picture the men all too clearly in her mind’s eye. “None of them fit the description for which I advertised. I specifically requested—”
“My guess, Miss Girard, is that you listed your name on that advertisement.” His dark brows slowly rose over the rims of his spectacles. “Am I correct?”
Her mind raced, trying to follow the turn of his thoughts and failing to do so. She nodded in answer to his question.
“I realize this is none of my business, ma’am, and you’re free to tell me so after I’m done. But seeing as you’re quite young and might not be aware of certain things, I feel it’s my duty to step in here.”
She stiffened at his comment about her age. Always, people were making that assumption. Always, they were making decisions for her—and she was weary of it. Forcing a smile she hoped passed for pleasant, she determined to change that—starting now. “I appreciate your concern, monsieur, but I want to make it clear to you that I am capable of making decisions for myself. I have traveled all the way from Paris, France, to get to this—”
Monsieur Baird held up a hand. “Miss Girard, this has nothing to do with whether you’re capable or not. You’re a very capable young woman, I’ve no doubt about that. I also have no doubt as to why those men showed up in answer to your advertisement.” His features softened. “Willow Springs is a small town, ma’am. Word travels fast here. Everybody in this town knows who you are.”
She frowned. “But I have been here for only two days.”
“Like I said, ma’am, this is a small town and . . . I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but we don’t get many women from Paris, France, through here.” He smiled. “And you tend to make a lasting first impression, Miss Girard. But those men in there . . .” He shook his head. “They came here for all the wrong reasons. Trust me on that. And for the record, just because you’re capable of doing something, ma’am—like listing this advertisement—doesn’t necessarily mean you should.”
She wanted to object, but the truth behind his statement wouldn’t allow it.
He gave a heavy sigh. “In the end, it’s your decision. But I’ve got three daughters about your age, and I wouldn’t dare let a one of them set off anywhere with those men in there, much less up to the mountains. I’m sure if your father were here, he’d feel the same way.”
Véronique’s breath caught. A stinging sensation rose to her eyes. Monsieur Baird did not know her reason for being in Willow Springs, so there was no way he could know how much his last comment had hurt her. She lowered her face. The obvious love this man possessed for his daughters only deepened her regret over her own father’s absence from her life. The reminder of what she’d had—and lost— was keen, and razor sharp.
She cleared her throat, forcing down the rising tide of emotion. “I appreciate what you have said to me, Monsieur Baird,” she whispered. “I acted in haste and did not consider with proper care the outcome of my actions.” She glanced again at the door, dreading having to face those men again.
He trailed her gaze and then gave her an unexpected wink. “Would you mind if I took care of those rowdies in there? It would do this father’s heart a world of good.”
Relieved beyond words, Véronique wished she could hug him. But she settled for a curtsy instead and made her exit out the kitchen entrance.
She arrived at the livery later than planned, and just as she had imagined, Monsieur Sampson was busy seeing to other customers. She waited off to one side, giving him a small wave when he acknowledged her presence with a smile. Her nerves were taut, partly from all that had happened that morning, but also from anticipating what Monsieur Sampson was going to tell her.
Finally there came a moment between customers when they could speak in private.
“Good mornin’, Mademoiselle Girard.” Jake Sampson wiped his hands
“My guess, Miss Girard, is that you listed your name on that advertisement.” His dark brows slowly rose over the rims of his spectacles. “Am I correct?”
Her mind raced, trying to follow the turn of his thoughts and failing to do so. She nodded in answer to his question.
“I realize this is none of my business, ma’am, and you’re free to tell me so after I’m done. But seeing as you’re quite young and might not be aware of certain things, I feel it’s my duty to step in here.”
She stiffened at his comment about her age. Always, people were making that assumption. Always, they were making decisions for her—and she was weary of it. Forcing a smile she hoped passed for pleasant, she determined to change that—starting now. “I appreciate your concern, monsieur, but I want to make it clear to you that I am capable of making decisions for myself. I have traveled all the way from Paris, France, to get to this—”
Monsieur Baird held up a hand. “Miss Girard, this has nothing to do with whether you’re capable or not. You’re a very capable young woman, I’ve no doubt about that. I also have no doubt as to why those men showed up in answer to your advertisement.” His features softened. “Willow Springs is a small town, ma’am. Word travels fast here. Everybody in this town knows who you are.”
She frowned. “But I have been here for only two days.”
“Like I said, ma’am, this is a small town and . . . I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but we don’t get many women from Paris, France, through here.” He smiled. “And you tend to make a lasting first impression, Miss Girard. But those men in there . . .” He shook his head. “They came here for all the wrong reasons. Trust me on that. And for the record, just because you’re capable of doing something, ma’am—like listing this advertisement—doesn’t necessarily mean you should.”
She wanted to object, but the truth behind his statement wouldn’t allow it.
He gave a heavy sigh. “In the end, it’s your decision. But I’ve got three daughters about your age, and I wouldn’t dare let a one of them set off anywhere with those men in there, much less up to the mountains. I’m sure if your father were here, he’d feel the same way.”
Véronique’s breath caught. A stinging sensation rose to her eyes. Monsieur Baird did not know her reason for being in Willow Springs, so there was no way he could know how much his last comment had hurt her. She lowered her face. The obvious love this man possessed for his daughters only deepened her regret over her own father’s absence from her life. The reminder of what she’d had—and lost— was keen, and razor sharp.
She cleared her throat, forcing down the rising tide of emotion. “I appreciate what you have said to me, Monsieur Baird,” she whispered. “I acted in haste and did not consider with proper care the outcome of my actions.” She glanced again at the door, dreading having to face those men again.
He trailed her gaze and then gave her an unexpected wink. “Would you mind if I took care of those rowdies in there? It would do this father’s heart a world of good.”
Relieved beyond words, Véronique wished she could hug him. But she settled for a curtsy instead and made her exit out the kitchen entrance.
She arrived at the livery later than planned, and just as she had imagined, Monsieur Sampson was busy seeing to other customers. She waited off to one side, giving him a small wave when he acknowledged her presence with a smile. Her nerves were taut, partly from all that had happened that morning, but also from anticipating what Monsieur Sampson was going to tell her.
Finally there came a moment between customers when they could speak in private.
“Good mornin’, Mademoiselle Girard.” Jake Sampson wiped his hands
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