Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
A bigail was once again escorting Mr. Bailey—or rather, he was escorting her —to the shops in the business district for Mrs. Pettigrew. She had no idea what their employer wanted them to do. Mr. Bailey hadn’t told her yet. All she knew was that she had to go along to help.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked as they stepped through the front gate. He closed it behind them and offered her his arm.
She looked at it, her heart in her throat, and realized how badly she wanted to wrap her arm around his. How ridiculous!She had to get past this somehow.
“Abigail,” he said softly. “It’s okay to take my arm.”
“No, it’s not,” she snapped, sticking her hands in her coat pockets.
That, however, did not deter him. He gently wrapped his arm around one of hers anyway, and they were off.
“Mr. Bailey,” she said, her voice cracking. “What are you doing?”
He looked down at her, a slow smile forming on his lips. “I’m escorting you properly, as a gentleman does a lady. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Well, no,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s just that…” She paused, not knowing what to say. “Well, I mean…”
“Abigail,” he said, voice still deep and soft. “You are a lady, and I will escort you as one. No, you’re not one of Denver’s elite—but that makes you no less a lady.”
She gaped at him a moment. “Well, when you put it that way… all right,” she murmured, swallowing hard as he flexed his arm.My heavens! But he had big muscles. She fought the urge to fan her face as a tingle went up her spine.
If this kept up, she might have to resign.
They said little as they walked, and when they reached the business district, he went straight to the bookshop. Mr. Troeh looked up from behind the counter and smiled. “It’s you two again! Has Mrs. Pettigrew sent you with another list?”
“She has,” Mr. Bailey said. He approached the counter, pulling a folded list from his coat pocket. “Seems Mrs. Pettigrew is eager to read a few romance novels.” He tried not to roll his eyes, recalling his conversation with her.
“Well, the ladies do like them,” Mr. Troeh said, winking at Abigail. “I have a few you might be interested in, my dear. Would you like to see them?”
“Oh, yes,” Abigail started, before her face fell. “But we’re running errands, and we really should get going.”
“No, let him show you the books,” Mr. Bailey said. “We have time.”
“Do we?” she asked, hopeful.
“For you? Of course.” He smiled, and her heart melted at the warmth in it.
This man was too kind. And if she wasn’t careful, she could lose her heart to someone like him.
“Come this way, Abbey,” Mr. Troeh said as he came out from behind the counter.
Great, he would have to be informal. It only served to let Mr. Bailey know how often she visited Mr. Troeh’s bookshop. Mr. Bailey, however, didn’t comment. Back in the stacks, Abigail gave Mr. Bailey a thankful smile and continued to follow Mr. Troeh.
“Let’s see… I have four here,” Mr. Troeh said. He pulled them off various shelves, then handed her the stack. “Go ahead and look through those. If there’s any you want, just bring them up to the counter.”
“I thank ye, Mr. Troeh.”
He gave her another wink and returned to the front.
Mr. Bailey slowly made his way down the aisle, perusing spines as he did. When he reached her, he tried to peek at the title of the book in her hands. She’d stacked the other three on a nearby shelf. “Anything interesting?” he asked.
“Give me a moment, will ye? I’m just now leafing through the first one.”
“Is it another adventure tale?”
“I don’t know. Will yestop hovering ? ”
He laughed and backed up a step. “I’m curious, that’s all. Well, you look through it, and I’ll look through another one.” He took a book from her stack on the shelf, a pleasant smile on his face, and examined the cover. “Oh, I know this one.”
“Ye do?” she asked in shock.
“Yes, it’s a C. I. Sayer book. The author’s known all around the world.”
“Aye, even Iknowthat,” she said. “But is that anewbook? I’ve not read them all.”
He looked at the title. “I believe it is. Well, one of his newer ones. My mother ordered it, but she hasn’t read it as far as I know. She received it just before I left for America.”
She took the book from him and handed him the next. “Well then, I’ll take this one. I do love a good adventure, especially if it’s a romance, as ye well know.”
“Yes, I remember,” he said with a chuckle. He looked through the next book. “This one doesn’t look as good. I’d keep the C. I. Sayer book.”
“What’s that one?” she asked, glancing at the book in his hands.
He flipped through it, not even bothering to look at the illustrations. “It looks like a lot of drama and angst to me.”
“Hmm. Well, how about this one?” She handed him the next book.
He smiled. “I can’t believe you’re trusting my advice on these.”
“Why not? Yer a writer. Who else am I going to trust?”
He laughed. “Okay, point taken. Still, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with these other authors. You’re going to have to take a chance if you choose one.”
“You pick one of the other three. I can’t afford any more than two books.”
“Of course. I’ll give you the best advice I can.” He took his time looking through the third book, then circled back to compare the others.
“This one doesn’t look so bad. It has a circus in it.”
She snorted a laugh. “Does it now? Well, I’ll have to readthatone.”
“It also seems more lighthearted compared to the other two. Less drama.”
She blinked a few times. “You can tell that just by reading a few paragraphs?”
“Oh yes. The writer’s tone and voice is quite clear.”
“Well now… that’s handy,” she said with a laugh.
“You read enough to do the same, Abigail,” he said with a smile.
