Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  “Do you think he’d allow me to help?”

  Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take offense, but you couldn’t find your way around the kitchen two months ago. Now you think you can manage the whole lot?”

  Her conviction wavered for a brief moment, then she squared her shoulders. “I won’t know unless I try. When Wash comes back at suppertime, I’ll ask him to take me to Mr. West. We’ll let him decide.”

  “He don’t let too many people know where he lives. I doubt he’d welcome a visit.”

  “We’ll see.” She grabbed a stack of plates. “I’ll get the dining room ready for breakfast, then start on pies.”

  After setting the tables, Cassie slipped into the grocery. Timothy paused in the midst of dusting the shelves when he saw her.

  “You’re the lady who works with Miz Fielder, ain’t you? I never saw you up close before.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

  “That’s right. I’m Miss Haddon.”

  He dropped the feather duster on a counter. “The swamper said the boss broke his leg. He ain’t coming in today.” He puffed out his chest. “I reckon I can handle things fine without him. Since you came to work, he’s over in the restaurant lots more than he used to be. He leaves the store to me.”

  She swept her gaze over his patched trousers, worn shirt, and lanky blond hair hanging over his forehead. Likely he needed his job as much as she needed hers. “Mr. West has mentioned how much he depends on you.”

  Timothy flushed. “He has? I mean, good to know.”

  The aroma of frying bacon drifted through the doorway and reminded her she needed to be in the kitchen. She drew a quick breath. “Has he taught you how to enter receipts in the ledger?”

  “No sirree—I mean, no, miss. Nobody touches them books but Mr. West.”

  She clasped her fingers behind her back so he couldn’t see her hands tremble. “Since he’s not here today, I’ll take care of the ledger for him after you lock the grocery.”

  “I don’t know . . . he never said . . .”

  “He didn’t plan to break a leg. We’ll have to do all we can to help him until he can come back, won’t we?” She gave him her brightest smile.

  “Yes.” He drew the word out to two syllables. “I reckon so.”

  “Good. Please come to the kitchen after you lock up, so I’ll know it’s time for me to tally the books.” Perspiration prickled across her forehead. Her father had been protective of their finances. Mr. West might be angry, but after leaving for Calusa without his blessing, she needed to prove herself. Managing his accounts would be the perfect opportunity.

  16

  Cassie had a warm apple pie waiting on a worktable when Wash returned that evening. One of Mr. West’s ledgers rested next to the dessert.

  Wash glanced between her and Jenny. “This here pie must be the surprise you promised Mr. West. Looks mighty good.” He hung his hat over a peg beside the screen door. “Soon’s I mop this floor, I’ll take him his supper.”

  Jenny nudged Cassie’s side, then folded her arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Go ahead, ask him.”

  Bucket in hand, Wash paused on his way to the pump. “Ask me what, missy?”

  “Would you please take me with you when you deliver Mr. West’s supper?” Her pulse thudded. Wash had to say yes.

  She needed Mr. West’s permission to continue with the ledger. And if she were honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason for her request. She wanted to see him.

  The deep grooves on either side of Wash’s mouth lifted when he smiled. “I reckon I could do that. He was right pleased to hear you was back. Seein’ you might be a better surprise than a pie.”

  Jenny cleared her throat. “Now, Wash, you know Mr. West doesn’t like too many folks knowing where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t be driving Miss Haddon out there. I tried to talk her out of going, but—”

  “He’s been real good to me. I surely don’t want to make him mad.” He set the bucket on the floor, then faced Cassie. “Maybe I better ask him first. If he says yes, you can go tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. She’d tallied Mr. West’s receipts, entered the amounts in his ledger, and placed the cash in a metal box she’d discovered in his office. She’d already stepped so far over the line of propriety that his anger at having her come to his house seemed minor. Either he’d be grateful for her help, or dismiss her on the spot.

  “If he’s upset, Wash, I’ll take the blame.” She moved the pie to one side and hefted the ledger, amazed at her daring. “Please. We’ll leave as soon as you’re finished with your chores.”

  Cassie sat in the back of the buggy while Wash drove them through town and on west in the direction of Pioneer Lake. Twilight bathed her surroundings in softness. When she was a child, she imagined at this quiet time that the earth was settling down to sleep.

  She sighed at the memory as Wash slowed the buggy and turned onto a narrow road leading uphill. So much had happened since the war swept away her peaceful childhood. Sometimes she hardly recognized the person she’d become. The old Cassie would never have demanded to be taken to visit a single man in his home. Yet here she was, bouncing over a rocky track to confess to her employer that she’d taken the liberty to look into his business ledgers.

  After cresting a rise, Wash stopped the buggy in front of a two-story frame house that rivaled many of the homes she’d seen in Noble Springs. A lattice-trimmed veranda spread across the front. Light spilling from tall windows brightened rocking chairs on both sides of the porch. Looking up, she noticed smoke curling from a chimney at the center of the roof. She couldn’t understand why Jenny said Mr. West didn’t like people knowing where he lived. Surely he was proud of his fine home.

