Biltmore Christmas Page 13

  Gingerly holding her dress, she lowered herself onto the stone bench. She never took her eyes from him.

  He sat beside her as he pulled a box from his jacket pocket. He looked into her eyes, made greener by the contrast of the ivory dress. “Selma, I brought you a Christmas present. Would you please open it and accept it as a gift of love?”

  She took the package and slowly removed the wrapping. When she lifted the lid off the small box, she gasped. She raised her face and looked at him wonderingly. It was the locket she had admired at the mercantile.

  “Please take it out.”

  She removed the heart-shaped locket and held it in her hand.

  Jacob saw a tear running down her cheek. “Here, let me.” He took the locket, stood, and placed it around her neck. As he worked with the small chain, he talked to her, his voice low. “Selma, I love you. I want to marry you.” He sat after clasping the chain. “Miss Caps and Melissa are here. They have given their blessing, along with Rosie, who helped me purchase your dress.”

  He edged off the bench and dropped to his knees. “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Large tears escaped Selma’s eyes. She took the offered handkerchief. “Oh Jacob. I have been so wrong. Last night I read Jeremiah 29:11. God does have a plan for each of us, and He has presented me with the opportunity to marry someone I love. How could I fight that? Of course I will be your wife. I’ll try hard to make you a good one.”

  Jacob stood and took her hand, coaxing her to her feet. He gently kissed her cheek. “Selma, I can only ask that you remain true to yourself. After all, you are the woman with whom I fell in love. Let’s join the others for a celebration of our Lord and a celebration of our love.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid, Jacob, but I will follow your lead.”

  “You are the most beautiful lady here. And the kindest. Hold your head high, for you, Selma, are made perfect in the Lord.” He led her to the dining table, just in time for the blessing.

  After the annual Christmas feast, George Vanderbilt gave a short speech to his friends before asking Jacob and Selma to join him at the end of the banquet table for an announcement.

  Jacob took Selma’s hand and faced her. “Selma, I love you with all my heart, and I’m sure God has placed you in my life for a reason.” He turned toward the guests. “I have proposed marriage to this wonderful lady, and she has accepted.” Jacob glanced around the room and chuckled. “I know some of you wonder why she would.”

  Laughter and a few remarks reiterated his statement. Jacob saw Betsy departing in a huff, but he continued. “We have not planned our wedding, but whether it is here or in New York, we hope you will attend. More importantly, keep us in your prayers.

  Deafening applause broke out in the banquet hall as people congratulated them. Jacob turned to see if Selma realized her acceptance among his peers. Her joyful countenance told him she understood. He took her in his arms and kissed her before everyone.

  The applause resumed even louder. Some were leaving their seats. The first ones to offer hugs were Mama Elsie and Melissa. Jacob was overwhelmed at the joy he saw on their faces.

  As the celebration continued, Jacob escorted Selma around the room and introduced her to his friends. At onepoint they stood by the door, and he glanced toward the banister circling the second floor. “Selma, look up there. Rosie is trying to get your attention.” He hugged Selma to him as she waved at Rosie.

  “Jacob, Rosie’s smile is one of the best presents we could receive.” She touched his cheek. “But she also has received a wonderful present this Christmas … the gift of salvation through the Lord of all—the baby in the manger, Jesus.”

  Jacob tilted Selma’s head toward his and kissed her again, tightening his embrace. “And so have we.”

  Sylvia Barnes thought after retiring early as a manager for BellSouth (now AT&T), she would sit on a swing and drink coffee. However, she opened a gift shop/tea room for three years, served as a part-time court clerk/deputy city clerk, and worked in her county’s after school enrichment program before finding a yellow pad on which she penned her first novel. Sylvia teaches a ladies’ Sunday school class and is active in many church activities. She and her husband, J. W., live in the country outside of Pelahatchie, Mississippi, with numerous dogs, cats, armadillos, and moles. They have two grown daughters and three grandchildren.

  A HONEY OF A CHRISTMAS

  Rhonda Gibson

  Dedication

  To Atalyse Baron. I love you, Honey Bee.

