trousers and he glanced down at them. “I’ll need a good wash before I’m fit company at anyone’s table. And I suspect you’re not used to itinerant workmen in your kitchen for meals.”
“Well, we just happen to have a basin and lots of warm water,” Augusta told him. “You’d better come along before Bertha changes her mind and feeds the hogs instead.”
He brushed himself off, then climbed the sturdy stairs and walked past her, careful not to allow his trousers to touch her dress. “You don’t have hogs.” The words trailed behind him as he entered the kitchen and Augusta heard Bertha’s quick retort.
“Well, who said we did?”
“The lady of the house tried to feed me a line of guff, but I’m too bright to fall for her nonsense,” she heard Cleary reply, and stifled a chuckle as Bertha murmured agreement. Breakfast was indeed ready, as was Bertha, a skillet full of sausage gravy in one hand, a large ladle in the other. As Augusta entered the room, she shot her a look of warning.
“The girls are up and around,” she said nonchalantly. “Should I tell them to wait a while so y’all can eat in peace and quiet?”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Augusta told her as footsteps clattered on the front stairway.
“I can feed ’em in the dining room.” A bowl of biscuits appeared on the table and the sausage gravy was poured into a deep bowl.
“Is there any chance you might know any of our ladies?” Augusta asked Cleary in an undertone. She would not have him embarrassed, should he have been a regular customer at Lula Belle’s place. On the other hand, if he were of that ilk, she’d better know now and keep her distance, lest his evil shenanigans give her shelter a bad name.
“Doubtful. I can’t imagine how,” he said, his glance meeting hers with an honesty she found assuring.
“Well, lookie here. We got company,” Pearl said, posing in the doorway as if readying herself for a photographer. Sauntering into the big kitchen, she peered into the warming oven where a pan of cinnamon rolls waited, then wandered to the round table. “Got room for a couple more?”
Cleary stood promptly and nodded. “I’m sure you’re welcome to join us. Are you alone?” he asked, and then, as Beth Ann cleared the doorway, he paused, his gaze taking a quick survey of the fragile woman.
“I’m sorry,” she said, backing into the hall. “I’ll eat later on. I didn’t know you had company, Miss Augusta.”
Augusta shot around the table, her hand outstretched. “Come in, Beth Ann.” Not for the world would she allow the girl to feel unwanted in this house, no matter who came to call. And Cleary didn’t seem to have any qualms about the additional seats required around the table.
“Can we use that for seating?” he asked, motioning toward a backless bench sitting against the wall.
“I’ll help you get it,” Pearl offered, her sidelong glance taking in his masculine form. Augusta thought the woman’s cleavage could have been less noticeable, and she watched as Bertha gave Pearl a push and nodded at the front of her wrapper. Reluctantly Pearl tugged the sides of her bodice closer and sat on the bench, patting the area beside her.
“Why don’t you come over here, and we’ll get acquainted?” Her invitation was directed at Cleary, but he patently ignored it, holding a chair for Beth Ann, instead, as she edged her way back into the kitchen. With barely a whisper of fabric or an audible sound from her lips, she nodded her thanks and slid onto the seat.
“Give me a hand here, Pearl,” Bertha said gruffly. “Y’all spend half the day layin’ in bed and then expect me to wait on you. You’ll find out that ain’t the way it’s gonna work here.”
Without protest, Pearl rose and did as she was asked, her hips swaying as she placed plates and silverware around the table. “Should we lay a spot for Janine and Honey?” she asked, looking to Augusta for instructions.
“Are they up?” she asked, and then nodded in reply to her own query when they could be heard coming down the stairs. “Go ahead. They’ll be hungry, too.”
And wasn’t Mr. Cleary getting an eyeful this morning? she thought, lifting the bowl of biscuits from the middle of the table and passing them in his direction. He took two, and she noted Bertha’s pleased expression. “The way to a man’s heart,” was an adage that could be reversed, her mama had said, more than once. The way to a woman’s heart lay in compliments on her cooking, and Cleary was obviously adept at that type of behavior.
Janine settled in a chair, and Honey slid onto the bench beside Pearl. “Did we forget anything?” Bertha asked, and Pearl shook her head, breaking a biscuit in half and waiting for the gravy to be passed in her direction.
None of the women seemed to recognize Cleary, and for that Augusta was grateful. It would have been embarrassing had they known the man by name. Instead, she performed introductions as they began to eat, and he was inundated by questions from the women surrounding him.
Not known for their reticence, Pearl and Janine were vocal in their curiosity, but Cleary was not forthcoming with information, merely turning their queries in another direction, until they exchanged glances and returned to eating breakfast.
“Today, we’re going to hang curtains in the parlor and work at building a place to keep chickens,” Augusta told her charges. “I’d like Honey to water the garden and paint the front steps. Mr. Cleary has kindly finished repairing them for us, and I’ll purchase some paint at the general store.”
“It’s easier to buy eggs at the store,” Janine said bluntly. “Keeping chickens is a messy job.”
“Raising chickens is a profitable venture,” Augusta told her firmly. “Not only can we eat the young roosters, but we can sell the eggs at a nice profit.”
“Next you’ll be talking about a cow,” Janine said. “I’m not sure we’re gonna be allowed to keep livestock in town.”
“Lots of folks have chickens in the backyard,” Augusta said. “I’ve checked, and there are no ordinances against animals for your own use.”
“Did you hear from that lady at the store that wants me to do some sewing for her?” Janine asked. “That brings in good money.”
“Yes, and so does laundry,” Augusta told her. “Mrs. Stevens and her husband own the hotel, and she’s about persuaded him to let us do all the linens twice a week. Harriet Burns, our neighbor, wants us to keep her in clean sheets for her boarders, too.”
“I’m not real fond of using a scrub board,” Pearl said darkly. “We had a laundry lady when I was at the Pink Palace.”
“That wasn’t all you had,” Augusta reminded her with a pointed look at her eye, where the lid still wore two stitches. “It was your choice to leave there, Pearl. If you want to go back to the lap of luxury, be my guest. But once any of you leave here, it’s for good. We’ve already talked about that.”
“I’m not going back,” Pearl said quickly. “I’ve done worse things than scrub sheets in my day.”
“We need income,” Augusta told them. “That’s the whole reason for working. We can’t run this place without money, and we have to do the things that
