by Kit Morgan
“Then a private dinner at my grandparents’ house. I’ll have Betsy make something special for us.”
Her fear seemed to double. “No, I couldn’t.”
“We wouldn’t be alone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he assured her. “Betsy and Cecil would be there, and probably my grandparents. We’d be well chaperoned.”
“Then how private a dinner would it be?”
He smiled. “Admittedly, not very. We could always eat in the kitchen.”
She returned his smile, lifted the brush from the container and started to paint something on the board. He watched the graceful movement of her hand, mesmerized as she delicately applied the paint. It took him a few moments to realize what she was painting: I forgive you. “Do you really?”
She pulled her gaze away, with obvious effort. “Yes,” she said softly.
Fletcher tucked a finger under her chin. “I’m so glad you’re staying in Independence. I don’t want you to leave.”
She looked shocked again. “You don’t?”
He swallowed hard and fought the urge to kiss her. “Of course not. Especially not now.” He swallowed again and licked his lips.
“Yes,” she mumbled. “You and Sheriff Diamond are still searching for clues to Jasper’s case.”
“Well … yes, that too.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, and he willed himself not to kiss her, even as his eyes darted to her lips. Red crept into her cheeks again, and he instinctively knew that she wanted to kiss him too. But he couldn’t, not after he’d apologized again and said he wanted to make it up to her. What kind of a gentleman would he be?
He forced himself to focus on the board in front of him, flipping it over and staring at the blank white space. “I feel rather funny painting ‘vote for me’ on this.”
She smiled. “Then allow me.” She flipped over her own board, dipped her brush into the paint and proceeded to write “FLETCHER VANDER FOR MAYOR” in huge block letters, taking up the entire space. “How’s that?”
“Lovely.” He said it without thinking, unsure of whether he was referring to the sign or to her. Every fiber of his being longed to take her in his arms and hold her, run his fingers through her hair, promise her everything would be all right. More – he wanted to pull her onto his lap, bend her back and kiss her, march her right down to the church … well, they were already at the church … fine, march her right up to Pastor Adams and insist he marry them –
Egads, stop! What am I thinking?
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Fletcher shook himself, wishing he could go splash some cold water on his face. And a few other places, too. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. Sure, he’d been attracted to some, but his heart wasn’t involved. He was having feelings for Sophie – strong, unfamiliar feelings – and he didn’t know how to control them. They scared him.
“Fletcher?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m … not myself today.” He looked at her poster. “Yours is better than mine.”
She laughed. “You haven’t painted anything on yours yet.”
He smiled, took the board and turned it around again. The words I’m sorry were a glaring red.
She looked at them, at him, then flipped her board around too.
Fletcher took her hand. “Have dinner with me?”
She stared at him for several seconds, then smiled. “I will.”
Sophie, what are you doing? she thought. You can’t seriously be thinking of having dinner with this man! But she was and she would. How could she not? His apology was sincere. If he was really the man Priscilla made him out to be, he wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble to gain her forgiveness. Even if he was a blackguard, his true colors were sure to show, and then she could walk away with surety. It seemed worth the risk.
And again, they would be well chaperoned.
“What are you thinking about?”
His voice was soft, gentle and so, so warm. Sophie’s jaw quivered. Merciful heavens, how could he affect her so? “About our dinner,” she blurted.
“What about it?”
“You don’t think Betsy will mind, do you? I mean, won’t she have to make two different meals?”
“No, it just means we won’t be eating with my grandparents. I’ll have her set something up for us in the kitchen.”
“But why?”
He licked his lips before he smiled, put his spectacles back on and began painting. “Because I want to get to know you.”
Her hand flew to her chest. She caught herself and quickly removed it.
“Is that truly so shocking?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes bounced everywhere, landing on anything but him. “No, of course not.”
“But …?”
“But I’m just surprised … that’s all.”
He dipped his brush into the red paint again. “Has a man never offered to take you to dinner before?”
Her brow knit. “Well, yes … but I never got to go.”
He studied her a moment. “Because you were taking care of sick relatives.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“What you did for your family was admirable, Sophie. You were obviously of age and could’ve begun your own life anytime you wished, isn’t that true?”
Her head came up and she looked at him. He was right, she could’ve. It had simply never occurred to her to do other than what she had.
“I’m looking at a woman who gave of herself and gave of herself, then gave some more. You took care of your family, even when there was no way they could return the favor. That says a lot about you.”
“I only did what anyone would do.”
He sighed and tilted his head toward the sky. “I can think of many who wouldn’t.” He turned back to her. “When I was in Portland, there was a woman who abandoned her children after her husband died. She tried to become a mail-order bride.”
Sophie looked at him in horror. “What? Didn’t she plan to send for her children?”
“No, she did not. We learned from the oldest, a child of five, that she’d been writing to a man in Seattle. We found one of his letters in the apartment she was renting, pieced things together and sent a Pinkerton to find her.”
“And?” she prompted, leaning toward him.
