upper hand."
Chapter 18
"You're going to the ball at the Fuller House, Tonio, and that's that." May left no room for argument as she and Tonio sat at the kitchen table having coffee.
"You know how hard we women have worked on this fundraising event. I'm not going to let one of my own ruin it by not attending. You'll be there charming the ladies, dancing and smiling as if there were no place else you'd rather be. I've already let it be known that you're going. You draw a crowd. Everyone's still wondering how you got pardoned and if you really could've done it."
"Of course I could have done it, but I didn't. And I wasn't pardoned. I was exonerated. There's a big difference—pardoned implies guilt."
"My, my! We've certainly gotten surly these last few weeks. One would think you have good reason to be happy. You're a free man. Or was the bullpen so much better? And fortunately for you, you don't need to go begging for one of those cussed mining work permits to get work."
"What's the difference? We own a worthless mine, May."
"Tonio, I'm surprised at you—doubting the Hole. I've never seen you this morose."
"I'm not in a social mood." He rose and strode toward the kitchen door.
"I'll see your sorry hide at the ball tonight decked out in your finest. You hear me, Tonio?"
He waved acknowledgment back at her behind his head, not turning back or breaking his stride. May turned back to the kitchen chuckling to herself. "Believe me, Tonio. This is an event you don't want to miss."
Brilliant white linens graced the tables in the Fuller's main banquet room, each one topped by a bouquet of homegrown flowers. Volunteers and kitchen staff dressed in white were bringing out the buffet. Guests would begin arriving within the hour. The Colonel inspected the food as it was brought out. Cold salads sat in buckets of ice to keep the lettuce and fresh dandelion greens crisp. Silver ladles lay next to crystal bowls filled with May's homemade salad dressings.
May had planned the menu herself. She included every favorite dish she had cooked for the Fuller House. The entrees were to be tasty and elegantly arranged but not fancy. Miners liked simple food. A commotion at the dessert table nearby caught the Colonel's attention as three women struggled to assemble a great, tiered cake.
May Hall saw the potential disaster looming and hustled through the swinging doors from the kitchen.
"Careful ladies! That's our crowning centerpiece. We don't want it dropped." May directed the women until the cake stood regally assembled in the center of the dessert table. A heavenly chocolate concoction with marzipan icing, someone had spent meticulous hours decorating it with intricate chocolate scroll. Candied roses and violets, and chocolate leaves cascaded over the top and along the sides, trailing into fresh flowers at the base.
"Good Heavens, May! What kind of cake have you created this time?" The Colonel's delight was evident in his tone.
"It's not a cake, it's a torte."
"Cake, torte, who can tell the difference? I thought only Angelina made such desserts. And here I was worried that we'd never be able to replace her with someone of equal talent. I see I was mistaken."
"Maybe you were and maybe you weren't," she said cryptically. "Now do me a favor. Go next door and help the band set up. I have my hands full in the kitchen."
She watched the Colonel disappear into the ballroom and then headed for the door to the street, tossing her apron on a nearby chair as she went. "Ladies, you can take it from here," she called over her shoulder. "I have to get home. I have some prettying up to do before the guests arrive."
May's fellow volunteers shrugged as she left. May wasn't usually so concerned with her appearance, and as she topped the scale at over two hundred pounds and had a large, plain face, there wasn't much the poor dear could do. But since she'd spent all day cooking, they were unanimous in their opinion that she deserved some time to fix up. Every woman wanted to look her best tonight. The ball was the poshest event that had ever been held in Wallace.
May hurried nervously up the walk to her house and disappeared in the side door without being noticed. She lifted her skirts and took the stairs two at a time.
"Angelina, it's May," she whispered loudly at the closed guestroom door.
"Come on in, May. We're alone." Angelina leaned over