Courting Miss Adelaide (12 page)

Bending down, Addie gave Emma a kiss on the cheek. “You look prettier than irises in springtime, sweetie.”

Emma rose on tiptoe and kissed Addie’s cheek. With a palm, Addie caressed the spot. Her damp eyes met Charles’s and her wordless thanks clutched at his heart.

Planting a fist on her hip, Emma eyed him. “You think Miss Adelaide looks pretty?”

Color dotted Addie’s cheeks. “That’s not polite, Emma.”

The little girl looked baffled. “Why not?”

Addie laid a gentle hand on Emma’s cheek. “It’s fishing for a compliment and puts Mr. Graves in an awkward position.”

Pretty
hardly described Addie’s softly flushed cheeks, her full lips and the regal tilt to her chin. “Actually, I don’t feel the least bit awkward, Emma. Miss Crum looks lovely.”

Taking a cue from Addie, Emma took an arm, looking pleased at being treated like a lady. Addie locked the door and took Charles’s free arm. As they left the shop, something inside him bubbled like mineral springs in Florida. Something so new, he barely recognized the sensation, but thought it might be akin to joy.

When curious passersby stared at the threesome, greeting them with a questioning air, the feeling ebbed, replaced with a twist of uneasiness. In small towns, people poked their noses in other people’s business. He hoped rumors wouldn’t take wing and plant the idea he’d be part of a family.

But then he glanced down at Addie, took in her smile and radiant eyes and suddenly it didn’t matter what anyone thought. Tonight he’d give her the evening she deserved. He’d let nothing spoil it, not even his disquiet at getting too close.

Charles pushed open the door of the hotel and ushered the ladies inside. The mahogany registration desk gleamed, colorful carpets covered the plank floor and a gas-lit chandelier twinkled overhead. Emma stood openmouthed.

The rotund waiter barreled over. “Mr. Graves, may I seat you by the window?”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur grabbed a stack of menus. “This way, please,” he said, leading the way into the dining room.

Charles steered Addie past a few tables occupied by no one he knew. At the window, he pulled out a chair first for her, then for Emma, before taking a seat between them. Arthur handed out huge menus, so large, Emma’s hid her from view.

Arthur returned with a water pitcher and filled their glasses. Charles leaned toward the little girl. “That menu is bigger than you are. Here, let me take it before—”

The heavy volume slipped from Emma’s fingers, knocking over her glass of water. Charles rose to wipe up the spill with his napkin. Emma cringed, shrinking into her chair.

An instinct flared. Charles
knew
that reflex. “It’s all right, accidents happen,” he said, his voice soft, without a hint of reprimand.

Surveying the mess, tears filled Emma’s eyes.

Addie patted her hand. “No damage done, sweetie.”

Arthur mopped off Emma’s menu and tucked it under his arm. “It’s my fault, miss. The menu is too large for you to manage. I’ll get more napkins.” He walked toward the kitchen.

Who had punished this child for making a mistake? Had the Drummonds mistreated her, or her own family in New York, or possibly someone at the orphanage? He recognized the signs—the shrinking away, the fear. Or could he be overreacting because of his past? Seeing abuse where none existed?

Adelaide picked up her menu and helped Emma make a selection. Arthur returned and took their order and they all noticeably relaxed.

Adelaide put on a bright smile. “Emma, tell Mr. Graves about our day at the store.”

“Miss Crum sold five hats!” Emma boasted. “And…”

But Charles didn’t hear what the child said. He couldn’t take his eyes from Addie, the glow of her creamy skin and her shimmering eyes reflecting the light from the chandelier overhead.

“Mr. Graves, did you hear?” Emma’s impatient voice cut into his thoughts. “Miss Crum sold five hats.”

Charles swallowed, struggling to get back into the conversation. “That’s good news. I’m, ah, glad the ad helped.”

Arthur appeared with a glass of milk for Emma. Soon, the waiter set plates of steaming food before them.

Adelaide bowed her head and whispered a prayer for them all, then took a bite of chicken. “Delicious.”

Obviously determined nothing else would go wrong, Emma ate with exaggerated care, wiping her mouth with her napkin whenever Adelaide did. She took small bites and steered clear of her milk; evidently considering the large glass too risky.

But, not nearly as risky as Charles felt it was to spend an evening with Addie. He’d better watch out or he’d start to care about this woman.