  Chapter 1

  PEGGY’S CINNAMON ROLLS

  Fall 1898

  Miss Bradford. I see you are late returning,” the head cook reprimanded. He moved on without a backward glance.

  Peggy Bradford hurried to her station. She glanced down at the recipe she’d laid out earlier, along with the proper ingredients, and then began mixing dough for her specialty, cinnamon rolls.

  She didn’t make an excuse, simply continued to work. Later Peggy would explain that she’d been stopped by a guest who had stumbled into the wrong hallway, looking for additional towels for his morning dip in the pool. She’d leave out the part where he’d invited her to join him. Heat filled her cheeks at the thought.

  She took the dough that she’d just prepared and rolled it out into a twelve-by-nine-inch rectangle. Next Peggy spread a mixture of butter and sugar over the dough. While her hands worked, her gaze moved about the busy kitchen. Kitchen cooks and assistants rushed about, preparing breakfast for the guests of Mr. Vanderbilt. Tantalizing scents ofwarm yeast and baking bread filled the air, bringing her comfort and a sense of deep pleasure in what she did.

  During the short time she’d worked here, Peggy had come to marvel at the activity around her. Men and women worked side by side to create wonderful breads and sweets for the Vanderbilt family. She couldn’t contain the happy feeling that traveled up her tummy and into her face as she realized she was now a part of the Biltmore house.

  Peggy felt deep gratitude that Mrs. Reynolds had talked her into working for Mrs. Vanderbilt. The pastry kitchen had tiled floors and walls for easy maintenance and was stocked with the latest in culinary equipment. Her work-table top was marble, which helped keep her dough from sticking to the surface.

  Her hands worked of their own accord as she rolled the dough up and pinched the seam to seal. She’d made these cinnamon rolls most of her life. At Reynolds House, she made them every day, only not in the amounts needed at Biltmore.

  Peggy cut the prepared dough into rolls and placed the cut side up in a lightly greased pan. Automatically her hand reached for the ingredients to create another batch of dough. As far as Peggy was concerned, Biltmore proved by far the grandest place she’d ever seen or worked in.

  “Miss Bradford, please join me.”

  Peggy looked up at the chef who had called her name. He was an older gentleman with a slight limp. A veined hand waved in the air as he motioned for Peggy to step into the hallway. Had the head chef given Chef McConnell the job of reprimanding her for her tardiness?

  She stood before him with her hands clasped in front of her fresh red-checkered pinafore. Her eyes met his. Of all the chefs in the kitchen, he was her favorite. Chef McConnell always had a kind word, and he enjoyed showing her how to prepare the dishes he worked on. It was a pleasure to set up his worktable in the mornings. But no matter how kind and likable he was, Peggy dreaded the scolding she felt sure he’d been assigned to administer. Peggy’s hands trembled. She clasped them tighter to conceal any movement.

  Chef McConnell cleared his throat before speaking in a quiet voice. “Miss Bradford, I realize this is your afternoon off, but would you be so kind as to make a trip to the gardens?”

  Relief washed over her as she realized he had no intention of scolding her. “Of course.” She fought to keep her lips from smiling.

  For a brief moment, pleasure softened his features. Just as quickly, the stern set of his jaw tightened. “The honey wasn’t delivered this morning, and we
do not have enough for the evening meal. If you leave shortly after lunch, you should be able to ask the head gardener for the missing honey, and they’ll bring it here in time for the last meal of the day.”

  Peggy nodded. The honey wagon normally arrived at the estate early in the morning. What could have happened to it today? She’d heard a new man had taken over the apiary; maybe he’d lost track of time.

  The chef allowed a small smile to touch his lips and eyes before composing his face once more. “Good. I knew I could count on you.” He walked back into the kitchen.

  Then it dawned on her what he’d asked. She’d have to give up her afternoon trip home. She might even have to go near an apiary. Her hands began to shake once more. The clearing of a throat drew her attention back to the pastry kitchen.

  The head chef caught her eye, frowned at her, and indicated with the motion of his head that she should return to work.

