Chapter 5 #4
“Oh, please come,” Polly said. “It’ll be fun.
We’ll have a bonfire, and Mrs. Dunlevy will be there, selling her hot chocolate and spiced cider.
Even Mr. Palmer said he’d come. He’s got a new popcorn and roasted peanut cart he wants to try out.
” Her eyes sparkled with the promise of a good time.
“Maybe Mr. Larson will come and play his concertina while we skate. He’s done that before. ”
“I’ll think about it.” Sheridan conceded with a slight nod, though she wasn’t certain she wanted to.
“Please do.” Wyatt gave a quick nod then turned his attention to Polly for a moment, but only a moment, before his gaze returned to her. There was such warmth in that gaze, she almost forgot about the cold. And she didn’t want to leave the shop either, not with him standing so close to her.
Wyatt finally returned his gaze to Polly. “I’m in the mood for some Boston Cream pie. Do you have any?”
“I do. It’s my last one. Just made it this morning.”
“Perfect.” Polly pulled the pie from the glass case and placed it in a fancy box.
He paid for it, taking the money from his pocket, but his focus remained on her.
“I’ll take you home, Sheridan. It’s too cold for you to be walking, though that cape looks plenty warm.
” He took the cake from her hands, then placed it atop his own box.
“I wasn’t going home. I was going to stop by Goldwater’s to mail a letter then Sullivan’s Emporium for some new gloves.” She wiggled her fingers. “These don’t keep my hands warm at all.”
Wyatt smiled. “That’s fine. I’ll take you wherever you need to go and then I’ll take you home.”
“It really isn’t necessary, Mr. Mac—”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression questioning.
“Wyatt. I’m sure you have things you have to do.”
“No. Not really.” He adjusted the boxes in his hand then gestured to the door.
Such a gentleman. Her grandmother had been wrong. There were good men and, yes, they could be trusted…at least, a little bit. Sheridan preceded him to the door, though he sped up a little so he could open it for her.
“See you at Larson’s,” Merrill called out just before the door closed behind them.
Wyatt placed the boxes in a wooden compartment in the back of the buckboard, then helped her to her seat. He climbed in himself then took the reins in his hands. “Goldwater’s?”
“Yes, please.”
He shook the reins and started the horses moving. “How are you finding Serenity?”
“It’s nice here. Everyone I’ve met has been so kind. Well, almost everyone.”
“I’m not surprised. We pride ourselves on that.”
He drove them past the town square. There was no one there relaxing on blankets or playing in the sunshine, though several people rushed along the twisting paths.
It was simply too cold. He stopped the buckboard in front of Goldwater’s, which was next to the town hall, not far from where they started.
Before she could climb down from the buckboard, he jumped down, then helped her, taking her hand in his. She felt the warmth of that brief touch and again, that funny little tickle started low in her belly. “Thank you. I’ll just be a moment.”
“I’ll just wait for you out here.” He grinned and she couldn’t stop staring at the dimple in his cheek. “Don’t want anyone to take our desserts.”
“Would that happen?”
He laughed. “No, not really. Serenity is a good place. That’s not to say we don’t have our troublemakers, because we do, but for the most part, we’re a safe town. Marshal Goodrich and his deputies see to that.”
She nodded, unsure what to say, especially because his hand held hers and she just couldn’t seem to think clearly. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said finally before she rushed into the store, anxious to get out of the cold…and get back to him.
As promised, she wasn’t long, and it was only moments before she was back outside, after dropping her letter in the outgoing mail bin, as Gemma directed her to.
“Sullivan’s?”
“Yes, please.” Once again, he helped her climb up to the buckboard’s seat, then ran around to the other side, climbed in himself and flicked the reins to get the horses moving.
It didn’t take long to get to Sullivan’s, either.
It was truly just down the street, so close they could have walked, and probably should have.
He stopped the buckboard in front of the store’s front door then repeated his steps, helping her to alight.
Such a gentleman, so different than what her grandmother had described men to be.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time. I have nowhere I need to be.”
She gave him a quick nod, grateful for his kindness.
“Hello, Tresia.” Sheridan greeted the owner as soon as she opened the door, the little bell chiming overhead.
Tresia smiled as her eyes opened wider. “What a lovely cape! Did you get it from Leslie Carmichael?”
Sheridan looked down. “I did. She said she made it for my mother.”
“It looks wonderful on you. The color really brings out your eyes.”
