Winnie Griggs (7 page)

Now, if she could just figure out how to accomplish that...

Chapter Seven

S
aturday morning, Daisy arrived at Everett’s office a few minutes after nine o’clock. It was a beautiful day and one that promised to be highly productive.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

Her boss glanced up, then went back to looking at his ledger. “I suppose.”

Not a very cheery response. “The butcher had some fine-dressed venison this morning,” she continued. “I hope venison is something you like.” She was already planning the way she would cook it up with a thick, rich onion gravy and some beets and dandelion greens seasoned with bacon on the side.

“Venison is fine.”

He still seemed to be paying little attention to what she was saying. She hefted the basket and tried one more time to get something other than a distracted response. “By the way, I opened the door on my side of the wall when I left this morning. But don’t you worry. I made sure Kip understands he can’t cross the threshold.”

This time he did look up and actually met her gaze. “You made sure...” He gave her a look that seemed to call her sanity into question. “And do you honestly think he understood?”

Maybe drawing him out hadn’t been such a good idea. “He’s actually pretty smart.”

“There’s nothing pretty about him,” he said dryly.

“Mr. Fulton!”

“Sorry.” His tone sounded anything but. “Just see that you reinforce that little talk you two had with some firm discipline if he doesn’t appear willing to follow directions.”

What would he do if she stuck her tongue out at him?

Cheered by the image that evoked, Daisy turned and headed up the stairs. As soon as she set her market basket down, Daisy opened the adjoining door. Kip was sitting there waiting on her, his tail wagging furiously. Daisy stooped down and ruffled the fur on his neck. “Hey, boy. What do you say we prove Mr. High-and-Mighty Fulton wrong? I’ll pop over and visit you occasionally, but I have a job to do so you’ll have to stay over here.”

Kip gave a bark, which she took as agreement, so with one last pat, she stood and returned to her work. Today she was determined to conquer the eccentricities of the stove, and turn out bread rolls that were perfectly golden-brown.

Yes, sir, there would be nothing for her employer to fuss about today.

* * *

All morning, Everett heard the sounds of Daisy bustling around in his kitchen, more often than not humming or singing some cheery song. He could also hear her talking to her mutt, carrying on one-sided conversations as if the raggedy animal could actually understand her words.

He gave in to the urge to go upstairs and check on her at about ten-thirty. It only made sense, he told himself, to make certain things were going as they should with this new arrangement of theirs.

The angle of the adjoining door was such that, once his shoulders topped the second floor, he was able to see through it to her place. Her dog sat at the threshold but, as she’d promised, no part of him was across it. How had she managed to make her pet obey—especially when the food smells were so tempting?

Beyond the animal, he could see enough to tell him that she’d made quite a bit of progress since he’d been up there yesterday. Despite himself, he was impressed with how much she was getting accomplished.

The dog barked. Everett wasn’t sure if it was a greeting or a warning, but it caught Daisy’s attention and she turned, smiling when she spied him.

“Hello. If you’ve come to check on the meal, I’m afraid it’ll be another hour or so until it’s ready.”

Feeling as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t—which was ridiculous—he tugged at his cuff. “Not at all. I just need to fetch something from my room.”

He strode purposefully to his bedchamber, grabbed the notebook he kept by his bedside, then headed back out.

“I want to thank you again for letting me prop these doors open,” she said as he neared the stairs. “I’ve already been able to get quite a bit of work done in my place this morning.” She nodded toward the door. “As you can see, Kip is behaving himself just like I told you he would.”

Everett made a noncommittal sound and, with a nod, headed back downstairs.

When she called him upstairs for the noonday meal, Everett deliberately took his time. No point appearing overeager.

“Your oven and I are getting along much better today,” she said as they took their seats at the table. “You won’t find nary a scorch mark on these rolls.”

Again she asked if he’d like to say grace, and again he passed the task to her. He noticed the speculative look she gave him, but he kept his expression bland. There was no reason for him to explain himself.

