Meg didn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she stared at the piano.
Sam rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “To be honest, after what happened with Father, I—”
“Oh, nonsense, Samuel Allen. One doesn’t spend years to learn to play as you have, with an unusual talent such as you’ve been given all to toss it away and—stop.”
Meg jumped up, her hand to her mouth and ran toward the kitchen. “Oh, the gravy. I hope it’s not ruined.”
As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she took the gravy pan off the stove, knowing full well it wouldn’t have burned. She just needed to get as far away from that conversation as she could before she said anything wrong. How had Sam been able to stop playing? She couldn’t understand. Music gave her so much joy, so much solace, she couldn’t imagine ever abandoning it for any reason in the world.
“I’m sorry about that, Meg. I guess it’s one more thing we forgot to talk about,” Sam said as he followed her into the kitchen.
“Forgot? No, not forgotten. You asked not to talk about it.”
“Did I? I should have known that I wouldn’t have been able to refuse her request to play. I’d intended to, fully, but with her here, I—”
“I understand. My mother would have been heartbroken if we—”
“Is everything all right in here? Meg, are you feeling ill?” Mrs. Allen asked Meg.
Sam and Meg both turned toward the door, each taking a step away from the other.
Sam cleared his throat. “In here. We’re coming right out.”
“Goodness, I was worried. But I suppose things take longer when you’re in love.” She smiled as she walked back into the dining room, Meg following with the potatoes and gravy and Sam with the platter of chicken.
Chapter 20
Compared to the beginning of the day, dinner passed relatively quietly, Meg mostly silent for fear of getting into a difficult spot. As the dishes were cleared and put away, Mrs. Allen stifled yawn after yawn but refused not to help.
She smile when Meg said, “Please, Mrs. Allen, I can finish the remainder. You must be exhausted after your journey, even with a rest.”
Mrs. Allen smiled gratefully and squeezed Meg’s hand. “I do believe I will take you up on your kind offer. I surely do need to be rested for tomorrow.”
“Yes, we will need to go into the mercantile tomorrow to work. I hope you don’t mind,” Sam said, his ears turning a little bit pink, Meg noticed.
“Oh, that will be fine. I’d like to come and visit, though, and see what it’s like.”
Meg and Sam exchanged quick glances. His mother was behaving exactly as they’d expected her to, and they had made a bit of a plan.
“It will be quite busy in the morning, Mrs. Allen, as it’s the first day of the week. Would it be all right if I went in first and opened up, accepted deliveries and then you come a bit later?” Meg hoped that the compromise would be acceptable to Mrs. Allen.
“Certainly, my dear, that would be fine. We’ll be able to spend plenty of time together later in the evening at the show.”
Meg and Sam exchanged quick glances. “The show?” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “I don’t remember talking about a show.”
Mrs. Allen waved her hand in the air, dismissing his concern. “That’s because we hadn’t yet spoken about it. A friend in New York travels with a vaudeville act and was coming here to Tombstone. When he found out I’d be in town, he gave me tickets.”
Meg opened her mouth and then shut it again. She’d never been allowed to go to a vaudeville show, although many came through Tombstone now that it had grown so large. Her father hadn’t allowed any of them to go, and she thought it was because he had never been and thought that all theaters were like the Birdcage, but Meg knew they weren’t.
“They wouldn’t be at the Birdcage, would they?” Meg said, not sure why she was concerned about what her father would think if she went there.
“Oh, no, dear. I admire what they do there to entertain and encourage the minors, but we will go to a show of a different sort. Like the ones they’d have in New York. Have you not been?”
Meg shook her head slowly, casting her eyes down again toward her simple dress and feeling her simple hair. She looked up at Sam, and he didn’t seem too sure about the prospect.
“Mother, you know I—”
She lifted her palms toward him. “I know, I know, but when he offered the tickets, I remembered how much you enjoyed it in the past. Consider it a bit of a peace offering, from me and your father.”