Pamela Toth - In The Stranger's Arms

Suddenly Pauline recalled hearing that one of Harriet’s sons had recently started his own construction business. Was that why she had stopped by—to drum up work for him?

“The repairs are really pretty minor,” Pauline explained, fingers crossed behind her back. “My new boarder is actually going to do them.”

Harriet’s bushy white brows arched above the silver frames of her glasses. Her upper lip curled with scorn, drawing attention to the thin mustache that adorned it.

“You hired a female contractor?” As someone who prided herself on knowing everything that went on in the town, she was well aware that Pauline only rented her rooms to women.

Until now, at least.

Before Pauline could reply, Harriet made an irritating tsking sound. “My dear, despite popular opinion, there are certain tasks that women will never have the strength or the dexterity to perform as well as men.” She patted her own bony chest. “When I was younger, I certainly wouldn’t have been interested in using tools ,” she continued as though the term were something obscene, “or climbing ladders like some sort of monkey from the jungle.”

Pauline blinked away the disturbing image that came to mind of Harriet looking like a female Tarzan or wearing a hard hat and safety goggles as she cut through a sheet of plywood with a power saw. Although Pauline abhorred the notion of pounding people into narrow slots like wooden pegs, she couldn’t afford to alienate the old crone.

Knowing Harriet would consider it a blemish on Pauline’s character if she were to hear the truth from another source, Pauline pretended a calmness she didn’t feel. She rearranged some of the thread cutters and clip-on lights in the display case while she debated her options.

“Mr. Garrett is newly returned from California,” she finally admitted. “He needed a place to stay, so we worked an agreement.”

“Garrett?” Harriet echoed with a frown. “I don’t recall that name.” She sniffed again. “I certainly hope you know what you’re about.”

Pauline held on to her temper by reminding herself silently of just how much influence Harriet wielded in this town. Her family, the Barthropes, had been among the first settlers to the area—a fact she never let anyone forget.

Pauline made a noncommittal sound in her throat that she hoped would satisfy the old bat.

“How fortunate that you have the rooms over the carriage house,” Harriet continued. “A woman in your position must guard her reputation, especially after the unfortunate events in your past.”

Pauline nearly choked. Was Harriet referring to her parents’ accident or her own broken engagement? Pauline could hardly be held accountable for either of the two most heartbreaking events of her life, but it was obvious that to Harriet they were merely blots on her reputation.

Before Pauline could think of a suitable reply, Harriet leaned forward and tapped her arm. The touch of Harriet’s bony fingers sent a shiver up Pauline’s spine, but she resisted the urge to retreat.

“If you were to attract any further negative attention,” the old woman said with a cool smile, “I would be forced to oppose your application to the city council. After all, a person who sets herself up as an example to others must conduct herself in a manner that is above reproach.”

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