Cmon. Im not leaving without you. If you walk, I walk. Not that I mind, but Poncho might take offense.
As if on cue, the beautiful bay blew out his breath like a raspberry, making his lips vibrate disparagingly.
See? Lorenzo chuckled, and the sound was warm and homey, like melting butter on a stove. If Poncho is upset, he will take it out on me all day long. You dont want that for me, do you?
No, as Poncho looks like a terror. The terror in question reached over to lip his masters hat brim affectionately. Even the horse adored him. I suppose one short, little ride wont hurt. Its only so I can sew.
Of course. Thats the reason I asked. Lorenzos assurance came quick and light.
He must offer rides to stranded young ladies all the time. He was a gentleman. It was nothing personal, which made it easier to lay her palm on his.
A current of awareness telegraphed through her with the suddenness of lightning striking. The sweet wash of sensation was like a hymn on a Sunday morning. A sweetness she had no business feeling, though it brought her a gentle peace. She didnt remember stepping forward or climbing into the sleigh. Suddenly, she was on the seat with him settled next to her and the steel of his arm pressed against hers.
How was she going to concentrate enough to sew?
What happened to the horse you usually ride? He snapped the reins gently. Poncho stepped forward, although the gelding swiveled his ears back, as if he wanted to hear the answer, too.
Solomon threw a shoe, and I didnt dare ride him. She leaned forward to work on loosening her laces.
Its a long way to walk. Three miles or more.
I dont mind. Its a beautiful morning. Soft, platinum curls, fallen loose from her plaits, framed her heart-shaped face and fluttered in the wind.
Its a cold morning, he corrected gently, but she didnt seem to see his point as she tugged off her shoe, shook off any melting pieces of snow and set it on her lap. He tried to think of a woman he knew who would walk three miles on a morning like this because it was better for her old horse. You must really want the chance at the kitchen job.
Yes. Im sure Im not the only one. Work is hard to find these days. Pa is always talking about the poor economy. She unwound a length of thread from a small wooden spool, her long, slender fingers graceful and careful.
Wishing swept through him as he studied her profile. Long lashes framed her light blue eyes. Her nose had a sweet little slope, and her gentle, rosebud mouth seemed to always hold the hint of a smile. The way her chin curved, so delicate and cute, made him want to run the pad of his thumb along the angle to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked. Every time he gazed upon her, tenderness wrapped around him in ever-strengthening layers. He had a fondness for Ruby Ballard, but he suspected she did not have one for him.
The sting pierced him, but he tried not to let it show. Never, not once, had he caught her glancing his way. A few times, hed spotted her in town, but she was busily chatting with her friends or running her errands and did not notice him.
Then again, he had never been alone with her, and she was fairly new to town. Shed arrived late in the school year last year. He remembered the day. How quiet shed been, settling onto her seat in the back of the school room. She hadnt made a sound, but hed turned in his seat toward her, unable to stop himself. To him, she was like the first light of dawn, like the first gentle notes of a song and hed been captivated.
Everyone is talking about the poor economy, he agreed. The low prices of corn and wheat this last harvest had been a disappointment to his family and a hardship to many others. He didnt have to ask to know her family had been hard hit, too. Did your father find work in town?
How did you know he was looking? She glanced up from threading her needle. Wide, honest eyes met his with surprise. How do you know my father?
He came by during the harvest, looking for work. We had already filled our positions, or I would have made sure he had a job. He knew how fortunate his family was with their plentiful material blessings. He had learned a long time ago wealth did not equate to the goodness inside a person and that everyone was equal in Gods eyes. Having money and privilege did not make someone better than those without. God looked at the heart of a person, and he tried hard to do the same. When Jon Ballard had come to ask for employment with hat in hand, Lorenzo had seen a decent, honest, hard-working man. I gave him a few good recommendations around town. I had hoped it helped.
It didnt, but that was nice of you, Lorenzo.
It was no problem. The way she said his name tugged at his heart. He couldnt deny he was sweet on the woman, couldnt deny he cared. He liked everything about herthe way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth when she concentrated, the care she took with everything, including the way she set the button to the shoe leather and started the first, hesitant stitch.
Snow clung to her in big, fat flakes of fragility, turning the knit hat she wore into a tiara and decorating her light, gossamer curls framing her face. Snowflakes dappled her eyelashes and cheeks until he had to fight to resist the urge to brush them away for her.
