Part 3

"It is a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Eloise said as she sat on the buckboard seat beside Adam. "It's not yet that hot." She re-tied her bonnet and looked out over the panorama of the Ponderosa.

"Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines," Adam recited, "and then it'll be time for you and me to take a nude dip in the lake." He glanced over at her and smiled, his brows shooting up lasciviously.

"Only you, Adam, could mix culture and vulgarity—and make it sound attractive." Eloise wrapped her arm through his as he drove the team of horses to Virginia City. "I suppose that's why I love you because there certainly is nothing else to recommend you for my undying passion."

"Well, you just wait," Adam said. "Tonight I'll give you something else."

Eloise laughed delightedly and kissed her husband on his cheek feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips. Adam turned to her and they kissed again and he told Eloise that he loved her. And Eloise was content. She had never imagined being so very happy and because she was, Eloise could never fully enjoy her happiness. Sometimes she would startle awake in the middle of the night after having a horrid dream that she had lost Adam, that he had died or been swept away by some catastrophe. And Eloise's heart would thump and the pain was acutely real. And she would choose to forget the dream and not to remember the associated emotions, just turn and watch Adam's peaceful face as he gently slept. Then Eloise would say a quick prayer for her husband's protection and move closer to him, careful not to wake him.

"I thought the whole point of turning the business over to your Aunt Martha was so that you wouldn't have to be in town," Adam said, snapping the reins on the horses' backs to step them up a bit.

"I still have to protect my investment…and the Cartwright's."

"Wife, wife, wife, don't you mean 'our' investment. You are a Cartwright, remember?"

"I try to forget," Eloise answered and Adam looked at her and grinned; he knew that she didn't mean it and that it was just her way of teasing him. No woman could lie with him and do what she did and not have willingly given herself to him not only in body, but in soul as well. "But then I look at you and I blush to remember that I am your wife." Eloise laid her head against his arm and enjoyed the bright morning. And life was bright as well, Eloise thought.

Adam swung Eloise down from the buckboard in front if the former café. Eloise's aunt had changed the name to "The Lunch Bucket," once Eloise turned control over to her but Eloise still kept her hand in. She and Adam walked into the restaurant that served not only breakfast but lunch as well and the place was busier than when Eloise had kept it a French café but she felt that the place had lost its ambience, its French accent, so to speak, that Eloise had found so comforting. No longer did the sweet, yeasty smell of pain au chocolat or croissants or beignets fill the air but the smell of fried steaks for both breakfast and lunch and the savory odor of huge pots of stew and oceans of coffee to serve the hungry cowboys who came in, wafted out the front door. And while Adam sat and ordered coffee and an early lunch of fried potatoes and bacon from Aunt Martha, Eloise went to the kitchen.

She looked at the onions, potatoes and carrots that were in sacks on the floor and were being sliced by a young boy of about sixteen. He had his sleeves rolled up and was assiduously working. He looked up when Eloise came in.

"Hello, Mrs. Cartwright."

"Hello, Tommy. What's on the menu for lunch today?"

"Same thing as always," he said grinning. "Mrs. Garner just went to get some beef for the lunch stew." Mrs. Garner was the cook that Adam and Aunt Martha had hired; Eloise was upset that she wasn't consulted. Adam explained that it was her aunt who would have to work with the woman and since Eloise wasn't in town and it needed to be done quickly, he and Martha had gone ahead and hired her. Eloise begrudgingly agreed that it was only practical but Adam teased her all day about pouting and that night pulled her into his arms and spoke sweet words of love to her until she softened again.

"I see. Don't the customers ever become tired of stew?" Eloise knew that the restaurant was doing well; when she and Adam had come in that morning, her Aunt Martha could only smile at them as she went from table to crowded table, pouring coffee. When Adam went over the books once a month, there was always a profit—quite a bit of a profit and the money went into three accounts. One account was set up for Eloise's Aunt Martha to take care of her once she stopped working although Martha had said that she had never before felt so alive as when running the restaurant. Another account was the restaurant's business account which was in Eloise Logan Cartwright's name and her name only. And then the third account was the 5% that went to the Ponderosa; Eloise insisted.

"But, Adam," Eloise had said, "I think that you should be on my account as well…in case something happens to me."

"Well, aren't you the pessimistic little thing," he had said, kissing her lightly. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But what if it does?"

