papers and dropped them on the floor beside his chair. “Thank you. I’ll put it away later.”
“Well, then, dinner will be on soon.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Potato omelet. You like that, don’t you? And jam tarts for dessert. I stayed up last night to bake them.”
“Anything you cook is fine. I’m not too hungry.” He stood, straightening his waistcoat over his collarless shirt. “I’ll be upstairs. Call me when the food’s ready.”
While the stove heated, Faith left the kitchen and walked to the stone springhouse to retrieve the ingredients for their meal. Inside, icy water bubbling from the ground poured over rocks before flowing out into the woods behind their home. She paused for a moment and pressed her forehead against one of the cool stone walls.
“Show me what to do,” she whispered. “I’m frightened.”
She stopped at Ripley’s Livery before she returned to the store. Curt had his back to her, currying a horse in the first stall. Faith lifted her skirt and crossed the straw-littered floor.
“Curt?”
He started, then dropped the currycomb into an empty feed bin. A pleased grin spread over his face. “Afternoon. Where’s your granddad?”
“Grandpa’s the reason I stopped by. He stayed home today.” She pressed her hands together. “I’m concerned about him. He spent all morning just sitting in the parlor, and hardly ate a bite of dinner.”
Curt stepped out of the stall. “Want me to stop by this afternoon?”
“Would you? I’d be so grateful.” Up close, he smelled like horses and fresh hay. She warmed at the pleasant reminder of her childhood with Maxwell. Their horses were another thing Grandpa sold when he learned of his son’s death.
“Be happy to. I like your granddad.”
“Thank you. You’re a blessing.”
He took a step away, tugging at his shirt collar. “Best get back to work. See you this evening.”
Curt certainly wasn’t one for long good-byes. She turned her steps toward town.
Faith closed the double doors of the mercantile and pulled the shades down. As soon as she tallied the day’s receipts and swept the floor, she’d be ready to leave. She ran her finger down the ledger entries, adding as she went. The sale to the Potters raised the total higher than it had been since she began operating the business for Grandpa.
She emptied the cash drawer and counted the coins. Potters had paid with bank notes. She’d have to take the paper currency to Noble Springs National Bank first thing tomorrow for deposit. One never knew these days. After dropping the money into a canvas bag, she closed the empty drawer and tucked the bag into her carryall. Grandpa would be pleased to know they’d had such a profitable day.
When she left the mercantile, she noticed two men sitting on one of the benches along the covered boardwalk.
Faith strode past the courthouse, walking faster than normal. A buggy rattled by and she jumped, then laughed at herself. People sat on those benches all the time. She didn’t need to be afraid.
When she turned onto High Street and saw Curt walking toward her, she relaxed. She’d be safe in his company. “How is Grandpa?” she called as he drew near.
“He didn’t answer the door. I thought he’d gone to be with you.”
12
F aith’s breath caught in her throat. “I haven’t seen Grandpa all afternoon.” She lifted her skirt above her shoe tops and broke into a run toward their house.
Curt pounded past her. “I’ll let myself in,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said, knowing he was already too far ahead to hear.
The front door stood open when she panted up the steps. She heard Curt’s voice upstairs, calling Grandpa’s name. She dashed toward the rear of the house and peered into the kitchen, then into the small bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Curt clattered down and met her in the entryway. He shook his head.
Faith dropped her carryall and slumped against the
“Well, then, dinner will be on soon.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Potato omelet. You like that, don’t you? And jam tarts for dessert. I stayed up last night to bake them.”
“Anything you cook is fine. I’m not too hungry.” He stood, straightening his waistcoat over his collarless shirt. “I’ll be upstairs. Call me when the food’s ready.”
While the stove heated, Faith left the kitchen and walked to the stone springhouse to retrieve the ingredients for their meal. Inside, icy water bubbling from the ground poured over rocks before flowing out into the woods behind their home. She paused for a moment and pressed her forehead against one of the cool stone walls.
“Show me what to do,” she whispered. “I’m frightened.”
She stopped at Ripley’s Livery before she returned to the store. Curt had his back to her, currying a horse in the first stall. Faith lifted her skirt and crossed the straw-littered floor.
“Curt?”
He started, then dropped the currycomb into an empty feed bin. A pleased grin spread over his face. “Afternoon. Where’s your granddad?”
“Grandpa’s the reason I stopped by. He stayed home today.” She pressed her hands together. “I’m concerned about him. He spent all morning just sitting in the parlor, and hardly ate a bite of dinner.”
Curt stepped out of the stall. “Want me to stop by this afternoon?”
“Would you? I’d be so grateful.” Up close, he smelled like horses and fresh hay. She warmed at the pleasant reminder of her childhood with Maxwell. Their horses were another thing Grandpa sold when he learned of his son’s death.
“Be happy to. I like your granddad.”
“Thank you. You’re a blessing.”
He took a step away, tugging at his shirt collar. “Best get back to work. See you this evening.”
Curt certainly wasn’t one for long good-byes. She turned her steps toward town.
Faith closed the double doors of the mercantile and pulled the shades down. As soon as she tallied the day’s receipts and swept the floor, she’d be ready to leave. She ran her finger down the ledger entries, adding as she went. The sale to the Potters raised the total higher than it had been since she began operating the business for Grandpa.
She emptied the cash drawer and counted the coins. Potters had paid with bank notes. She’d have to take the paper currency to Noble Springs National Bank first thing tomorrow for deposit. One never knew these days. After dropping the money into a canvas bag, she closed the empty drawer and tucked the bag into her carryall. Grandpa would be pleased to know they’d had such a profitable day.
When she left the mercantile, she noticed two men sitting on one of the benches along the covered boardwalk.
Faith strode past the courthouse, walking faster than normal. A buggy rattled by and she jumped, then laughed at herself. People sat on those benches all the time. She didn’t need to be afraid.
When she turned onto High Street and saw Curt walking toward her, she relaxed. She’d be safe in his company. “How is Grandpa?” she called as he drew near.
“He didn’t answer the door. I thought he’d gone to be with you.”
12
F aith’s breath caught in her throat. “I haven’t seen Grandpa all afternoon.” She lifted her skirt above her shoe tops and broke into a run toward their house.
Curt pounded past her. “I’ll let myself in,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said, knowing he was already too far ahead to hear.
The front door stood open when she panted up the steps. She heard Curt’s voice upstairs, calling Grandpa’s name. She dashed toward the rear of the house and peered into the kitchen, then into the small bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Curt clattered down and met her in the entryway. He shook his head.
Faith dropped her carryall and slumped against the
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