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Eve laughed and it totally transformed her face. She really was quite pretty when she allowed herself to relax. “That it would,” she said.
“Why a confectionery?” Her answer had surprised him, but he was delighted by the unexpectedness of it.
She took on a faraway look. “When I was a schoolgirl, my Sunday school teacher would invite some of her students into her home at Christmastime. We would make all sorts of wondrous treats. She taught us to make fudge and caramels and pralines and all manner of sweet things—just bowls and platters full of them.”
“What did you do with all that candy?” Leo asked. “Did you get to eat it?”
She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Some. Because, of course, we’d have to taste it along the way, just to make certain it had turned out okay, you understand.”
“Sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Chance said. He found himself entranced by the softness in her now.
She cut a quick look his way, as if to make certain he wasn’t making fun of her, then nodded and turned back to Leo.
“But we packed up the majority of those treats very carefully and sent the packages off to several orphanages as Christmas treats.”
Chance was enjoying this sweet, playful side of her. But before he could comment, she seemed to realize that she’d revealed more of herself than she’d intended.
She straightened and dipped her spoon purposefully into her bowl. “Anyway, it turned out that I was very good at candy making. Miss Trosclair said I had a real knack for it.”
Chance shook his head apologetically. “I’m afraid Turnabout doesn’t have a confectionary shop so we can’t offer you a job like that.”
She nodded politely but that earlier softness was gone. “Having such a job would be nice, but as I said, I’ll take whatever I can find.” Then she gave him a pointed look. “I think it’s my turn to ask a few questions.”
Turning the tables on him was she? Good for her. “Ask away.”
“Something Daisy said when we walked in makes me think you’re not from here originally. So where are you from and how long have you lived in Turnabout?”
Easy enough questions to answer. “I was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And I’ve been here about a year and a half.”
Her brows went up. “You traveled a far piece to get here—much farther than either me or Leo.”
If only she knew. “True. But I consider Turnabout home now.”
“And you came all this way on your own?”
“Not exactly.” How much should he share with her? Better stick with just the bare minimum. “There were four of us who traveled together,” he continued. There was no point in mentioning that the catalyst had been an unorthodox marriage lottery they’d all participated in.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Four city folk from Philadelphia decided to come to Turnabout, Texas?”
He grinned. “That we did.”
“Why?”
Now her questions were getting a little more personal. “Business reasons.” Technically true. “Not to say we planned to go into business together—just travel together. Daisy’s husband, Everett, was one of my travel companions. Adam Barr, the town’s banker and lawyer, and Mitch Parker, the schoolteacher, were the other two. We’ve all found our own reasons to stay.” Though the four men had become friends after their arrival here, he’d never pried into what reasons they’d had for agreeing to the constraints that had been laid on them at the outset of their trip. Just as he’d never shared his own.
“So you’ve all stayed and become part of the town. That says a lot for the place. It must be special.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen evidence that Turnabout lives up to its name. It’s a good place for starting over and turning your life around.” At least it had been for him and the others who’d traveled here with him.
But Chance had had enough of talking about himself. Figuring Eve probably needed time to think over the events of the day, he turned to Leo and kept up a steady stream of light, easy chatter with the boy through the rest of the meal. Leo seemed like a good kid. He also appeared to be more mature and guarded than most boys his age, but that was no doubt due to what he’d been through these past couple of years. If his story were true, this Belcher fellow deserved a flogging or worse.
Leo was the first to finish his bowl and Chance immediately ordered seconds for him with just a quick hand signal, barely missing a beat in the conversation.
When Eve finished her bowl he started to do the same, but she quickly let him know she’d had enough.
At one point, Abigail came around to check on them. “How was everything?”
“Delicious,” Eve answered.
“I’ll let Daisy know you enjoyed it.”
“And just where is Daisy?” Chance asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Abigail began collecting their dishes. “Everett came by to check on her and insisted she get off her feet for a few minutes. Of course, Daisy rolled her eyes at him, but since the lunch rush is about over she agreed to let me see to things for a while.” She grinned. “Everett convinced her I needed the practice.”
Remembering Eve’s earlier interest in the library, and guessing she wouldn’t broach the subject on her own, Chance decided to make it easier for her.
“How’s the library business these days?” he asked casually.
Abigail immediately became more animated. “Very good. I signed another subscriber yesterday and I’m planning to purchase several new titles right after Christmas.” She sighed dramatically. “I miss having Constance partnering with me, but she absolutely loves her new job assisting Mr. Flaherty at the apothecary shop.”
