it’s any consolation, you made a lot of peoples’ Christmas happier by being here. Including mine.”
“That’s a nice thing to say.”
“I mean it. The past four days would have been very difficult without you.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind helping out in the kitchen. I do a lot of that at Bramble House. And it was an emergency situation, right?”
He nodded, even though that wasn’t quite what he’d meant. Sure her help with the chores had been appreciated, by him as well as Betsy. But it was more her attitude and her cheerful presence that he’d been talking about. She’d been good for moral. And not just the guests.
But he didn’t know how to tell her any of that.
“I think you, Betsy and Griff are the ones who should take the credit. You all did an amazing job under the circumstances.”
“I didn’t do much, but I agree with you about Betsy and Griff. They sure worked hard. Which reminds me, it’s almost time for dinner. I should go help in the kitchen.”
He started to rise, but Eliza stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Believe me, I already offered. But Betsy wouldn’t let me. She said she has it handled. I wonder what she’s going to serve?”
“I know it won’t be turkey. But whatever it is, it already smells great.” He wished Eliza hadn’t removed her hand from his arm. Her touch had felt wonderful. Now that the snow had stopped, it seemed likely they’d be able to leave, as scheduled, tomorrow. Which was good, of course. But he needed to make sure he would see her again. Before he lost his chance.
His mouth dry with nerves, he forced himself to speak up. “I hope I’m not out of line—but I’d like to see you again. When we’re back in Marietta.”
She gave him a quick, surprised look, and then smiled. “Oh, you mean to go skiing, and to meet your friends? Sure. We should do that. I need to broaden my social circle. It’s my New Year’s resolution.”
That wasn’t quite what he’d meant. But maybe it was a good thing she’d misunderstood. Now that he thought about it, he must have been crazy to think she would ever go out with him.
He could still feel his ears burning with embarrassment five minutes later when Betsy rang the bell for dinner.
Chapter Nine
‡
T he serving of Christmas dinner could not have been better timed, Eliza thought, as she took her place at the table next to Ted Arbuckle and across from Mary. It had been dark for about an hour now—at this time of year in Montana sunset was around five o’clock—and dozens of candles glowed on the tabletop. Betsy had put out festive place-cards and fortunately Eliza found hers at the opposite end of the room from Marshall’s.
Eliza had a lot of respect for Marshall. And she liked him very much.
In other circumstances she would have been happy to be his friend and hang out with him.
But she sensed he felt more for her. And that he’d been trying to ask her out, earlier, when they were sitting by the fire.
He was too nice of a person for her to lead on. Nor did she want to out-and-out reject him. Avoiding him seemed the kindest option for now.
The delicious aroma turned out to be beef stew, which Betsy served family-style from several beautiful china tureens, two placed on each of the long tables. Fresh baked bread and creamy butter, as well as assorted pickles and olives accompanied the meal. There was no salad as Betsy had long since used up the supply of fresh lettuce, tomatoes and other perishables. Lots of vegetables had been added to the stew, however. Chunks of turnips, carrots, onions as well as colorful green peas and golden corn kernels from the freezer.
While not a traditional Christmas feast, Buck Brackett declared it was the perfect meal to follow a rousing game of hockey.
Remembering all the times he’d complained about “not getting his money’s worth,” Eliza had to glance at Marshall and smile.
But Marshall didn’t return the smile. He didn’t seem to have appreciated
“That’s a nice thing to say.”
“I mean it. The past four days would have been very difficult without you.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind helping out in the kitchen. I do a lot of that at Bramble House. And it was an emergency situation, right?”
He nodded, even though that wasn’t quite what he’d meant. Sure her help with the chores had been appreciated, by him as well as Betsy. But it was more her attitude and her cheerful presence that he’d been talking about. She’d been good for moral. And not just the guests.
But he didn’t know how to tell her any of that.
“I think you, Betsy and Griff are the ones who should take the credit. You all did an amazing job under the circumstances.”
“I didn’t do much, but I agree with you about Betsy and Griff. They sure worked hard. Which reminds me, it’s almost time for dinner. I should go help in the kitchen.”
He started to rise, but Eliza stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Believe me, I already offered. But Betsy wouldn’t let me. She said she has it handled. I wonder what she’s going to serve?”
“I know it won’t be turkey. But whatever it is, it already smells great.” He wished Eliza hadn’t removed her hand from his arm. Her touch had felt wonderful. Now that the snow had stopped, it seemed likely they’d be able to leave, as scheduled, tomorrow. Which was good, of course. But he needed to make sure he would see her again. Before he lost his chance.
His mouth dry with nerves, he forced himself to speak up. “I hope I’m not out of line—but I’d like to see you again. When we’re back in Marietta.”
She gave him a quick, surprised look, and then smiled. “Oh, you mean to go skiing, and to meet your friends? Sure. We should do that. I need to broaden my social circle. It’s my New Year’s resolution.”
That wasn’t quite what he’d meant. But maybe it was a good thing she’d misunderstood. Now that he thought about it, he must have been crazy to think she would ever go out with him.
He could still feel his ears burning with embarrassment five minutes later when Betsy rang the bell for dinner.
Chapter Nine
‡
T he serving of Christmas dinner could not have been better timed, Eliza thought, as she took her place at the table next to Ted Arbuckle and across from Mary. It had been dark for about an hour now—at this time of year in Montana sunset was around five o’clock—and dozens of candles glowed on the tabletop. Betsy had put out festive place-cards and fortunately Eliza found hers at the opposite end of the room from Marshall’s.
Eliza had a lot of respect for Marshall. And she liked him very much.
In other circumstances she would have been happy to be his friend and hang out with him.
But she sensed he felt more for her. And that he’d been trying to ask her out, earlier, when they were sitting by the fire.
He was too nice of a person for her to lead on. Nor did she want to out-and-out reject him. Avoiding him seemed the kindest option for now.
The delicious aroma turned out to be beef stew, which Betsy served family-style from several beautiful china tureens, two placed on each of the long tables. Fresh baked bread and creamy butter, as well as assorted pickles and olives accompanied the meal. There was no salad as Betsy had long since used up the supply of fresh lettuce, tomatoes and other perishables. Lots of vegetables had been added to the stew, however. Chunks of turnips, carrots, onions as well as colorful green peas and golden corn kernels from the freezer.
While not a traditional Christmas feast, Buck Brackett declared it was the perfect meal to follow a rousing game of hockey.
Remembering all the times he’d complained about “not getting his money’s worth,” Eliza had to glance at Marshall and smile.
But Marshall didn’t return the smile. He didn’t seem to have appreciated
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