long until he returned.
"You're back," Rusty said kindly to the little boy. "Come in." This time her tone was just firm enough. The little boy came forward. Rusty spoke when he stood by the bed.
"My name is Katherine Alexa Taggart. Will you tell me yours?"
He stared at her, his face open, his eyes curious, but no words came from his mouth.
"Do you know," Rusty began again, "that I work with children? I love children—all ages and sizes. How old are you?"
"Four," he said softly.
"You are very grown up for four. Do you like to read books and look at the pictures?"
He nodded very solemnly.
"Do you have a favorite?"
He nodded again, and Rusty smiled at him. It was the smile that always worked its magic. It wasn't anything she tried to do, but even with her hair all over and her face still pale, Rusty's smile went right to her eyes and into the heart of her receiver.
"Well, Quintin, dear, there you are," Mrs. Whitley called as she came into the room. "Mrs. Harding is looking for you, dear."
"Quintin!" Rusty's eyes grew huge with excitement. "Is that your name?"
Again the nod.
"Will you tell me your whole name?"
He didn't respond.
"I'll start it for you, Quintin..."
"Quintin James McCandles."
"How wonderful," Rusty said and meant it. Mr. McCandles had a son! "Now tell me, Quintin James McCandles, what do you like to do best?"
The little boy leaned against the bed now, and Rusty secretly smiled at the way he was relaxing. The almost instant rapport was just what she'd hoped for.
"I like birds," he told her. "Mrs. Harding lets me see birds."
"Where do you see them?" Rusty asked. Mrs. Whitley stood quietly by the bed, but this little boy had melted Rusty's heart and she could not let him get away.
"We have woods. We go there."
"Do you have a favorite type of bird?"
He was on the verge of answering when a brisk female voice called from the hall.
"Quintin, come to me at once."
"Goodbye," the little boy said softly and immediately turned to go.
Rusty waved at him with a few fingers and smiled. The owner of the voice from the hall never made an appearance, but Quintin was gone nonetheless.
"How did you sleep, dear?" Mrs. Whitley asked. If she was at all put-out over having to wait, Rusty saw no sign of it.
"I slept well. I'm still a bit weak, but the headache is gone."
"I'm so glad. Are you up to some breakfast?" Rusty was opening her mouth to reply when someone knocked. Both women turned to see Chase McCandles on the threshold. He entered, wearing black slacks and shoes and a crisp white shirt. Taking in Rusty's pale features at a glance, emotions flooded through Chase, but he pushed them neatly into place. And because they were at Briarly, he proceeded in his usual way, which was to take complete charge.
"Good morning, Katherine. Have you told Mrs. Whitley what you want for breakfast?" "I'm not hungry right now, thank you." "Very well. I want you to take it easy today. All day," he added firmly. "You can take your meals here in the room. Mrs. Whitley will see to it.
Upon this statement he turned for the door.
He left without another word, and Mrs. Whitley, her face expressionless, followed in his wake. Rusty bit her lip as she looked at the now empty doorway.
Rusty, girl, you need to get yourself home today. You've worn out your welcome here. It wont be easy, but just get to the train and you can sleep all the way home. Her decision made, Rusty carefully pushed the covers aside. She was still weak. / probably just need food, she thought to herself. At any rate, it was time to go home.
***
Chase's office did not give him a view of the stairs, but he'd just remembered a book he needed from the library. As he was crossing the drawing room to find it, he saw Rusty as she came down the stairs. She was dressed, although her hair wasn't brushed, but there was even less color to her face than there had been earlier. The book forgotten, Chase arrived in the large foyer at the same time she reached the bottom of
"You're back," Rusty said kindly to the little boy. "Come in." This time her tone was just firm enough. The little boy came forward. Rusty spoke when he stood by the bed.
"My name is Katherine Alexa Taggart. Will you tell me yours?"
He stared at her, his face open, his eyes curious, but no words came from his mouth.
"Do you know," Rusty began again, "that I work with children? I love children—all ages and sizes. How old are you?"
"Four," he said softly.
"You are very grown up for four. Do you like to read books and look at the pictures?"
He nodded very solemnly.
"Do you have a favorite?"
He nodded again, and Rusty smiled at him. It was the smile that always worked its magic. It wasn't anything she tried to do, but even with her hair all over and her face still pale, Rusty's smile went right to her eyes and into the heart of her receiver.
"Well, Quintin, dear, there you are," Mrs. Whitley called as she came into the room. "Mrs. Harding is looking for you, dear."
"Quintin!" Rusty's eyes grew huge with excitement. "Is that your name?"
Again the nod.
"Will you tell me your whole name?"
He didn't respond.
"I'll start it for you, Quintin..."
"Quintin James McCandles."
"How wonderful," Rusty said and meant it. Mr. McCandles had a son! "Now tell me, Quintin James McCandles, what do you like to do best?"
The little boy leaned against the bed now, and Rusty secretly smiled at the way he was relaxing. The almost instant rapport was just what she'd hoped for.
"I like birds," he told her. "Mrs. Harding lets me see birds."
"Where do you see them?" Rusty asked. Mrs. Whitley stood quietly by the bed, but this little boy had melted Rusty's heart and she could not let him get away.
"We have woods. We go there."
"Do you have a favorite type of bird?"
He was on the verge of answering when a brisk female voice called from the hall.
"Quintin, come to me at once."
"Goodbye," the little boy said softly and immediately turned to go.
Rusty waved at him with a few fingers and smiled. The owner of the voice from the hall never made an appearance, but Quintin was gone nonetheless.
"How did you sleep, dear?" Mrs. Whitley asked. If she was at all put-out over having to wait, Rusty saw no sign of it.
"I slept well. I'm still a bit weak, but the headache is gone."
"I'm so glad. Are you up to some breakfast?" Rusty was opening her mouth to reply when someone knocked. Both women turned to see Chase McCandles on the threshold. He entered, wearing black slacks and shoes and a crisp white shirt. Taking in Rusty's pale features at a glance, emotions flooded through Chase, but he pushed them neatly into place. And because they were at Briarly, he proceeded in his usual way, which was to take complete charge.
"Good morning, Katherine. Have you told Mrs. Whitley what you want for breakfast?" "I'm not hungry right now, thank you." "Very well. I want you to take it easy today. All day," he added firmly. "You can take your meals here in the room. Mrs. Whitley will see to it.
Upon this statement he turned for the door.
He left without another word, and Mrs. Whitley, her face expressionless, followed in his wake. Rusty bit her lip as she looked at the now empty doorway.
Rusty, girl, you need to get yourself home today. You've worn out your welcome here. It wont be easy, but just get to the train and you can sleep all the way home. Her decision made, Rusty carefully pushed the covers aside. She was still weak. / probably just need food, she thought to herself. At any rate, it was time to go home.
***
Chase's office did not give him a view of the stairs, but he'd just remembered a book he needed from the library. As he was crossing the drawing room to find it, he saw Rusty as she came down the stairs. She was dressed, although her hair wasn't brushed, but there was even less color to her face than there had been earlier. The book forgotten, Chase arrived in the large foyer at the same time she reached the bottom of
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