Courting Miss Callie Read online

  Sophia laughed, reached into her sewing box. “I’ve no doubt of that. I’m certain Joanna and Agnes are already thinking of the eligible bachelors that come to stay here in the hotel.”

  “And I think you are remarkably calm.” Callie strode from the fireplace to the settee, and watched Sophia grasp the protruding end of a strand of crimson needlepoint wool and pull it through the eye of her needle. “Does the idea of turning the hotel dining room into a restaurant not excite you?”

  “Does it you?”

  “Gracious, yes! I couldn’t wait until supper was over and the guests settled in so we had time to discuss it. My mind has been swarming with ideas since you told me. It’s like a beehive in here.” She laughed, tapped her temple and dropped onto the settee beside Sophia, then immediately rose and walked to the window, glanced toward the barn at the small equipment room window glowing with lantern light and wished she could share the news with Ezra.

  “What ideas?”

  “Well...” She tugged her errant thoughts back to the subject at hand. “You shall have to have a new sign made.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Oh, no, you must.” She turned back to face Sophia, looked up, lifted her hand above her head and drew it slowly through the air as if reading. “The Sheffield House Inn and Restaurant. My! That sounds impressive.”

  “And a bit grand for Pinewood.”

  She loved Sophia’s laughter. It brought the happy memories of her childhood to the fore. “Not at all. Your friends will all be proud and happy for you.” She lowered her hand, and tugged the braid of ribbon that encircled her waist back into place. “That’s what’s so lovely about living in a small village—your friends truly wish you well.”

  “It’s not that way among your friends in the city?” Sophia paused in her stitching, looked up from her work on the needlepoint frame. Suspicion shadowed her eyes.

  “Not among the elite society.” She gave a small shrug to brush it off as unimportant, moving back toward the fireplace. “Tell me, what made you think of starting a restaurant?”

  “I didn’t.” Sophia took a stitch and pulled the wool thread taut. “It was Ezra’s idea.”

  “Ezra’s?”

  “Yes. Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No. No, you didn’t.” She ran her hand over one of the chalk pigeons on the mantel and fought the urge to go look out the window again. “It seems an odd thing for him to suggest. Why would he even think of it?”

  Sophia slanted a look up at her. “Because of you. He said he’d never eaten finer meals than those you’ve prepared—not even in the restaurants in the city.”

  Pleasure spread, warming her like a comfortable blanket. “He said that?” Her gaze drifted back toward the window.

  “Yes.”

  She turned her back to the temptation and faced the settee. “And that gave you the idea of starting your own restaurant?”

  “No, dear. The entire thing was Ezra’s idea.” Sophia stuck her needle into the linen backing, rested her hands in her lap and looked up at her. “The other day I asked Ezra’s opinion on the barn roof lasting until next spring. He realized I was a bit concerned over the finances involved in replacing it and so he came up with the idea of the restaurant as a way for me to make additional profit. He’s a very intelligent and thoughtful young man.”

  Intelligent and thoughtful and kind and handsome and— “He’s also a deceiver and a liar.” She took a breath and turned so Sophia could not see her face and read in her eyes how much it hurt for her to name him so.

  “No, Callie.” Her aunt’s voice firm, resolute, turned her back around. “Ezra has not lied.”

  The hope she worked so hard to suppress struggled to surface—she held it down. Her aunt was an astute woman and she trusted Sophia’s instincts implicitly—but she was wrong this time. It seemed not even an older woman was immune to Ezra’s charm. “You like him, don’t you?”

  Sophia smiled. “As do you. Although in a different way.”

  Heat crawled across her cheeks. She smoothed her palms down her skirt. “I confess I find him...attractive and charming—but that does not excuse his duplicitous behavior.”

  Sophia pursed her lips and nodded. “I find your opinion interesting, but a bit bewildering, Callie. Tell me, why do you persist in calling Ezra a liar when everything he’s told us about himself is true?”

  “Because he’s let us believe lies about him. And that—”

  “Why did you come to visit me, Callie?”

  She stopped and stared at Sophia, confused by the abrupt change of subject. “Why...because I love you and missed you and wanted to see you.”

  Sophia rose, came to stand before her. “And because you wanted to escape the men courting you.”

  It was a flat, undeniable statement of fact.

  “Yes.” Oh, Lord, please don’t let her be hurt that I—

  “And did you tell me why you had come running to me, Callie? Or did you let me believe it was because you missed me?”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Aunt Sophia, that was the reason. Simply not—not all of it. I couldn’t tell you—” She stopped, sucked in a breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth. Sophia’s soft hands cupped her face.

  “Why don’t you consider that Ezra, too, might have good and sufficient reasons for not telling us everything about himself, Callie? Grant him the right to his privacy, dear. Whatever he is withholding may not concern us at all.”

  Her aunt’s words freed the hope. It burst from her restraint along with doubt and joy and a dozen other emotions that tangled into a knot she would have to unsnarl. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  Sophia smiled and hugged her close. “Perhaps it’s time you did, dear.”

