the front bushes decorated the center of the table. And the flaky golden biscuits she’d baked earlier in the afternoon were arranged in a tower, with raspberries placed strategically around the outer rim of the platter. She’d folded each of the napkins into a fan shape and garnished each plate with a cup of raspberry cream pudding that Zelma had shown her how to make just that morning.
“You’re such a quick learner.” Zelma gave her a proud smile.
“You’re just a good teacher.” Victoria brushed her hands against the bright orange-checkered apron that had apparently once belonged to Zelma. It was hideous, but after practically ruining two of her three outfits cooking during the past several days, Victoria had put aside her vanity in order to save her last remaining skirt from stains.
She’d tracked down Tom in the fog house after lunch and had told him that she needed to hire a seamstress to come out to the house and make her new clothes. But the conversation had gone the same way it had when she’d approached him about hiring a housekeeper. She’d ended up stomping away and threatening to leave with Jimmy in his cutter the next time the elderly fisherman delivered provisions. Since Jimmy had just come that morning with a supply of fresh produce, she didn’t know when he’d come again.
After letting her anger cool the rest of the afternoon, she’d decided she wouldn’t carry through on her threat. Nevertheless, she was still vexed at Tom for denying her again—even if she had told him earlier in the week that she’d appreciated his honesty. This time, she wasn’t acting selfishly. She really did need more garments, especially since she hadn’t liked learning to wash clothes nearly as much as she was enjoying cooking. She didn’t want to repeat the laundering process again for the rest of the month if it could be helped. Her hands still hadn’t recovered from the harsh soap.
“You’ve learned to cook well in such a short time,” Zelma said as she stirred the creamy peas and potatoes. “I certainly didn’t do so well my first week of marriage.”
“I’m sure your first meal was better than mine.” Victoria smiled at the remembrance of the burned food she’d served and how Tom had tried so hard to eat it to please her. Then, even though everything had all been her fault, he’d still tried to console her, had even prepared her a private bath. He’d been so tender and sweet. And afterward, they’d talked on the sofa until he’d finally left to carry his mom up to bed.
Victoria couldn’t deny that their evening talks on the bedroom sofa were the highlight of her day. Tom was a good listener and always seemed genuinely interested in anything she shared. She’d also gotten him to open up and talk more about his past, his childhood, living at various lighthouses, and his work as a bodyguard in Europe. One night she’d asked him about his time in the war, but he’d immediately closed up and hadn’t spoken about himself again all night. Other than that, she’d learned more about him in the past week than she had the previous month.
She exhaled a long breath as she rearranged the biscuits and centered the top one on the pinnacle of the tower. They had been getting along so well. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the idea of hiring a seamstress after all.
“It’s all right, dear,” Zelma said gently. “It’s normal to have disagreements.”
Victoria straightened in surprise, ready to issue a word of denial. How had Zelma known about her spat with Tom?
Zelma continued before she could speak. “You’re two different people, from different backgrounds, with unique personalities and quirks. So of course you’ll both have to adjust. In fact, those early years of marriage are all about working through differences and learning to compromise.”
“Yes.” Victoria sighed. “I think we’re as different as land and water.”
“James and I were very different too.”
“You were? But you seem so good together, so much in harmony.” And so passionate, but Victoria bit back the too-intimate words.
“It’s taken years and lots of hard work to develop that kind of unity.” Zelma gave the peas and potatoes one last stir before tucking the spoon deep into the bowl and pushing it toward the middle of the table. “I’ve come to believe one of the reasons God designed marriage was to help us grow in holiness and character. We get to practice on a daily basis being