The Replacement Wife Page 6

  “What do you mean? That’s your dinner.”

  Joss grabbed the serving fork and poked the roast. “It’s ruined,” he said. “You burned it up!”

  “Nonsense,” Amy said. “It’s just well-done.”

  “Well-done? It’s still smoking on that end over there,” he said, pointing with the fork.

  Amy waved away the gray wisp that was rising from the now cinder-like tip of the tenderloin. “That’s just the crust,” she said. “It helps seal in the flavor.” Joss raised his eyebrows, but Amy continued on before he could speak. “Here, I’ll serve you.” She reached across the table and fixed his plate with a thick slice of the beef and several small potatoes. “Enjoy.”

  She set the plate in front of Joss, who immediately began cutting his meat while Amy made plates for Joe and herself.

  “This is tough as leather,” Joss grunted while he sawed away.

  “Seemed fine to me,” Amy said. By the time she sat down and picked up her utensils, Joss had just managed to cut off one bite. “You see what I mean about the crust?” Amy could see beads of sweat on Joss’s forehead, though she wasn’t sure if they were due to the exertion of cutting the meat or of chewing it.

  He finally forced himself to swallow it down, then placed both hands on the table, as if he were winded. “Well, if you meant sealing in the flavor of charcoal, then yes, I see what you mean,” he said.

  “Oh, it can’t be that bad. Maybe you just need to try a little gravy,” Amy said, carefully sliding the sauce boat across the table. “Pour a little of that on there.”

  “I don’t imagine that’s going to help,” Joss muttered.

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Joe said. He had stabbed a piece of meat and was closely studying it. “Can’t spoil it any worse than it is.”

  “That’s true.” Joss shot Amy a sideways glance and picked up the gravy boat, tilting it slightly over his plate. Instead of a slowly-moving flow of thick gravy, however, a rush of oily brown water poured out, leaving his dinner swimming in his plate.

  “What is this?” His voice had risen sharply as he pointed at the sauce boat.

  “That’s gravy, of course.”

  Joss dipped a spoon into the liquid and withdrew it; it came out entirely clean. “I’ve had tea thicker than this,” he grunted. “You’ve got a funny idea of gravy.” He pushed his plate away. “Guess I’m done.”

  “But you didn’t even try the potatoes,” Amy said.

  Joss glared down at his plate. Amy could see that his fear of another unpleasant surprise was wrestling with his hunger; after a moment, his hunger won. Joss retrieved a potato with a spoon, moving it from its bath on his plate over to a saucer, and then picked up his knife and fork. He had scarcely touched it with his knife when it skidded off the saucer and bounced across the table.

  Joe’s hand snaked out and grabbed the potato before it could fall to the floor, and his brow furrowed as he stared at the oily spud in his hand. “It’s barely warm,” he said.

  Joss picked up another potato with his fingers, then thumped it against the table. It gave a heavy, hammerlike thud. “This is raw.”

  “It might be just a little bit undercooked,” Amy said. “What with the roasting pan and everything, there wasn’t room to bake the potatoes at the same time, so I put those in when the meat was finished.”

  Joss let his hand fall into his hands and he massaged his temples. “So we’ve got no meat and no potatoes,” he muttered. “Tell me, just what am I supposed to eat tonight?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’re going to be so picky about it, you can have some pie.”

  “There’s pie?”

  “Made with some of the most beautiful peaches I’ve seen in quite some time,” she said, getting to her feet and heading to the kitchen, where the pie was cooling on a rack. She had to admit, the long hours she’d been forced to help out in Uncle Reginald’s kitchen had not been spent in vain. After watching their cook for countless hours, Amy had learned a wide range of techniques, but she had developed a particular talent for baking. The pie’s crust had come out perfectly, with a golden shine only marred here and there with spots of peach filling that had bubbled up. Amy broke off the tiniest bit of crust, so as not to spoil the appearance, and slipped the piece into her mouth. It was flaky, buttery and delicious.