He didn’t pray aloud, or pray much at all if you got right down to it. The clergyman who held the living on his father’s estate in England had made certain he was familiar with the Bible and that he attended church services regularly. And for most of his childhood, Everett had been quite faithful to those teachings.

That had changed when he’d realized that his illegitimate status made him and his mother lesser people in the eyes of those oh-so-pious folks who surrounded him. And then he’d been summarily exiled from his home to America.

Now he knew that religion was for children and women, those who needed something spiritual to cling to as an emotional crutch.

He considered himself more of a social Christian—one who went to church service because it was expected. And to set the proper example for his younger sister.

But there was no point going into all of that with Daisy. She obviously felt quite differently.

As she passed him the platter of meat, she smiled. “I hope you like venison cooked this way. It was my father’s favorite meal. I do believe he would’ve eaten it every day if it had been available.”

Everett met her gaze as he served himself. “I find it strange that you speak of him with such affection.”

“Strange how?”

“You ran off to get away from him. And worse, he didn’t come after you, but rather let you travel alone and by foot, though he had to know where you were going.” Such actions were unforgivable.

“My relationship with my father is complicated, but regardless of how we parted, I do still love him very much.”

Was she just being tactful? “Admirable of you, it seems.”

She shook her head. “You sound like you don’t believe me, but it’s true. It’s just that, even though I love him, there are times when I don’t like him very much.”

She wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.

Apparently, she saw the doubt in his expression. “My father always said it was my mother who kept him on the straight and narrow,” she explained. “When she was around, there was no temptation strong enough to lure him away. That’s what kept him sober and happy when I was little.”

She pushed her food around her plate with a fork. “I tried to be a good daughter when I started traveling with him again, to take care of him and give him as much love as Mother did. But I guess I wasn’t enough. He’d be okay for a while, but the yearning for drink and cards would get hold of him, and the next thing I know he’d have gambled away most of our earnings.”

And she still claimed to love him? Had her affection made her so blind?

“When I learned he’d won the deed to the building next door, I tried to convince him to come with me, but he kept saying he was too set in his ways to change.”

“That doesn’t excuse his letting you set out on your own instead of giving you a proper escort.”

She dredged her fork through her gravy. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”

“What do you mean?”

She still didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I never gave him the chance to bring me here.” She finally looked up. “We were over in Thornridge and had another of our arguments.”

She looked so lost, so regretful that Everett almost reached out to touch her arm in support. But he’d never been comfortable with such emotional gestures.

“It was a small thing,” she continued wistfully, “but it felt big at the time. So I told him to leave me in town to do some shopping and ‘cool off’ while he visited a few farms to try to make some sales. As soon as he was out of sight, I left a note with the owner of the mercantile and headed out on my own.”

She traced a line on her glass with one finger. “It was cowardly of me, but I knew if I had to look him in the eye and tell him my intentions, I wouldn’t be able to go.”

Everett wasn’t convinced. There’s no way he would have let Abigail go like that, no matter how much they disagreed on matters. “He still should have headed out after you when he realized you’d gone.”

“Well, first off, he may not have realized I was gone until the next day. Because if things followed their normal course, he would take whatever money he made on sales and find a card game. Which meant he’d have stayed out until the wee hours.”

Is that the kind of existence she was accustomed to? How had she held on to her optimism all this time?

“When he did realize I was gone,” she continued, “and got the note I left for him, he would have read my plea for him not to follow me.”

Everett frowned. She’d said her relationship with her father was complicated—it seemed she hadn’t been exaggerating. “So you deliberately severed ties with him.”

“Not permanently. He’ll come back through Turnabout in a few months. By then the break will have healed, and I’ll be settled and we’ll be able to meet on more comfortable terms.”

There was that seemingly unquenchable optimism again.

She smiled wistfully. “Someday, I hope Father will be ready to settle down, too, and when that time comes, I’m hoping he’ll move in with me.”

She shifted in her chair, and her smile brightened. “Now, why don’t we talk about something else. And since you asked me a personal question, I think a question for you is in order.”

