gave Mother."

"Oh, be reasonable, Jeannette. Lydia never cared about the possessions our parents owned."

"You think not? I believe she played a coy game with you. She might have seemed a friend, but she was conspiring all the time behind our father's hack."

"Conspiring for what?"

"For the property-the money. She was never happy-never content."

Evie rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "Our father beat her and very nearly held her imprisoned in that house. How could you possibly expect her to be content?"

Jeannette's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead-its bad luck."

"Bad luck seems to haunt this family." Evie set aside her teacup and napkin. "Nevertheless, I hardly believe Lydia wants to keep anything that belonged to our father. And she doesn't drink, so she'd have little use for sherry glasses."

You are so naive. You believe her to he a good woman, but she has caused nothing but misery and pain to this family."

"Like the misery and pain she caused when she nursed us hack to health when we had measles? Or how about the time we muddied our Sunday dresses and knew Father would beat us senseless when he saw what we'd done? Lydia took the dresses and cleaned them before Father arrived home."

Jeannette sniffed into her handkerchief. "She was always lying to him like that."

"She was not. She never lied to him at all. Lydia had the dresses completely repaired before Father returned, and he never knew the difference. Can you not even acknowledge her kindness?"

"I refuse to," Jeannette replied. "It was motivated by selfish ambitions."

Evie shook her head. "How does cleaning a child's dress reveal any type of selfish desire? Lydia was only trying to keep us out of trouble. You have always been the kind of person who seems to thrive on seeing people get their comeuppance, so I don't expect you to understand her desire-"

Jeannette gasped. "How can you say such a thing? I am your sister. You would side with that… that… greedy, conniving woman over me?"

"How is it that she's a greedy and conniving woman when the wealth she's been given has been placed at her feet by the actions of our father and hers?"

"But it was never intended to be that way, and you know it. My own husband finds the situation disturbing. He says that Lydia probably had something to do with all of this. Possibly she tampered with the will."

"Herman Stone is only disturbed because you stood to inherit a good portion of the money and stocks owned by our father. Honestly, Jeannette, I am not the simpleton you believe me to he."

Straightening her shoulders, Jeannette dismissed the topic. "The weather has been unseasonably warm. Mr. Stone believes we might anticipate storms."

"Mrs. Stone," a voice called from behind Evie. "How good to see you. I am surprised, however. Your father has not long been dead. Isn't it a hit early for you to he out in public?"

Evie recognized the shrill, accusing tone of Merdina Winchester. Glancing up, she found the older woman accompanied by her busybody friend Rhoda Sterling, wife of Nash Sterling.

Jeannette was clearly unfazed. "We made our dear father a promise not to spend our time in mourning. As you can see, we have even set aside the wearing of black at his request." She paused and sighed. "Of course, it was hard to do so. We did worry what society might think, but our father's wishes were far more important than what gossips and such could say"

Merdina raised her chin in a rather hostile defiance. "And how could your father have elicited such a promise? Surely he was unaware his demise was soon to be upon him. Why in the world would such a topic even be discussed?"

Evie looked to Jeannette in expectation of what she might say. Jeannette was never at a loss for words, and this time was no exception.

"Our father was a practical man, as you well know. He, of course, did not realize his life would be required of him at such a young age. He was only fifty-four, you know." Jeannette seemed to ponder this for a moment while the two women waited for her explanation. Evie had seen her sister use this tactic on more than one occasion when she wanted to prove the point that she was well in charge of the conversation.

"But being a man of great wisdom, he knew his time would come one day," Jeannette continued. "He took us aside and told us in no uncertain terms that we were not to waste our life in contemplation for the dead. He wanted no mourning period no funeral wreaths or gowns of black crepe. He requested that no social gathering he set aside on his behalf. And while it is hard to face the questioning of those who do not understand, the important thing is, we are doing his will." She gave a sniffle into her handkerchief as if she might burst into tears and then added, "Just as Jesus did His Father's will."

Evie wanted to laugh out loud but instead bowed her head. It was as if she had uttered a silent amen to her sister's declaration.

"See now, you've upset my sister. There, there, Genevieve, you mustn't let the ill will of others disturb you so."

Merdina gave an audible huff, while Mrs. Sterling said nothing. Evie looked up and met their stern expressions but remained silent.

Rhoda Sterling patted her friend's arm. "Come, Merdina. We should leave them to their… mourning."

Evie didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice. She would have giggled had Jeannette not fixed her with a fierce stare. Once the ladies moved away from their table, Jeannette leaned forward. "Let's go. I will not sit here to he judged by the likes of them." She got to her feet and pulled her shawl close. "Oh, and would you mind paying, I'm afraid I forgot my reticule."

"Of course," Evie said, having already anticipated the request. Jeannette Gray Stone never paid for anything. It was her way of holding on to her allowance for secret vices, such as her love of brandy.

A few days later, Dwight Robinson arrived at the Gray mansion to bring Lydia the tickets for her trip.

"It won't he an easy journey," he told her. "I've arranged for one of my young clerks to accompany you west to San Francisco. Complications can occur that make such trips uncomfortable, so I'm glad you won't travel alone on the train."

Lydia examined the telegram Robinson handed her. It contained brief information about her ship, the Newbern, a steamer owned by the Quartermaster Department.

"I'm told," Robinson said, "the ship is not all that large. It is used to haul supplies to Alaska and often carries a few passengers. This telegram is from a friend of mine in San Francisco, Ernest Woodruff. He assured me he could arrange your passage. He will have the ticket ready for you, but you must be in San Francisco by the twenty-fifth of April, when the ship will head out."