by Beth Byers
Mr. Aaron glanced over Miss Marsh. Her old cloche and worn coat were not lost on him, and he supposed if he’d met her anywhere else he’d never have looked at her twice. Having read her book, however, he suddenly felt as though she were far more charming than she’d otherwise have been.
Her gaze, with ordinary medium brown eyes, seemed to have untold depths, and her freckles seemed to be an outward indicator of a woman who could look at her village and turn it into a witty caricature, acting as a warning that this was a woman who said nothing and noticed everything.
He grinned at her. “I read your book, and I liked it.”
Her eyes flashed and a bright grin crossed her face, and he realized she was a little prettier than he’d noticed. It was that shocked delight on her face that made him add, “I like it quite well indeed.”
Miss Marsh clasped her hands tightly together, and Mr. Aaron did not miss how her grip camouflaged the trembling of her hands.
“Tell me about it,” he said kindly. “Why did you write it? This is a portrait of your neighbors?”
It was the kindness that got Miss Marsh to open up, and then she couldn’t seem to stem the tide of her thoughts; they sped out. “Well, it was my dividends you see. They’ve quite dried up. I was struggling before, but they’d always come in and then they didn’t, and I was quite—” Miss Marsh trailed off and Mr. Aaron could imagine the situation all too easily. “at my wit’s end. Only then I thought of Louisa May Alcott and the other lady writers, and I thought I might as well try as not.”
The world was struggling and Miss Marsh, who may have escaped the early failing of things, had eventually succumbed as so many had. As she said, her dividends had dried up. He could imagine her lying awake worried and uncertain or perhaps pacing her home. There was something so unpretentious about her revelation that Mr. Aaron was even more charmed. She’d come to the end of things, and she’d turned that worry into the most charming of stories. Not just a charming story, but one filled with heart and delight in the little things. He liked her all the better for it.
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