  “Here you are, missy. You wait right there. I’ll help you with your things.” The buggy rocked when Wash jumped to the ground. After he tied the horse to a hitching post, she handed him the pie and a bowl containing supper but kept the ledger tucked beneath her shawl.

  He hesitated a moment before carrying the food toward the house. “Lordy, I hope he’s not mad that I brought you.”

  “I pray he’s not. But I promise I’ll tell him it was all my idea.”

  “Yes, missy.” Doubt weighted his words. He stepped in front of her to open the door.

  A wide hallway lay before them, with a set of stairs on the left leading to the second floor. Halfway down the hall, a stream of light flowed from an open doorway to her right. Wash pointed. “There’s the parlor.”

  Mr. West’s gravelly voice called from within the room. “That you, Wash?” His tone sharpened. “Is someone with you?”

  “Yes, sir.” He moved aside so Cassie could precede him. “Missy Haddon came with me.”

  Jacob’s face brightened when she entered the room. He pushed himself higher in his upholstered chair and reached for crutches lying on the floor within his reach. The motion shifted his right leg, which rested on a low stool in front of him.

  He drew a sharp breath.

  The sight of him reclining, leg splinted and bandaged, melted her heart. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. Please don’t try to stand.”

  She wished she could reach out and smooth the tousled hair from his forehead. Instead, she extended her hand and he took it in his. Tingles skittered up her arm.

  Still holding her hand, he enveloped her in his warm gaze. “Thank you.” He glanced at Wash, who remained in the doorway holding the food. “Wash said you were sending a surprise. Looks like you made me a pie.” A smile spread beneath his moustache. “Having you deliver it in person is a better surprise.”

  When Wash left, heading toward what she assumed to be the kitchen, she stepped away from Mr. West’s side. “After you see what else I brought, you may not like the surprise quite so much.”

  He waved at a gilt-trimmed velvet sofa facing his chair. “I doubt that. Please, be seated and tell me the rest.”

  She sank onto the plush upholstery and took a quick glance around. Recessed
bookcases framed both sides of the fireplace. All the furnishings complemented the elegance of the sofa. She wondered at the contrast between the simplicity of the restaurant dining room and the ornamentation in his home. Mr. West held a few surprises of his own.

  “I need to tell you what I’ve—what we’ve all done to take care of the business while you’re away.” She pulled the ledger from beneath her shawl and laid it across her knees.

  His eyes widened.

  “After Timothy left today, I wrote the grocery and restaurant receipts in here. I copied the way you’ve done it.”

  “Let me see.” He leaned toward her, his mouth set in a straight line.

  Feeling the sting of his gaze, she passed the opened book to him.

  Jacob tried to hide his misgivings when he accepted the ledger. He never allowed anyone to disturb the contents of his desk. But his careful planning hadn’t taken into account Miss Haddon’s desire to be useful. Running his finger down the row of numbers she’d entered, he mentally added the totals. To his amazement, her sums agreed with his.

  He flipped the pages back to the beginning to see what he’d written in the book that might have revealed his life in Boston. As he feared, he’d noted names and addresses inside the front cover. Sweat dotted his hairline. Colin Riley and Keegan Byrne could be explained away. Not so the third name.

  His breathing stilled. He stole a glance at Miss Haddon, trying to decipher her expression.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I know I intruded, but I wanted to help. You’ve been kind to me in spite of my failures. I hoped it would comfort you to know that West & Riley’s would survive until you’re able to return.”

  A few wisps of auburn hair had come loose and framed her face. She’d never looked prettier. He longed to cross the room to sit beside her and assure her he wasn’t upset, although nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, he closed the book and gave her what he hoped was a genuine smile.

  “I’m grateful that you—all of you—care about me.” He gripped the ledger. “You did a fine job. Nevertheless, please leave the accounting to me.”

  If he’d struck her, she couldn’t have looked more stunned. She shrank back against the sofa. “Did . . . did you find errors? I checked everything twice.”

  Her visit had built on the intimacy he longed for between them. Now with one sentence he’d shattered the connection. “No errors.” He tried another smile. “I’ve always kept my business dealings private. Guess I’m too old to change.”

  “I’ll remember that in the future.” Her voice sent a chill through him. She adjusted her shawl over her shoulders. “Perhaps I’d better be going.”

  He glanced at the darkness gathering beyond the windows and nodded. “Would you please go to the kitchen—it’s the next door on the right off the hallway—to ask Wash to take you home? I’d go myself, but—” He gestured at his leg.

  She stood, holding out her hand. “Would you like me to return the ledger to its proper place?”

  His fingers tightened over the leather cover. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

  “Very well. Good evening.” She whipped through the doorway.

  Within a few moments, Wash stepped into the room. “Missy Haddon says I’m to take her home now. Don’t you want your supper?”

  “It can wait. Please see her safely to her door.”

  “Yessir.”

  After they left, Jacob slumped against the chair back and closed his eyes. Memories from his life in Boston taunted him.

  Miss Haddon must never find out who he’d been and what he’d done.

  17

  Cassie stepped away from the worktable and brushed a smudge of flour from her cheek. Six rhubarb pies cooled on racks near the door to the dining room. If Mr. West thought she couldn’t do anything but bake pies, she’d make sure they were the best pies anyone ever tasted.

