Winnie Griggs - The Bride Next Door

I know that’s not a very charitable thought, Lord, especially since I have him to thank for my meal and my job, but something about that man just riles me up. I can’t abide a person who’s constantly looking for warts rather than dimples.

She thought about that for a moment, then winced at her ungrateful attitude.

That was a poor excuse for an excuse, wasn’t it, Lord? You tell us to judge not, and here I go judging again. And we both know I’ve got a wagonload of faults myself, so I’ve got no call to go throwing stones. I promise to try to do better in that regard. Just be patient with me if I slip again. And I’ll add him to my prayers. He obviously has some kind of bee in his bonnet, and he could use some help to learn how to look for the good things around him. Maybe he just needs someone to show him the way.

Feeling better, she settled down more snugly on her bedroll. Starting tomorrow, Mr. Fulton was going to be a part of her daily life and she a part of his. If this was her purpose for being here, then she aimed to tackle it with all the enthusiasm at her disposal.

Mr. Fulton was going to learn how to shed some of that stiff-necked, snobbish air of his, or her name wasn’t Daisy Eglantine Johnson.

Chapter Five

“Good morning, Mr. Fulton. You got those papers ready for me?” Jack Barr, Adam and Reggie’s adopted son, stood in the doorway of Everett’s office. Ira Peavy, the Barrs’ live-in handyman and sometimes photography assistant to Reggie, stood behind him.

Everett smiled a greeting at the pair. “That, I do. Your stack is the one closest to the door.”

Jack pulled a red wooden wagon into the building and started loading papers into the bed.

When he’d first opened the newspaper office, Everett had hired Jack to take care of making household deliveries to his regular subscribers. Of course, Ira Peavy usually went along, too, ostensibly to provide Jack with some company.

Everett exchanged greetings with Ira, then looked past the man to see the faint hint of the approaching dawn. He prided himself on having the paper available when his patrons started their day.

“You’ll find one extra paper in your stack,” he told Jack. “Mr. Cummings over on Second Street started subscribing this week.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll add him to the list.”

As they loaded the last of the papers, Everett reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Here’s this week’s pay.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “Thanks!”

Ira placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’d best be on our way if you want to get these deliveries done before school starts.”

As soon as they departed, Everett grabbed the other three bundles of papers waiting by the door. In addition to the copies he printed for his subscribers, he always printed a number of extras. Those who chose not to subscribe often purchased copies when they were out running errands.

He kept some of those copies here at his office, of course, but he’d also made arrangements with the proprietors at the mercantile, hotel and railroad depot to sell copies in exchange for a small portion of the purchase price.

He stepped out on the sidewalk and exchanged greetings with Tim Hill, the town’s lamplighter. Tim was in the process of turning off the streetlight outside the newspaper office, which meant Everett was right on schedule. Punctuality was a virtue he considered an indication of character.

As he walked through town delivering the bundles of papers to the appropriate locations, he took time to visit the merchants where Daisy would need to make purchases for her role as his cook. As he’d promised her, he instructed them to bill her purchases to him.

That request raised questions, naturally, but he offered up only the bare information that he had hired her to cook for him. Anything else they wanted to know about her, they’d have to ask her.

By the time he returned to his office, a light was shining in Daisy’s downstairs window. So she was already up and about. Was she looking forward to her first day working for him? Or dreading it?

At precisely ten minutes after nine, Daisy walked into his office. He supposed that was as close to punctual as he should expect from her.

“Good morning, Mr. Fulton,” she said by way of greeting.

Everett stood and moved around the desk as he returned her greeting. She carried a heavily laden basket on her arm, but didn’t seem unduly burdened by it.

“I enjoyed doing the marketing today. There are some fine shops here, and most of the shopkeepers seem willing to negotiate a bit. And don’t worry, I was very frugal with your money, but I think you’ll be pleased with the results.”

The woman did like to chatter. “As long as you stay within the budget we discussed, I won’t have any complaints on that score.”

She patted the basket. “I got a good deal on a couple of rabbits at the butcher shop. I hope you like rabbit stew. It’s one of my specialties.”

Was she looking for some kind of approval or praise? That wasn’t really his way of doing business. “As I said, the meal planning is in your hands. I’m sure whatever you cook will be an improvement over what I’ve been preparing for myself.”

She grinned. “Not the most enthusiastic response, but I hope to win you over with my cooking.”

Surely no one could be this cheerful all the time? “I look forward to your attempts.”

She spotted the small stack of newspapers near the door. “Are those your papers?”

“Of course.” What else would they be? “It’s this morning’s edition of the Turnabout Gazette.”

She eyed them as if not sure she wanted to get any closer. “Is that interview of me in there?”

Was she worried about how he’d portrayed her? “Yes, it is.” He crossed over and picked one up. “Would you like to have one so you can read it?”

Her cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t have any extra money to—”

“Consider a copy of the paper part of your pay.” He always had a few copies left over at the end of the day.

“Why, thank you.”

This talk of extra funds brought something else to mind. He cleared his throat. “I daresay there are other things you might need to get settled in properly, so when you are done for the day I will give you your first week’s pay in advance.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I—”

He held up a hand. “No argument. I won’t have my cook distracted by thoughts of how she’ll make it through the week. And use this money wisely, because I’ll do this only for the first week.”

She smiled. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

He brushed that aside. “Now, let me show you to the kitchen.” Everett took the basket from her, then waved her ahead of him up the stairs.

She stepped aside when she topped the stairs, pausing to look around. The stairway emptied into an open space that served multiple functions. To the left was the kitchen and dining area, and to the right was what passed for a sitting room or visitor area. Not that he ever had visitors up here. Beyond the sitting room were the two bedchambers, one of which currently served as more of a storage room. It did have a small bed—more of a cot, really—but he didn’t expect to be hosting overnight guests anytime soon.

Everett placed her basket on the table and she moved past him, her gaze sweeping the room.

“This kitchen is nice,” she said. “A bit spare but clean and neat. It gives me hope for what my place might look like once I get it fixed up.”

How bad was it over there? If what he’d seen of the ground floor was any indication, she really had her work cut out for her.

Daisy ran a hand lightly over the edge of the stove. “Yes, sir, a fine kitchen, indeed. This is a good stove. And you already have the fire stoked. Thanks!”