The Clocksmith of Her Dreams, page 14
The door opened with a creak and a little plume of dust from the floor.
“Anyway, when the mine closed, a lot of businesses found that with fewer people in town, they couldn’t manage,” Mr. Barnes said as he led them into the space. “The bakery closed then too, although not because of the mine. The baker died of old age, I think it was.”
Milly’s heart raced as she stepped inside and promptly sneezed. There was so much dust. It lay in a thick layer over everything as though this place hadn’t been disturbed in an eon.
“I thought someone said the apothecary was using this as a storeroom?” Oliver asked as he too entered the room, leaving his larger footprints in the dust.
Mr. Barnes turned and laughed, his blue eyes bright and cheerful. “Oh heavens no. That’s next door. They’ve been renting that space as their drying room and whatnot for ages. No, this space was only ever a bakery.”
He turned, looking around the empty store. “We kept hoping that someone would come and start up another one.” He smiled at Milly. “Perhaps, we have finally gotten lucky?”
Milly held her nose and nodded. “I think it’s wonderful,” she said. In her mind’s eye, she could see how the place would look with racks of hot loaves just out of the oven cooling to the side. There would be large tables in the middle with flat-bottomed woven baskets holding the rolls and buns. Then there would be other spaces where what her mother called the “fancy breads” would be on display.
Behind the counter, she’d keep all the sweet stuff; the cinnamon rolls, custard slices, eclairs, and croissants, as well as the cupcakes and cookies. The whole place would smell of sugar and hot bread, warmth, and deliciousness. She could almost smell it.
Turning to the window, this time from the inside, Milly could see the stands she would have Oliver and Robert make for her to display her multitiered, delicately decorated cakes on. Oh, it would be wonderful.
“Can we see the kitchen?” she asked. She couldn’t let herself get carried away. She had to make sure this space was exactly what she needed before getting over-excited.
“Well, of course,” Mr. Barnes said.
He pushed through some doors that swung in hinges like saloon doors. The room beyond was not well lit. That could be because of the grime on the windows. It was a large space with a range that was almost all oven. There were three oven doors, and Milly just about swooned with delight.
“The baker had the range specially made,” Mr. Barnes said. “The ovens are large, as you’ll see.”
He leaned in and pulled one of the doors open. In a flash, something large, grey, and squeaking came flying out at them. Milly shrieked and jumped at Oliver. He stood his ground, a hand on her arm.
“Oh, my goodness!” Mr. Barnes shrieked too. “Was that a rat? It was huge!”
“It most certainly was,” Oliver said. He cleared his throat as they all pulled themselves together. The rat was long gone disappearing through a hole in the back wall of the kitchen.
“I do hope that vermin extermination will be included should Milly decide to rent this place?” Oliver asked. “After all, we can’t have a bakery with rats in it.”
“Of course,” Mr. Barnes said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his nose. “Naturally, we will get rid of the pests. My goodness. What a turn it gave me!”
Milly recovered quickly. Rats were nothing new to her. Working in a bakery, she was used to taking out the kitchen leftovers and finding one on the compost, eyeing her defiantly. On occasion, they had even dared to come into her parents’ kitchen. No rat had lasted long in there, though, and they were all evicted with great malice.
She moved around the kitchen, inspecting the cupboards, where she found an old bird’s nest and some rat droppings and the counters, which were filthy. Some were warped and would have to be replaced.
“Is there a place to get marble?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Barnes asked. “Why?”
“I’ll need a square of it about this big,” Milly said, holding her arms up.
“Whatever for?” Mr. Barnes asked. Oliver, too was looking curious.
Milly smiled. “When working with chocolate, we discovered that marble works best for tempering it. That means getting it at the right temperature to work with it and still get it to set.”
“Ah,” Mr. Barnes said. “We can get it, but it will cost.”
“Of course, as will fixing the range to plug wherever the rat got in, fixing the counters and cupboards, and cleaning this whole place thoroughly,” Milly said. “Please work it all out, taking into consideration that no one else seems to want this space and that I can convert a house kitchen to my needs just as easily.” She felt her smile solidify as she eyed Mr. Barnes.
He nodded. “Of course.”
Turning to Oliver, Milly asked, “Did I miss anything?”
He smiled. “I’d like to discuss the terms of the rental with Mr. Barnes if I may?”
“Go ahead,” she said and listened attentively as Oliver haggled on her behalf. By the time he was done, Mr. Barnes had looked a lot less smug.