Chance nodded. “Mr. Flaherty seems pleased with the job she’s doing.” He glanced Eve’s way, waiting for her to speak up. But when she didn’t jump into the conversational opening, he decided to be more direct. “Speaking of your library, Miss Pickering here is interested in taking a look at your selection of books.”
He sensed her stiffening without even looking her way. Didn’t she know he was trying to help?
But Abigail apparently noticed nothing amiss. “Of course.” The girl gave Eve a big smile. “I’d be glad to loan you a book, free of charge. Sort of a welcome-to-town gift, for you to read while you’re here.”
His companion shook her head, though this time there was nothing firm about the gesture. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want to take advantage—”
“Not at all.” Abigail lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. “Besides, it’s good advertisement if folks see people borrowing my books.” She waved toward the bookshelves. “Feel free to look over what’s available while I clear these dishes.”
Chance could see Eve’s resolve wavering as she stared longingly at the bookshelves. Deciding she needed another nudge, he stood and pulled her chair out for her. Pitching his voice so only she could hear, he whispered, “It would be an insult for you to refuse Abigail’s offer.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “I certainly wouldn’t want to offer her any insult.” She glanced again toward the shelves. “Perhaps I’ll go over and just take a look.”
He watched her cross the room and then slowly, almost reverently, run her fingers along the rows of books, taking her time studying the various titles. What kind of book would she select? Would her prim and proper side win out and have her select a volume of dry essays or sermons? Or would her more daring side win out and point her to some more entertaining work of fiction?
She pulled out a book and smiled as she silently read a passage. Suddenly, that familiar kick of jealousy tinged with shame twisted his gut and he turned away.
“Why is she so excited about a bunch of books?” Leo asked, wrinkling his nose.
Chance pushed his ugly emotions aside and smiled down at the boy. “You’d be surprised how many people enjoy reading,” he answered. “There are a lot of adventures to be found between the pages of a good book.” Some of his favorite memories were of his mother reading to him as a boy.
“Adventures?” That had obviously grabbed his attention.
Did the boy know how to read? If his story was true, he likely hadn’t seen the inside of a schoolroom since he was eight years old, if at all. Maybe he should have a talk with Mitch about how to get Leo prepared for returning to the classroom eventually.
Then Chance pulled himself up short. He wasn’t the kid’s father and he certainly wasn’t planning to make this little diversion a long-term commitment. He had too many problems of his own right now. Once the boy’s guilt or innocence was determined, there would be decisions to be made about him, decisions that, one way or the other, would relieve Chance of any future responsibility.
With the unexpected visit from his father looming, he’d have plenty of other issues to deal with during the next few weeks.
Chance glanced toward Eve, who was still studying the bookshelves with single-minded focus. Did she realize she’d have to hand over Leo to someone else soon? Unless she intended to adopt the boy, which didn’t seem likely given what little she’d revealed about her circumstances. Just how deep did her attachment go? Would she walk away gracefully and let the authorities do what must be done?
She finally plucked a book from the shelves and turned to rejoin them. Pausing at the desk, she dutifully wrote in the ledger, apparently following the directions the trusting Abigail had posted.
“What did you select?” he asked when she returned.
She held up a small book bound in leather with dark red lettering on the front. To his relief, she also described her selection. “It’s a book of poetry.”
Well now, wasn’t that an unexpected and interesting choice?
So she did have a less straight-laced, more romantic side to her, even if it was buried a bit deep.
Yep, the next few days could prove interesting indeed.
Chapter Six
Eve clutched the borrowed book to her chest as they left the restaurant, feeling one part guilt and one part excitement. She shouldn’t have taken advantage of Abigail’s generosity the way she had, but the idea of having a book to read had been too irresistible a temptation.
They made a quick stop at the sheriff’s office to retrieve her carpetbag and then headed for Mr. Dawson’s place.
Eve still felt uncomfortable with the idea of moving into the home of an unmarried man, especially one she’d met only a few hours ago, but accepted that she had little choice in the matter. The fact that Dotty and the sheriff saw nothing amiss with the plan did reassure her. And she was selfishly glad Mr. Dawson had tapped Dotty to play the part of chaperone. She’d liked the woman almost on sight.
“Tell me,” she asked Mr. Dawson, “what sort of business are you in?”
Was that a wince? Had she overstepped with her question?
But almost immediately he was flashing one of his carefree grins again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, let her fancy run away with her as her grandmother often accused.
“I repair mechanical devices,” he said.
“Mechanical?”
“Yes, I tinker around with all sorts of machinery— stationary engines, grandfather clocks, sewing machines—I repair and adjust them when they break down.”