“I’m looking for a pair of gloves, something warmer than these.” She snaked her hands out through the slit in the cape and held them up, showing the flimsy gloves. “Leslie said you would have some.”
“I do.” Tresia slid off the stool behind the counter and extended her hand toward a display of knit hats, scarves, and gloves in all the colors of the rainbow tucked into a corner. “Mrs. Cudahy knits them. They’ve been very popular this year.”
It didn’t take long to choose a pair of gloves or a matching scarf that came close to the color of the cape. She brought them to the counter. “I’ll take these.”
“Good choice.” Tresia rang up the sale. “Do you want them in a bag or are you going to wear them now?”
Sheridan paid for them. “Wear them now.” She tugged off her gloves, then draped the scarf over her head and twisted it until it covered her ears and throat, throwing the loose ends over her shoulders.
She tucked her old gloves into her drawstring purse, then pulled on the new gloves and immediately felt the warmth they provided. “Oh, so much better. Thank you!”
“Is that Wyatt MacLean pacing in front of my store?”
Sheridan turned to look out the window and a small thrill skittered through her. “Yes, it is. We ran into each other at Sweet Somethings. He said he’d take me home—insisted, actually.”
“Well, isn’t that kind of him?”
Sheridan had to agree. It was truly kind of him and, again, that little tickle started in her belly.
She turned toward Tresia, feeling the corners of her mouth lifting, something that wouldn’t have happened a week ago.
“Yes, it is. Have a wonderful day.” She quickly left the store, the little bell overhead signaling her exit.
Wyatt’s eyes lit up as she met him on the sidewalk. “Nice scarf. Did you get gloves, too?”
She held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “I did, and they’re so much warmer than what I had. Thank you.”
“Are you ready? Any other stops you need to make? Perhaps a cup of coffee at the Wagon Wheel?”
“No other stops and, truly, I don’t want to take up any more of your time. If you’ll just bring me home, I would appreciate it.”
“You’re not taking up my time.”
There was something about the way he said those words that made her take notice, like they held a melancholy edge to them.
Her gaze roamed over him, but there was nothing in his expression that spoke of sadness.
Indeed, his smile seemed to widen, revealing those dimples she was becoming enamored with.
Probably just my imagination.
It didn’t take long before he stopped in front of her house.
Again, he jumped down from his seat and helped her to descend, then handed her the box with her cake, his fingers lingering over hers for a moment longer than necessary.
Even though she wore heavier gloves now, she could still feel the warmth of his touch. “Thank you, Mr.—Wyatt.”
“My pleasure, Sherry.”
She didn’t recall giving him permission to shorten her name, but she wasn’t angry.
Or upset. A few weeks ago, she would have corrected him, or anyone else, who dared to take such liberties.
Now? She wasn’t so inclined to do so. Not only did she find that odd, she also couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her hearing him call her that.
“I hope you’ll join us at Larson’s Pond. It’s close enough to walk from here.”
She gave a quick nod, though she didn’t commit. “Thank you again.”
He climbed back up to the buckboard’s seat, shook the reins and drove off. Sheridan watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. Finally, she turned and entered the house to find mayhem and excitement, the girls laughing as Lily pulled ice skates from the hall closet. “What’s going on here?”
Lily looked up from her position on the floor in front of the open closet door.
“Nice cape. One of Leslie’s creations?” She didn’t give Sheridan a chance to answer.
Instead, she said, “Since it’s Monday and our day off, we’re going skating.
I heard Larson’s Pond is frozen over.” She pulled a pair of skates from the pile on the floor. “Barrie, I think these are yours.”
Barrie took the skates and held them against her chest, then looked at her. “You should come.”
Sheridan shook her head. “I don’t know how to skate.”
“You don’t have to know how to skate. You should still come. I’m sure someone will be willing to teach you. It’ll be fun.” Barrie cocked her head at her and lost her smile. “You don’t know how to have fun, do you?”
The question rambled around in her head, and the truth hit her hard.
No, she didn’t know how to have fun. Odette and Aunt Estelle had never promoted any kind of joy, which was a horrible way to live.
Neither did Bouchard’s. The students were there to learn, and the teachers were there to teach. There was no levity. “I…no.”
Susannah, her skates hanging from her fingertips by their laces, smiled and lightly touched her arm. “Well, then, I think it’s about time you learn.”
“After dinner, ladies!” Mrs. Gallagher yelled from behind the kitchen door.
“After dinner,” Susannah conceded.