  She returned to the dining room and placed the pie in the middle of the table. Joss might have been disappointed with the dinner so far, but his eyes lit up like lanterns when he saw it.

  “Well, this at least looks good,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I had dessert instead of dinner, but it looks like I’ve got no choice.”

  Amy smiled and turned to the sideboard for the pie server and plates. She cut quickly, carving out a big piece, and slid it over to Joss. Whether it was from hunger or simply bad manners, the plate had barely stopped in front of him before he’d dug in and shoved a huge forkful into his mouth. He managed to chew one time before his eyes bulged and he spit everything out into his napkin.

  “Is this supposed to be a joke?” he spluttered, sending crumbs and bits of peach all down his shirtfront.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This pie—this meat—this whole dinner! I wouldn’t feed any of this to a dog—and I don’t even like dogs!”

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “The pie,” he said. “It’s horrible. You can’t taste anything but salt.”

  “Well, I don’t know what you mean. I watched our cook make this pie a hundred times and I followed her recipe exactly,” Amy said evenly. “I used one teaspoon of sugar and one cup of salt, just like she does.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Carol blurted, barely restraining the glee in her voice. “She got it backwards!”

  Joss threw his hands up in the air before letting his fists fall heavily on the table. “Well, this is a fine mess you made. Carol, how much did you pay for that roast?”

  “Eighty cents.”

  “Eighty cents? That’s eighty cents of mine you just threw away,” he said, turning to Amy. “And that’s not even counting the potatoes and the pie.”

  “Yeah, just look at all the money you wasted!” Carol said, turning to glare at her as well. “Food ain’t free, you know. You think peaches grow on trees?”

  “Peaches do grow on trees.”

  “You know what I meant!”

  “Listen, everybody calm down,” Joe said. “It’s no use getting all upset over this. I’m sure Amy had the best intentions—”

  “Ha! Intentions don’t matter at all,” Joss spat. “Only results. You can’t eat intentions.” He turned to Amy and glared at her. “It’s no surprise your uncle wanted you out of the house.”

  In spite of the fact that everything had turned out as she’d planned, Amy felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment just then. She turned her gaze to the tabletop. Truth be told, Joss’s words had hit harder than she would have expected, and they reminded her that the only reason this whole charade had been necessary was because of the nearly hopeless situation she was in.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of the clock striking seven. The bell’s echo had barely died away when there was the sound of footsteps on the porch, followed by a knock at the front door.

  “Now who could that be?” Joe murmured. “Carol, would you go see?”

  As Carol stepped out of the room, Amy glanced over at Joe. He nodded subtly at her. They could hear a murmur of voices from down the hall, then the creak of the hallway floorboards as Carol returned.

  “There’s a young woman here. Says she wants to see Amy.”

  “Well, you might as well have her come in,” Joe said. “It’s not like she’s going to spoil dinner. Amy already did that.”

  Amy couldn’t help herself. She threw him a quick glance with anger in her eyes, but he returned her stare with a half-smile and a wink. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. All part of the plan, she told herself. I can’t take any of th
is personally. It’s all for the greater good. Must remember to breathe. Her moment of quiet was destroyed in the next moment by an ear-splitting shriek; Amy’s eyes flashed open and she let out a little shriek of panic herself as she whipped her head toward the source of the noise.

  There in the doorway, next to Carol, was a woman Amy had never seen before. She had a stunned, almost thrilled look on her face and her mouth still hung open; the screech that had startled Amy died away only slowly as the woman closed in on her.

  “Why, Amy Chase, as I live and breathe!” The woman was holding a small basket, which she put on the table before reaching for Amy’s wrists. In a split-second Amy had been yanked up out of her seat and pulled into a close embrace, as if they were long-lost friends. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!” The woman backed away slightly to hold Amy at arm’s length and get a better look at her. “I bet you never expected to see me here tonight!”

