Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
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- eighteen
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- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
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- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- sixty-one
- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
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- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
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- nineteen
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- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
More than one shop owner stepped to the boardwalk in front of his store as she passed, and Marcail took time to smile and greet each one. She didnt tarry long, however. Her desire to meet Mr. Flynn gave her a singleness of purpose that took her swiftly to the door of the bank and over the threshold. Once inside the small building, Marcail approached the single clerk who stood behind the counter.
May I help you, miss? Marcail noticed he was very businesslike, his speech and manner proper in the extreme.
Yes, thank you. Im looking for a Mr. Stanley Flynn.
May I tell him who is calling?
Feeling much younger than her 19 years, Marcail gave her name and watched the bank clerk walk to a private office at the rear of the building. She looked around admiringly at the elegant surroundings of the compact room, taking in the gleaming woodwork. She thought she defected the faint odor of linseed oil.
Moving to the windows that looked out over the street, Marcail spotted a cobbler shop, hotel, dry goods store, and what appeared to be a doctors office. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned with a ready smile. A man was approaching, his smile cordial but his eyes watchful. He extended his hand to Marcail, who was well aware of his scrutiny. She was quite conscious of the fact that she looked like a girl on the threshold of womanhood, and not a woman fully grown. But Marcail was confident of her ability to teach, and in her posture and the very tilt of her head she unconsciously relayed just that.
Miss Donovan, its a pleasure to meet you. Stanley Flynn must have liked what he saw because his manner became very solicitous, his smile genuine.
Marcail smiled in return. Its a pleasure to be here, Mr. Flynn.
She might not have been so confident or ready to smile if she could have read the bankers thoughts, the first of which was that she was beautiful. The second was that she looked innocent enough to be malleable. It would be some time before Marcail would find out that she was Willits ninth school teacher in three years.
Ten minutes later Mr. Flynn put Marcails bag in his buggy and drove Marcail to her house. As they appeared to be headed out of town, he explained that the builder of the schoolhouse and teachers home, some 30 years before, had not liked how noisy children could be. It had been his opinion that the school should be located on the outskirts of town. Since he had supplied most of the funds, the town had acquiesced.