I want you to return to Chicago, Angelina. I’ll lease a house where you can live comfortably during the waiting period until the divorce is final. Naturally, I will handle all legal matters. I foresee no difficulty with your case.
My darling, I beg you not to let pride or propriety stand in the way of accepting assistance. Remember, what matters is our future.
Now I must chide you. Surely you can guess the torment and questions that arise between your letters. Take pity on one who loves you and write more frequently, I beg of you.
I miss you more than I can express and long to see your dear face and press you in my arms.
Faithfully yours,
Peter Markam De Groot
Oh, the guilt. Guilt for not writing more frequently. Guilt for being too busy to think of Peter as often as she should. Guilt, guilt and more guilt for giving herself to Sam. Angie pressed her fingertips to her temples. Each time she read the letter her agitation and confusion increased.
What should she do? If she accepted Peter’s generous and astonishing offer, her life could begin much sooner than she had dreamed.
But of course she couldn’t accept. No decent woman would take money from one man while married to another. She couldn’t ignore a lifetime of proper behavior, no matter what Peter advised.
Her gaze lifted to the row of jars above the stove and settled on the last jar, the empty jar. A sigh dropped her shoulders. If, and it was a big if, she and Sam saved enough to pay for Daisy’s surgery before the court’s deadline, then afterward they could start saving for the divorce. They would need enough money to support Angie in a separate residence for a year, plus attorney’s fees.
Even if she lived as frugally as possible, the amount they needed to save was equal to or greater than the amount required for Daisy’s surgery. Assuming everything went smoothly with no setbacks, she might be free to begin her life with Peter two years from the time of Daisy’s surgery.
Or . . . she could accept Peter’s generosity and begin her life a year sooner. She could leave Willow Creek almost immediately and spend the year of waiting in Chicago being courted and fussed over.
Her conscience twisted sharply, and she covered her eyes. How could she even think of letting Peter spend well over a thousand dollars on her behalf after she had betrayed him?
No, she couldn’t accept his offer. Such a thing just wasn’t done. But there was no harm in daydreaming, in pretending that she had a choice.
“Angie?” Lucy’s blond head leaned into the back door. “We’re through snapping the beans. Are you ready to pick up our new dresses?”
Hastily she stuffed Peter’s letter back into her apron pocket and returned to the pan in the sink. “Let me finish up here, then I’ll find my hat and gloves. Ask Daisy if she is absolutely sure her new shoes fit. We could drop them off at the cobbler’s while we’re in town.”
“They fit,” Daisy said, bringing the bowl of string beans inside. “Where shall I put these?”
“In the ice chest. Mr. Kravitz agreed to work on your shoes again.” The process was slow, but gradually the fit was improving.
“My shoes are just right.” A small silence opened behind Angie then Daisy said in a small voice, “Do you want to see?”
Angie’s head jerked up and she bit down on her back teeth. Please, please, she thought. Don’t let me mess this up. “I believe I would feel reassured if I saw for myself. Sit down. I’ll be there as soon as I wipe out the dishpan. Lucy? Here’s a towel; will you dry the dishes, please?”
“Why do I always have to dry the dishes?”
“Because you’re good at it. You do a thorough job, and you’re careful not to chip or break anything.”
“Oh.”
After drying her hands, Angie knelt in front of Daisy and gazed into her steady eyes. Since the girls were having lunch with the Govenors today, Angie had insisted on baths last night. Daisy had worn her stockings as she had since Angie arrived, but she’d taken them off in the washtub, which she hadn’t done before. Angie had made a point of not looking when Daisy climbed out of the water.
Now Daisy regarded her with uneasiness, but Angie also saw the beginnings of trust in those large gray eyes. She drew a deep breath, then rested Daisy’s clubfoot in her lap and pressed the everyday shoes above Daisy’s twisted toes. “There’s room, but not too much.” Mr. Kravitz had reinforced the heel so Angie couldn’t pinch the leather to check for fit. “The heel isn’t too tight, is it?”
“No.”
“Good.” Already the outer leather and the area of the ankle bone showed wear because Daisy walked on the side of her foot. But now that Angie could examine the fit up close, she realized Mr. Kravitz had built this shoe taller than the other to protect Daisy’s ankle and had added padding where Daisy walked on the bone. Bless the man. She would take Mr. Kravitz a jar of noodles and gravy next week, and she’d pay him first thing when she next paid bills.