  No longer did the smell of yeast and rising bread fill her with joy. Would she have to go close to an apiary? The thought of being near honeybees filled her with dread. One sting and Peggy knew she would probably die.

  Peggy continued to make cinnamon rolls, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. The plans she’d made to go to the village to see her sister and Mama Elsie would have to wait, and she’d have to figure out a way to stay far from the actual apiary. Lord, please keep me safe as I do my job this afternoon.

  “Miss Bradford! Where are those rolls?”

  The question shook her from her thoughts, and she hurried to the oven to pull out several sheets of cinnamon sweetness. Peggy knew that she’d had a bad morning. The head chef would have no problem releasing her from duty if she didn’t focus on the job at hand. She pushed all thoughts of bees, honey, and her lost trip home from her mind.

  Later Peggy looked at the clock and sighed. Where had the morning gone? She cleaned up her worktable and waited for Chef McConnell to inspect it before allowing her to leave.

  At his quick nod of approval, she hurried from the room. Outside the door she questioned whether she should change clothes to inquire about the honey or wear her uniform. Officially she was off for the afternoon, so she could change into a simple day dress. But she’d also been asked to go to the gardens for the honey. A quick look over her shoulder told her Chef McConnell already had begun working on another pastry and that she shouldn’t bother him.

  Making the decision to go to her room and change into a day dress, she hurried down the hall.

  Mark Ludman enjoyed the cool afternoon breeze. He’d spent his morning at the apiary and the new orchard, and now he fixed the wheel on the wagon he used to deliver honey to the big house.

  He thought himself lucky to have landed such a nice job at the Biltmore estate. Thankfully his main job, the care of the apiary, didn’t take as much time now as it did in the spring and summer. The bees were preparing for winter, giving him time to help bring in the harvest.

  The sound of humming caught his attention, and he looked up from the repaired wheel. A young woman wearing a light-blue dress with a matching bonnet walked toward him. He leaned against the wagon and waited for her to draw closer. She lifted her head and allowed the cool breeze to blow the ribbons of her bonnet about her face.

  Unaware of his presence, she plucked a dandelion and blew the white cap off, a smile teasing her lips as it floated on the light breeze.

  “Good afternoon,” he called to her.

  She startled and dropped the stem, looking his direction. “Hello.”

  He knew that the jagged scar down the right side of his face, which he’d acquired as a child while playing in the barn, gave him a haggard look that frightened most women. Mark offered a smile as he asked, “Can I help you find someone?” He pushed away from the wagon and came to stand beside her on the road.

  She folded her hands within the skirt of her dress, took a deep breath, and answered. “I need to see the head gardener about delivering honey to the kitchens. It seems that we don’t have enough for this evening’s meal.”

  Mark extended his hand. “I’m Mark Ludman. I think I can help you with the honey situation.”

  Her warm palm felt small and soft within his hand.

  “I’m Miss Bradford. How can you help me, Mr. Ludman? Are you the gardener I need to see?” She pulled her fingers from his and tucked them back into the folds of her dress.

  “Not exactly. I’m more of an assistant to the gardener.”

  She lifted her chin. “I see. Then how can you help me?”

  He admired the way she handled the situation. In his experience with women, most would have been startled by his sudden appearance, and some would have even been fearful. If this young woman were either, she didn’t show it. “I can drive the honey wagon up to the main house and since it’s loaded with honey, that should take care of your problem.”

  Miss Bradford’s light-blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “Thank you. That would be most helpful.”

  Mark walked back to the wagon. He pulled himself up onto the seat, removed the brake, and clicked his tongue to get the mares moving forward. When he came even with her, Mark stopped. “May I offer you a ride?” He waited for her to decide what she wanted to do. For a brief moment, he thought she might decline his offer. Silently he prayed she wouldn’t.

  She looked up at him. “That would be most kind, Mr. Ludman.”

  “Call me Mark.” He set the brake and jumped down to assist her into the wagon.

  When she was seated and he’d climbed back onto the wagon, she replied, “Thank you, Mr. Ludman, but it would be most improper of me to address you by your given name.”

