Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby, head down, intent on sewing the final button as fast as she could go. This was his one chance, his one shot to be alone with her. He hoped that she might see something in him she liked, something that might lead her to say hello to him on the street the next time they met or to smile at him across the church sanctuary on Sunday. He gave the reins a sharp snap so Poncho would keep going. Up ahead, another shadow rose out of the ever-thickening curtain as the storm closed in.
“There. Done,” Ruby said with a rush and stowed away her needle and thread. “Just in time, too. There’s the house.”
“It was good timing,” he agreed as he slowed the gelding in front of the portico. The tall, overhead roof served as a shelter from the downfall. While she leaned forward to slip on her shoe, he drank in the sight of her until his heart ached. He didn’t know why she opened a place inside of him, a deep and vulnerable room he had not known was there.
“That will have to do.” She shrugged, for a glimpse of her stocking still showed between the gap in the buttons. Her eyes had darkened a shade, perhaps with worry. She didn’t wait for him to offer his hand to help her from the sleigh but bounded out on her own.
That stung. He steeled his spine and straightened his shoulders, determined not to let the hurt show. She made a pretty picture circling around the back of the vehicle, her skirt snapping with her hurried gait. Snow sprinkled over her like powdered sugar. She couldn’t look any sweeter. His heart tugged, still opening up to her when he knew he ought to step back and respect that she didn’t feel a thing for him.
“Thank you, Lorenzo.” She stared down at her toes.
Was it his imagination, or did her soft voice warm just a tad when she said his name? The wind gusted, driving snow between them, and he couldn’t be sure. He cleared his throat, hoping to keep the emotion from his voice. “Glad I could help you out, Ruby.”
“Help me? You saved me. This way, your mother won’t see me sewing on my buttons in her entry.” She bobbed a little on her feet and lifted her eyes briefly to him. “Thank Poncho for me, too.”
“I will.” He rocked back on his heels, shocked by the impact of her gaze. Quick, gentle and timid, but his heart opened wider.
She was shy, he realized, which was different from not being interested in him. Her chin went back down, and she swept away like a waltz without music, like a song only he could hear.
Chapter Two
Ruby stared at the marble floor beneath her, where the snow melting from her shoes had left a puddle. A stern housekeeper in a black dress and crisp apron had taken her mittens, coat and hat and left her clutching her reticule by the strings and staring in wonder at her surroundings. The columns rising up to the high ceiling were marble, too, she suspected. Ornate, golden-framed paintings marched along the walls, which were wainscoted and coved and decorated with a craftsmanship she’d never seen before. She felt very plain in her best wool dress, which was new to her, being handed down from her older cousin. Very plain, indeed.
“Lucia tells me you are quite early.” A tall, lovely woman came into sight. Her sapphire-blue dress of the latest fashion rustled pleasantly as she drew near. “With this storm, I expected everyone to be a bit behind.”
“My pa has a gift for judging the weather, and he thought a storm might be coming, so I left home early.” Ruby grasped her reticule strings more tightly, wondering what she should do. Did she stand? Did she remain seated? What about the puddle beneath her shoes?
“Over an entire hour early.” Mrs. Davis smiled, and there was a hint of Lorenzo in the friendly upturned corners. She had warm eyes, too, although they were dark as her hair, which was coiled and coiffed in a beautiful sweeping-up knot. “Why don’t you come with me now, since everyone else is late? We can talk. Would you like some tea? You look as if you could use some warming up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She stood, feeling the squish of her soles in the wetness. “But first, should I borrow something? The snow stuck in my shoe treads melted. I don’t want to make a mess.”
“Lucia will see to it. Don’t worry, dear. Come along.” Mrs. Davis gestured gently with one elegant hand. Diamonds sparkled and gold gleamed in the lamplight. “Come into the parlor.”
“Thank you.” Her interview was now? That couldn’t be good. She wasn’t prepared. She hadn’t recovered from being with Lorenzo. Her mind remained scrambled and his handsome face was all she could think of—the strong line of his shoulders, the capable way he held the reins and his kindness to her over the button disaster.
Pay attention, Ruby. She set out after Mrs. Davis. Squeak, went her right shoe. Creak, went her left. Oh, no. She stopped in her tracks but the woman ahead of her continued on and disappeared around a corner. She had to follow. Squeak, creak. Squeak, creak. She hesitated at a wide archway leading into the finest room she’d ever seen.
“Come sit across from me,” Mrs. Davis invited kindly, near to a hearth where a warm fire roared. “I hear you know my dear friend’s daughter.”
“Scarlet.” Squeak, creak. She was thankful when she reached the fringed edges of a finely woven rug. Her wet shoes were much quieter as she padded around a beautiful sofa. Squish, squish. She hesitated. Mrs. Davis was busy pouring tea from an exquisite china pot. The matching cups looked too fragile to actually drink from.
“I hear you girls went to school together.”
“Yes, although Scarlet graduated last May.” She knew the question would come sooner or later, so she might as well speak of it up front. “I haven’t graduated. I wasn’t ready.”
“Yes, I heard you did not have the chance for formal schooling before you moved to our town.” Mrs. Davis eased onto one sofa and gestured to the one across from her. “Do you like sugar, dear?”
“Please.” Her skirts were still damp from the snow, so she eased gingerly onto the edge of the cushion. She had to set her reticule down and stop her hands from shaking as she reached for the tea handed to her. Clink, clink. The cup rattled against the saucer. She didn’t know if she was still shaky with nerves over her encounter with Lorenzo or over her interview with his mother.
A little help please, Lord. She thought of her pa, who was such a good father. She thought of her brother, who worked so hard to send money home. For them.
“You must know my Lorenzo.” Mrs. Davis stirred sugar into the second cup. “You two are about the same age.”
“Yes, although we were not in the same crowd at school.” She didn’t know how to say the first time she’d ever spoken to the handsome young man had been today. He’d been terribly gallant, just as she’d always known he would be. He treated everyone that way.
She knew better than to read anything into it.
“Tell me what kind of kitchen experience you have.” The older woman settled against the cushions, ready to listen.
“None.” Already she could see failure descending. She took a small sip of the hot tea and it strengthened her. “I’ve never held a job before, but I am a hard worker. I’ve cooked and cleaned for my pa and my brother since I was small.”
“And your mother?”
