Dillard Beach Mystery – 31

Chapter Thirty-One

Mid June 1680

Ezra Rand had a broad smile like his father, John. Each morning when she kissed him good morning, Rebekah marveled at how much her son resembled her late husband. At nearly a year old now, the boy’s hair was growing in thick and wavy and there was little question he was certain to be a redhead.
“You are your father’s son, Ezra,” Rebekah whispered.
She lifted the boy out of the crib and carried him to the cottage window. Together, mother and son quietly watched the birds gather in the trees, and the hens peck about for bugs in the patch of grass behind the picket fence.
“Are you hungry, little one?” she asked, undoing the laces on her bodice. “Why do I even ask?” she wondered out loud. She smiled down at her son’s eager face. “You are always hungry, aren’t you?”
She offered the boy her breast but he seemed not interested.”
“Is it porridge you want?” she asked. She held the child tightly against herself while she filled a small cup with porridge and offered him a spoonful. He smiled and eagerly ate one full spoon after another until the entire cup was empty. “You are, indeed a growing boy,” she declared, and kissed the top of his head.
It was on such a morning, with mother and son seated on the bench by the window, that Captain Chapman returned to the cottage.
“Mistress Rand,” he said as he doffed his hat and made a small bow. “It is a pleasure to finally find you at home this day.”
“It is good of you to stop by, Captain.” She studied him for a moment. His coat and breeches were made of very fine material and in the latest fashion. They fit him well. “How can I help you?”
“Did you not find the small clay pots I left for you?”
“I did, sir and I thank you.”
“I thought you might have sought me out to discuss what next we might do.”
“Do?” She asked. “Of what do you speak?” Rebekah queried.
Chapman looked exasperated. “I thought you had ointments you were wishing to trade. I have stopped by your cottage to speak with you but found you gone from home. I am willing to assist you but I must know. Are you still interested?”
“In trading or selling my ointment, Captain?”
“Precisely madam.”
“Yes, of course, I need your help.” Though he appeared calm, Rebekah could tell he was quickly losing patience with her and decided to answer directly. “I would be most grateful for any assistance you can give.” She stepped back into the house and sat down at the table. “Perhaps we should make a plan?”
Chapman looked down at the child on her lap. “Perhaps we could meet another time?” he suggested.
“Now is as good a time as ever, sir. Tell me what must be done to make this venture a success.”
Chapman stood in the cottage doorway, unconsciously fingering the brim of his tri-corner hat. “First, I need you to make samples. I will distribute them to the right people and bring back an opinion regarding the value of your product.”
“Value?” Rebekah said with surprise. “You don’t believe the ointment is good enough?”
“I did not say that, madam. What I propose is that we take the time to first discover if the public accepts and likes what it is you produce. I suggest we give away samples of the ointment to those who are most likely in need of it and will use it. Then, we gather their ideas to either improve the product or if there is little interest, disband the idea altogether.”
“That seems rather ruthless, sir.”
“It is the way of the marketplace, madam. First, we discover if what you offer is needed or desired. If yes, we move forward. If not, it is best to not waste any effort fighting the tide, but abandon the idea and try another tack. My time is too precious to be sailing against the wind.”
Rebekah took her time answering the Captain.
“Forgive me, sir, for any past misunderstanding.” She shifted Ezra on her lap and helped him stand on the bench by her side. “And if there is interest, and people find it of value, you are willing to help me sell my ointments?”
Chapman nodded. “Of course. But first, we must determine there is a need.”
“I know the need is genuine. My husband’s hands were sorely abused by his work. It was for him that I first began to make the cream and he would cover his hands with it each night. By morning he would declare his hands felt as smooth as our Ezra’s bottom.” She patted the child’s backside and smiled, remembering.
Chapman shifted his stance. “That is all good news and a good beginning. You will need to make a large quantity as samples.” He looked about the room. “Do you have the makings at hand?”
“I only have enough for one or two samples. It takes time to gather the ingredients. Luckily I have enough lavender drying in the shed and oil I can get in trade from the general store. It is beeswax I have need of, and it is more dear than I can easily afford.”
The Captain raised his hand to stop her talking. “I will handle the costs at the moment. If all goes well, we can use the revenues for more supplies. Money is not my greatest concern.”
Rebekah looked at Chapman with wonder. “What must it be like to not worry about the number of coins in your purse,” she asked herself.