  “I...uh, no, I didn’t,” Amy said. “Who—”

  “I knew you’d be surprised,” Joe said hurriedly. “Pa, this is Esther Gill. She’s an old friend of Amy’s from back home; I ran into her down at the mercantile this afternoon.”

  Esther turned to Joss and lit up a huge, toothy smile. “Yep, there I was waiting to buy flour and I overheard your boy here talking to John Gray. My pa’s got a new girl, he says. Her name’s Amy and she’s the cutest thing you ever saw, he says. Well, he went on and on about this girl,” she said, glancing at Amy, “and I thought, shoot, that sounds like my old friend Amy.”

  “She came up and asked me about you, and it turned out that you two were friends from back home,” Joe said. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “Yes, it’s almost unbelievable,” Amy said, staring hard at Joe, who simply grinned and shrugged almost imperceptibly.

  “Esther, have a seat,” Joe said. “We were just finishing dinner, but would you like something to eat?”

  “Not if she’s got a brain in her head,” Joss muttered, though Esther apparently didn’t hear him.

  “No, thank you,” she said as she settled into a chair next to Amy. “That’s nice, but I already ate. In fact, I brought you all a little something,” she said, throwing aside the cloth that covered the basket to reveal a mound of biscuits and muffins. “I just made ‘em this afternoon. Would you like to try some?”

  “Did Amy help you with these?” Joss asked.

  Esther gave him an odd look. “No, of course not,” she said.

  “Then I don’t mind if I do.” He reached over and pulled the basket closer to inspect it before selecting several items and piling them on the tablecloth in front of him.

  “Make sure you get some of the cornbread, down there at the bottom of the basket.”

  Joss nodded but said nothing; he had already stuffed half of an apple muffin in his mouth in order to free up his hands to dig for the cornbread.

  Esther nodded approvingly and turned back to Amy. “How was the trip out? You must be happy to finally be out of Reginald’s house.”

  “I am,” Amy said. “I definitely am. And the trip seemed like it was never going to end.”

  “Didn’t it, though?” Esther asked. “It was the same for us when we came out two years ago.”

  While Esther described her family’s journey west, Amy began to have the oddest sensation. It felt like she was less of a participant in the evening’s goings-on, and more of an observer. Things were happening all around her and she was able to just sit back and watch: Joss was scarfing down the basket of goodies with something like a smile on his face; Esther was deep in the details of her own family’s trip out here, and across the table, listening closely and nodding occasionally, was Joe.

  Oh, Joe. Amy let herself relax a little bit and just watch him. Ever since she had realized that she’d agreed to marry the father and not the son, she had tried to forget about the impression that Joe had made. Here, though, with the day’s fading light spilling into the room, he was lit up a golden halo that made him hard to ignore.

  It wasn’t just the way he looked that set her imagination afire, although when staring at him now, she got the same frisson running down her spine that she’d felt the first moment she’d seen him. Now that she knew him better, however, she felt something deeper growing within. She had seen how kind and thoughtful he was, how determined he was to better himself, how hard he was trying to be a decent man. Joe would have been a good match for any young woman, but it struck her now that for her, he would have been ideal. She felt a flash of warmth across her face as a vision raced through her mind: Joe, taking her in his arms and kissing her, the thrill of his lips on hers and the warmth of his embrace. Yes, ideal was just the word.

  Was it so crazy to think about the two of them ending up together? True, he hadn’t shown much interest in her, but what son would make a display of interest in his father’s fiancée? For all she knew, he was just waiting for her to be free of her engagement to Joss, at which point he’d ask for her hand and they’d live long and happy lives, just like in the storybooks. Well, perhaps it was a little bit crazy.

  In this world, there were some things that could be and some that couldn’t, and it did nobody any good to daydream about the things that couldn’t. She had learned that lesson early on, when spending night after night imagining that she would wake in her parents’ home, only to rise and find her uncle Reginald’s sour look greeting her at the breakfast table. No, there was no way that she could end up matched with Joe; he had made it clear how important his family business was to him, and surely he wouldn’t risk all that by taking up with a woman who had refused his father. Besides, her ideas on marriage had already caused enough problems just for herself; there was no reason to bring him into it now as well.