In other words, you are in serious need of employment. He kept his tone light but determination burned in his chest.
Yes. She squinted to draw her needle through the buttonhole a second time. My brother has found work in Wyoming. Pa is considering moving there.
Moving? Alarm beat through him. Is there work for him there?
No, but he has the hope for it. Her rosebud mouth downturned, she fastened all her attention on knotting her thread. I would have to go with him.
I see. His throat constricted making it hard to speak, harder to breathe. You dont want to go?
Please, say no, he thought. His pulse leaped, galloping as if hed run a mile full out. It seemed an eternity until she answered, her voice as sweet as the morning.
Im happy here. I wish to stay. She bit off the thread and bent her head to re-knot it.
I wish that, too. It wasnt exactly a prayer, he did not believe in praying for himself, so it was for her happiness he prayed. Give her the best solution, Lord, he asked. Please. He had no time to add any thoughts because a shadow appeared through the gray veil of the storm, which had grown thick, blotting out all sign of the countryside and of the lamp-lit windows of the house that should have been in sight.
Poncho gave a short neigh, already anticipating the command before it happened. Lorenzo tugged briefly on the right rein anyway as the gelding guided the sleigh neatly around the figure. A woman walked up the lane, her head covered with a hood and her coat shrouded with snow. She glanced briefly at them, but he could not recognize her in the downfall. His first inclination was to stop and offer her a ride, too, but then he wouldnt be alone with Ruby. He felt Poncho hesitate, as if the horse was wondering why he hadnt been pulled to a stop.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby, head down, intent on sewing the final button as fast as she could go. This was his one chance, his one shot to be alone with her. He hoped that she might see something in him she liked, something that might lead her to say hello to him on the street the next time they met or to smile at him across the church sanctuary on Sunday. He gave the reins a sharp snap so Poncho would keep going. Up ahead, another shadow rose out of the ever-thickening curtain as the storm closed in.
There. Done, Ruby said with a rush and stowed away her needle and thread. Just in time, too. Theres the house.
It was good timing, he agreed as he slowed the gelding in front of the portico. The tall, overhead roof served as a shelter from the downfall. While she leaned forward to slip on her shoe, he drank in the sight of her until his heart ached. He didnt know why she opened a place inside of him, a deep and vulnerable room he had not known was there.
That will have to do. She shrugged, for a glimpse of her stocking still showed between the gap in the buttons. Her eyes had darkened a shade, perhaps with worry. She didnt wait for him to offer his hand to help her from the sleigh but bounded out on her own.
That stung. He steeled his spine and straightened his shoulders, determined not to let the hurt show. She made a pretty picture circling around the back of the vehicle, her skirt snapping with her hurried gait. Snow sprinkled over her like powdered sugar. She couldnt look any sweeter. His heart tugged, still opening up to her when he knew he ought to step back and respect that she didnt feel a thing for him.
Thank you, Lorenzo. She stared down at her toes.
Was it his imagination, or did her soft voice warm just a tad when she said his name? The wind gusted, driving snow between them, and he couldnt be sure. He cleared his throat, hoping to keep the emotion from his voice. Glad I could help you out, Ruby.
Help me? You saved me. This way, your mother wont see me sewing on my buttons in her entry. She bobbed a little on her feet and lifted her eyes briefly to him. Thank Poncho for me, too.
I will. He rocked back on his heels, shocked by the impact of her gaze. Quick, gentle and timid, but his heart opened wider.
She was shy, he realized, which was different from not being interested in him. Her chin went back down, and she swept away like a waltz without music, like a song only he could hear.
Chapter Two
Ruby stared at the marble floor beneath her, where the snow melting from her shoes had left a puddle. A stern housekeeper in a black dress and crisp apron had taken her mittens, coat and hat and left her clutching her reticule by the strings and staring in wonder at her surroundings. The columns rising up to the high ceiling were marble, too, she suspected. Ornate, golden-framed paintings marched along the walls, which were wainscoted and coved and decorated with a craftsmanship shed never seen before. She felt very plain in her best wool dress, which was new to her, being handed down from her older cousin. Very plain, indeed.
