were heating on the small oil stove Lefty Springer had “found” for her. It looked so new she suspected Lefty had actually purchased it from Mercer’s Mercantile.
The old man’s interest in her new business touched her heart. He’d even volunteered to watch over the shop while she’d walked up the long hill to check on Mama and boil up some eggs for her lunch. She left Mama dozing on the settee, and Jane hoped she would sleep until suppertime, when she would return to fix the evening meal.
All morning she’d worried about another teakettle incident—or worse. What if Mama fell and couldn’t get up again? What if she went out to the orchard to look for Papa and couldn’t find her way back? A hundred dangers suggested themselves as she organized her little dressmaking establishment. A hundred reasons why she felt torn in two.
She didn’t really know any of the women in town, much less the farm wives that lived out in the country and came into town only occasionally. Not only did she have to start her business, she had to befriend her clientele, women who were virtual strangers. She would have to work hard to make them think of her not as Queen Jane, but as a capable dressmaker.
And of course Mama needed her attention, too. Merciful heavens, how could she be in two places at once?
She blotted the perspiration from her face with a damp wadded-up lace-edged handkerchief and tried to think. The hot, still air smelled of dust and acrid smoke. The heat from her little stove made it stifling inside the shop. Lefty perched on an empty nail keg positioned half in, half out of the doorway, whittling on a piece of oak.
“Why’ntcha sit yerself down, Miz Jane? You’re gonna melt into a puddle if’n you don’t slow down and rest a bit.” He motioned to a second upturned keg.
“Oh, I just can’t, Lefty. I must get this muslin sponged before suppertime so I can cut out my patterns first thing tomorrow. The Fourth of July is only two days away, and I simply must be ready by then! It offers such a wonderful opportunity for my…well, my first original creation.”
With his boot, Lefty pushed his wood shavings out onto the board sidewalk. “Cain’t sew if you cain’t stand up.”
“Oh, but I can,” Jane countered. “I sew sitting up. It won’t matter a whit if my legs won’t hold me up, I can seat myself at the sewing machine. I intend to finish my—”
Through the open doorway stepped a tall figure, and Jane gave a little gasp. Her heart somersaulted at the sight of Rydell Wilder.
“Why, howdy, Dell. Come to oversee yer investment, have ya?”
That man! What right did he have to come barging in without even a by-your-leave? Jane grabbed a length of red muslin and hastily draped it around the padded bust form in the corner. Surely it wasn’t proper for a gentleman to see a lady’s…well, replica of herself, without a stitch of clothing?
All at once she was doubly grateful for Lefty’s presence in the tiny shop. Her brain seemed as sluggish and sticky as molasses, and her stomach felt as if thousands of bird feathers swirled inside it. She was afraid of him.
Afraid he would kiss her again.
Afraid she would like it.
She stared at him, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“Miss Davis.”
“If you have come to watch me struggle, you can turn right around and…I declare you’re watching me just like a hungry tiger stalking its prey.”
“I assure you—”
“Waiting until I fail, and then you’ll pounce on me.” She heard Lefty make an odd choking sound, but he lowered his head so she couldn’t see his face.
And then she noticed something strange. Mr. Wilder looked lopsided. The right pocket of his well-fitted suit bulged out of proportion, and then, right before her eyes, it moved.
Mesmerized, she watched the dark fabric pooch out. Unable to contain her curiosity, Jane moved forward, eyeing Rydell Wilder’s coat pocket.
Chapter Six
Jane stopped two paces in front of Rydell, narrowed her eyes and pointed at his coat pocket. “What have you got in there?”
With a sheepish grin, Rydell plunged his hand into the opening in the soft worsted and brought forth the orange kitten. Jane’s eyes widened.
“Why, the darling little thing! Wherever did you find it?” She took an involuntary step forward, stretching both hands toward the tiny ball of fur.
“A young…bank patron found it in back of the livery stable. He entrusted it to me for safekeeping.”
Jane’s hand darted toward the animal, then retreated. If she touched the kitten, her skin might brush against his. She laced her fingers together behind her back. But oh, how she longed to smooth her fingertips over that soft-looking fur.
The hand holding the kitten moved nearer. “Jane?” a low voice spoke. “Would you like to have it?”
Yes! All those years when she was growing up she’d longed for a pet, something of her very own to care for. Papa always said an animal would make too much work for Mama.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. It really belongs to your patron, you see, and I just couldn’t—” She broke off as Rydell offered the kitten. Taking extreme care not to touch the hand of the man who stood before her, she extended one finger and nuzzled the tiny face. A small pink tongue licked her forefinger, and at that moment her hand brushed his.
A zing of awareness raised the fine hair on her forearm and danced on up past her elbow. Her heart beat so loudly she could hear it. Could he?
He just stood there, looking at her with those knowing gray eyes and that firm, unsmiling mouth. It gave her the shivers.
Lefty grinned at her from the doorway, then dropped his gaze to the oak piece in his lap. Snick, snick went the blade of his pocketknife, and then he began to hum a tune to match the rhythm. Little Brown Jug.
A spell seemed to have fallen over her. She could neither move nor talk nor even think rationally. Why, merciful heavens, what a silly bit of nonsense!
She ordered her knees to bend, knelt and set the feline onto the plank floor. On wobbly legs, it headed for her sewing basket, climbed in and curled up next to the calico-covered pincushion. The soft rumbly purring rose into the quiet room, and no one moved.
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