Adam realized that not only was Eloise serious, she was also afraid. So he had held her, nuzzling her neck, and assured her that he would always see she was safe and secure but for her peace of mind, he would have her Aunt Martha sign papers so that she would be the beneficiary. "I don't think that your Aunt would kill you for the money but if I were your beneficiary and you made me angry enough…" Adam had meant to make her smile but Eloise had just said that it wasn't funny and he knew that she was remembering Chicago.

"What's offered as dessert today," Eloise asked Tommy, seeing a basket of apples on the wooden chair and more on the floor around it. "Apple pie?"

"Yes, ma'am, I believe so. I know that Mrs. Garner was talking about whipping cream for topping but me, well, I just like a slice of cheese on my pie."

"Well, I'm good with pastry. Why don't I make some apple tarts?" Eloise was just about to reach for an apron when Mrs. Garner, the cook Adam had helped hire, came in the kitchen with a package wrapped in brown butcher paper and tied with string.

Mrs. Garner was a dour woman with a practically lipless mouth and hard eyes. Her dark hair that was greying at the temples was sternly pulled back into a chignon and she rarely smiled. She had given birth to eight children and only four had lived past one year and only one child reached adulthood, a girl, who had married a blacksmith and moved to Carson City. So once her husband died, Mrs. Garner had sold their small farm and moved into Virginia City, hoping to find a job in the hotel. But she had won this job, her recommendation being the massive amounts of food she had made every day for her family.

"Good, Morning, Mrs. Cartwright," Mrs. Garner said without a smile. "Did you come to check out the kitchen? I keep it clean and there's been no complaints about the food to my knowledge." She dropped the heavy package of on the butcher block table with a thump. Tommy stopped the chopping of carrots and watched. Mrs. Garner was a good cook but she was possessive about the kitchen.

"I thought I could help with the dessert. Instead of apple pie, well, I thought of making apple tarts. You know, like little individual pies but with a flaky, sugary crust." Eloise became nervous as silence fell over the kitchen. Mrs. Garner stated at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea. One thing, you might get that fancy dress mussed and another thing is that I can make the apples stretch farther and with a lot less trouble if I make pies. These cowboys, they want filling food, not any fancy French cooking." And Mrs. Garner reached for the apron that Eloise was going to take and slipped it over her head, adjusted the bib of the apron and then tied it at her waist. "Anything else?"

"No," Eloise said. "Nothing else." And she walked out of the kitchen and saw Adam sitting at one of the tables. Muncie Hurd was with him. Eloise walked over and as soon as Muncie saw her, he stood up and pulled out a chair for her.

"How are you, Muncie?" Eloise liked the small, quiet man; he was always kind and attentive and she remembered that he was the first regular patron of the bakery. It was at least a month before he introduced himself and Eloise's Aunt Martha always teased Eloise that he was a suitor. She told Eloise that Mr. Hurd would take a table from which he could see the kitchen and was always waiting for the times when Eloise would bring out a pan of fresh pastry. And he always bought a half dozen croissants to take away with him.

"I'm just fine," Muncie answered.

Eloise noticed that all Muncie had was coffee and bread with jelly. "Why don't you have something more substantial—on the house," Eloise said. Adam had told Eloise that Muncie was from a wealthy family but had eschewed their support and lived off the money he made with his clock repair shop. Muncie not only repaired them but made clocks as well. His shop was lined with an array of delicately carved mantle and wall clocks with elegant chimes. Once Eloise was waiting for her small watch on a gold chain when the hour struck and the shop was filled with the music of all the chimes. And just as Muncie had made the little clockwork bird for Eloise; he made other curiosities, odd music boxes and small toys but it wasn't a lucrative business. Most of the people in Virginia City had no money to waste on things such as that.

"Thank you, Eloise, but this is all I want. I miss the days when I could imagine that I was back in Paris and eating pain au chocolat as the sun rose over the Seine. I always felt that the pastry tasted a bit better since you made it." He and Eloise exchanged smiles.

Adam looked up from his food; he never quite knew how Eloise took Muncie's comments. He also couldn't decide if Muncie was flirting with her or not but Eloise never took his remarks as his making love to her so Adam was never too concerned. Besides, as Muncie had aged, he had become more odd, more squat as if some divine thumb had pushed down on him, disfiguring him in some way. And when Muncie had shown up at the Ponderosa two years ago, Adam was surprised—pleased to see his college friend, but surprised.