  The muscles in her neck tightened when she heard his crutches tapping their way toward the kitchen. She slammed the lid on the flour bin and hastened to the sink, turning her back to the door.

  Jenny shook soapy water from her hands and moved aside to make room for Cassie. “Sooner or later you’ll have to talk to him. I don’t know what happened last week, but I told you not to go out there.”

  “Nothing happened.” She grabbed a dishrag and plunged her hands into the water. “He thinks my competence stops at the kitchen door, apparently. So we have nothing more to talk about.” She scrubbed at burned-on gravy in a skillet.

  Mr. West crutched his way over to the sink. “The word is out about your baking.” He fished in his pocket and placed a sheet of paper in a dry spot next to the washbasin. “Here are orders from two households in town. They each want a whole pie.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” She flexed her aching shoulders and read the names without meeting his eyes. “Thanks to Jenny’s help, we’re keeping up.”

  “I don’t do that much.” Jenny picked up a brush and stepped away to clean the cooled surface of the range.

  He spoke close to Cassie’s ear. “Look at me. Please.”

  She glanced at him sideways. The pleading in his eyes rattled her resolve to remain silent in his presence.

  He moved his crutches in front of him, then shifted his weight and swung his good leg forward, bringing him closer to her side. His voice rumbled. “I know I’ve wounded you. Soon as we’re finished for the night, I’d like to drive you home in my buggy so I can explain.”

  The scrub brush scratched over the range top. Jenny kept her back turned and appeared to be absorbed in scrubbing, but Cassie knew her ears were tuned to every word she and Mr. West said.

  “That’s kind of you, but you know I live just across the street. It’s not a taxing walk.”

  “We can take the long way around. I’ll have the buggy at the kitchen door a little before seven.”

  To be fair, she should listen to what he had to say. She dried her hands on her apron. “All right. I’ll be ready.”

  Cassie sensed Jenny’s gaze following her out the door as she threw her shawl over her shoulders and hurried to meet Mr. West. She couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say that could explain his actions.

  He waited next to his horse and buggy, a rueful smile on his lips. “Forgive me for not helping you in. It’s all I can do to hoist myself up.” Supporting his weight on his crutches, he took her hand and held her steady while she put her foot on the step. After she settled on the leather seat, he made his way around the buggy and gathered the reins.

  He placed his crutches at her feet and stepped up with his uninjured leg, then flung himself onto the seat. The buggy jounced when he landed. “Not polished, but effective,” he said, grinning.

  She dared a smile back. “I can see you’ve practiced.”

  “I wanted to be sure I could get in and out without falling.”

  “I’d help you if you fell.”

  “I believe you would.” His gaze locked with hers for a breathless moment before he guided the horse out of the alley and rolled south. Instead of turning toward her cabin, they traveled down Third Street, past the church and Rosemary’s home.

  When they reached the street that paralleled the railroad, he stopped in front of a park across from the tracks. He pointed to the lattice-enclosed bandstand in the center of a grassy area. “If you like, we can walk over there and watch the sunset before I take you home.”

  After glancing at his right leg, which he had stretched as straight as possible on the buggy floor, she shook her head. “It would be a bit difficult for you to get out and in again, wouldn’t it? I’m comfortable right here.” Next to you, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

  “Miss Haddon . . .” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared about my welfare. Takes some getting used to.”

  He’d given her the perfect opportunity. She drew a deep breath and turned to face him. “Your welfare was the reason I took it upon myself to make the e
ntries in your ledger. I could understand your reaction if I’d made mistakes, but you said there were no errors.”

  His head jerked up. “You surprise me with your boldness.”

  “I surprise myself sometimes.” She rubbed her sweating palms on her skirt. She’d gone too far to back down now. “You said you would explain. I’m listening.”

  Mr. West leaned against the seat back and fixed his eyes on the horizon. He spoke in a monotone, as if reciting from memory. “Before the war, a man named Colin Riley loaned me the money to open my business. He trusted me, so I trust him. Aside from that, I learned a long time ago to depend upon few people. So, I work alone.” A corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile when he met her gaze. “Change comes hard, but if you’ll bear with me, I’m willing to try.”

  She released a long breath. “You weren’t angry with me?”

  “No. But it would have been better if you’d asked first.”

  “How could I? You weren’t at work.”

  His brows drew together, then his lips twitched. After a moment a husky chuckle erupted. “You’ve got me there. I’m not practiced with ladies—that must be obvious.”

  She straightened her skirt as a pretense to move an inch or so closer. “I like you just as you are.” Her hand flew to her lips. Of all the bold things to say. Why couldn’t she learn to think before she spoke? “I . . . I mean, you don’t have to act in any special way.” Oh, goodness, that was worse. She turned her head, certain that her face must match the color of the rosy sunset.

  “So you wouldn’t mind if we spent more time together?”

  “Mind? Of course not.” This was the moment she’d dreamed of—to sit beside Jacob and listen to his deep voice express his feelings for her.

  “Good.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I have a question for you, but I want you to think before you answer.”