“Where Reggie is concerned, it’s best just to go along.”
So he was on a first-name basis with Adam’s wife. “Still, I feel as if you were put on the spot, and it was very kind of you to be such a good sport about it.”
He gave her an odd look. Had she said too much again? When would she learn to think before she spoke?
When they arrived at her building, he didn’t go in. Instead, he indicated he would be just inside his office and for her to knock on the door when she was ready.
As always, Kip greeted her as if she’d been gone for days rather than a few hours.
When she stepped back outside a few minutes later, Mr. Fulton joined her before she could so much as move toward his door. He gave Kip an annoyed look but refrained from saying anything. In return, Daisy was careful to keep her dog to her far side.
When they arrived at the Barr home, Jack and his own pet were waiting for them. Kip and the large, muddy-colored dog the boy called Buck sniffed each other, then started a friendly tussle that ended when Jack threw a stick and called out a fetch command.
“They like each other,” the boy said with a broad smile.
“So it seems.” Mr. Fulton’s tone was noncommittal.
Reggie joined them. “I thought I heard you arrive. Please come in.”
Jack gave his mother a pleading look. “Can I stay out here and play?”
“For a few minutes, but Mrs. Peavy will have the food on the table soon.”
With a quick nod, he ran to the backyard, both dogs on his heels.
Reggie shook her head with a smile. “It’ll be like lassoing the rain to get him inside for lunch.” Then she turned back to her guests and escorted them inside.
Reggie led them to a cozy parlor where Adam and the two other gentlemen were already seated. They all rose as the ladies entered, but Reggie quickly waved them back down.
Daisy learned that Mr. Parker was one of the town’s two schoolteachers, and that Mr. Dawson did some sort of mechanical work. She also learned that these were the other two men who had traveled here from Philadelphia at the same time Everett and Mr. Barr had. That must account for the bond they seemed to share.
The conversation was lively, and it wasn’t long before Daisy felt at ease with these people. She was content to sit back and listen for the most part, but her hostess would have none of that.
“I read the article Everett wrote about you for the paper,” Reggie said. “You seem to have led a fascinating life.”
“I’m afraid most of that is due to Mr. Fulton’s writing skill rather than my own accomplishments. To my way of thinking, my life has been rather ordinary.”
Reggie laughed. “I suppose everyone thinks that about their own lives. I imagine it’s been every bit as ordinary as that of everyone else in this room.”
Daisy pondered that statement. Did that mean there were some tales to be told here? “Did Mr. Fulton interview each of you as well?” She’d sure be interested in reading those stories.
“I’m afraid none of us were as obliging as you were,” Mr. Parker said dryly.
Before Daisy could dig further, Mrs. Peavy announced the meal was ready.
Meals at the Barr household were anything but formal. Jack was allowed to eat with the adults, and Ira and Mabel Peavy also joined them at the table.
Adam said a simple but heartfelt prayer before the meal, and once everyone was served, the conversation started up again. The food was delicious, and Daisy complimented Mrs. Peavy on her cooking.
“Why, thank you, dear. But I understand you’re quite a cook in your own right. Planning to open a restaurant, even.”
“Yes, as soon as I can get my place fixed up and acquire the equipment I need. Maybe you and I can swap recipes some time.”
Mrs. Peavy gave her a broad grin. “I’d like that.”
“Opening a restaurant.” Chance Dawson was seated to her left, and he gave her a boyish grin. “That’s something this town needs. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you along.” The young man, with his ready smiles and teasing attitude, was as different from Everett as a songbird was from a hawk.
“Thank you. I may take you up on that someday soon.”
Everett sat across from her, and she noticed he was frowning at Chance. Was his stand against her opening a restaurant such that he didn’t want anyone else to offer her a show of support? He glanced her way, and his expression immediately switched back to the aloof indifference she was so familiar with.
The conversation continued in a lively give-and-take that Daisy thoroughly enjoyed. Mr. Parker was the quiet sort, but he could suddenly pipe in with a touch of dry wit that one had to be paying close attention to catch. Mr. Dawson was cocky, but his manner was charming rather than off-putting. And Reggie presided over the gathering with relaxed charm and humor. Despite what she’d said earlier, Daisy could see that Reggie needed no help in holding her own with this group.
When at last the meal was over, Reggie invited them to join her out in the garden for dessert.
But Daisy shook her head. “Thank you so much for a wonderful meal, but it’s time for me to take my leave.”
“You can’t leave without tasting Mrs. Peavy’s peach cobbler,” Reggie protested. “It’s her specialty.”
Daisy smiled regretfully. “I’m sure it’s wonderful, but I have something at home that requires my attention this afternoon.”
“Well, if you must go, then I won’t pout. But I’ve enjoyed having you here, and I insist you consider yourself part of our Sunday gatherings.”
“Thank you. I would like that very much.”
As she headed back toward her home, with Kip at her heels and a carefully packaged piece of cobbler in her hands that Reggie had insisted she take, she sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She’d made a new group of friends and had spent the past hour feeling like a genuinely welcome part of that group. It was almost like having a family. Or rather, what she imagined a loving family would be like.