Saying goodbye to Mr. Barnes, Milly and Oliver walked along the streets to the hotel. Oliver had offered to buy her lunch, and she had accepted. As they walked past the Saturday shoppers, they spoke.
“So, where is Uncle Leonard today?” Milly asked, holding onto Oliver’s crooked arm.
Oliver, in turn, sighed, “He’s up at the mine again. The frother seems to be having more success, but he and Robert are tinkering today.”
“Oh goodness! Shouldn’t you be there?” she asked.
“No,” Oliver said. “They can handle it. Anyway, I’d much rather be with you.”
Milly couldn’t help but beam at his words. She’d never thought that running to Montana would change her life so. Where she’d been destined for old maidhood in Maine, the idea of marrying Arnold still repulsed her, she was in a warm, open relationship in Montana. It was so odd. And her parents didn’t know. She hadn’t written to them since the telegram she’d sent.
“What’s bothering you?” Oliver asked. They rounded a corner, passing a group of young girls in pigtails and ribbons who giggled and skipped by.
Milly waited for them to pass before answering. “I was thinking of my parents,” she said. “I haven’t told them anything about my life here. I haven’t written them a letter since arriving, and I’m too afraid to.”
She sighed and looked into his kind eyes. “What if they answer and they’re still angry with me? Or if they’re so angry, they don’t answer at all? I’d love them to meet you, but that seems highly unlikely. Not to mention having their input on the new bakery would be amazing.”
“Well, we’d certainly have the time for their advice to reach us,” Oliver said. “I can’t believe it’s going to take four months to do all the repairs and changes. They didn’t seem that difficult.”
Milly shrugged. “What should I do? I don’t like living like this without my family in my life, even if it is only through the written word.”
Oliver stopped walking and, taking her hands in both of his, cocked his head to one side, and looked at her. “You know what you have to do,” he said. “You can’t know how your family will react to anything until you tell them. Wasn’t it not talking to them that made you run off in the first place? Not that I’m complaining,” he continued after a short pause. “I mean, if you hadn’t, we would never have met. But I think, if my parents were still around, I’d want to at least make an effort to mend things. Even if it came to nothing. At least it would be better than not knowing how they felt about me.”
Milly considered this and nodded. “Alright, I’ll write to them.”
Oliver smiled, and they continued down the street.
Chapter 14
June 1885
Waking with a start, Oliver sat up in his bed and stared at the wall. He’d just had the most horrible dream. In it, Uncle Leonard had been dropped into a deep well that was oddly filled with books. But the books weren’t the inanimate objects they are in waking hours. These were terrible things with their pages transformed into large, pointed fangs that dripped the most horrible venom.
Oliver had been forced to watch helplessly as his uncle ran through dark tunnels from these things. They came rustling their pages and hissing after him. Snapping their covers shut and opening them with a creaking of their spines was more than Oliver could handle. When one gave an especially hard snap, shutting its cover and fangs over Uncle Leonard’s leg, he’d finally been wrenched from his nightmare.
He was sweating. It dripped from his nose onto his sheet, and he stared at the little wet spot. Good heavens. His heart was racing as though he’d just run a fast sprint. Puffing and panting, trying to get himself under some semblance of control, he stumbled to his washbasin and splashed some cold water on his face.
That was better. He felt more like himself now. However, catching sight of himself in his shaving mirror, he saw that his eyes had a haunted look. He needed to see his uncle. If he could just make sure Uncle Leonard was home safe and sound, Oliver knew he would feel better.
Stumbling out of the room, he went to Uncle Leonard’s room and, finding the door ajar, pushed it open. The bed inside showed signs of someone having slept in it. Oliver couldn’t remember if his uncle made his bed the day before or not.
What was plain was that the room was empty.
He turned and headed into the kitchen, expecting to find him making coffee or toast as he usually did in the mornings. But the kitchen was also devoid of another human form.
Just then, the apartment door opened, and Leonard stepped inside. He was carrying a bottle of milk and a wooden box with straw and eggs in. The box wobbled, and Oliver shot forwards, grabbing it before it could tumble to the ground.
“Ah, well held!” Uncle Leonard said. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Where were you?” Oliver asked a little testily. He couldn’t shake the worry from his dream.
“No need for that tone,” Leonard said, pushing past him into the room and heading to the kitchen. “As it is, we’re running late. We’ll only just make it to church if you hurry and get dressed. I’ll cook.”
Oliver blinked. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Sunday, Oliver,” Leonard said, putting the milk on the counter and turning to look at his nephew. “Are you alright? You look as though you’ve been physical. Have you been exercising?”