  * * *

  Sleep evaded her. The silk hem of Callie’s dressing gown brushed against the braided rug as she paced the small bedroom, her thoughts and emotions swinging between hope and fear of hope, doubt and disgust with herself for still doubting. There was no question but that Sophia was right.

  She sighed, lifted her hands and massaged her aching temples with her fingertips. How could she have not have seen that she was guilty of the same deception of which she accused Ezra? How could she be so...so self-righteous and unfair?

  An owl hooted. She glanced toward the window, heard the whir of the owl’s powerful wings, saw the flash of its shadow as it passed between the streaming moonlight and dark glass intent on its prey.

  “Run and hide, little mouse or rabbit or whatever you are. Hide and keep yourself safe.”

  Her soft words faded into the silence, echoed in her spirit. Hide and keep yourself safe.

  She frowned, then lifted a ribbon off the washstand and captured her long, wild curls inside its length, trapped them there with a bow at the nape of her neck. She’d become adept at hiding and keeping herself safe ever since those first few times when she’d believed the men who’d said they loved her but meant they loved that she was more beautiful than their associates’ lady friends or wives.

  She whirled from the nightstand, from her reflection in the mirror and resumed her pacing. The truth that she was nothing more to those men than a pawn in their games of one-upmanship had hurt even though it was only her pride and not her heart involved. With Ezra, it was different. Those few moments when he’d pulled her close to keep her from burning herself on the stove had taught her that. If she allowed him in, she would never be able to keep her heart safe.

  She stopped, frozen in place by the truth. She had been using her unflattering assessment of Ezra as a shield. It was, indeed, her defense against risking her heart. But no longer.

  Resolve settled in her spirit. She glanced toward the bedroom door. The woodbox in the kitchen was almost empty. Ezra would fill it in the morning, and this time she would not hide
in the bedroom until he left as she had done since that first morning. This time she would be waiting, with coffee brewing on the stove. She eyed her gowns dangling from pegs on the wall, made her selection. The violet one. It matched her eyes.

  She walked to the bed, removed her dressing gown and slipped beneath the covers. Ezra had never told her she was pretty. Perhaps tomorrow morning he would.

  Her stomach fluttered. She pressed her hands against it, glanced at the pussy willow twig on her nightstand, smiled and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ezra leaned back, bracing the pile of stovewood in his arms against his chest and used his chin to help balance it as he groped for the door handle.

  The door squeaked open.

  “Good morning.”

  He almost dropped the pile of wood. Again. He stared at Callie standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her full lips. His pulse thundered. No woman should be that beautiful—it completely undermined a man’s strength and self-control. He took a firmer grip on the wood, felt the sharp edges press into his flesh through the sleeves of his shirt. It helped. He returned her smile. Her warm smile. His pulse kicked up again. He cleared his throat. “You’re up early.”

  “A bit.” She pulled the door wider.

  He stepped over the threshold, sniffed.

  She laughed and closed the door. “The coffee’s ready.”

  “Smells good.” So did the faint floral scent that assailed his senses as he passed her. He stepped to the woodbox, dumped the load in, brushed bits of dirt and bark off his arms and made a manly effort to get ahold of himself. Her sweet welcome had surprised him. He filled his lungs, expelled the air and turned.

  She held a steaming cup out to him. “Hot and strong. I believe that’s right?”

  “Perfect.” And he wasn’t talking about the coffee. He looked at the soft curve of Callie’s smile, at the warmth in her dark violet-blue eyes. Something had changed. The reserve with which she treated him was gone. There was an openness about her. The vulnerability he had inadvertently seen on the river path Sunday evening was in her posture, the sweetness of her spirit in her eyes. It drew him like a magnet, yet gave him pause.

  Lord, let me be equal to her trust. Let my growing regard for her protect her always.

  He reached for the cup, and couldn’t resist letting his fingertips brush against hers. Rose tinged her cheeks. Her long, thick black lashes swept down. She slipped her hand off the cup and stepped back, ran her palms down her skirt. She wore no apron. Was that for his sake? The thunder in his pulse started again.

  “Aunt Sophia told me about your suggestion that she start a public dining room.” She stepped to the worktable, lifted her apron from a peg on the end, slipped it on and reached behind her back to tie the strings.

  He jerked his gaze to the cup he held and gripped it with both hands.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  Was that what the warmth of her greeting was about—gratitude? His ego deflated along with his hope. His pulse slowed to its normal, steady rhythm. He blew across the top of the coffee, took a tentative sip. No sense in scalding his mouth again. He leaned back against the other end of the worktable and stared down at the dark brown brew. “It seemed sensible. The dining room sits empty, except for guests at meals.” He looked over at her, then yanked his gaze back. It was too intimate standing there drinking coffee while she began her preparations for breakfast. He straightened, moved to the other side of the table. “It will mean more work for you.”

  “I don’t mind. I enjoy cooking and baking. And I know Aunt Sophia was concerned about...expenses.”

  A tiny frown line appeared between her brows. He took another swallow of coffee to give himself something to do. “Like the barn roof?”

  “Yes.” She leaned down, filled a bowl with potatoes and put it on the table, then looked up at him. “Thank you for giving me a way to help ease Aunt Sophia’s worry. She’s done so much for me. It’s wonderful to be able to do something for her.”

