I need a safe place to vent my feelings right now. This journal will be the receiver of my latest frustrations with Lucille Bond. I had a lovely party to thank Blake, Red, and Willard Bond for making my shop possible. I had made nice presents for each...monogrammed handkerchiefs for the men, and monogrammed handkerchiefs with crocheted lace for Lucille.
I was very disappointed when Willard came alone. When I inquired about Lucille, Willard said, "Oh Lucille is so sorry that she couldn't be here. She was feeling very ill. I think she said a chest cold. Yes, I believe that was it."
I was pretty certain that he was lying to cover up the fact that Lucille wouldn't come. So I said nothing more other than to make all my guests welcome. We had a lovely dinner but it was a little strange to have three men and me. Oh journal you know that I have been around far too many men, but these were all three wonderful, decent men, and what a joy it was to be with them.
I sang them a little thanksgiving song that I wrote for them in French. I think French is a much prettier language than English and I will teach Eric and Jamie French as they grow up. I have already started.
Then I gave them each my present. I gave Lucille's to Willard and asked him to give them to her, and said to tell her to feel better.
I was not surprised the next day to see Lucille dressed in all her finery heading down to the Calkington Ladies Aid Society. She didn't appear to be in the least sick. Willard Bond is a very intelligent, kind, gentleman but his wife...she is not kind or nice.
It's strange to me. Lucille was also orphaned as her family made their way to this place. Yet somehow she thinks that she's better than me. If she had been greeted by Madame LeRouge instead of saved by Willard Bond (he roped her and pulled her out of a prickly patch) her life would have been very, very different.
Well, I must not waste any more coal oil. I have to pay the rent tomorrow, and my wages were a little low this last week. Goodnight.
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