  Warm laughter burst from his lips. Mark watched a light blush travel up her neck and into her cheeks. Strong, yet modest. Was it possible he’d met the woman of his dreams on the Biltmore estate?

  PEGGY’S CINNAMON ROLLS

  Ingredients:

  1 pint flour

  1 tablespoon sugar ½ teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  2 tablespoons butter

  Milk, enough to soften dough Powdered cinnamon, to taste

  Instructions:

  Sift together flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Rub in butter; mix with milk to soften dough. Roll out ½ inch thick, spread with soft butter, granulated sugar, and powdered cinnamon. Roll up like jelly roll, cut in 1-inch slices, lay close together in buttered greased pan; bake.

  Chapter 2

  OATMEAL COOKIES

  Peggy enjoyed the sound of Mark Ludman’s laughter. She sensed deep down that he wasn’t laughing at her, but that he simply appreciated her straightforwardness. At least she hoped that was the case.

  From the corner of her eye, she admired the way his muscles worked as he guided the horses up to the big house. His dark brown hair and eyes seemed to sparkle in the afternoon sunshine. Laugh lines had formed around his mouth and face, giving him the appearance of an easy-natured man. Of course Peggy couldn’t be sure her thoughts were true, but she did enjoy entertaining them just the same. The scar that ran from his right temple to his jaw marred his otherwise handsome face.

  “What do you do at the big house?”

  Peggy realized she’d been staring and ducked her head to hide her embarrassment at being caught. “I’m one of the pastry cook’s assistants.”

  “Ah, that would explain the sweet scents of vanilla and cinnamon.” He inhaled as if smelling her.

  Peggy felt warmth fill her cheeks. “Yes, I suppose I might carry the scents of baking.”

  He laughed. “You smell like cinnamon and spice and everything nice.”

  She joined in his laughter. “Well, that’s what little girls are made of.” Once more she realized he’d put her at ease. Men normally made her feel awkward and skittish.

  “Might I ask another question?”

  Peggy felt her lips twitch. “And what might that be?”

  “How long have you worked at the Biltmore estate?” He clicked his tongue to prod the animals to move
a little faster.

  She adjusted her bonnet. “Not long.”

  He quirked an eyebrow in a silent question.

  Peggy felt she needed to explain. “Mrs. Vanderbilt visited Reynolds House on a day that I’d made cinnamon rolls. At Mrs. Vanderbilt’s request, I’m working at Biltmore during the holidays. After that I shall return to my normal position at Reynolds House. How long have you been here, Mr. Ludman?”

  “I’m new here as well. Since you work in the kitchen, I assume you have long hours?”

  She squirmed on her seat. “I work a split day, so the hours aren’t too tiring.”

  “A split day?”

  “Yes, I work from four to ten in the morning and then again from four to eight in the evening.” She looked at her hands. Her hours were different from the other kitchen staff, but that was the schedule Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Vanderbilt agreed upon. Peggy knew Mrs. Reynolds requested the split so she’d have rest in the middle of theday. She didn’t bother telling the man beside her that she also got every Sunday off to visit her family.

  Mark pulled the team up to the delivery door and jumped from the wagon. He helped her down and smiled into her eyes. His hands rested on her waist a tad too long. She stepped away. “I hope we meet again, Miss Bradford.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Ludman.” Peggy turned to walk inside.

  Just as she would have slipped into the door, she heard him say in a soft, deep voice, “Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what Miss Bradford is made of.”

  Peggy hurried to her room to savor her meeting with Mark Ludman. He seemed like a nice enough man, but men could be deceiving, at least that’s what Mama Elsie always said. Elsie Caps wasn’t really her mama, but since she’d raised her and her sisters, they’d taken to calling her Mama Elsie at an early age.

  Peggy dropped into the chair in her room and sighed. He wasn’t the handsomest man in the state of North Carolina, but he wasn’t exactly ugly, either. She found him handsome in his own charming way. She felt drawn by his warm eyes; they reminded her of brown sugar. And he had such an easy smile. The scar didn’t bother her; she felt it added character to his attractive features. She pulled her thoughts from the flaw. It didn’t matter how he acquired it. In her eyes he was still good looking.