Adelaide had trouble keeping her mind on eating and her eyes off her dinner companion, who looked distinguished in a dark suit and crisp white shirt. Even the movements of his hands fascinated her.

Reaching for the salt, their hands brushed each other. She clutched the fork so tightly the tines scraped across the plate.

“Sorry,” she said, putting down the fork and laying her trembling hands in her lap. “I finished another fashion column, Charles.”

“Good, bring it by.”

Then silence as they stared into each other’s eyes. She groped for a topic of conversation. “Where did you live before moving here?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

He cut a bite of steak. “In Cincinnati.”

“Oh, of course.” Feeling foolish to have forgotten, Adelaide took a sip of water to ease the unaccustomed dryness of her mouth. “So you moved here because of
The Ledger?
”

Charles laid down his utensils. “My father asked me to get the paper on solid footing. Owning my own paper has been a dream of mine so I jumped at the chance.”

An awkward silence followed. Best to change the subject and seize the opportunity to show him how competent she would be as a mom. Adelaide said, “The shop is my dream. In fact, I plan on teaching Emma how to sew and make hats. Who knows, one day that might lead to some dreams of her own.”

“Just watching you run the shop should be an education. Your success is a terrific example for her.”

“Thank you,” she said, pleased Charles had seen what she could offer Emma.

In companionable silence, they concentrated on their food, but she didn’t have much of an appetite. “Compared to Cincinnati, Noblesville is small.”

“True, but since my brother’s family lives here, I already knew something about the town. And with the state capitol only a few miles away, I had no concern about missing the city.” He toyed with his fork. “Not that I’ve had the time. There’s always too much to do at the paper. I suppose it’s the same for you.”

She nodded. “The shop ties me down. I order supplies through the mail or purchase them from salesmen.”

“I’m helping Miss Adelaide make a hat for Mrs. Drummond,” Emma piped up, her smile wide.

“That’s great, Emma.” He turned to Adelaide. “You ought to get a clerk to help out. All work and no play…”

“When my mother was ill, at the last, I hired Laura as a part-time clerk, but after Mama passed, I had no reason to keep her on.”

Charles’s gaze locked with hers. “Perhaps you need to rethink that.”

Was he suggesting they spend more time together?

“Miss Adelaide, don’t you like your food?” Emma said, breaking the link between them. “Remember ‘waste not, want not’ like your mama always said?”

Noticing Charles’s clean plate, Adelaide flushed. Charles pushed back from the table and laid an ankle across his knee, looking more at ease than she’d felt in her entire life. Horrified this man could turn her into a stammering mass of nerves when she intended to show him she could take care of herself and a child, she fought his charm.

“The food’s delicious.” Though, she could barely remember what she’d eaten. “I’m taking my time, enjoying every bite.”

“No hurry.” Charles patted his torso. “We need to digest our food so we have room for dessert.”

“Do they have chocolate cake?” Emma asked.

“Yes. Pie, too. The hotel’s cream pies melt in your mouth.”

With the promise of dessert, Emma got to work on her meal.

Charles turned back to Adelaide. “Tell me something about you. You don’t have any living family?”

“No, no one.” Adelaide took a sip of water. “How about you?”

He straightened and dropped his foot to the floor. “You probably know Sam died two years ago,” he said his tone subdued.

Adelaide nodded.

“My mother died when I was sixteen. So all I have is Mary and her two boys.

“I got a brother,” Emma chimed in. “William and me slept on the floor. He told me stories.” She sighed. “Papa left us and then Mama died….” Tears welled up in the little girl’s eyes.

Adelaide’s gaze collided with Charles’s look of dismay. “Before you know it, you’ll be back with William,” Adelaide assured her, dreading the prospect.

“Why can’t William live with us?”

Adelaide’s heart went out to the loneliness in the girl’s voice. “Rules, sweetie.” She hated those rules herself, rules preventing her from having Emma permanently.

“How about ordering that cake?” Charles said, his words putting a smile on Emma’s face.

Charles summoned the waiter and ordered dessert. Emma clanked her fork and spoon together a few times, then rose from her seat, almost tipping her chair.

“Sit down, honey,” Adelaide said.

“I’m tired of sitting,” Emma whined.

“I know, but you want that chocolate cake, don’t you?”