  Amy was roused from her thoughts by a loud, rumbling belch from Joss. Amy turned to see that he had decimated the basket, leaving only the crumb-filled cloth within.

  “I have to tell you, that was some fine baking.”

  “You liked them, then?” Esther asked.

  “They were delicious,” Joss said, barely stifling another burp behind his wrist.

  Esther beamed. “It’s nice to have a man appreciate good cooking.”

  “Well, after tonight it was a welcome change. You’re quite a baker,” he added, without bothering to even look at Amy as he got to his feet. Carol, however, made sure that Amy saw the smirk on her face.

  “I’ll be taking my brandy in the parlor,” Joss said as he headed for the hall. “Let’s go, Carol. Time for my foot rub.”

  Carol’s smirk quickly died as she followed him out.

  Joe waited until they could hear the squeak of the springs in his father’s chair, then he quickly went to close the door. “Sorry I didn’t have time to warn you ahead of time, Amy,” he said, turning back toward the women. “Things came together at just the last minute.”

  Amy shook her head as if in shock. “I can see that,” she said. “But what things came together? Who are you?”

  “My name’s Esther, just like I said. Joe just told me enough about you to make it sound like we knew each other from back East.”

  “We met through Ruth Broder, down at the marriage agency,” Joe said.

  “So your plan was to invent a friend for me?”

  “Not quite. That was just to get her in the door.”

  “From what Joe here told me, you need a little help, and so do I,” Esther said. “We’ll do each other a favor and it’ll turn out best for everybody.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Amy, ever since you asked for my help I’ve been trying to think of what to do,” Joe said. “And I don’t think it’s going to be enough if my father’s just unhappy with you. We have to give him another choice as well. That’s where Esther comes in.”

  Amy couldn’t help staring at her in disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re going to marry Joss?”

  “If he’ll have me.”

  “Esther, don’t take this wrong, but are you sure yo
u want to do that?”

  “Why not? Rich man like that? Big house like this?” She took a long look around the room, as if appraising the furnishings. “Yeah, I think I can do that. Gonna be a nice change from how things are for me now.”

  Amy unconsciously bit her lip. “Joe, I don’t know about all this.”

  “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

  “No, it’s just...well, we’re flat-out lying to your father now,” she said. “I mean, I just met her and now he thinks we’re old friends.”

  “Oh, it’s barely even a lie,” Esther said. “You seem nice. I’m nice. We’re practically friends already. Besides, girls like us got to stick together and help each other out, you know?”

  “I guess,” Amy said. She let her gaze fall to the tablecloth while she tried to sort out everything that had happened this evening. “So we make Joss think I’m useless around the house. Joss falls for Esther, breaks things off with me, pays me something for the trouble and I’m a free woman again,” Amy said.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “I wonder what I’ll do after that.” Amy’s voice was loud enough to hear, though soft enough that she might have been speaking to herself.

  Joe let out a long breath, as if the same question had been worrying him as well. “That part,” he said, “you’ll have to figure out yourself.”

  Chapter 7

  Amy had learned quickly that when living with somebody like Joss, who seemed naturally grumpy, it was difficult to understand when things were going well and when they were going badly. Combined with the fact that they were hoping to make things go badly—which actually meant that they were going well—it was enough to make one’s head spin. For now she was trying not to think about it too much, and just aiming to demonstrate her ineptitude at every opportunity.

  Joss had insisted on returning Carol to her cooking duties, but Amy had in turn insisted on helping out with the other chores. In the days since, she had managed to put her stamp on nearly every area of the household. She had broken nearly as many dishes as she’d washed. She had gone to the market and returned with as many broken eggs as good ones. She had just last night smoked Joss out of the parlor after she’d started a fire before opening the damper, and she was now finished with his shirt.