what you’re doing now.” Her eyes dropped to his hands. “But I think you can stop.”
He did so immediately. She reached for her stockings, but he shook his head and stood. “Don’t put those back on. They’re wet.” Walking to another shelf, he picked out the warmest pair of wool stockings he could find and brought them back to her.
She glanced around. Then frowned and looked at him. “Where are my bags?”
Stuart gaped. “I don’t know…. I carried you in.”
“For Pete’s sake, I have money in my bag.” She stood abruptly, swayed. Stuart sprang forward and grabbed her before she hit the ground. He could feel her breath on his neck. Warmth filled him, and his chest seemed to swell to twice its size as he held her in his arms. Gently, he set her back on the bench.
“I’ll go. You stay put.”
He barely felt the cold as he stepped outside and retrieved the reticule he’d noted around her wrist before. He spied a larger bag he assumed carried the rest of her meager belongings. How could someone have so little? He wanted to shower her with gowns and ribbons—like the one she’d been eyeing the day of the accident. At the very least, she needed another dress. The one she wore was torn at the bottom, probably from losing so much weight. It dragged the ground when she walked. A girl that looked like Betsy ought to be wearing the best a town like this had to offer.
He walked back, noting the stove had begun to warm the store, and Betsy had shed one of the blankets. She still held on to the socks.
“You planning on holding those all day or putting them on your feet?”
Rolling her eyes, she reached for her reticule. “Thank you.” She reached inside and retrieved a dime. He stared at her as she reached out to hand it to him.
“What’s that for?”
“My new stockings.”
“Take them.”
Her gaze narrowed, and he recognized the fire back in her eyes. That was good. She was perking up. “I don’t take charity. Remember?”
“Fine.” There was just no point in arguing with her. He walked to the drawer with the cash box, unlocked it, and drew the box out. He dropped the dime inside and glanced back at her. “Happy now?”
“Yes.” She grinned but kept her focus on him. Finally, she let out an exasperated breath. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Mercy, she could get so snippy.
“Are you going to turn around so I can put these on?”
“Um, yeah. I have some things to do in the back anyway.” He escaped to the storage room, grateful to be away from her. How was he supposed to work with her every day, all day? He was going to be a blubbering fool by the end of the week.
Betsy found the work at Fields’ General Store barely any work at all compared to the hours and hours of grueling, body-exhausting work at Miss Annie’s. She and Stuart hadn’t discussed salary, but she couldn’t imagine it would be as much as she earned for the backbreaking work at the restaurant. As much as she wished she could make more, she knew she would work here for free if Mrs. Fields and Stuart asked her to. After all, Stuart had saved her life this morning.
When Stuart left to make a delivery, she waited until the store was empty, then pulled the catalog from beneath the counter. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. Her stomach sank at the prices for the various styles of rolling chairs. The doctor had said Pops would likely need one, but she would have to save for six months to afford even the lowest-priced chair. Better six months from now than never. The bell clanged, and she left the catalog where it was to help the customer.
For the next hour, a steady stream of customers came in and out of the store. Around noon the bell clanged above the door. Betsy glanced up from filling an order for Maggie Fremont, the local seamstress, and waved at Mrs. Fields. Maggie Fremont had ordered the loveliest soft, light blue material, and lace to put at the collar. Betsy tried not
He did so immediately. She reached for her stockings, but he shook his head and stood. “Don’t put those back on. They’re wet.” Walking to another shelf, he picked out the warmest pair of wool stockings he could find and brought them back to her.
She glanced around. Then frowned and looked at him. “Where are my bags?”
Stuart gaped. “I don’t know…. I carried you in.”
“For Pete’s sake, I have money in my bag.” She stood abruptly, swayed. Stuart sprang forward and grabbed her before she hit the ground. He could feel her breath on his neck. Warmth filled him, and his chest seemed to swell to twice its size as he held her in his arms. Gently, he set her back on the bench.
“I’ll go. You stay put.”
He barely felt the cold as he stepped outside and retrieved the reticule he’d noted around her wrist before. He spied a larger bag he assumed carried the rest of her meager belongings. How could someone have so little? He wanted to shower her with gowns and ribbons—like the one she’d been eyeing the day of the accident. At the very least, she needed another dress. The one she wore was torn at the bottom, probably from losing so much weight. It dragged the ground when she walked. A girl that looked like Betsy ought to be wearing the best a town like this had to offer.
He walked back, noting the stove had begun to warm the store, and Betsy had shed one of the blankets. She still held on to the socks.
“You planning on holding those all day or putting them on your feet?”
Rolling her eyes, she reached for her reticule. “Thank you.” She reached inside and retrieved a dime. He stared at her as she reached out to hand it to him.
“What’s that for?”
“My new stockings.”
“Take them.”
Her gaze narrowed, and he recognized the fire back in her eyes. That was good. She was perking up. “I don’t take charity. Remember?”
“Fine.” There was just no point in arguing with her. He walked to the drawer with the cash box, unlocked it, and drew the box out. He dropped the dime inside and glanced back at her. “Happy now?”
“Yes.” She grinned but kept her focus on him. Finally, she let out an exasperated breath. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Mercy, she could get so snippy.
“Are you going to turn around so I can put these on?”
“Um, yeah. I have some things to do in the back anyway.” He escaped to the storage room, grateful to be away from her. How was he supposed to work with her every day, all day? He was going to be a blubbering fool by the end of the week.
Betsy found the work at Fields’ General Store barely any work at all compared to the hours and hours of grueling, body-exhausting work at Miss Annie’s. She and Stuart hadn’t discussed salary, but she couldn’t imagine it would be as much as she earned for the backbreaking work at the restaurant. As much as she wished she could make more, she knew she would work here for free if Mrs. Fields and Stuart asked her to. After all, Stuart had saved her life this morning.
When Stuart left to make a delivery, she waited until the store was empty, then pulled the catalog from beneath the counter. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. Her stomach sank at the prices for the various styles of rolling chairs. The doctor had said Pops would likely need one, but she would have to save for six months to afford even the lowest-priced chair. Better six months from now than never. The bell clanged, and she left the catalog where it was to help the customer.
For the next hour, a steady stream of customers came in and out of the store. Around noon the bell clanged above the door. Betsy glanced up from filling an order for Maggie Fremont, the local seamstress, and waved at Mrs. Fields. Maggie Fremont had ordered the loveliest soft, light blue material, and lace to put at the collar. Betsy tried not
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