“Why, hello,” the woman said to Mitch. “And good day to your friend, as well.”
Was it her imagination or did Mitch stiffen slightly?
* * *
Mitch nearly groaned. Eunice Ortolon was a well-meaning woman, but she was also the most notorious gossip in town. If there was a secret to be ferreted out, Eunice was the one to do it. He only hoped Ivy wouldn’t say anything to put her on the scent.
He touched the brim of his hat. “Mrs. Ortolon, allow me to introduce you to Miss Ivy Feagan.” He turned to Ivy. “Mrs. Ortolon runs the town’s boardinghouse.”
Ivy gave a neighborly nod. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“So you’re the young lady who rode into town with Mr. Parker yesterday.” She didn’t wait for a response before rushing on. “I saw you at the funeral this morning but didn’t have the opportunity to say hello. Was Mr. Carter a relative of yours?”
Mitch held his breath. How would Ivy respond?
“No, ma’am. He was an old friend of my father’s.”
Of course—the perfect answer.
Mrs. Ortolon nodded sympathetically. “How very kind of you to travel here to attend his funeral. Did you have to come far?”
“I came from Nettles Gap.”
That raised the woman’s brow a bit. Was she wondering why Ivy hadn’t arrived by train? Mitch took Ivy’s elbow. “If you will excuse us, we were headed to Daisy’s.”
“Of course. Enjoy your meal.”
As they walked away, Mitch imagined the woman’s eyes boring into their backs.
“She seems very friendly,” Ivy said, though her tone was tentative. “She must make a very good boardinghouse proprietor.”
“She does run a very tidy and comfortable place.” Mitch believed in giving credit where credit was due. “I stayed there for a few weeks when I first moved to Turnabout. All four of us did.” That’s when he’d learned the woman had a talent for extracting a juicy bit of blather from the most unwitting of sources. She wasn’t malicious, just drawn to gossip like a bee to nectar.
Still, it would be best if he kept Ivy away from Eunice Ortolon—and any other gossips—as much as possible.
* * *
Ivy studied the colorful sign above the door proclaiming the establishment to be Daisy’s Restaurant. It had a charming little daisy dotting the i, and somehow it made her feel welcome. This was going to be another eagerly anticipated first for her—she’d never eaten in a restaurant before.
When they stepped inside, Ivy was further delighted. The place was decorated with a sunny, playful brightness reflected in everything from the yellow walls to the flowery curtains. And if the aromas were any indication, the food would be every bit as good as Mitch had promised.
As for Daisy herself, she was as down-to-earth and friendly as the flower she was named after.
While they were waiting for their meal, Daisy’s husband, Everett, popped in to talk to Daisy for a minute, and she brought him over for introductions. It turned out that her husband, who spoke with a slight accent, was another of the men Mitch had traveled from Philadelphia with.
After the couple moved away, Ivy asked Mitch about the accent.
“Everett was born in England,” Mitch explained. “He didn’t move here until his adolescence.”
“Oh, my. I thought Philadelphia was a far piece from here, but he crossed an ocean.” It certainly put her two-day trip—that had turned into four—into perspective. “What’s that over there?” She indicated the wall that was lined with bookshelves, and fronted by a small desk and cabinet.
“That’s Abigail’s circulating library.”
“Is it normal to have a library inside a restaurant?”
“Not usually, but Everett’s sister, Abigail, moved here and decided she wanted to open a library, so Daisy gave her a section of the restaurant to use. It’s become a popular spot.”
Ivy had enjoyed reading while she was in school, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to do much since. Maybe she’d give it another try while she was here.
Then she paused. She was acting as if her staying here had already been decided. And that was far from true.
“You’re worried about your Nana Dovie, aren’t you?”
Ivy met his gaze, surprised by his ability to read her. “Much as I’d like to see this through, I just don’t like the idea of leaving her alone for so long.”
“Is it because you believe she needs someone to look after her?”
Ivy grinned. “She’d get a switch after me if she ever heard me say so. But, for all that she’s determined to do for herself, she’s getting on in years and I worry about her not having someone to help with the chores and just generally keep an eye on her.”
“You said the preacher was checking in on her while you were gone. Would he be willing to continue doing so for the next few weeks?”
His questions and tone were logical, but she thought she detected a hint of concern just below the surface. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. “More than likely, but that’s not the same as someone being there all the time.”
“I agree it’s not ideal, but it is workable. Other than your concern about her well-being, is there another reason you’re reluctant to delay your departure?”
She hesitated, not wanting to appear vulnerable or pitiful. But there was no getting around the facts, and after all he’d done for her, he deserved the truth. She absently stabbed a green bean with her fork, dragging it across her plate.
“I don’t have the wherewithal to pay for a stay of three weeks.”
* * *
Mitch mentally chided himself as he saw the color rise in her cheeks. He should have realized her dilemma. “I’m certain Reggie would let you stay in her guest bedroom,” he offered quickly. But his words didn’t have the desired effect.
