And now—well, now he had to admire her even more for the brave way she kept her little lacemaking business going, which was just about all she had to support herself in her widowhood, besides his lease for the stable and what Tobias paid her for the right to use Doug’s smithy. Delia liked to poke fun at Annie’s Laces, and say that it wasn’t worth more than a hill of beans. But that was Delia, always scornful of other women’s efforts when she herself didn’t do much besides spend money and run back and forth to Galveston as often as her sister could arrange for a party. As she had done a few days ago, and taken Caroline with her.
Adam had once thought Delia was so beautiful and had been proud when she agreed to be his wife. But he had learned—a hard, hard lesson—that her beauty wasn’t more than skin deep. His mother used to say that pretty was fine as far as it went, but it didn’t go very far when it came to keeping a marriage together. His mother had been wiser than he’d given her credit for.
And that bitter truth had been imposed on him once again when he went through the bills this afternoon and understood how much Delia had spent on those amethyst earrings and that new pink dress.
And then there was the envelope he had found, and what was in it—especially that. Which was why he had downed a couple of whiskeys with the sandwiches the hired girl had left him for his supper.
Adam picked up the water buckets. The first heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall as he carried them into the stable.
• • •
AFTER her disastrous trip to Austin, Annie’s week had gone downhill, and it got worse as the full realization of her situation began to catch up with her. She knew she had to come up with a plan that would carry her through until she was able to find more markets for the lace. In the meantime, she would have to dip into her tiny cash reserve to pay her girls the commission she owed them and explain that their two Austin shops had closed. Perhaps she would even have to let one or two of them go.
But she hated to do that. Her lacemakers were becoming quite skilled, and they worked together so beautifully, almost like a family of sisters—with the exception of Delia, who wasn’t really one of them. What’s more, they had come to depend on the work she gave them. She couldn’t let them down. She would simply have to keep them on, all of them, if she could, for as long as she could. So she put off saying anything until she had a better idea of what new opportunities she might be able to conjure up.
On a stormy August evening a few days after her trip to Austin, Annie took a pencil and piece of paper and sat down at the oilcloth-covered kitchen table to make a list of as many possibilities as she could think of. It had been hot all day, and after supper, she had stripped down to her chemise and cooled off with a sponge bath. Now, she was wearing a loose cambric wrapper, pale blue and sashed at the waist, and she had pulled her hair back from her face with a blue ribbon.
She frowned down at the paper. The first thing she should do, of course, was to find a new market for the lace in Austin. Surely another shop would open soon. Austin, she wrote, and underlined the word.
But another and perhaps more immediate possibility was San Antonio, just thirty miles to the south, so she wrote San Antonio, and underlined that, too. She had never been to the city, but she knew it was almost twice as large as Austin and had been settled by the Spanish. Surely there would be a dress shop or a millinery shop that catered to fine Spanish ladies. The Spanish ranchers were rumored to have lots of money, so their wives might be able to buy fine handmade laces. And perhaps the churches, although she didn’t have any idea how to approach them.
But even if she found one or two of the right shops and her laces were taken on commission, it would be at least a month, maybe even two, before they were sold and she was paid. Until then, perhaps she could place a mail-order advertisement in the Austin Weekly Statesman, or even a magazine. There was Godey’s Lady’s Book, for instance, the most widely read women’s magazine in the country. Mail order, she wrote on her list. She frowned. But wouldn’t that be expensive? And she would have to pay for a catalogue, which would mean costs for drawings and printing, as well as the advertising space itself. And that could take months and wouldn’t produce any income in the meantime, when there were the girls to pay and her own living expenses to meet.
Annie leaned on her elbows, her head in her hands, feeling daunted and a little dazed. Since Douglas’ death, everything had been in such a muddle. She had done all she could, but she seemed to be falling further behind. Perhaps Delia was right: a woman simply couldn’t make it on her own in this day and age. A widow who had social position and money could afford to pursue her own interests, to do what she liked. But she had neither. It stood to reason that to have any kind of life at all, she ought to find a husband. A husband—the right husband, one with plenty of money—would allow her all the time she needed to do the work she wanted to do.
But her independent spirit balked at the thought of marrying a man just to gain his financial support. No! Whatever Delia said, she didn’t need