* * *
Everett watched Daisy make her exit, and was surprised to find her departure left a hole in their gathering. Did the rest of them feel that way, or just him? It was strange how smoothly she’d fit into their Sunday afternoon gathering—as if she’d always been part of it.
He’d kept an eye on her, unobtrusively, of course. After all, he felt some responsibility for introducing her into their midst.
Chance had sat next to her at lunch, and the would-be lothario had actually flirted with her. Which was ridiculous. Despite her lack of polish, Daisy was much too mature for him. Not that it was really any of his concern. It’s just that it was unseemly. Not only was Chance younger than Daisy—at least he seemed to be—but he was entirely the wrong sort of man for her. Daisy needed a man who could lend a bit of pragmatism and worldly wisdom to temper her foolishly optimistic outlook on life. Chance was basically a good person, but he was also brash and reckless and counted on his charm a little too much at times.
Everett pulled his thoughts back to the present and saw Reggie eyeing him speculatively. What was that look for? He tugged his cuff sharply and turned to ask Mitchell about doing an article on the students who would be graduating soon.
As for that gleam in Reggie’s eyes, she obviously suffered from an overactive imagination.
Chapter Eight
Later that afternoon, as Daisy stitched up the side of the ticking she’d finally finished stuffing, her mind kept wandering to the gathering at the Barrs’ home. She’d really had a wonderful time.
A sound from the other side of the wall told her Mr. Fulton had made it home.
How had he felt about her intrusion into their gathering today? After all, Reggie had invited her in a way that hadn’t allowed anyone else in the group to object without seeming rude. She’d felt his gaze on her often during the meal, but more often than not, whenever she’d glance his way he was looking elsewhere. Perhaps that had just been her imagination.
Daisy pushed
those thoughts away as she placed the last stitch in her ticking and tied off her thread. She knotted it three times, just to make sure it would hold. Yesterday she’d laced the bed frame nice and tight, so it was ready and waiting for the mattress. Would it hold? She maneuvered the bulky mattress onto the frame, then gingerly sat on it. Nothing crashed to the floor—so far, so good.
She flopped back to really get a feel for it. Again, it held. It was a bit lumpy, but she could live with that. And spreading her bedroll on top ought to help smooth it a little. It sure would beat sleeping on the floor.
She popped back up and smiled at Kip. “Guess who’s going to be sleeping in a real bed tonight?” Catching her mood, the dog gave a playful bark. “That’s right, me. And look at this.”
She stood and quickly crossed the room where she scooped up a colorful oval of cloth. “I’ve made a rag rug that’ll be perfect for you to sleep on. See, I’ll spread it right next to my bed, and we’ll both have comfortable places to sleep tonight. What do you think?”
Kip’s wagging tail marked his approval.
“I think this calls for a celebration.”
She’d been hoarding a small tin of cocoa powder for just such an occasion. A cup of hot cocoa would be perfect to celebrate this little step to furnishing her new home. And she’d set aside a bone from the butcher to give Kip tomorrow, but he deserved to celebrate, as well.
She dug the cocoa tin out of her pack, then paused. A celebration was so much nicer when there was someone else to share it with. And while Kip was always great company, it would be nice to have another person to share this with.
Did Mr. Fulton like cocoa?
She chewed on her lip for a moment, then nodded to herself and opened the pass-through door on her side of the wall. She knocked firmly on the one that opened into his place.
After a moment of silence, there was the sound of movement and he opened the door. His face wore a cautious expression. Had she been too bold, after all?
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Not at all.” She offered him her broadest smile. “I was in the mood for a celebration and thought I’d fix myself some hot cocoa as a treat.” Daisy held up her battered tin. “I wondered if you’d like to have a cup with me?”
He frowned, almost as if upset she hadn’t had a problem. “I thought we agreed not to use these doors for casual visits.”
That was what had him glowering at her. She refused to let his mood dampen her spirits. “My apologies. Shall I close the door and go downstairs and knock on your office door?”
He held his pose a moment longer, then relaxed. “Now that the doors are open, I suppose that would be foolish. And thank you for the invitation.” He opened his door wider and stepped back, signaling her to enter. “Why don’t we use my stove to heat the milk?”
“I was going to use the fire pit outside, but your way sounds better.” Then she looked down at her dog. “But only if you allow Kip to join us. He deserves to be part of the celebration, too.”
Everett frowned. Before he could refuse, though, she jumped in with, “It’s Sunday afternoon. Can’t we call a truce on this day of rest? I promise if Kip does the least little thing to bother you, he and I will both go home.”
He grimaced, but then nodded. “Oh, very well.”
Relieved, Daisy stepped across the threshold, signaling Kip to follow her. Maybe she was already chipping away at his stuffy exterior. And winning this concession, small as it was, from the normally unbending stickler, gave her something extra to celebrate.
While Everett added additional wood to the stove, Daisy crossed the room and fetched a boiler. She added enough water to fill their two cups, then set it on the stove. “I don’t have milk, but I’ll add a little extra cocoa to make up for it.” It would finish up the last of her stores, but she felt the occasion warranted it.
