Caleb slept for two hours. He wished it was more, but with everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Creede, his thoughts were roiling, and his brain woke him up far sooner than his body wanted.
He was hungry, but Patty wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and he didn’t know if his boarding room fees gave him the right to ask for food at odd hours anyway. He’d find a restaurant while he was out—he was sure he wouldn’t starve to death in this growing town.
Mr. Wendell Thurgood’s office was located on Main Street right where he’d been told it would be. He wondered if it was all right to show up without an appointment, but then, he’d have to show up without an appointment to make an appointment, so it didn’t really matter anyway.
When he opened the door to the office, a thin man looked up from behind a desk, then stood to greet him.
“I’m told you’re the man I should see about renting or buying a small business building,” Caleb said, taking the seat that was offered.
“Which would you prefer, ideally?”
“Renting for now, with a possibility of purchasing later.”
Mr. Thurgood reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder. “Let’s take a look. How much space do you need?”
“Not a great deal for the actual business area—I could do quite well with a room the size of this office. I did hope, though, that there would be a back room where I could live. Save myself some money on boarding house fees and so forth.”
Mr. Thurgood nodded. “I understand exactly. Hmm.” He flipped through some pages, then seemed to settle on one. He pulled it from the stack and slid it across the desk so Caleb could see it. “This building is just off Main Street—you can see it from the general store, but it’s on the cross street. It has a small living area upstairs, and a decent-sized office area downstairs. It’s very simple—it’s about as basic as you can get—but I believe it would suit you well.”
Caleb looked at the specifics of the place, noting the square footage in particular. “Yes, I’d like to take a closer look,” he said. “When can we go?”
Mr. Thurgood glanced at the clock. “What about now?”
“Perfect.”
The two men walked outside, and Caleb waited while Mr. Thurgood locked his office door behind them. He wanted to bring up Miss Chapel and see what Mr. Thurgood had to say about the entire experience with Mr. Waverly, but he thought it might be best to wait until after they had spent a few minutes together—he’d like to prove to Mr. Thurgood that he wasn’t entirely insane before he brought up the subject of guardian angels who appeared and disappeared in boarding house bedrooms.
It was a bit difficult to navigate around the snowdrifts and sloshy puddles on their way to the empty building, but it was close enough that Caleb could see the inconvenience of waiting for a hired buggy to arrive. It seemed that many people in town walked to their various destinations, and there was certainly nothing wrong with that when the needed locations were near each other. He was pleased to note that yes, the empty building was very close to Main Street. He wouldn’t get the foot traffic he might if he were out in the middle of all the other businesses, but then again, having one’s photograph taken wasn’t something one tended to do on the spur of the moment anyway. He’d see about advertising in the local paper so people would know where to find him.
“Here we are,” Mr. Thurgood said. The building had several office spaces, it would seem, and the space they were there to see was in the center of the building. Mr. Thurgood pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “You first.”
When Caleb stepped inside, he was immediately pleased to see the placement of the windows in the main room. He’d put up a dark curtain on the far wall during the afternoon, but everything else was situated exactly how he’d want it. The light would be perfect for most hours of the day. Off to the side was a smaller room that would be ideal for developing the dry plates.
“The living quarters are upstairs,” Mr. Thurgood reminded him after he’d spent probably too much time admiring the layout of the first floor, and they went up together.
A stove sat in the corner. It wasn’t large, but it did have an oven and a cooktop, and it would serve to keep Caleb warm as well as to help him prepare the simple meals he knew how to make. He’d need to get a bed, but he had no qualms about starting out with a simple mattress and obtaining the actual bedframe later after he’d settled his finances and knew where he actually stood.
“I warned you that it was simple,” Mr. Thurgood said.
“It’s perfect,” Caleb replied. “I don’t need much—in fact, I do better when I’m not surrounded by distractions. I’d like to rent this building, Mr. Thurgood. May I move in immediately?”
“You may take possession as soon as I’m in receipt of a five-dollar deposit,” Mr. Thurgood replied.
Caleb nodded and pulled his wallet from his pocket. Five dollars was nearly all he had left—he could afford to settle things with Mrs. Olson and he could buy himself a couple of meals, but he’d need to start finding clients as soon as he moved in. “Here you are,” he said, passing the money over as if he had cash to spend on whatever he liked.
Mr. Thurgood pocketed the money and smiled. “Let’s head back over to the office and sign your rental agreement, and then you can move in.”
Back at the office, Caleb signed his name at the bottom of the page with a flourish, an immense rush of accomplishment and yet also terror filling him. What had he just done? He’d just made a financial commitment that he might not be able to honor, but he had to have faith that it would work out. He was so tired of traveling, of not belonging to anyone or anywhere. He wanted to feel like a part of something bigger than himself, not like a speck of dust floating here and there on the wind.
Faith. He pulled in a deep breath. “Mr. Thurgood, may I ask you a potentially awkward question?”