  He looked down into her eyes, at the gratitude that warmed them to a deeper violet and wished it were something more. Time to leave. He drained his cup and set it on the table. “The woodbox isn’t full. I’ll bring in another load.”

  The door squeaked. A smiling, bearded face topped by a thick shock of brown hair thrust through the narrow opening. “I hear there’s someone named Callie Conner here.”

  He heard Callie’s gasp, saw her spin and run toward the door.

  “Daniel, oh, Daniel!”

  The happiness in her voice plunged like a knife into his chest.

  The young man charged inside, caught Callie up in his arms and spun her around, his deep laugh melding with her soft, rippling peal of joy.

  Something dark and ugly, foreign and uninvited rose in Ezra. He’d wondered about Daniel. Now he had his answer. And he didn’t like his reaction to it. It really was time to leave Pinewood. He looked at Callie’s arms wound tight around Daniel’s neck, strode across the kitchen and grabbed the door that had slammed against the wall.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  He looked toward the door to Sophia’s private quarters. The older woman stood shoving a comb into the twist of graying black hair on her crown. He forced a smile. “A reunion, from the looks of it. And I was just about to get out of their way.” For good. He dipped his head, stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

  * * *

  Daniel stopped whirling and lowered her to the floor.

  “Who’s that fellow?”

  She followed his glance to the door, stepped back and tugged her twisted dress back into place, then pushed at the curls that had come loose to hang down her neck. “His name is Ezra Ryder. He’s Aunt Sophia’s new stable hand.”

  “From that look he gave me, I’d say he’d like to be more than that to you.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Stop teasing.”

  “Who’s teasing?” Daniel’s grin flew straight to the spot in her heart reserved for him. “I don’t think that fellow—Ezra, is it?—is a man to make light of. Why, he could be outside laying in wait for me this very moment.”

  “What an outrageous thing to say.” She laughed and turned toward the stove. “You have not changed a bit in the years I’ve been gone. Come have a cup of coffee.”

  He followed her as far as the worktable, leaned down to rest his elbows on it, tapped the empty cup with the bit of black coffee in the bottom and grinned up at her. “Looks like I’m not the first fellow to have coffee with you this morning. Guess it’s no wonder this Ezra thinks I’m competition for your affections. Too bad he’s not right.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Look at you, Callie Conner, all grown up and beautiful as the violets God used when He made your eyes.”

  She crinkled her nose at him. “You’re not going to repeat that old story you used to tell me about how God lifted my eyelids when I was born and squeezed violet juice into my eyes, are you?”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  “It makes my stomach squeamish.”

  He chuckled. “That’s why I said it.”

  She shook her head and handed him his coffee. “It used to be milk you drank while leaning on this table, and Aunt Sophia you watched work. You’ve grown up, too. And, may I say, you have grown into a very handsome man, Daniel.” She tilted her head, grinned. “At least I think you’re handsome under that beard.”

  “Oh, to be sure I am!” He waggled his eyebrows again. “You make certain you tell that to Ellen when you go home. I want her to know what she’s missing, being courted by all those rich men in Buffalo.”

  He was laughing, but there was something in his eyes... She sobered, and gazed at him.

  He looked down, swirled the coffee in his cup and took a swallow.

  She studied him a mom
ent, then shrugged the strangeness off as her imagination. “I’m not going back to Buffalo, Daniel. I’m staying here in Pinewood with Aunt Sophia.” She picked up a potato and her paring knife. “I have to work while we visit. I’m the cook for the hotel now, and it’ll soon be time for breakfast.”

  “I heard about the cooking part.” He looked up and returned her smile. “The rest of it is news to me. Good news, Callie. Sophia must be happy to have you here with her.”

  “Sophia is very happy to have her here.”

  He winced, just the way he had when they were young, and he’d been overheard saying something wrong.

  She grinned.

  He mouthed “traitor” and turned.

  “I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Sheffield.” A self-deprecating smile twisted his lips. “I didn’t know you were in the room.”

  “I noticed.” Sophia laughed and began putting dishes on the table. “Will you stay for breakfast, Daniel?”

  “The way that fella Ezra looked at me, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I remember your rules, Mrs. Sheffield—no fighting in the kitchen.”

  “Daniel!”

  He chuckled, looked back at her and shrugged his shoulders in mock innocence as he mouthed “revenge.”

  “What’s this about Ezra and you fighting?”

  “Nothing, Aunt Sophia.” She shot him a look. “Daniel is only teasing. He’ll stay for breakfast.”

  “Nope. I can’t, Callie. I’m headed right back to camp. I only came to town to pick up some medicine from Doc Palmer. The ‘spring complaint’ is making its way through the men. I’ve escaped it. Probably because I spend most of my time with the horses now that I’m a teamster.”

  “Aunt Sophia wrote me about your promotion, Daniel. And of how proud your mother is of you. Willa wrote me about it, also. And about the injury to your shoulder when that falling tree hit you.” She frowned, glanced at his shoulder. “Have you any lasting problems with your arm, or are you fully recovered?”