"Except for Hugh Morton at the Ajax."
"Yes, well, I don't know why he thinks he can look down his nose at other people. He's not as much of a prize as he thinks he is! Trust me," Syl told her. "I know."
"I'll bet you do."
"Oh, the things I could tell you if you weren't a lady!" Sylvia laughed. "Sometimes, it's all I can do to keep a straight face."
"Tell me anyway," Mary invited. "I may be a lady, but I'm old enough to learn about the sinful side of life. Besides," she reminded Sylvia, "I'm married."
They spent a few minutes swapping stories about their past, with Sylvia sharing the most colorful stories, while Mary related the antics of Reese and Faith's and David and Tessa's courtships. She finally concluding with the story of how Lee had burst into the church in Cheyenne and interrupted her wedding to Pelham Cosgrove III.
Finally Mary looked down at the watch pinned to her dress. "You'd better be going, Syl, or you won't have time to transform yourself into Silver Delight."
Sylvia chuckled. "I know. And believe me, it's taking a lot longer to do it these days. I had forgotten about the early mornings when I volunteered to help you. At the time, I didn't have as many customers, and I wasn't staying up until all hours of the morning."
"So business is improving?"
"Yes. Word has gotten out about you and Lee hiring those engineers to come back to work at the silver mine, and that they've discovered newer and bigger veins of silver. The miners are beginning to trickle back into town. You might say the saloon business is booming."
"What about the other?"
"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I was thinking of letting one of the other girls take over the running of the upstairs business until she earns enough to buy me out."
"What will you do?"
"I'd like to invest in the mine, and—" Syl looked down at her teacup and actually blushed. "I'd really like to help you teach here at the school. I think I'd make a good teacher. I'm educated, I read, my penmanship is very good, and I know my arithmetic, spelling, history, and literature. I even went to a ladies' finishing school." She looked over at Mary. "You don't have to give me an answer now. Just say you'll think about it."
"I'd be pleased to have you teach in my school, Syl. Very pleased."
"Thank you," Sylvia said. "I'm… thank you." She stopped abruptly when the words she tried to say stuck in her throat. She put her hand out and reached across the table.
"You're welcome." Mary clasped Sylvia's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know. Now go before you make me cry or you're counted tardy. Or both."
Sylvia got up from the table and gave Mary a quick hug.
Mary rose and walked with her out the kitchen door and down the back steps.
"You know, Mary," Sylvia managed at last. "It's lucky for us that Lee Kincaid burst in on your wedding. I'm real glad he carried you off and brought you to Utopia."
"So am I," Mary said. "And I can laugh about it now, because everything worked out for the best. But I was furious at the time. I thought Lee h
ad ruined all my beautiful plans."
Sylvia nodded in understanding, then turned and walked around the house. Mary stood in the darkness of the backyard watching until she saw Syl pass beneath the street lights halfway down Main Street, then she went back into the house. Mary removed the cups and saucers from the kitchen table and earned them to the sink, then went back to the table to retrieve the china teapot.
"He did ruin all my beautiful plans."
Mary looked up from the table at the sound of a man's voice and discovered Pelham Cosgrove III standing in the doorway of her kitchen.
"Pelham, this is a surprise." The tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood on end and Mary fought to keep from sounding frightened. She lifted the teapot from the table and held it in her left hand. "What are you doing here? And why didn't you let me know you were coming?"
"I came to see you, Mary," Pelham said. "Because there's no place left for me to go. And I didn't send a message ahead because I really didn't want to spoil the surprise." Pelham stepped into the room.
He was Pelham, Mary told herself, just Pelham. She thought she had no reason to be afraid of him, but her instincts told her otherwise. Pelham was different. He had changed in the weeks since she'd last seen him. He looked older. Colder. And desperate.
"What do you want with me?" Mary asked.
"I'm not sure," he admitted, "but since your Pinkerton detective husband has made it impossible for me to show my face in Cheyenne or Denver any longer, I decided to come here."