Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,14

Clifton murmured. Tom thought she sounded envious.

He refocused on his food while the conversation went around the table once again, like salvos being fired in a battle, as the women discussed everything from the presidential race to the price of sugar.

About halfway through the meal, a knock sounded on the front door. Nancy excused herself and was gone only a few minutes. “Sorry for the interruption. That was Ruth. She’s come to visit with Alma.”

They all nodded.

Bedelia leaned close to Tom. “Alma shares a room with Mrs. Weaver. They often take their meals upstairs.”

“I see. Well, clearly this house is home to a great many.”

Nancy gave him a benevolent smile. “It’s a long story, but Alma was once Mrs. Weaver’s slave. She was smuggled into Oregon when the Weavers moved here from back East. You might not realize this, but there are laws against black people living in Oregon.”

Tom hadn’t realized this but nodded as though he had.

“Mrs. Weaver has hidden Alma ever since, but we’ve been working with Alma to encourage her to get out and about. There is a wonderful black church in the city and several businesses owned by former slaves. We finally managed to get Alma to at least accept visits from Ruth.”

“So Alma never leaves the house?” Tom asked.

“Not yet,” Nancy replied. “But I’m hopeful that one day she will. However, until then, I must ask that you and Connie keep our secret.”

Tom glanced at Connie, and they both nodded. “Of course.”

A red-haired man came to the table and took the chair beside Tom. “Sorry for my tardiness. Nancy has a rule about not waking me when I’m sleeping.”

“Only until you’re completely healed,” she replied. “Ladies, be sure to pass the food to Seth.”

They did as she asked, never once breaking pace with their various conversations. Seth looked at Tom. “You must be Mr. Lowell.”

“Please call me Tom. I presume you’re Nancy’s husband, Seth Carpenter.”

“I am. And you must call me Seth. I hope we’ll have some time for conversation after lunch. I don’t get many men to visit with, since this is a ladies’ boardinghouse. Faith’s husband comes when he’s in town, but otherwise only a couple of others are brave enough to dare enter this place.” Seth winked.

“Oh, pshaw. You’ll give Mr. Lowell the wrong impression,” Miss Clifton scolded. “The fact is that we cannot have men running about willy-nilly. We ladies need our privacy and comfort, and worrying about a houseful of men would rob us of that joy.”

Seth smiled at Tom. “Well, I’m just glad they allow me to run about willy-nilly.”

After lunch, Seth showed Tom to his office, which doubled as the boardinghouse library. He sank onto a leather wing-backed chair and sighed. “I’ll be so relieved when my energy returns.”

Tom closed the door. “I was told you were left for dead.”

“I was. I don’t remember a great deal about the attack, but thankfully I haven’t forgotten much else.”

Tom took a seat beside Seth, grateful there was no fire in the hearth. The day was already plenty warm, although the clouds suggested a coming rain.

“This is quite the house.” Tom admired the craftsmanship of the room.

“It was built by my wife’s first husband. He didn’t offer her much in the way of love, but he lavished her with everything else. When he died, she decided to turn the place into a boardinghouse. I wasn’t sure at first that it was something she should continue after our marriage, but I’m thankful she did. I haven’t been able to work at the law practice since the beating, and the money generated by the boarders has kept us from dipping into savings.”

“How many people actually live here?”

Seth considered the question a moment. “Well, there’s Nancy, the baby, and myself. The two Misses Clifton, and occasionally Faith is with us when her husband is on a lengthy trip or she’s committed to something here in town. We also have Mrs. Bryant. She’s a widowed schoolteacher. My sister used to live here, but she’s married to Nancy’s brother, and they have a little house elsewhere in town. He runs his family’s sawmill.” He hesitated. “There are two others, but most folks outside of the house only know of one.”

Tom remembered the secret Nancy had shared with him. “I heard about them at lunch.”

“They are dear women. Mrs. Weaver is far too old to do much work, but Alma likes to help with the housework and laundry to, as she tells it, earn her keep. She’s