milliner’s apprentice?”
“That’s correct.” Had Mrs. O’Connell received her telegram yet? What was she thinking about her truant would-be apprentice?
“Is becoming a milliner something you have a burning desire to do, if you don’t mind my asking?”
What would he do if she said she did mind his asking? “A friend of my grandmother’s runs a millinery shop in Tyler. Apparently she gets an increase in orders in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas so she agreed to hire me on a trial basis for now. Once the New Year gets here, we are to both evaluate whether to continue the arrangement.”
It wasn’t really an answer to his specific question, and the look he gave her said he knew it. But he didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to Leo. “And what about you?”
Leo shrugged. “The same.” He traced a circle on the table. “I mean, I was looking for a big city, somewhere where I could find work and not stand out.”
Mr. Dawson stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You know, if it’s work you’re looking for, Leo, you don’t have to go all the way to Tyler. There’s work to be had right here in Turnabout.”
That caught Eve’s interest. If she could find some temporary work here, it would give her an opportunity to replenish some of the funds she’d have to spend on meals and such before moving on. “What sort of work?”
He spread his hands. “I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, just that folks are always needing work done.”
She swallowed her disappointment. Before she could make any sort of response, however, he turned to Leo. “In fact, things get pretty messy in my shop when I’ve got work piled up. I’ve been looking for someone to clean up around the place and help me keep things in order—you know sweep up, fetch things for me, run errands. That sort of thing.”
Leo sat up straighter. “I could do that.”
Mr. Dawson wrinkled his brow, as if the idea was something he hadn’t yet considered, but Eve could tell it was what he’d been leading up to all along.
“Do you really think so?” the man asked. “I mean, it’s hard work and I couldn’t afford to pay much.”
But Leo was leaning forward eagerly. “That’s okay. I don’t mind the work, and I’ll need some money to get by on once the sheriff finds out I’m not lying.”
Eve lightly touched his arm but kept her gaze on Chance. “Of course, since you are so generously opening your home to us, Leo and I will be happy to pitch in and help with the chores as much as we are able. And we wouldn’t dream of taking payment.” She withdrew her hand but gave Leo a pointed look. “Isn’t that right?”
Leo’s expression lost its eager edge, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She was pleased to have her faith in him proved true. But his comment about needing money to get by concerned her. Did the boy truly believe he would be allowed to go off on his own once matters were settled? He would need a guardian of some sort, whether he wanted one or not. But perhaps now was not the time to open that avenue of conversation.
However, it did bring up the question of just what would happen to him. And right now she didn’t have an answer.
Their food arrived then, delivered by a younger girl with reddish-gold hair and a saucy smile.
“Hello, Abigail,” Mr. Dawson greeted her. “Don’t tell me Daisy let you into her kitchen.”
“And just why would that come as a surprise to you?” The girl gave him an indignant look. “You don’t think Daisy is the only member of this family who can cook, do you?”
Mr. Dawson leaned back and raised his hands as if she’d attacked him. “Far be it from me to question your talents, in any arena.”
The girl responded to his obvious teasing with a smile. “Actually, I’m in training. I’ll be taking over for a few weeks after the baby comes.”
Then she turned to Eve as she set a dish in front of her. “And since Chance here seems to have forgotten his manners, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Abigail Fulton. Daisy’s husband is my brother.”
They exchanged greetings as Abigail set out the food, then the girl disappeared back into the kitchen.
Eve noted the way Leo dug his spoon into his bowl, as if he hadn’t eaten for days, which he well may not have. But there were other ways to nourish him, as well.
She briefly touched his arm. “Shall we say grace first?”
Leo set his spoon down, his cheeks turning red. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
She smiled. “No need to apologize. We all forget sometimes.” She turned to Mr. Dawson. “Would you care to lead us?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished them back. She’d put him on the spot! What if he wasn’t comfortable with praying aloud?
Had her deplorable tendency to act first and think later caused her yet another misstep?
Chapter Five
Chance could tell from her expression that she wasn’t certain he’d comply. Actually, while he didn’t always remember to do so, he had no trouble at all offering up a prayer. His mother had taught him well before she passed. And while he’d had more than a few bouts of rebellion growing up, and still questioned why he’d been saddled with such a shameful affliction, he’d never really lost faith in the Almighty.
He nodded and folded his hands, elbows on the table. “Heavenly Father, bless this meal we are about to partake of, and watch over these visitors who have unexpectedly arrived in our community. Let them feel welcome here, for whatever time they may be with us. In Your Son’s name we pray. Amen.”
His companions echoed his amen, then they all picked up their spoons.
Chance had seen Eve’s keen interest in the newspaper office when they’d passed by earlier. He’d also noticed the longing looks she’d sent toward Abigail’s library when they first entered the restaurant. She obviously enjoyed reading—a pastime he envied but could never share.
He decided to circle back to the question she’d tried to sidestep earlier. “So, Eve, do you have a burning desire to become a hat maker?”
He saw the walls go up in her expression and thought for a moment she’d ignore his question again. But he maintained an expression of innocent curiosity, and she finally responded politely, even if not altogether warmly.
“My taking a position as a milliner was actually my grandmother’s idea,” she said carefully. “The opportunities for employment in Iron Bluff are very limited so she contacted her friend Mrs. O’Connell, who graciously offered to take me in and train me.”
Now, why was a sheltered young woman such as this worrying about employment in the first place—shouldn’t she instead be finding a husband? Or was there a dearth of marriageable bachelors in Iron Bluff?
“I’m quite grateful for the opportunity,” she added as she reached for her glass.
