The Claim Read Online Free Page A

it if you’d take this bowl of potatoes and peel them out back,” I said firmly.
    “I s’pose so,” he said reluctantly, shoulders slumped. He took the bowl and slunk from the kitchen, Brandywine trailing behind him, equally disappointed.
    “That’s the last time that little trick works,” I murmured, tying on an apron.
    Across the room Millie was stacking dishes, counting them out carefully. Like me, she lived at the hotel. Originally from New Hampshire, she and her husband had traveled to Oregon, intending to homestead some land. They had no sooner arrived when her husband got it into his head that he wanted to try his hand at the gold mines in California. By all accounts he left her with little more than a tent to protect her from the elements, promising to return a rich man. That was nearly three years ago.
    Mr. Russell had met her when he was on a buying trip in Astoria, across the Columbia River in Oregon, and told her that Mrs. Frink was looking for help. A week later Millie had appeared at the front door of the hotel—a thin woman with sad eyes.
    “I’m a good worker,” she had said simply.
    She never spoke of her husband. I knew all too well what she had suffered, for I had experienced something like it myself. I had traveled from Philadelphia to Shoalwater Bay to marry Dr. William Baldt, a former apprentice of my father’s. When I had arrived after a sea journey of several months, he was not to be found in the territory and had left no word for me. I had been forced to make my way on my wits, without a man to support or help me.
    Millie seemed to think her husband would one day return. I could see it in her eyes, the way she looked up when a door opened, how she scanned the faces of the men who filed in for supper. She was endlessly kind to the rough-and-tumble men, even mending their filthy socks. It was clear that she missed having a man of her own to look after, and I’ll confess to a little matchmaking.
    “Millie,” I said. “Have you met the gentleman who arrived yesterday? The one staying in the back room upstairs?”
    A jovial-looking oysterman had taken a room in the hotel, and something about the kindness in his eyes made me think he might be good for Millie. “He seems very agreeable,” I continued.
    Millie shook her head, which was what she always did when confronted with these attempts on my part. Spaark met my eyes and gave a slight shrug.
    “I’m a married woman,” Millie said.
    “What if he never comes back?” I asked softly.
    Millie stared down at her plates, and when she glanced back up, there was a hollow look in her eyes.
    “Then I’m still a married woman,” she whispered.
      Hotel guests were called to meals by a bell. A hearty breakfast was served promptly at seven, and supper at six. There was always hot coffee available for a weary man who had come in from his oyster beds, and Millie was occasionally known to set out a late-night snack for hungry men. Mealtime was a boisterous affair, and the men ate whatever was put in front of themwith incredible speed. A meal that took Spaark, Millie, and me the better part of the day to prepare was often dispatched within less than fifteen minutes! Still, we had learned to take this as a compliment.
    The dining room was arranged with the largest table at one end, and the other, smaller tables positioned around the room. The largest table was known as the head table, and this was where the Frinks took their supper, as did I. Mrs. Frink was a marvelous conversationalist, and dining at the head table was considered a treat. It was also, unfortunately, where I found myself seated that evening along with Sally and her parents, and another couple, the Hosmers.
    “So, Mr. Biddle,” Mrs. Frink said, and then asked the very question I was wondering myself. “What brings you to our fair Shoalwater Bay?”
    Mr. Biddle was plump and short, and the suit he wore strained at the seams. Clearly the sea voyage had not disagreed with him. If