Lucia tells me you are quite early. A tall, lovely woman came into sight. Her sapphire-blue dress of the latest fashion rustled pleasantly as she drew near. With this storm, I expected everyone to be a bit behind.
My pa has a gift for judging the weather, and he thought a storm might be coming, so I left home early. Ruby grasped her reticule strings more tightly, wondering what she should do. Did she stand? Did she remain seated? What about the puddle beneath her shoes?
Over an entire hour early. Mrs. Davis smiled, and there was a hint of Lorenzo in the friendly upturned corners. She had warm eyes, too, although they were dark as her hair, which was coiled and coiffed in a beautiful sweeping-up knot. Why dont you come with me now, since everyone else is late? We can talk. Would you like some tea? You look as if you could use some warming up.
Yes, maam. She stood, feeling the squish of her soles in the wetness. But first, should I borrow something? The snow stuck in my shoe treads melted. I dont want to make a mess.
Lucia will see to it. Dont worry, dear. Come along. Mrs. Davis gestured gently with one elegant hand. Diamonds sparkled and gold gleamed in the lamplight. Come into the parlor.
Thank you. Her interview was now? That couldnt be good. She wasnt prepared. She hadnt recovered from being with Lorenzo. Her mind remained scrambled and his handsome face was all she could think ofthe strong line of his shoulders, the capable way he held the reins and his kindness to her over the button disaster.
Pay attention, Ruby. She set out after Mrs. Davis. Squeak, went her right shoe. Creak, went her left. Oh, no. She stopped in her tracks but the woman ahead of her continued on and disappeared around a corner. She had to follow. Squeak, creak. Squeak, creak. She hesitated at a wide archway leading into the finest room shed ever seen.
Come sit across from me, Mrs. Davis invited kindly, near to a hearth where a warm fire roared. I hear you know my dear friends daughter.
Scarlet. Squeak, creak. She was thankful when she reached the fringed edges of a finely woven rug. Her wet shoes were much quieter as she padded around a beautiful sofa. Squish, squish. She hesitated. Mrs. Davis was busy pouring tea from an exquisite china pot. The matching cups looked too fragile to actually drink from.
I hear you girls went to school together.
Yes, although Scarlet graduated last May. She knew the question would come sooner or later, so she might as well speak of it up front. I havent graduated. I wasnt ready.
Yes, I heard you did not have the chance for formal schooling before you moved to our town. Mrs. Davis eased onto one sofa and gestured to the one across from her. Do you like sugar, dear?
Please. Her skirts were still damp from the snow, so she eased gingerly onto the edge of the cushion. She had to set her reticule down and stop her hands from shaking as she reached for the tea handed to her. Clink, clink. The cup rattled against the saucer. She didnt know if she was still shaky with nerves over her encounter with Lorenzo or over her interview with his mother.
A little help please, Lord. She thought of her pa, who was such a good father. She thought of her brother, who worked so hard to send money home. For them.
You must know my Lorenzo. Mrs. Davis stirred sugar into the second cup. You two are about the same age.
Yes, although we were not in the same crowd at school. She didnt know how to say the first time shed ever spoken to the handsome young man had been today. Hed been terribly gallant, just as shed always known he would be. He treated everyone that way.
She knew better than to read anything into it.
Tell me what kind of kitchen experience you have. The older woman settled against the cushions, ready to listen.
None. Already she could see failure descending. She took a small sip of the hot tea and it strengthened her. Ive never held a job before, but I am a hard worker. Ive cooked and cleaned for my pa and my brother since I was small.
And your mother?
She passed away when I was born. She tried to keep the wistfulness out of her voice, the wish for a mother shed never known.
And your father never remarried, even with young children? Concern, not censure, pinched in the corners of the lovely womans dark eyes.
No. He said his love for Ma was too great. I dont think hes ever stopped loving her. Ruby shrugged. Did she turn the conversation back to her kitchen skills? She wasnt sure exactly what a kitchen maid was required to do.
The same thing happened to my father when I was born. Mrs. Davis looked sad for a moment. She was striking and exotic, with her olive complexion and dark brown, almost-black eyes. Ruby thought shed never seen anyone more beautiful. The older woman set her cup on her saucer with a tiny clink. He raised me the best he could. In our home there were maids to do the work and a nanny to help, but nothing can replace the hole left behind when someone is lost. You prepare meals, then?