CHAPTER FIVE #2
As they walked down the hallway, Elisabeth pointed out her room. It was on the same side of the hall as the bathroom. Henry wondered what her bedroom looked like and how much he could learn about her from the way it was decorated.
No. Thinking that way was a natural reflex, and he would have to stop. A month-long flirtation might be nice, but not with the children around. Besides, if he fell for Elisabeth, he would prove Cynthia knew what was best for him. She didn’t. No one did.
No one knew what he needed, period.
Not that it mattered. It was just the way things were and had always been from the time he was a child. Henry shook aside the memories creeping into his mind.
He had to concentrate on the adventure and focus. He was here to be a farmer, not a boyfriend. Elisabeth might not be a teenager, but innocence shone in her eyes. This woman would expect a commitment, and that was something Henry wouldn’t make to anyone.
Marriage was to be avoided at all costs.
His father had said the same thing about love.
That was one piece of advice Henry had listened to.
There would never be another Mrs. Davenport.
His mother had been the last in a long line of power-driven, wealth-seeking, social-climbing women who married for the money-rich, love-poor lifestyle of a Davenport.
“And this”—Elisabeth stopped in front of a door with an Enter at Your Own Risk sign on it—“will be your room.”
The door opened. Abby sat at a desk, stacking comic books in the one clear space not covered with paper and clothing.
“Hello,” she said, then returned to the task at hand.
“Samuel Joseph Wheeler,” Elisabeth said, “I told you to clean your room.”
“It’s cleaner than it was,” Sam mumbled.
Henry gulped. He couldn’t imagine what the room had looked like before. The after picture was bad enough. It made the living room seem immaculate.
Stuff was everywhere. Piles, stacks, clutter, you name it.
Forget about looking lived-in. Messy described Sam’s room perfectly.
Disaster area worked, too. But Henry doubted any element of Mother Nature could be responsible for this amount of chaos.
It probably qualified for the Federal Disaster Relief Fund.
Elisabeth gathered pieces of paper from the floor. “I’ll be back after dinner to straighten it up.”
Straightening wouldn’t cut it. A dump truck was required to clean this place. There wasn’t a clear space from the door to the bed, and the only flat surfaces not covered with junk were the metal-frame bunk beds, but the top was a blow-up mattress that appeared to be half-deflated.
Elisabeth continued to clean. “You should be so ashamed by the condition of this room, Sam.”
“It’s not that bad.” Sam climbed onto the top bunk. “Better than the pink girlie-girl room I have to stay in.”
“I like pink,” Caitlin said.
Pink would be better than this. Lace curtains and baby dolls would be better than this. Think on the bright side. No need to pick up after yourself. That was one thing like home since Henry had a staff to do everything for him.
“Oh yeah.” Sam pointed at a four-foot-high vertical column with clothes hanging off the top and out the sides like a multicolored cascading fountain. “I cleaned out a drawer for you to use.”
So that was a dresser and not an abstract artwork of textiles and wood. Imagine that.
“We don’t have a guest room,” Elisabeth said.
“There’s always the barn,” Sam added, earning a glare from his big sister.
“It’s fine.” No matter how Henry felt about his accommodations, he didn’t want to hurt Elisabeth’s feelings.
It wasn’t her fault he’d underestimated Cynthia Sterling.
This was turning out to be more of an adventure than he ever thought possible.
He noticed Elisabeth’s forehead creasing with worry.
She didn’t seem to care that the action could create wrinkles. “Really.”
She smiled, and a warm feeling wrapped itself around Henry’s heart. “Why don’t you unpack while I fix dinner?”
A home-cooked meal. That would be a great way to end the first day of his adventure.
And if dessert turned out to be the pie in the kitchen with a scoop of vanilla ice cream…
oh man. He couldn’t wait. Whether or not he liked it, Elisabeth with her pretty face had wormed her way under his skin.
He hoped her cooking would do the same with his stomach and take his mind off the rest of her. “What’s for dinner?”
“Macaroni and cheese with hamburger.”
“My favorite,” Caitlin cried.
He searched for a polite word to describe the horrific thought running through his brain. “What a combo.”
His stomach agreed and launched an immediate protest. Henry had never eaten macaroni and cheese unless he counted fettuccine alfredo. Wasn’t it orange, and didn’t it come out of a box? He couldn’t fathom how to eat that with a hamburger. Wouldn’t a bun and macaroni be overkill on the grains?
“I’ll be sure to make enough for seconds,” Elisabeth said, heading toward the door.
“Great.” Henry forced a smile. Maybe someone delivered pizza out in the sticks. He did have twenty dollars.