Oliver shook his head. “I… had a… nightmare,” he said hesitantly. “Are you alright?”
Leonard nodded. “Spick and span, tip-top and all that,” he said. “Let me make you some coffee while you go and wash and then dress. I take it we’re meeting Milly for church today? Are we still having lunch at the boarding house? Having worked all of yesterday, I can’t help feeling I missed something.”
He smiled brightly at Oliver, and something in his chest let go. Oliver sagged and nodded. “I’ll be quick.”
Back in his room, he washed again in the basin with cold water. It was refreshing and seemed to help bring him back from his terrible dream. What was that in aid of anyway? It was just so freakish. Oliver couldn’t think where it had come from. What was going on in his mind to conjure up such a horrible, hellish scenario? It made no sense at all.
When he was done washing, he felt a lot better, as though the water had not only removed his sweat but also the residue of the dream in his mind. It was fading now, and he found it harder to recall specific details like the titles of the books chasing Uncle Leonard.
His best suit hung on the closet door, and he donned it, making sure to smooth the creases when he was done. He transferred his pocket watch from the waistcoat he’d worn the day before and placed it in the new one he was wearing, flipping the little catch on the end of the chain to hold it in place.
He felt quite grounded now and emerged into the living room to find that Uncle Leonard had prepared them a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee.
“You look much better,” Leonard said as he took his seat.
“Thank you,” Oliver said, taking his seat.
Uncle Leonard was dressed in his navy suit and looked dapper. More than that, he looked definitely alive, and that made Oliver feel better.
“Is there something we need to discuss?” he asked.
Oliver shook his head, shoveling the eggs into his mouth. They had very little time to get to the church before the service would start. Oliver hated being late. It was something he just couldn’t live with.
Leonard ate with great speed too. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to finish their coffee even though Uncle Leonard had made an excellent brew. Oliver packed the dishes in the sink for later, and the two men hurried from the apartment, down the stairs, and out through the front door of the store into the street.
Others were hurrying along to the church as well. The bells had started ringing in earnest, and Oliver checked his watch. Five minutes before the service started. They should make it.
They hurried up the street at a brisk pace, not quite running. After a short way, Uncle Leonard slowed and grabbed his side. “Oh drat, I have a stitch,” he said. “Serves me right for moving so quickly after eating. You go on. I don’t mind being late so much.” He waved Oliver on.
This was a conundrum Oliver felt he could ill afford. He hated being late, but he also didn’t like leaving his uncle anywhere, especially after that dream.
The internal push and pull of desires and compulsions had him reeling for a moment before he pulled himself together and, putting an arm around his uncle, helped him walk the rest of the way. The result was them arriving late for the sermon and being forced to sit way at the back of the little chapel.
Milly spotted them from her seat next to AnnMarie and nodded her greeting. She looked relieved. Perhaps she had been worried about them.
The minister, a large man with a red, earnest face, was reading a passage from the Bible, and they all settled down to listen. It turned out that the day’s sermon was on loving one’s neighbor. Perhaps there had been some local squabbles lately. From the months he had lived here, Oliver knew that Minister Harkaway only brought out that one for times of town strife.
They sang hymns, and various people read from the Bible, and then they sang a bit more. Minister Harkaway had his say, and by the time Uncle Leonard had dropped off to sleep, as he always did in church, the sermon was over. Slowly the congregation began to leave, filing into the aisle.
“Wake up,” Oliver said, nudging his uncle.
Uncle Leonard jerked awake and sat looking bleary for a moment. He smacked his lips and stretched. This earned him several disapproving looks from worshipers as they left.
“Best place to sleep,” Uncle Leonard said. “It’s always so peaceful here.”
“I’d love it if you’d stay awake once,” Oliver said, smiling at Mrs. Hodges. She scowled at him and waggled a podgy finger in his direction. Holding up all the others trying to leave the church, she rounded on Oliver.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
Taken completely by surprise, having expected her to yell at Leonard for snoring during the sermon, Oliver could only gape.
“I’ve been to your store four times now to fetch my music box, and each time, there’s a ridiculous note on the door saying why you’re not there,” she snapped. “That is no way to run a business, young man. No way at all.”
Having been raised properly despite Uncle Leonard, Oliver rose and smoothed his jacket before answering the irate Mrs. Hodges. This gave him a moment to recover himself. She was so furious her face had gone red, and there was spittle at the corners that he was petrified would fly at him.