Ivy stiffened. “You shouldn’t go speaking for her. She hardly knows me. And besides, it’s bad enough I slept in her bed down at the cabin and wore her clothes without being able to thank her. I won’t take advantage of her generosity knowing that I already have an unpaid debt she isn’t even aware of.”
Mitch quickly looked around. He knew she was distracted by other concerns, but a slip of the tongue like that could cost her dearly. Thankfully no one appeared to be paying attention.
“Even if all that wasn’t an issue,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, “I still don’t like the notion of leaving Nana Dovie alone for so long. No, I figure the best thing for me to do is to head back to Nettles Gap in the morning.”
He took hope from the fact that she didn’t sound happy about it. “You’re going to just give up your claim?”
“I can always return here when it’s closer to the time for the judge to show up.”
Mitch didn’t approve of that plan at all, but he didn’t stop to analyze why. “Think this through. What if the judge comes early? His schedule isn’t always precise. If that should happen, you risk missing him altogether and allowing Carter to present his case without you there.”
She rubbed her chin. “I hadn’t thought of that. I wouldn’t want to stand the judge up.”
Seeing she was weakening, he pressed his advantage. “Exactly. Even though your case is strong, there’s no telling how he might rule if you’re not here to counter Carter’s arguments.”
“I suppose, if I decided to stay and plead my case, the preacher could keep a close eye on Nana Dovie for me.” Then she sighed. “But none of that matters if I don’t figure out how to pay my way.”
They were back to that. “If you’re absolutely set against staying with Reggie, there are other people here in town who’d provide you with a room. I can ask around.”
She speared him with a glare. “I won’t go begging, or let you do it for me. I’ve always been one to pay my way or I
do without.”
“You do know that pride is a sin, don’t you?”
She lifted her chin. “Only false pride.”
He hid a smile and let her comment pass. “Fortunately, I think there’s another option.”
“And that is?”
“You could rent a room in someone’s home for much less than what the hotel costs.”
Her suspicion didn’t appear to abate any. “I told you, I won’t live on charity—not yours or anybody else’s.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. Eileen Pierce, a young widow, put the word out a month or so back that she’d be willing to take in a boarder so she could have some extra pin money.”
Ivy looked at him as if trying to decipher an ulterior motive. “A month ago. And nobody’s taken her up on the offer? Is there something wrong with it, or just not much call for rooms around here?”
Mitch chose his words carefully. He wanted to let her know what she’d be walking into without being judgmental of the young widow. “She’s not the most popular individual in these parts. Not for any reason that would put you at risk, I assure you. But there are things in her past some folks still hold against her.”
Just after Mitch had arrived in Turnabout two years ago, Eileen’s husband, who’d embezzled money from the local bank, had committed suicide when it had become obvious his guilt would be discovered. Many in town blamed his downfall on his young wife’s extravagant tastes and spending habits.
But Mitch wasn’t one to give credence to gossip. Nor was he one to spread it. Though to be fair, the woman’s withdrawal from everyone after the tragedy hadn’t helped her cause.
To his surprise—and relief—Ivy didn’t press for details. Instead she seemed to brush right past the issue. “When it comes down to it,” she said matter-of-factly, “most of us have things in our past we wish we could change.”
He added a silent amen to that. But there’d been a hint of poignancy in her voice that piqued his curiosity. “Including yourself?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She gave him a that’s-off-limits look. Then, instead of answering, she took the conversation back to its original focus. “Anyway, I prefer to form my own opinion about folks.”
“Very commendable,” he said quickly, embarrassed by his prying. But he was even more curious about what she might be hiding than he had been before. Not that it was any of his business. “If you’re agreeable, then,” he said, following her lead, “I’ll take you round to Mrs. Pierce’s place and introduce you. The two of you can take it from there and work out the details.”
Her brows went up. “You mean now?”
“Of course. I assumed you wanted to get this settled right away.”
He also didn’t want her second-guessing her decision to stay.
When she still hesitated, he gave her a challenging look. “I thought you said Mrs. Pierce’s reputation didn’t bother you.”
“It’s not that.” She rubbed her neck absently. “The thing is, even if she only charges half of what the hotel does, it’ll still cost me money I don’t have.”
Ivy said this with more frustration than embarrassment. She was the practical sort, he’d give her that. And she’d already made it clear she’d never accept a gift of money from him, or even a loan.
But perhaps there was another way he could both help her and keep an eye on her during her stay. “Are you opposed to taking a job while you’re here?”
Her eyes lit up and her shoulders straightened. “Not at all. In fact, I’d be mighty grateful to have a chance to earn my way.” She leaned forward eagerly. “Are you saying you know of something like that?”
“I certainly do.”
It didn’t take Ivy but a moment to figure things out. When she did her smile faded and she sat back with a thump. “You’re talking about working for you, aren’t you?” Irritation colored her tone.
