Meg looked into his blue eyes, knowing that there would be a spark there—and she saw it. She knew she did. Her stomach did a flip as he reached out and took her chin, pulling it up toward his.
“Here, I’ve got the perfect color ribbon to match that peach—” Mrs. Allen stopped short as she spotted Sam and Meg, and then broke into a big smile.
Sam dropped his hand and took a step back, Meg’s sigh louder than she would have liked it to be.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt you.”
“Mother!” Sam said as he backed toward the door.
“What? You’re married, remember?” She looked from Sam to Meg, her arms folded over her chest.
Sam hurried to his wardrobe and grabbed a clean shirt, jacket and tie and left the room without a word.
“Sit down, dear.”
Meg returned Mrs. Allen’s smile through the mirror. Meg watched as her hair was turned into a sight to behold, peach ribbons weaving through her hair as it was piled on top of her head.
“You like it?” Mrs. Allen rested her hands on Meg’s shoulders.
Meg stared at her reflection, and was struck at the resemblance to her mother. She’d never felt so lovely before, so grown up, and she couldn’t wait for Sam to see her, too.
“He’s going to be so pleased,” Mrs. Allen said. “I see the way he looks at you normally, and this will really do him in.”
“You do? He does?”
Mrs. Allen gently lifted Meg’s chin and met her eyes. “Yes, I do, and yes, he does.”
Chapter 25
Meg’s steps were so light she felt she was walking on air as they went the short distance from their house to the Crystal Palace for supper.
The food had been excellent, although no rival for the Occidental, and Meg had even ordered dessert, which she shared with Mrs. Allen—a very good piece of apple pie. Sam had refused to share and had a slice all to himself.
They’d taken another short walk to the theater, which was just beyond the Bird Cage, the theater with the slightly tarnished reputation that everyone in town knew about. As they approached, Sam escorted his mother and Meg to the opposite side of the street.
“The theater is just a little further, on the same side of the street. Why are we crossing?” Mrs. Allen asked as she looked over at the Birdcage, the line of men of all types waiting to enter, from miners to what looked like cowboys.
Sam shook his head. “It’s just the way it’s done here. I don’t rightly know.”
“Hm.” His mother eventually turned forward and they found the theater they had tickets for, a poster of Eddie Foy pasted to the wall outside.
Eddie Foy,
Favorite of Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp
Here, Monday, 7:00 p.m.
“It seems there is more than one type of vaudeville in town,” Mrs. Allen said as she handed their tickets to the man in costume waiting at the door.
“It’s the same in New York, as you know. They’re just not so close together, usually.” Sam removed his hat as they entered, taking their coats to the cloakroom and ushering them to their seats.
Meg’s nerves jangled as the theater filled. “I’ve never been to one of these shows before,” she said, and both Mrs. Allen and Sam turned to her, their eyebrows raised.
“How can that be, dear? Sam would have lived in a vaudeville theater had we consented.”
“Not exactly lived there, but I did enjoy it. I’m surprised you’ve never been, Meg.”
“Papa is a bit old fashioned—you’ll see, Mrs. Allen—and we were always busy at the ranch. If we weren’t busy he said we were too young.”
Mrs. Allen shook her head. “Clearly not a fan, then.”
“You weren’t exactly a fan either, Mother.” Sam looked intently at her as he spoke.
“That’s not fair, Sam. I was looking out for your best interests.”
“Father’s, you mean?” Meg leaned forward and peered at Mrs. Allen, who sat on the opposite side of Sam. She wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, but was grateful when the lanterns were dimmed and the show began.
The singing and dancing was magnificent, Meg thought, and several times she glanced at Sam, who was rapt with attention as his toe tapped along with the music.
It seemed as if it stopped as soon as it started, and shortly the theatergoers were standing, applause surrounding her.
The walk home floated by as well, as Sam hummed some of the tunes they’d heard and they laughed, recounting some of the funniest parts of the show.
“I’ve never seen anything like that. It’s sure different than the music at church,” Meg said.
Mrs. Allen laughed. “It certainly is different, but there is a place for everything. I like both, I must say, but this is fun for a night out.”