Winnie Griggs - A Family for Christmas

They exchanged greetings as Abigail set out the food, then the girl disappeared back into the kitchen.

Eve noted the way Leo dug his spoon into his bowl, as if he hadn’t eaten for days, which he well may not have. But there were other ways to nourish him, as well.

She briefly touched his arm. “Shall we say grace first?”

Leo set his spoon down, his cheeks turning red. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

She smiled. “No need to apologize. We all forget sometimes.” She turned to Mr. Dawson. “Would you care to lead us?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished them back. She’d put him on the spot! What if he wasn’t comfortable with praying aloud?

Had her deplorable tendency to act first and think later caused her yet another misstep?

Chapter Five

Chance could tell from her expression that she wasn’t certain he’d comply. Actually, while he didn’t always remember to do so, he had no trouble at all offering up a prayer. His mother had taught him well before she passed. And while he’d had more than a few bouts of rebellion growing up, and still questioned why he’d been saddled with such a shameful affliction, he’d never really lost faith in the Almighty.

He nodded and folded his hands, elbows on the table. “Heavenly Father, bless this meal we are about to partake of, and watch over these visitors who have unexpectedly arrived in our community. Let them feel welcome here, for whatever time they may be with us. In Your Son’s name we pray. Amen.”

His companions echoed his amen, then they all picked up their spoons.

Chance had seen Eve’s keen interest in the newspaper office when they’d passed by earlier. He’d also noticed the longing looks she’d sent toward Abigail’s library when they first entered the restaurant. She obviously enjoyed reading—a pastime he envied but could never share.

He decided to circle back to the question she’d tried to sidestep earlier. “So, Eve, do you have a burning desire to become a hat maker?”

He saw the walls go up in her expression and thought for a moment she’d ignore his question again. But he maintained an expression of innocent curiosity, and she finally responded politely, even if not altogether warmly.

“My taking a position as a milliner was actually my grandmother’s idea,” she said carefully. “The opportunities for employment in Iron Bluff are very limited so she contacted her friend Mrs. O’Connell, who graciously offered to take me in and train me.”

Now, why was a sheltered young woman such as this worrying about employment in the first place—shouldn’t she instead be finding a husband? Or was there a dearth of marriageable bachelors in Iron Bluff?

“I’m quite grateful for the opportunity,” she added as she reached for her glass.

His questions had definitely brought back that stiff, schoolmarm demeanor in her. How much further would she let him press?

She set her glass down and faced him evenly. “As for your earlier question, I’m not so set on millinery work that I wouldn’t be willing to do work of other kinds while I am here in Turnabout—housekeeper, cook, laundress— whatever might be available.”

Did she truly want to find a job while she was here? Perhaps she didn’t understand the arrangement he had offered her. “That’s not necessary. I don’t plan to charge you and Leo for the rooms. After all, they’re just sitting empty right now and it won’t cost me anything for you to stay there.”

Her lips pursed primly. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m not one to sit idle. Besides which, having a bit of pocket money would not go amiss.”

Was she low on funds? He’d noticed the way she’d studied the menu with that furrow between her brows. He’d thought she was just trying to decide on a selection, but perhaps she’d been worrying about the prices. Finances could be a touchy subject, though, so he’d have to tread carefully. “I’ll ask around and keep my ears open.” He saw the quickly masked disappointment in her face. So she’d been serious about wanting to find work. He was curious to learn more. “Tell me, if you could have any job at all, what would you really like to do?”

He watched her swirl her spoon through the bowl of stew. “I’ve never really thought about that before.”

That struck Chance as a very sad statement. Didn’t she know how to dream? “Well, think about it now.”

She was quiet for another moment. Then a slow, smile blossomed on her face. “I’d open a confectionery.”

“What’s a confectionery?” Leo asked.

She gave him an impish smile. “It’s like a candy store.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness, wouldn’t that be a grand place to work?”

Eve laughed and it totally transformed her face. She really was quite pretty when she allowed herself to relax. “That it would,” she said.

“Why a confectionery?” Her answer had surprised him, but he was delighted by the unexpectedness of it.

She took on a faraway look. “When I was a schoolgirl, my Sunday school teacher would invite some of her students into her home at Christmastime. We would make all sorts of wondrous treats. She taught us to make fudge and caramels and pralines and all manner of sweet things—just bowls and platters full of them.”

“What did you do with all that candy?” Leo asked. “Did you get to eat it?”

She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Some. Because, of course, we’d have to taste it along the way, just to make certain it had turned out okay, you understand.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Chance said. He found himself entranced by the softness in her now.

She cut a quick look his way, as if to make certain he wasn’t making fun of her, then nodded and turned back to Leo.

“But we packed up the majority of those treats very carefully and sent the packages off to several orphanages as Christmas treats.”

Chance was enjoying this sweet, playful side of her. But before he could comment, she seemed to realize that she’d revealed more of herself than she’d intended.

She straightened and dipped her spoon purposefully into her bowl. “Anyway, it turned out that I was very good at candy making. Miss Trosclair said I had a real knack for it.”

Chance shook his head apologetically. “I’m afraid Turnabout doesn’t have a confectionary shop so we can’t offer you a job like that.”

She nodded politely but that earlier softness was gone. “Having such a job would be nice, but as I said, I’ll take whatever I can find.” Then she gave him a pointed look. “I think it’s my turn to ask a few questions.”

Turning the tables on him was she? Good for her. “Ask away.”

“Something Daisy said when we walked in makes me think you’re not from here originally. So where are you from and how long have you lived in Turnabout?”

Easy enough questions to answer. “I was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And I’ve been here about a year and a half.”

Her brows went up. “You traveled a far piece to get here—much farther than either me or Leo.”

If only she knew. “True. But I consider Turnabout home now.”

“And you came all this way on your own?”

“Not exactly.” How much should he share with her? Better stick with just the bare minimum. “There were four of us who traveled together,” he continued. There was no point in mentioning that the catalyst had been an unorthodox marriage lottery they’d all participated in.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Four city folk from Philadelphia decided to come to Turnabout, Texas?”

He grinned. “That we did.”

“Why?”

Now her questions were getting a little more personal. “Business reasons.” Technically true. “Not to say we planned to go into business together—just travel together. Daisy’s husband, Everett, was one of my travel companions. Adam Barr, the town’s banker and lawyer, and Mitch Parker, the schoolteacher, were the other two. We’ve all found our own reasons to stay.” Though the four men had become friends after their arrival here, he’d never pried into what reasons they’d had for agreeing to the constraints that had been laid on them at the outset of their trip. Just as he’d never shared his own.