The other man looked curious. “You may. Of course, if it’s too awkward, I might not answer it, but you can try.”
Caleb chuckled at the man’s wry joke. “I wonder . . . if you know a lady by the name of Miss Chapel.”
Mr. Thurgood’s face froze, and his whole body seemed to be suspended in time. After a long moment, he said, “Yes. Do you know Miss Chapel?”
Caleb shifted in his chair. “Not exactly, but I met a man by the name of Adolphus Waverly, and he told me . . . well, he said that if I told you that he’s good friends with Miss Chapel, you’d vouch for the situation.”
“You’re right—this is an awkward question.” Mr. Thurgood leaned back in his chair. “Did Mr. Waverly by chance introduce himself to you as a guardian angel?”
“Yes, he did,” Caleb replied. “And I didn’t believe him for a second, but he told me I should speak to you about it.”
Mr. Thurgood exhaled. “It’s difficult to know what to say because things like this . . . well, not everyone believes in angels, and not everyone believes in them the same way. But the fact is, Mr. Baker, I have a guardian angel, her name is Miss Chapel, and she helped me win the hand of my beautiful wife, Ariadne. That’s not information I’ve shared freely, so if someone has paid you a visit claiming to be friends with Miss Chapel and using my name as a reference, you’d best pay them some heed.”
Caleb felt like he’d been kicked by a horse. “It’s true, then?”
“It’s true. I’ve always been a skeptic, Mr. Baker. When I first met Miss Chapel, I didn’t believe her just as you haven’t believed your Mr. Waverly, but now I can’t deny her existence. She’s just as real as you and I.”
Caleb leaned back in his chair and tried to accept what he was hearing. “I sent for the deputy,” he said at last. “I thought there was an intruder.”
“You sent a deputy after a guardian angel?” Mr. Thurgood laughed heartily. “That’s certainly funny.”
“I don’t think it’s very funny at all. First I find out that angels are real, and then I realize I tried to have one arrested . . .”
Mr. Thurgood laughed again. “It’s all right. I’m sure Mr. Waverly understands. They have to have a good sense of humor, you know—otherwise, they’d never survive their assignments.”
“So . . .” Caleb leaned forward a little, thinking that he’d better try to understand. “He said that I have a gift and a task. I don’t know what that means.”
“That means that you’re to use your talents and skills to bless the lives of others in some way. That’s what tasks almost always mean—the most important thing we can do is help others, so that’s where the obligations we’re given usually lie.”
“But what does that mean? What exactly am I supposed to do?”
“That’s what you’ll have to work out,” Mr. Thurgood said. “When Mr. Waverly returns, he’ll guide you in the right direction, but there will be a certain amount that you’ll need to discover for yourself. It’s part of your learning, you see.”
“I don’t know how I got involved in this,” Caleb muttered. “I was just in my room, looking over my trunks . . . I certainly didn’t ask to be visited by an angel.”
“Well, they chose you, and that’s that,” Mr. Thurgood replied. “You’ve been entrusted not only with a task, but with priceless knowledge, which is a peek into the other side. You’ll no longer question if such things exist—you now know they do.”
“Without my wishes being taken into account?” It seemed unfair.
“You have every ability to reject it, Mr. Baker. No one will force you or drag you into anything. But I ask you a question—now that you know, can you really turn your back on it?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I confess that I’m completely overwhelmed, and I need time to think on it. I’ve never even considered that angels were real before, and now . . . I need time.”
Mr. Thurgood nodded. “Take that time, then, and when Mr. Waverly returns, you can discuss it with him.”
Caleb thanked Mr. Thurgood, shook his hand, accepted the key to his new home, and left the office, more confused and bewildered than he’d ever been in his life.
He needed some dinner. Dinner would help immensely. The restaurant up ahead would be just the thing.
***
“Welcome to the Iron Skillet,” Ivy greeted the man and woman who had just entered. She’d never seen them before, and she wondered if they were new to Creede or just new to the restaurant. She’d been so busy helping start up this business that she hadn’t done much exploring around town, and she’d only gotten to know the people who ate at her tables.
“Thank you. Could we get something near the fire? It’s quite cold out there,” the woman responded, and Ivy led them as close to the fireplace as she could without moving someone out of their spot.
Yes, it was cold, but the snow had stopped, and there was even a little bit of blue sky here and there. She didn’t think there was enough sunshine to melt the snow off the roads, but she’d seen enough increase in business to give her hope that they’d have a decent dinner service.
She brought soup and bread out to Tobias and Louisa Redfern, took an order from the new couple she’d just seated, and then noticed a new young man enter the restaurant and look around.
“He’s mine,” Catherine said out of the corner of her mouth as she passed Ivy.
“We’ll see where he sits,” Ivy replied. Catherine enjoyed putting her claim on the handsome young men who came in, but much to her disappointment, those claims didn’t stick, and Catherine hadn’t yet found a suitor. Ivy had no idea why—her cousin was four times prettier than Ivy, and it didn’t seem possible that the men of Creede weren’t lining up for a chance with her.