He sighed, reached over and brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “He never found her. The children went into orphanages.”
Her eyes locked with his. “That’s terrible,” she whispered.
“Yes, it is,” he said, his voice just as soft. “Actions speak louder than words. And your actions tell me a lot about you, Sophie Baxter.”
Sophie stared at him, her mind clouding, and could only nod. Her heart was beating so fast she could scarcely breathe.
“And I would hope that my actions haven’t led you to believe less of me. We shared something I’ve never shared with anyone before, ever. It’s my sincere desire that in time, once we get to know each other better, we’ll share other moments just like it.”
That got her attention. She blinked several times and gawked at him. “What?”
His eyes roamed her face, settling on her lips. “I’d very much like to kiss you again, Sophie. But – only when it’s proper.”
Now she was just plain confused. “I’m … not sure I understand.”
Fletcher sighed. “What I’m really trying to say is, I want to court you. If you’ll have me.”
Chapter 14
Several days later Sophie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom at the Vanders’. “Why am I so worried about this?” she asked aloud, tossing her traveling suit onto the bed. It was dinner in the kitchen, after all, not her wedding. Yet her heart fluttered nonetheless.
The last few days had been torture, and she wished she could keep her heart in check. But it was too late – the traitorous thing had flown the coop and gone straight to Fletcher as soon as he announced he wanted to court her. They’d have had their dinn
er sooner if she hadn’t been so worn out from her new job. Most days, she could barely keep her eyes open after her shift ended and she trudged back to the Vanders’.
But today she’d switched with Darcy and worked the breakfast and lunch shifts to free up her evening. Tonight was the night.
“You staring at that dress isn’t going to make it any prettier,” Betsy remarked from the doorway.
Sophie sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I know. I just wish I had a better one.”
Betsy entered, carrying a rose-pink bundle. “You may not, but I do.”
Sophie stood, her eyes riveted. “Oh, Betsy … is that what I think it is?”
“Mm-hmm. This here’s one of Ammy’s old dresses. It’s a little out of fashion, but it’s still pretty. Why don’t you try it on?”
Sophie smiled in relief then suddenly sobered. “But Betsy, do you think she’ll mind?”
“Nah – this has been hanging in the other guest room for years. I can’t even recall why she left it here in the first place. Besides, after having all them babies, it probably don’t fit her like it used to.”
“Most of her children are practically grown. Just how old is this dress?”
“Told you it was out of fashion.” Betsy approached the bed and held up the dress.
It was indeed beautiful, and indeed old, but unarguably nicer than anything Sophie owned. She smiled, took it from Betsy and held it against her. “I can’t wait to try it on.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” Betsy said with a grin. “What sort of shoes you got?”
Sophie went behind a changing screen. “The ones by the bed are the only pair I have.”
Betsy reached down and picked up Sophie’s worn brown shoes. “Mm-hmm, just as I thought. These won’t do.”
“What choice do I have?” Sophie frowned at her words. It seemed like she’d been saying them her whole life. “Can you help me with the back of this dress?”
Betsy went behind the screen, looked her up and down and began buttoning her up. “Don’t you look pretty. Wait until Fletcher sees you.”
A thrill went up Sophie’s spine, and she fought an urge to clap her hands. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh, honey, I know so. What I’m wondering is how are you going to react to him? You’ve been awful funny around him lately.”
“Oh, that.” Sophie sighed. “I like Fletcher, I do. But …”
“Did he do something stupid? Or did someone say something to you?”
“Both, actually.”
“Mm-hmm. Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Which part?” Sophie asked with a lopsided smile.
“Both parts. That man does some strange things – I could tell you stories that would turn you white as a sheet.”
Sophie’s knees wobbled and her heart sank to her toes. The last thing she needed to hear from this woman was that everything Priscilla Holbrook said was true. She’d spent the last few days convincing herself the woman had spoken out of spite or jealousy. Yes, Fletcher had kissed her, but she’d kissed him back just as eagerly. And all his other actions depicted him as a man of good character. He was protecting her, she could tell. If Betsy was about to show her otherwise …
“Once I caught him making some sort of fireworks for the Fourth of July. Merciful heavens – I thought he was gonna blow the house up!”
Sophie put a hand to her chest. “Blow up the house?” She hoped Betsy kept talking, preferably about things that had nothing to do with lechery or dishonesty or any other such vice. Childish pranks, she could handle.
“That was one of the worst things he ever did. I think he was twelve at the time. Fletcher always was a risk-taker.”
Sophie felt a wave of relief wash over her. “What else?”
“Well, one day he tied a string of tin cans to the tail of the neighbor’s cat …”
“Oh no! He didn’t!”
“He was eight, and I don’t think it was his idea – some boy at school dared him. His parents scolded him something awful. As did his grandma and grandpa, seeing as how he did it in the house here.”
Sophie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Oh, the poor kitty.”
