The Bride Next Door

A particular gent? He wasn’t sure what that meant. And more important, had she intended it as a compliment or criticism?

Better not to ask. “Before I came here, I was a reporter for a newspaper in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the editor and I had a falling out. When I learned of an opportunity to actually own my own newspaper business here, I jumped at it.” Mainly because that was the only option open to him at the time. There was nothing to be gained by mentioning the scandal he’d been involved in, the scandal that had cost him nearly everything. And deservedly so.

“So how’d you hear about this great opportunity? I mean, I wouldn’t think most folks in Philadelphia have even heard of Turnabout.”

Everett decided being on this end of an interview wasn’t nearly the same as being on the other. “A friend of mine has some connections here—a granddaughter, as a matter of fact. He knew I was looking for something different, and he told me about it.” He raised a brow. “Anything else?” he asked in his chilliest tone.

“Do all the folks in Philadelphia talk like you do?”

Was she being deliberately impertinent or merely trying to make conversation? “My accent, you mean?” She’d probably never heard a British accent before. “Actually, I lived in England until I was twelve.”

Her hands stilled, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. You crossed the ocean when you were twelve?”

That part of his life seemed a dream now. Or should he say a nightmare? He wondered if his father had ever given him another thought once he’d sent him and his mother away.

He smiled at her reaction. “I didn’t do it alone.” Then he locked his gaze with hers. “And no, I’m not going to discuss my life before arriving in America with you, so you may as well move on.”

She gave him an arch smile, or at least her version of one. “Keeping secrets of your own, are you? I guess we all have them.” She didn’t seem unduly bothered by his words. “So, moving on to another topic, what about family?”

Best to stick to the living. “I have a sister.”

Her expression softened. “I always wished I had a sister or brother. Is she older or younger than you?”

“Much younger. And before you ask, she’s attending a boarding school in Boston.” He pointedly stabbed a chunk of potato with his fork. He’d had enough. “Now, why don’t we put aside the interrogation and eat our meal before it gets cold.”

She held his gaze for a few moments, and he could almost see her trying to decide whether or not to push forward. She finally nodded, and they both turned their focus on their food without another word.

After several minutes Everett relented, but there was no more talk of a personal nature. “Have you had that dog of yours very long?” he asked.

Her stiffness eased, and her smile returned. Apparently he’d found a question she didn’t mind answering.

“No. As a matter of fact, we’re brand-new friends. I’d only been on the road to Turnabout for a couple of hours when Kip showed up and took to following me. I checked with folks at a couple of the farms I passed, and no one laid claim to him. Which was okay with me. He was friendly, and I was happy for the company.”

He imagined a woman traveling alone would be—especially at night. He still couldn’t believe her father hadn’t taken the time to escort her back here. The man should be horse whipped.

“He’s barely left my side since,” she added as she reached for her glass.

“And you plan to keep him?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course. Like I said, we’re friends now. As long as Kip wants to stick around, he’s welcome to do so.”

Everett resisted the urge to shake his head. He could understand her wanting the animal’s companionship and protection while she was on the road. But now that she was settled in and trying to establish herself, couldn’t she see he would only be a drain on her limited resources?

But he’d said his piece. If she was an overly sentimental sort, then that was her problem.

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. He was even forced to grudgingly admit, at least to himself, that Daisy could be a pleasant companion when she tried to be.

Later that evening, after he’d seen Daisy to her door and she’d promised to show up about nine o’clock the following morning since it was her first day, Everett returned to his own office.

He settled at his desk where he went to work transcribing his interview notes into an article. Tomorrow was Friday, one of the two days a week the paper went out. Tuesday was the other. That meant he had a long night ahead of him. Luckily, he’d already set aside space on the second page for his interview with Miss Johnson. He just had to craft his article so that it fit the allotted space.

As he wrote the article, he thought about what he’d learned from the sketchy details she’d given him. She was an optimist and a dreamer, that much was clear. And she wasn’t afraid of hard work. She had a certain amount of courage, too, as evidenced by her striking out on her own, on foot, with nothing but what she could carry to start her new life with. But did she really have it in her to stick with a project like this and see it all the way through?

He was certain there was more to the story of the time she’d spent with her grandmother than she’d been willing to tell him. That hint of a story to uncover intrigued him.

Then there was her idea of opening a restaurant. That was reaching a bit high, especially for a female with no experience running a business. To make a go of it, she would need more than optimism and elbow grease. She would need financial reserves and business acumen, neither of which he saw much evidence of in her.

No, it would be much more practical if Miss Johnson took on a permanent job as cook for some family in town who needed her more than he did. And once he was satisfied he could vouch for her expertise, he would be willing to give her a recommendation to help her find such a position.

That should fulfill his obligation to see her settled properly.

Perhaps then he could get back to life as usual.

* * *

Daisy settled onto her makeshift bed, tired but pleased with the recent turn of events. It had been a long day, but she’d gotten a lot accomplished. This storeroom that still served as her bedchamber was now clean as a rain-washed wildflower. She’d crafted a broom of her own and rigged up some of the broken crates and furnishings to serve as temporary tables and chairs. She’d traded the telling of her tale for a satisfying meal, and she’d landed herself a job without having to look too hard.

All in all, a good day.

Daisy rolled over on her side. She was still having trouble figuring out Mr. Fulton. He could be so nice at times, and at others...

Even when he was being nice, he had that snippy, amused air about him that was just downright irritating.

The snooty tone he’d used when he asked if she intended to keep Kip still irked her. What she should have told him was that if given the choice between Kip’s company and his, she’d likely pick Kip's.

I know that’s not a very charitable thought, Lord, especially since I have him to thank for my meal and my job, but something about that man just riles me up. I can’t abide a person who’s constantly looking for warts rather than dimples.

She thought about that for a moment, then winced at her ungrateful attitude.

That was a poor excuse for an excuse, wasn’t it, Lord? You tell us to judge not, and here I go judging again. And we both know I’ve got a wagonload of faults myself, so I’ve got no call to go throwing stones. I promise to try to do better in that regard. Just be patient with me if I slip again. And I’ll add him to my prayers. He obviously has some kind of bee in his bonnet, and he could use some help to learn how to look for the good things around him. Maybe he just needs someone to show him the way.

Feeling better, she settled down more snugly on her bedroll. Starting tomorrow, Mr. Fulton was going to be a part of her daily life and she a part of his. If this was her purpose for being here, then she aimed to tackle it with all the enthusiasm at her disposal.

Mr. Fulton was going to learn how to shed some of that stiff-necked, snobbish air of his, or her name wasn’t Daisy Eglantine Johnson.

Chapter Five

“Good morning, Mr. Fulton. You got those papers ready for me?” Jack Barr, Adam and Reggie’s adopted son, stood in the doorway of Everett’s office. Ira Peavy, the Barrs’ live-in handyman and sometimes photography assistant to Reggie, stood behind him.

Everett smiled a greeting at the pair. “That, I do. Your stack is the one closest to the door.”

Jack pulled a red wooden wagon into the building and started loading papers into the bed.

When he’d first opened the newspaper office, Everett had hired Jack to take care of making household deliveries to his regular subscribers. Of course, Ira Peavy usually went along, too, ostensibly to provide Jack with some company.

Everett exchanged greetings with Ira, then looked past the man to see the faint hint of the approaching dawn. He prided himself on having the paper available when his patrons started their day.

“You’ll find one extra paper in your stack,” he told Jack. “Mr. Cummings over on Second Street started subscribing this week.”