Emma nodded and returned to her seat. Soon Emma swung her feet against the rungs of her chair, the sound echoing through the quiet, high-ceilinged room. Adelaide bit her lip, trying to hide her disquiet. She’d hoped to show Charles her mothering skills, not to look inept.

Across from her, Charles reached into his coat pocket and brought out a pad of paper and pencil. “As a boy, I had a dog I called Rusty. Part Irish Setter. He had long ears like this.”

Emma’s feet stilled as Charles began sketching the dog, his hand moving quickly across the paper. She slid from her chair to stand beside him, watching him draw one animal after another.

His delightful little drawings charmed Adelaide as much as they did Emma. “I didn’t know you were artistic. Do you draw the political cartoons on the editorial page?”

Charles glanced up. “Yes, I do.”

“I’m impressed.”

He gave her a small pleased smile. “Thank you.”

The man had many layers. Each time she saw him, Adelaide discovered something that added to her appraisal. He’d been able to calm Emma when she had not, yet she doubted he’d lowered his opinion of her as a mother.

Still, he remained a man. Even as she thought it, she knew this mistrust of men came from her mother. She needed to evaluate things on her own.

The waiter arrived, carrying a tray with Emma’s dessert and two cups of coffee. Emma scrambled back into her chair, Charles’s drawings forgotten. In minutes, Emma’s unrest vanished as quickly as her dessert.

Eager to know the details that made up Charles’s past, Adelaide said, “Tell me more about your dog.”

“We had lots of dogs, not only Rusty, sometimes two or three at a time. They lived out back in a pen.” Charles took a sip of his coffee. “Did you have a dog, Addie?”

“No, I wanted a cat, but Mama couldn’t abide cat hair on her furniture. I found a toad once and kept it in a box in my room. Until Mama found it and said it’d give me warts.”

“Me and William had a kitty,” Emma said. “Mama called Felicia the best mouser in the building. Will you draw my cat?”

“Sure, what did she look like?”

A smile spread across Emma’s chocolate-speckled face. “Like a gray-and-white striped tiger with white patches on her front feet and here.” Emma pointed to her forehead and then her torso. “Mama said Felicia wore a bib so when she ate, she wouldn’t get dirty.

Charles smiled. “She sounds like a beauty.”

Emma twisted her napkin. “We gave Felicia to a neighbor, ’cause we couldn’t take a cat to the orphanage. I miss her.”

Adelaide’s throat tightened for Emma’s many losses.

“I can see why.” Charles reached over and patted Emma’s hand, then drew a curve that quickly turned into the body of a cat, sitting on a stool. On the face, he added two triangular ears and an upside down triangle for a nose.

Watching them, Adelaide marveled at how Charles related to children. Emma had taken a liking to him right away. Charles Graves was a kind man. Adelaide could think of no higher compliment.

With Emma in the middle, they walked home in the dark, their way lit by gaslights along the street. The soft night air between her and Charles crackled, leaving Adelaide shaky but feeling alive.

“Here we are,” Charles said, reaching the door of her shop.

She dug into her bag and retrieved the key. All thumbs, she dropped it, and then bent to retrieve it, just as Charles reached to snatch up the key. The two of them almost collided and both let out a little shaky laugh. In the dim light, they stood facing each other, close enough to touch, to reach out….

Adelaide’s stomach dropped like it had when she’d swung out on a rope over Phillip’s Creek. But she wasn’t a child now. Dangling from anyone’s rope posed a risk she would not take.

He reached past her, his arm brushing hers, turned the key and opened the door.

“The meal was delicious,” she said, though she didn’t remember eating a bite.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well…thank you for a lovely evening.”

“I should be thanking you,” he said softly, “both of you,” he added, his gaze taking in Emma, too.

She and Emma stepped inside the shop. Adelaide chanced one last glance back at Charles. Having a man in her life didn’t mean she wouldn’t be lonely—Jack had proven that. He’d claimed he wanted to marry her but never exhibited an interest in anything about her, except her cooking and the profits from her shop. Besides, she couldn’t be involved with a man who had issues with his faith.

“Would you accompany us to church tomorrow?”

His gaze dropped to his feet. “Mary’s expecting me for dinner.”

“Mary and the boys will be at church. I’m sure they’d love to have you join them.”

He tightened his jaw. “Church and I aren’t a good mix.”