“I have some cream you’re welcome to use.”
She smiled, glad to see he was finally getting into the spirit of things. “That’ll be lovely. I’ll add it when I pour our cups.”
He leaned negligently against the counter a few feet from her, and crossed his arms. She felt his eyes on her, silently studying her. Suddenly she felt nervous, self-conscious.
“So what are we celebrating?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
It seemed a little indelicate to speak of her bed with him. But she couldn’t not give him an answer, or worse yet, lie. So she chose her words carefully. “The fact that I won’t have to spend another night sleeping on the floor.”
The water in the pot started bubbling, and she slowly added in the cocoa and then the sugar, stirring to make sure it dissolved without leaving lumps.
She inhaled the rich aroma and looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”
“It does smell good.”
With one last stir, she lifted the pot and carefully poured the dark, aromatic liquid into the two cups. By the time she set the cups on the table, he was there with the cream.
“We probably ought to let that cool a minute,” she said. Then she remembered Kip. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried back to her apartment and fetched the bones she’d set aside.
She caught Everett rolling his eyes when she placed the treat down in front of Kip, but thankfully he refrained from saying anything. Another sign that he was learning to unbend? Daisy quickly took her seat at the table.
“It should have cooled enough to drink by now. Shall we?”
They both sipped on their cocoa, and then Everett lifted his cup toward her in a salute. “Very nice.”
“Thank you. Cocoa is one of my favorite tastes in the whole world, so I save it for special occasions.”
He raised a brow. “That’s quite a pronouncement.”
“Oh, but it’s true.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And I did say ‘one of.’”
“Ah, so now you’re qualifying it.”
She grinned in response. “What about you?”
He eyed her cautiously. “What do you mean?”
“What’s your favorite taste?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t really given that much thought.”
“Well, think about it now.” Could she get him to be frivolous or whimsical for once? “Surely there’s one thing you enjoy tasting above all others. A taste that’s not just good in itself, but one that brings back pleasant memories.”
He looked at her as if she were a child in need of humoring, then his expression changed and she could almost see a memory sneaking up on him. “Once, when I was a boy of about five or six,” he said slowly, “my father and mother were both at Hellingsly—that’s the estate where I grew up—and we were sitting down to a meal together. That in and of itself was a rare occurrence. Cook had fixed a special dinner, and the dessert consisted of a raspberry tart. I don’t think I’ve tasted anything quite as delicious since.”
If he’d been five or six at the time, that would have happened before he came to America. With an estate and a cook, had he come from a well-to-do background? That would account for his highfalutin manner.
But that memory he’d just shared, that had been a simple moment, a time of family and togetherness. Obviously those things had been important to him once upon a time. Perhaps, somewhere inside him, they still were.
He straightened and, as if realizing he’d revealed more than he intended, changed the subject. “I think Jack took a liking to your dog today.”
Daisy smiled. “He seems like a sweet boy. It was very kind of Reggie to include me in your gathering today. I like your friends.”
“I believe you can count them among your friends now, as well.”
Daisy wasn’t certain how to respond to that, so she countered with an observation of her own. “So you and Mr. Barr, Mr. Dawson and Mr. Parker traveled here together from Philadelphia last summer.”
“We did.”
“It’s hard to credit it. You’re all so different.”
Something flickered
in his expression—irritation, perhaps, there and gone in an instant. The next second he looked merely amused.
* * *
Everett took himself firmly in hand. First he’d talked about a childhood memory that had been all but forgotten until this very moment, and now he was imagining she was comparing him to Chance. Which, even if she were, was something of little consequence.
But she was waiting for a response from him, so he pulled his thoughts back to the conversation. “Not everyone who comes from the same place is the same. Philadelphia is a big city, undoubtedly larger than any place you’ve experienced. But even in a small town like Turnabout, there are marked differences in people. Look at Reggie, Hazel Andrews and Eunice Ortolon over at the boardinghouse. All born and raised here in Turnabout. But you’d be hard-pressed to find three more different women.”
She nodded. “You’re right, of course. I guess I just expected a group of friends who decided to undertake such an adventure together would be more alike in temperament. But I can see how being so different would actually work in your favor.”
Everett didn’t respond. Their concurrent trip here hadn’t happened quite as she assumed, but he didn’t feel the need to correct her assumptions. He’d already revealed too much personal information, and he didn’t intend to give her more.
But he would do well to keep his guard up. For some unfathomable reason, she seemed able to get him to talk about himself more than he cared to. And he’d worked too hard putting his past behind him to have this curious woman pry it out of him, no matter how innocently. He was accustomed to being the one doing the digging and prying—he did not like being on the other end of an interrogation.
* * *
When Everett sat down to his noonday meal on Monday, he could tell something was up with Daisy. He’d learned to read her moods, and today she seemed more fidgety than usual. He was curious as to what put that distracted look on her face, but decided to hold his peace for the moment. Questioning her only resulted in her prying into his own private affairs.
It was almost a relief when, after they had served their plates, she cleared her throat. “I need to ask you something.”
Winnie Griggs Page 8