“That might be true, but ye do it quicker.” She lifted the book from him and headed for the front of the store. She heard him follow and smiled to herself. She liked spending time with Mr. Bailey. And realized… she had to put a stop to it soon or she was going to be in trouble.
He paid for the books, and they left the store. “Where to next?” she asked. “You never did tell me what was on that list.”
“If you’re referring to Mrs. Pettigrew’s list, no, I did not. But for all you know, Rebecca Harrington gave me this list.”
Abigail sucked in a breath.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “She gets under your skin, doesn’t she?”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Ye havenoidea.”
He smiled again. “I noticed Mr. Troeh called you ‘Abbey.’ Do you like that?”
She looked away and nodded. “My parents called me Abbey. So do my friends back home. But everyone here is more formal…it’s always Abigail.”
“Can I call you Abbey?”
She looked at him, her heart warming. She liked the sound of her name on his lips. “I don’t mind.”
“You can call me Ewart,” he said.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” She backed up a step, then regretted it as his face fell.
“Abbey,” he said slowly. “You aren’t afraid to get close to me, are you?”
“What do ye mean by that?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s just that… if we’re working together, we should be on a first-name basis.”
“I don’t call Mr. Troeh by his first name,” she shot back. “I don’t even know what his first name is.”
“You don’t?” he asked, his face scrunching up in confusion. “What about Mrs. Fraser and Mr. Prosser?”
She shook her head. “Don’t know their first names either. Never bothered to ask.”
“Well,youknowmyfirst name, and I don’t mind if you use it. In fact, I insist.” He gave her another smile, then offered his arm. “Our next stop is the park.”
“The park? Why on earth would Mrs. Pettigrew be sending us to the park?”
“Abbey,” he said, wiggling his elbow. “Take my arm.”
She looked at it as the sound of his voice wrapped around her. Good grief, the man was the pied piper. She was liable to follow him anywhere.
“It’s all right, Abbey. I don’t bite, you know.”
“Of course ye don’t,” she bit back. She wrapped her arm around his and looked straight ahead.
“Now was that so bad?”
She gave him a sidelong glance and blew out a breath. “Are we going or not, Ewart?”
He smiled at the use of his first name and set off. They walked a couple of blocks, crossed the street, and entered the park.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“We’re to speak to Mr. Ross”
“Mr. Ross,” Abigail echoed. “Now what does Mrs. Pettigrew want with him?”
“She wants him for one of the food booths. She has potatoes marked next to his name.”
Abigail laughed. “Oh yes, Mr. Ross does like his roasted potatoes. He sells them in the winter and spring to people. I’ll show ye where we can find him.”
She led the way to Mr. Ross’s skate shack, which he conveniently turned into his “snack shack,” as he liked to call it. During the rest of the year, Mr. Ross stayed busy near a fire pit he built, roasting potatoes over it.
“Mr. Ross,” Abigail greeted him.
The grizzled man turned to her and smiled. “Abbey! What are you doing here?” He looked at Ewart. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a beau. Why, I hadn’t heard.” He held out his hand to Ewart, who took it. “It’s about time someone claimed this pretty thing.”
“Oh, he’s not my beau, Mr. Ross,” Abigail said in a rush.
“What? He’s not?” Mr. Ross kept shaking Ewart’s hand. “Then who are you?”
Ewart laughed. “I’m Mrs. Pettigrew’s new assistant.”
Mr. Ross laughed again. “Another one?” He looked Ewart up and down then eyed Abigail. “Well, if I know Mrs. Pettigrew, you’ll be married in short order.”
Ewart laughed. “I don’t know about that. Now, Mrs. Pettigrew is having a ball, and she’d like to know if you’d want to set up a food booth of sorts and sell your potatoes.”
“What? Sell taters at a ball?” Mr. Ross said in disbelief. “That’s unheard of.” His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, I get to sell them?”
“For chips,” Mr. Bailey said.
“What do you mean, chips?” Mr. Ross asked.
“We’ve come up with a system that, well, let me explain it to you.”
He led Mr. Ross to a nearby bench and launched into his explanation: guests could win poker chips and other prizes at the carnival and then spend their chips to buy food, desserts, and other fun things.
As they talked, Abigail was having a hard time thinking of him as Ewart , or rather, a hard time denying herself the opportunity. Referring to him by his first name felt like she was being too friendly, and she wasn’t sure she could handle being anymorefriendly with him. When he asked if she was all right after Rebecca had bullied her, it was all she could do not to melt into a puddle at the concern in his eyes.
“Abbey,” Ewart called, “come join us. Mr. Ross is getting us each a potato.”
Mr. Ross smiled at her as he headed toward the fire, where a rack covered with foil-wrapped potatoes was cooking.
“Oh, how lovely,” she said. Shedidlove the man’s potatoes.
Mr. Ross served them, and soon the three of them were munching on hot potatoes with butter.
“Your offer intrigues me,” Mr. Ross said. “You can tell Mrs. Pettigrew I’d be glad to help.”
Ewart scooted a little closer to Abbey. “Isn’t that wonderful? He’s going to help us.”
She gave him a blank stare. All she knew was that she needed help getting away from this man before she fell head over heels for him.