Leo’s eyes lit up. “Are you working on anything right now?”
Mr. Dawson rubbed his jaw, but she saw a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, let’s see. Mrs. Carlisle’s sewing machine is giving her problems so I’m taking a look at it for her. And I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately tinkering with a stationary engine.”
Leo nodded solemnly as if he knew exactly what Mr. Dawson was talking about.
“Of course, you might be more interested in the mechanical toys I’ve taken apart just to see how they work.”
Leo’s face brightened further. “Can I help with that?”
“We’ll see. There’s one other thing I work with that might interest you—I spend time making certain my motor carriage stays in good working order.”
Leo stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing rounder. “You have a motor carriage?” He said it as if Mr. Dawson had just admitted to having a pirate’s treasure hidden in his shop.
Even Eve was impressed with the announcement. She’d heard of motor carriages but had never actually seen such a thing.
“That I do,” he answered proudly.
“Can I see it?” Leo was practically bouncing with excitement.
Mr. Dawson waved a hand to indicate they should move forward again. “You can not only see it, you can sit in it if you like.” He turned to Eve. “Both of you.”
Eve wasn’t at all certain that was something either she or Leo should agree to. Was it safe? But she settled for smiling and giving him a noncommittal “We shall see” response.
As they turned the corner, Eve saw a building that had the unmistakable trappings of a saloon—most notably the swinging half doors and the faded but still legible sign proclaiming the name of the establishment to be The Blue Bottle.
She looked around at the neighboring buildings. Was Mr. Dawson’s place nearby? She wasn’t comfortable being in close proximity to such a place, but if that was the case she would do her best to make it work. She’d just have to keep a close eye on Leo to make certain he was shielded from any unsavory influences.
“From the frown on your face, I see you have some concerns about The Blue Bottle.”
Eve gave him a direct look. “I’m not afraid to admit that I don’t approve of such establishments.”
He seemed amused by her words. “You can rest assured that the place no longer serves as a saloon.”
Mollified by his words, she relaxed. “That is good news. Did the town close it?”
“No, I’m afraid providence did. It was shut down by a fire. It happened before I ever moved here.”
“Oh.” They were drawing closer now and she frowned as she studied the structure. “But it seems to be undamaged and still in use.”
“The inside has been renovated, and yes, it’s still in use. In fact I own it now.”
Oh, my goodness. She stopped in her tracks just as they reached the corner of the building. That meant—
His grin had a mischievous edge. “That’s right. I have my shop on the first floor and my living quarters on the second.”
“You mean this is where we’re going to be staying?”
He swept his hand forward with a flourish. “In all its glory.”
A former saloon, of all things. Somehow it seemed very in character for this unorthodox gent to have set up shop in such an establishment. She slowly approached the entrance, feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what she might see inside. Just the idea of what all must have taken place in a former saloon was enough to send the warmth into her cheeks and her grandmother’s scandalized voice resounding in her mind.
Which was foolish, she told herself firmly. It was merely a building and nothing more. Lifting her chin, she pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into a very large undivided room that took up most of the lower floor. She’d never been inside a saloon before, of course, so she’d had no idea what to expect.
To her relief, Mr. Dawson was as good as his word and there were very few traces remaining of the former den of iniquity. The most obvious remnant of the building’s former purpose sat to her left—what had obviously been the counter where the drinks were dispensed. There was still a brass rail on the lower portion where she imagined men had propped their boots as they partook of the bar’s offerings. Looking closer, though, there was something odd about the counter, as if part of it had been lopped off. A result of the fire perhaps?
As for the rest of the room, the section nearest the doors was bare except for two round tables that had been shoved together to the left of the entrance. Three unmatched wooden chairs, at least one of which bore scorch marks, flanked them. Is that where he entertained visitors? Assuming he ever had visitors.
Across the room, however, it was a different story. The area was as crowded and cluttered as this side was bare. A pair of long worktables along with three smaller round ones were arranged in a seemingly random manner, all cluttered with an odd assortment of unidentifiable metal parts. There were also tools, jars, canisters, rags and crates scattered here and there. That was it. The walls were bare and there weren’t any domestic touches to speak of. Nor was it what one would call neat and tidy.
This place was definitely more of a workshop than a home. “You have done a good job of erasing the signs of a fire.”
“Thanks. I had to replace the staircase and a large portion of the floor. There was some damage to the far end of the counter but it’s such a fine piece of workmanship that I couldn’t bear to scrap the whole thing. And that east wall needed extensive repairs.”
