Stealing Mercy by Kristy Tate Page A

turned.
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw a red slipper climb the attic stairs and slide out of sight.
     
    *****
     
    Mercy jumped every time the bell jingled. Between customers, she found herself staring out the window, watching each passing pedestrian for Trent’s familiar hulk. She hoped that Eloise, who knew him as well as every other eligible man in town, would come in so that she could ask her about him and not raise her aunt’s foolhardy, matchmaking hopes. She could go to the Penny Store where Eloise worked, but that meant risking seeing Miles and potentially missing Trent.
    Around noon, Mercy gave the counter top another swipe with the dust rag before retreating to the backroom where she found Tilly pinning a pattern to a swatch of blue heavy cotton. Almost hidden between the bolts of fabric and stacks of crates containing the completed work shirts hummed two sewing machines manned by Lee and Young Lee. Their dark heads bent over the machines and their fingers flew along the cloth as their feet beat out a rhythm that spurred the machines to life.
    Neither of the men looked up when she entered, but Tilly’s broad face lit with a welcoming smile. Her strawberry blond hair, a halo of frizz, had the unfortunate effect of making her head look as round as pumpkin. Her ruddy coloring and cushy girth furthered the comparison.
    “Auntie,” Mercy said, adopting her most casual tone. “Are you acquainted with the Michaels family?”
    Tilly took the pins out of her mouth, smiled and wagged her finger at Mercy. “I knew it. He kept coming in, asking about you. Why, before you showed up he’d never purchased more than a hankie from us, and then suddenly, we’re getting orders.”
    Mercy ran her fingers along a bolt of blue surge fabric and averted her eyes from her aunt’s scrutiny. “Auntie, I’m sure he just discovered the high quality --”
    “Oh you silly prat, don’t you think I’ve eyes in my head and ears under my hair?” Tilly chortled, causing the floor to slightly bounce with her mirth. Lee and Young Lee looked up when Tilly raised her voice, but their feet or hands never stopped working. “I saw you in his coach last night and so did about fifty other people!”
    And had all of them rushed in to tell her aunt? Mercy had seen a handful of customers pass through the store, and her aunt hadn’t left her perch behind the machine, so how did she acquire gossip? She was like a sponge that could extract and soak up water from the air -- a gossip sponge that was able to float through the sky and hear what was on everyone’s lips and then translate it into her own story. Tilly had been so valiant in sending Trent away before, but now that she thought -- wait? What did she think?
    For a moment, Young Lee made eye contact with Mercy. His gaze darted back to his work. Mercy wondered what he’d heard. The two men rarely spoke. They moved through the shop like quiet, efficient ghosts intent on completing their tasks. Mercy suspected that because of the recent racial unrest they were grateful to have employment and comfortable housing. Tilly treated them as she treated everyone, with unflinching kindness and generosity.
    Mercy didn’t doubt their allegiance to her aunt, but so far she hadn’t determined how they felt about her. Her sudden arrival, her instant place in Tilly’s home, store and heart, the men seemed to be keeping their opinions on Mercy to themselves. She felt as if she’d yet to win their approval.
    Mercy tucked a loose curl into the knot at the back of her neck, conscious of the two men watching her through their dark eyes. “It’s not what you think.”
    Tilly placed her hands on her hips. “And what, pray tell me, do I think? Seems like that’s something I should know, what I think, since it’s me doing the thinking.”
    “And I appreciate your thinking of me, but --” Mercy stopped, biting her lip. Maybe she should let her aunt assume Trent was interested in her. Perhaps Mr.