He wasn’t sure he liked that challenging glint in her eye. “Such as?”

“Such as, why don’t you like dogs?”

Everett immediately felt his guard go up. But there were worse things she could have asked. “It’s not that I don’t like dogs. I just have no use for them. They are overly exuberant, serve no useful purpose and are always trying to claim your attention. They are fine as hunters or herders, but why would one want a beast like that in one’s home?”

“They also love you without question, provide warm companionship and never judge you, but instead reward every kind gesture with joy.”

It almost sounded as if she were describing herself. “I suppose we shall agree to disagree on this.”

“Have you ever let yourself just play with a dog?”

He was
not
going down that conversational path with her. “Not since I was a child.” He pushed those foolish memories aside and changed the subject. “I can see why your father considered this his favorite meal. It’s quite good.”

To his relief, she followed his lead and the conversation stayed on safe, nonpersonal topics for the rest of the meal.

Once they stood up from the table, Everett waved toward the adjoining door. “Please don’t forget to close and lock that door before you leave.”

At her nod, he turned and headed downstairs. She probably thought he was being too much a stickler, but he was a firm believer that you couldn’t go wrong if you followed the rules of propriety to the letter. That was what separated polite society from barbarians.

* * *

After Daisy returned to her own place, she locked the door on her side of the wall, just as she’d promised Everett she would. The man was just so rigid in his thinking, so very conscious of appearances. But it wouldn’t hurt to follow his rules.

Then she turned to Kip. “Ready for our walk, boy?”

The dog’s tail started wagging furiously, and he gave an excited bark.

Daisy laughed as she led the way. “How can anyone say they have no use for dogs? Especially a smart, friendly dog like you.” Another example of how stuffy her boss could be.

Then again, Mr. Fulton
had
admitted to playing with a dog when he was a child. So at one time he’d known what it was to have fun. What had happened to him?

As soon as she stepped outside, Daisy pushed those gloomy thoughts aside and lifted her face to the sky, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine, inhaling deeply of the fresh air. Did Mr. Fulton ever do this, just take a moment to enjoy what the day had to offer?

She doubted it.

As they headed toward the outskirts of town, Daisy began her usual one-sided conversation with Kip. “Remember all those berries I picked yesterday? Well, I traded them to Mr. Blakely over at the mercantile for some rope. Tonight I’m going to string it on the bed frame and make it good as new. Now if I can just gather up enough grass to finish stuffing my mattress, I can have me a proper bed. I’ll sure be glad when I don’t have to sleep on the floor anymore.”

Kip answered with a bark.

She smiled down at him. “Don’t worry. There’s a new bed in the works for you, as well.”

Kip gave another bark, then took off after a squirrel he spotted across the road.

Daisy watched him tree the bushy-tailed sprinter with a smile. Kip was such a good companion. Mr. Fulton would see that if he could look past his stuffy notions.

Maybe that was something she could teach him, unobtrusively of course, to repay him for all the nice things he’d done for her. Surely she could find ways to teach him to smile—genuinely smile, not flash that amused-at-the-world, snobby twist of his lips that passed for a smile.

He might appear stiff and cold, but he’d done so much to help her, whether he cared to admit it or not. She had to believe that there really was a kind heart under that don’t-need-anybody exterior of his.

And she aimed to make him believe it, as well.

* * *

On Sunday, Daisy stepped out onto the sidewalk at almost the same moment as Everett left his building. “Good morning, Mr. Fulton. Are you on your way to church service, too?”

“I am.”

So he
was
a churchgoer. She was relieved. Perhaps his reluctance to say grace at their meals was no more than a dislike of praying aloud.

He gave her an approving glance as he fell into step beside her, and she stood a little straighter, feeling a tiny touch of pride. The dress she wore was one that had belonged to her mother. It wasn’t as fine as some of the other dresses that would no doubt grace the women filling the pews this morning, but it was one she could hold her head up proudly while wearing.