suspicious rumbling from the vicinity of her stomach brought up another question. When had she last eaten?
The faint pinkening of her cheeks was the only acknowledgment she made of the unladylike noise. “Right now, though,” she said quickly, “I’m just going to clean up a spot where I can spread my bedroll and get some sleep while I wait for the sun to come up.”
He looked around at the layers of dust and the lack of useable furnishings. “You plan to sleep on the floor?”
“I don’t see any fancy beds in here. Do you?” Her cheerful tone lacked any hint of self-pity. “Besides, I’ve bedded down on worse.” Her pleased-with-herself grin returned. “And being as it’ll be my very first night in my very own place, I expect I’ll sleep very well.”
She placed her hands on her skirt and levered herself up. “I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep, and I thank you for checking in on me, but you can go on back to your place now. I promise Kip and I won’t be disturbing you anymore tonight.”
Apparently feeling she’d dismissed him, she turned and started picking her way across the room.
Everett contemplated her words while he watched her limp toward a relatively uncluttered spot near the wall that adjoined his place. Her state of affairs wasn’t really any of his concern, and she’d just made it abundantly clear she felt the same. She seemed content with her circumstances, and he had a busy day planned for tomorrow, so he should return to his bed and try to get what sleep he could before sunup.
But for some reason, he stood there a moment longer, watching her. His thoughts turned unaccountably to Abigail, his fifteen-year-old sister. What if she were in this situation? Which was a ridiculous thought, of course. Abigail was safely ensconced in a nice boarding school in Boston and would never find herself in a situation like this.
Still...
* * *
Daisy frowned as she heard her visitor—or was it intruder?—leave. For all his fine airs, he could be mighty rude. He’d all but said he didn’t believe her claim to being a good cook, and it was obvious he didn’t think she’d be able to open her own restaurant. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d seen the way he looked down his nose at her.
Reminded her of Grandmère Longpre—one was always aware when she was displeased. Of course her grandmother would never dream of being impolite. The niceties of civilized society were too important to her.
Ah, well, Mr. Fulton didn’t really know her yet, and she’d just roused him from his sleep. She couldn’t really blame him for being in a bad mood. And she shouldn’t forget that he had helped her out from under that shelving, so she should be grateful and more forgiving. As her father would say, never moon over should bes when your have nows are enough to get you by.
She’d just have to prove to Mr. Fulton and the rest of the townsfolk that she aimed to be a good, neighborly citizen of this community. Starting with making this place clean and inviting. Too bad she didn’t have a broom and mop yet. She’d need to take care of that first thing in the morning. For now, she’d just make do as best she could.
She maneuvered an empty crate next to the space where she planned to place her bedroll, wincing at the bit of noise she made. Hopefully it hadn’t been loud enough to disturb her neighbor. Again.
Once she had the crate in place, she eyed it critically, then nodded in satisfaction. “This’ll make a fine table for now—just right for setting my lamp and Mother’s Bible.”
Kip answered her with a couple thumps of his tail.
She decided her change of clothing and the rest of the meager belongings she’d brought along with her could stay in her pack until she found an appropriate and clean place to store them.
She arched her back, trying to stretch out some of the kinks. Tomorrow she’d give this place a good scrubbing, and maybe pick some wildflowers to add a bit of color. It would take a while to fix it up the way she wanted, but the cleaning and scrubbing part didn’t cost anything except time and effort.
Already, she could picture it the way she would eventually fix it up—with bright curtains on freshly washed windows and a new coat of paint on the walls. She’d have a roomy pantry and sturdy shelves built in here for all her cooking supplies, and a big, shiny, new stove over on that far wall.
She grabbed her bedroll, still thinking about the red-checkered tablecloths and the ruffled curtains she’d purchase. But before she could get the makeshift bed unrolled properly, her neighbor returned, a scowl on his face. What now?
“Mr. Fulton, I’m so sorry if I’m making too much noise again. I promise—”
He shook his head impatiently, interrupting her apology. At the same time she noticed he was carrying a broom and a cloth-wrapped bundle.
He set the broom against the wall, nodding toward it. “I thought you might be able to make use of this,” he said. Then he thrust the parcel her way. “I also brought this for you.”
His tone was short, gruff, as if he wasn’t happy. Was it with her or with himself? His accent had deepened, as well.
And more important—just what in the world had he brought her?
She gingerly unwrapped the parcel and was pleasantly surprised to find an apple, a slab of cheese and a thick slice of bread inside. “Why, thank you. This is so kind of you.”
He waved aside her thanks. “It’s just a few bits left over from my dinner.” He nodded toward the broom. “And that’s just a loan.”
That might be true, but the food seemed a veritable feast to her, and the broom would cut her work tonight in half. “Still, it’s very neighborly.” Just saying that word cheered her up.
But he still wore that impatient scowl. “Yes, well, I’ll leave you to get settled in.” He glanced at the sleeping area she’d set up and then back at her. “See that you keep the noise down.”
She smothered a sigh, wondering why he had to spoil his nice gesture with a grumpy attitude. “Of course. Good night.”
“Good night.”
As she watched him leave this time, her smile returned. Regardless of his sour expression, Mr. Fulton had been quite kind. Perhaps she’d already made her first friend.
Bowing her head, she said a quick prayer of thanks for the unexpected meal, and for the man who’d given it to her.
Then she looked down at Kip as she broke off a bit of cheese to feed him. “Look here, boy. We have a nice meal to help us really celebrate our first night in our new home. Isn’t God good?”
And, much as he tried to hide it, she was beginning to believe Mr. Fulton had some good in him, as well.
* * *
The next morning, as Everett prepared his breakfast, he could hear the sounds of his new neighbor’s renewed efforts at cleaning out her building. He certainly hoped she didn’t keep that racket up all day. Besides, did she really think she could single-handedly turn that musty, junk-cluttered place into a working restaurant?
Glancing out his window, he saw a pile of rubbish in their shared back lot that hadn’t