“Poor kitty, my eye – that tabby was a hellion too. I know, ‘cause Cecil and me had to catch it. I’m amazed Fletcher didn’t get his eyes clawed out.”
Sophie shook her head, the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. But her laughter wasn’t due to Betsy’s story, but out of relief at the lack of debauchery. They were just about a boy being a boy. “What about when he was older?”
“Oh, he calmed down considerable, much to his parents’ delight. That’s when he started to get interested in law. He’d see a wrong and would go right at it until he made it right. Tenacious, he was – wouldn’t let go until the job was done.”
Sophie took a deep breath, let it out. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“No, ‘cept it got him fired.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “What?”
“That’s why he’s home. Didn’t he tell you?”
“Now that you mention it, yes, I remember him telling his father.” Which begged the question, why would a law firm fire someone for doing the right thing? She’d have to ask him. Regardless, if he hadn’t been fired and come home to Independence, she never would’ve met him, nor had him on her side. And without Fletcher, she wasn’t sure how she could’ve handled her situation. Other than the kiss, he’d been like a knight in shining armor.
But what was a knight without a kiss?
“Best thing that could’ve happened to him, in my opinion,” Betsy went on. “I think he’ll make a fine mayor. So would his father, but everyone knows he doesn’t want it.”
“True,” Sophie said, “he doesn’t.” Her eyes wandered around the room. She wanted to hug Betsy for setting her mind at ease, but it would probably confuse the woman. Also, she didn’t want to tell her how she felt about Fletcher – she might think it improper. “I’m sure he’ll make a good mayor too.”
“Mm-hmm. And that’s not all he’ll make.”
Sophie looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Betsy put the last button in place. “You might not think it’s my business, Miss Baxter, but you’ve put a spark in that man’s eyes.”
Sophie blushed. She went to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and studied her reflection, unsure what to say.
“You know what I’m talking about. Once he sees you in this dress, we ain’t gonna need no fireworks at this year’s Fourth of July. Fletcher will more than make up for them.”
Sophie turned to her, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Betsy!”
“What’s the matter now? Why the waterworks?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been so worried.”
“About what … Oh, I see,” she said with a nod. “Wipe those tears from your eyes, honey and just let nature do the rest. That is why you’re crying, isn’t it? You’re in love with Fletcher.”
Sophie gasped.
“All right, maybe I spoke out of turn, but why else would you be so upset?”
Sophie took a breath and held it in an attempt to calm down. Should she tell her?
As if reading her mind, Betsy said, “All right, let’s have it.” She put a hand on her hip and stared Sophie down.
“Yes, it’s true!” she blurted. “I’m not sure when it happened or why, but you’re right. I am.”
Betsy cupped a hand to her ear and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re what?”
Sophie gave in. “I’m in love with Fletcher.”
Betsy lowered her hand with a smile. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Do you really think he has feelings for me?” Sophie said, not sure she should’ve let that horse out of the barn. Too late now.
“Like I said, you put a spark in his eyes I’ve never seen before. He’s feeling something. But maybe you’d best keep your feelings to yourself for now.”
&
nbsp; “That’s getting harder to do, I’m afraid.” She turned back to the mirror.
Betsy picked up the shoes again and glared at them. “Men are always a little slow. You just need to give him time to catch up.”
“He wants to court me.”
“Mm-hmm, I knew that. At this point I think the whole family knows. Why should that bother you?”
Sophie shrugged. “Because I’ve heard … things.”
Now Betsy glared at her. “Things? Who you been talking to?”
Sophie gulped. “Um … Priscilla Holbrook –”
“Oh dear Lord! See here, young lady – don’t go listening to that low-down trifling little harpy. That woman likes nothing better than stirring up trouble.”
Sophie felt like a complete ninny. “She does?”
“Mm-hmm. Priscilla is one smooth talker, but if it was high noon and she said the sun was up, I’d know it was raining. I’ve never seen a woman lie so much or cause division so fast. If meddling was a sport, she’d win the pennant every year.”
“Oh, Betsy!” This time Sophie did hug her.
“The waterworks again? Good heavens, child!”
But Sophie let her tears flow, not out of anguish but joy. Fletcher wasn’t a cad! Yes, he had kissed her with near reckless abandon – highly improper, but she was just as guilty. Now, though, she felt no shame over it. In hindsight, that single kiss was so, so right. It was all a matter now of what she was going to do about it.
And with the burden of Priscilla’s lies lifted, she was starting to get some ideas.
Fletcher paced nervously in the kitchen, Cecil watching in amusement. “You do realize I just mopped the floor this morning?”
Fletcher glanced up at him. “What was that?”
Cecil shook his head and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Fletcher asked, perplexed. When Cecil didn’t answer he rolled his eyes and continued pacing. After a moment he stopped. “That obvious?”
“At this point, it’s beyond obvious.”
“Then how is it that Miss Baxter can’t see it? No matter how hard I try to convince her, some … I don’t know, invisible wall stands between us. I’m might have to face that she just doesn’t like me.”