“Hello,” Ivy greeted the newcomer. “Welcome to the Iron Skillet. Do you have a preference where you sit this evening?” She was going to leave this up to him and the results entirely up to chance.
He glanced up from unwrapping his scarf and did a double-take, his eyes growing wide. “Are you . . . are you an angel too?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
He blinked, then swallowed. “I’m sorry—that must have sounded very odd. Um, I’d like to sit over there, please. The light is quite good from that spot.”
She turned and looked over her shoulder. “The light?”
“Yes. You see, the sunset is too bright by the window, and the fireplace is casting unusual shadows on the walls.”
Who was this man, and was he feeling all right? “Very well.” She led him to the table he chose—it was one of her tables and not Catherine’s. “My name is Ivy, and we’re glad you’re joining us today. We have steak, roast, baked chicken—”
He cut her off by lifting his hand. “I tell you what, Ivy. I’m too hungry to choose for myself, and that all sounds delicious. Would you please choose for me?”
“I can, but what if I choose something you don’t like?”
“I promise you, I will like whatever you bring me.”
That seemed a rather outrageous promise to make, but she nodded and stepped into the kitchen. The corn bread had turned out especially nice that day, and she put a thick wedge of it on a plate, along with a pat of butter and a little dish of honey. “Roast, please,” she called out, and Titus lifted a generous portion from the cast-iron pot he was keeping hot on the stove. Next to that, she placed a baked potato, fluffy and steaming.
Then she returned to the dining room and placed everything in front of her customer. “I decided on the roast because it’s already done. The steaks are cooked to order, so you would have had a longer wait if I’d chosen one of those.”
“Thank you, Ivy. This looks delicious.”
She stepped away and left him eating, wondering what in the world he’d meant when he asked if she was an angel too. She certainly was no angel—of that, she was positive—but too? As if he’d seen other angels?
And what was all that nonsense about light?
Four more couples entered just then, and she got busy taking their orders. This was more like it—people coming in and out, happy chatter in the dining room, Titus grilling and baking to his heart’s content. This was what her mother had always wanted—a productive way for her family to spend time together. Ivy wished her mother could see them at that moment, working companionably instead of bickering with each other like they used to do.
She shook her head, thinking about those days. They hadn’t valued each other as they ought, and it had taken her mother’s death to make them realize the importance of what they had. So much time had been wasted, but at least they were starting to understand it now.
Once her customers had been brought their food, she made another sweep through the dining room, this time carrying the coffee pot and offering refills. She approached the young man’s table, wondering what odd things he would say this time.
“Dinner was delicious, Ivy,” he said. “And yes, I’d love more coffee.”
“Of course.” She refilled his cup, then checked to make sure there was enough sugar in the bowl on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. I would like to apologize for earlier, however. I realize I was acting strangely.”
She chuckled. “Yes, you were. I wondered if you were having some sort of . . . nervous fit.”
“I’ve wondered that myself several times today, but this hot meal seems to have revived me. My name is Caleb Baker, and I’ve just arrived in Creede to set up a photography studio.”
“Photography? Oh, that will be nice. We don’t have photography in Creede as of yet.”
“That’s what I’ve been told, so it sounds like I’ve chosen the right place. And that’s why I was yammering earlier about you being an angel. The way the light was coming into the room, it lit up your hair like a halo. I tend to see things as photographs, and it was visually very stunning.”
“I’m . . . not quite sure how to reply to that, Mr. Baker.” Her cheeks must have been flaming with red—they were hot enough to be uncomfortable. “It’s a lovely compliment, but I’m not used to lovely compliments.”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he replied. “I meant it sincerely, and innocently. I assure you.”
She nodded. She believed him, even if she did still think he was a bit odd. “I should actually be thanking you for saying something so kind. If you’ll excuse me now, I need to take the coffee around to the other tables. Have a good evening, Mr. Baker.”
She turned and almost fled from his table, feeling like a little girl running away from her first crush.
After she checked on each customer, she went back into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, trying to compose herself. She was being so foolish.
“Are you all right?” Catherine asked. “You look flustered.”
“I’m fine. I should have let you take that table for me.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing at all. He paid me a compliment, and I had no idea how to accept it.”
“What sort of compliment?” Titus turned from the stove, holding his knife up as though prepared to use it.
“He wasn’t inappropriate at all. I’m just . . . I’m not used to things like that.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow. “You’re not used to being complimented? That doesn’t make any sense. Just who have you been spending time with, anyway?”
“Just . . . people,” Ivy trailed off, not sure how to answer Catherine’s question.
“Well, if those people haven’t been complimenting you, there’s something intrinsically wrong with them.” Catherine took the steaks Titus had just finished preparing and headed out to the dining room.
Ivy shook her head, then followed her cousin, needing to clear away some tables. Best to put all that aside and concentrate on work—they needed to make up for that budget deficit from the counterfeit money, after all.