for a wealthy man to be good?”
Ruth knew she should hold her tongue, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop speaking. “God gives us all that we need. Those who accumulate more are taking it from others.”
He looked startled, and she regretted her words. What had gotten into her? She never spoke her opinions to anyone outside the family, especially not to handsome strangers.
His initial surprise soon melted back into the easy smile. “Would you forgive a man his wealth if he uses it for philanthropy?”
She had to concede that point. “Of course. I should never have said what I did.”
“I happen to like honest, open expression. Do go on.”
Ruth had already said too much. “I don’t usually state my opinions. Now, my sister Jen would tell you exactly what she thought.” For a brief moment Jen’s preposterous marriage idea flitted through her mind. What if? She eyed Sam carefully. He might be just the type to tame Jen. He certainly had the wit to match Ruth’s wild younger sister. If he had any patience at all—and their brief time together suggested he did—he could mold Jen into a proper lady. Perhaps Ruth should introduce them.
“Jen is your older sister?”
Ruth tried to guess Sam’s age. He looked to be around thirty. Perhaps he wouldn’t be interested in someone several years his junior. She mustn’t mislead him, though. “She’s next youngest after me. Twenty-four this year.”
“Next youngest? Then you have more than one sister?”
“I have three. The oldest is Beatrice. She married Blake Kensington four years ago. The Kensingtons are more or less the town fathers.” She noted a flicker of recognition at the mention of the Kensington name. Who wouldn’t notice? It was plastered on half the businesses in Pearlman. “I’m next, then Jen and last of all Minnie, but she’s just out of high school.” Ruth did not want Sam to get any ideas about Minnie. Fighting her baby sister’s attraction to one wealthy man was difficult enough. Two would be impossible. So she pushed forward the sister of choice. “Jen is quite...spirited.” That seemed the most positive way to describe her sister’s disposition. “She definitely speaks her mind. She’s probably the best conversationalist of us all.” She hazarded another glance, hoping to see a spark of interest in his expression, but instead his brow had furrowed.
“You have all sisters?”
Odd that he would pick up on that. “You think that’s unusual?”
“I suppose not. In my family, it’s just boys, though there are only two of us. I would have liked a sister. You must be a fine one.”
A sister. He thought of her like a sister. She supposed that was a good thing, seeing as she wanted to introduce him to Jen, but disappointment still blanketed her.
They walked on in silence. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Crickets trilled and playing children shrieked. Motorcars putted past. All normal, yet today each sound reminded her that she was a plain country girl who couldn’t ever hope to interest a handsome man like Sam, no matter how much sisterly help she received. Each silent moment made her feel more and more awkward until she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Are you the older or younger?”
His eyebrow quirked at her abrupt question. “The older. Harry is several years younger than me.”
That made Sam the heir. Even more impossible, but maybe Jen stood a chance. If the Lord wanted them together, He would make the seemingly impossible possible.
She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “Did your brother come here with you?”
“No. He’s in college.”
“During the summer?” The handful of collegians from Pearlman always returned in the summer months.
“He wants to finish his graduate studies early.” Again he cast her a smile that melted her determination to stay reserved.
“I see.” She looked toward the passing storefronts so she wouldn’t have to see that unnerving smile. “When did you arrive in town?”
“This afternoon. The train was late. I should have known then that everything was going to go wrong today.”
Everything. Such as their collision and his resulting offer to patch things up with her client. “You must be terribly busy. You don’t need to come with me.”
“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily, Miss Fox. I’ll have you know that I’m more stubborn than the proverbial mule. Besides that, I can’t get much done with a shattered—” He suddenly stopped, as if he’d just remembered something. “There was a little accident, and I need to find a good carpenter. I don’t suppose you know one.”
“Peter Simmons is the best in Pearlman. He made the bookshelves and counter at the bookstore.”
“Peter Simmons,” Sam repeated. “Related to the woman you spoke with earlier?”
She nodded, pleased that she could help the orphaned boy. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
Ruth allowed a brief smile while she considered how to get Sam and Jen in the same room. A simple introduction would tell if they were compatible. They would certainly make a fine-looking couple. Ruth’s energetic sister was the only one of them with Daddy’s dark hair, and Jen wouldn’t disappoint Sam in the honest-expression department. All Ruth needed was a reason to bring them together.
The church secretary stepped out the front door and waved. As Ruth waved back, she realized the answer was right in front of her.
“Would you care to join us for Sunday-morning services? We attend the church across the street.”
Sam glanced at the prim white building with its plain glass window. “I don’t know....”
“I could introduce you to everyone in town. As a newcomer, you’ll want to meet people.”
If she weren’t mistaken, he looked decidedly uneasy. “I’ll have to let you know tomorrow.”
That was a quick side step if she ever heard one, and she wasn’t about to get Jen involved with someone who wasn’t a Christian. “Not a churchgoer?”
“On the contrary. I simply don’t know how long I’ll be in town.”
“But today is Friday and you only just arrived. Surely you wouldn’t have to leave tomorrow.”
His cheek ticked. “You’re right, of course.” A pause. “I’d be glad to join you.”
“Good.” Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. Her plan would still work. “You can meet us in front of the dress shop. The service starts at ten o’clock.”
“Fine, but if something comes up, don’t wait for me.”
Before she could continue the conversation, he started whistling a tune. At the end of the street, they turned left and wound up Elm Street into Kensington Estates.