But Mitch was ready for her resistance. He put on his haughtiest expression. “I assure you, if you take this job, you won’t get any special treatment just because you know me. I’ll expect you to earn every cent I pay you. There’s a real house to clean and real meals to cook, and I have high standards for both.” Which was absolutely true.
He’d never before considered hiring anyone, though. His home was his private retreat, a place where he could insulate himself from the world. Very few individuals—very few friends—had ever stepped across his threshold. And that was just the way he liked it.
Or at least the way he needed it to be if he was to maintain his distance. But this situation called for extreme measures. And it was just for a few weeks. Afterward, he could slip back into his solitary routine and things would return to normal.
Although he wasn’t so sure how he felt about “normal” anymore since Ivy Feagan had burst into his life and reminded him how intriguing the unconventional could be.
* * *
Ivy knew he was waiting for her answer, but she wasn’t sure what to make of his offer, which still smacked of a handout. She didn’t have a lot of choices, though, not if she wanted to remain in town until the judge arrived. And despite her worries over leaving Nana Dovie alone, she found she really did want to stay.
Besides, as long as she put in an honest day’s work, kept it strictly businesslike and didn’t accept more pay than was reasonable, she supposed it didn’t really matter what his motives were.
Of course, she could—and should—question her own motives in ignoring her better judgment and taking him up on his offer.
“I don’t expect any kind of special treatment,” she warned.
He held up his hands. “Understood. We can work out the details after you settle the matter of lodging. Shall we head over to Mrs. Pierce’s now?”
He’d certainly changed the subject fast enough. Was he hiding something? Deciding to trust him, she nodded, and in a matter of minutes they were on the sidewalk.
Once they’d settled into a comfortable stroll, Ivy said, “Tell me about this Mrs. Pierce. Not about her past,” she added quickly. “Just in general what sort of person she is, so I’ll know what to expect.”
“I thought you liked to form your own opinions?”
Surely that wasn’t a hint of amusement in his tone? “I’m not looking for judgments on her character. I only meant things like is she chatty or quiet, more down-to-earth or highfalutin, does she have a sense of humor—that sort of thing.”
“Of course. Let’s see, before her husband’s death she was quite social, loved to throw and attend parties, wore stylish clothing and surrounded herself with beautiful things. Since her husband’s death she’s become more reserved and keeps to herself more often than not.”
Sort of like him. Had his wife’s death affected him in the same way it appeared to have affected Mrs. Pierce?
“As for her stylishness,” he continued, “even though her husband has been gone nearly two years now, she still wears black.”
“She must have loved him very much.” That was the sort of love she hoped to find one day—the forever kind. It was the reason she’d spurned Lester’s advances, the start of all her troubles. Still, if she could find that kind of love, the hardships of these past five years would have been worth it.
“I didn’t know either of them well” was his only comment. There was something in his tone, though, that made her think perhaps he didn’t view it as romantically as she did. Had something in his own marriage affected his views?
“That’s it, up ahead,” he said, pointing. “The three-story brick one with all the flowers in the yard.”
Ivy studied the house with interest. It was an impressively large structure with white columns supporting the front porch. Did Mrs. Pierce live in this huge house alone?
But what really caught her eye was the lovely flower garden. She identified rosebushes,
irises, snapdragons, lilies and camellia bushes. And there were others she’d never seen before. Despite what Mitch had said about the widow, Ivy found herself immediately predisposed to like this Mrs. Pierce. A woman who took such pride in her garden had to have a good heart.
Mitch escorted her to the front door without sparing so much as a glance for the flamboyant array of colors, and twisted the ornate brass doorbell.
The chimes echoed musically inside the house, and a moment later, the door opened. Her first impression of Mrs. Pierce was that she was an elegant, slender woman who seemed very poised. She oozed sophistication, from her impeccably arranged dark blond hair to the hem of her black silk skirt.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Mitch said. “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”
She gave him a smile that was more polite than warm. “Mr. Parker. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?”
“Please allow me to introduce you to Miss Ivy Feagan.”
Ivy stepped forward, and the widow studied her with an unreadable expression, then dipped her head regally. “Miss Feagan.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. And to answer your question, I’ve come to inquire about renting a room from you.”
There was a flicker of surprise and something Ivy couldn’t quite identify in the widow’s expression. “I see.” She stepped back. “Please come inside where we can discuss this more comfortably.”
Ivy was a little disconcerted by Mrs. Pierce. She’d never before encountered anyone who was so closed off. But she took hope from the fact that the widow hadn’t dismissed them.
Once they were inside, Mrs. Pierce ushered them into a parlor that was sparsely but impeccably furnished. As she waved them to a seat, she focused on Ivy. “You’re the young woman who rode into town with Mr. Parker yesterday afternoon, aren’t you?”
Ivy resisted the urge to shift, instead returning the woman’s gaze without blinking. “I am.”
“Tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Of course. It turns out my business here in Turnabout is going to take longer than I’d planned. Unfortunately, I don’t have the funds to stay at the hotel for that long.”
Lone Star Heiress Page 11
