Chapter 20
The evening had cooled enough that Samson offered Maria his coat before they'd gone half a block, and she took it without much comment, which struck him as unlike her.
"You've hardly said a word since supper," he said.
"I'm tired," Maria said. "It was a long day."
"A good one, though, I thought. That bread was delicious." He glanced at her, hoping for the small pleased look she gave when he praised her, but her face stayed turned toward the road ahead. "Something the matter?"
"No," she said, too quickly for it to sit easy with him. "I'm only tired, like I said."
They walked on a while in silence, the street quiet around them, most of the town's windows gone gold with lamplight.
"How long do you think Ella means to stay?" Maria asked, finally, when they were most of the way to the guest house.
"I couldn't say. She hasn't mentioned leaving." Samson thought about it a moment. "Does it trouble you, having her here?"
"No," Maria said again, though something in the way she said it left him unconvinced. "I only wondered."
"I'll admit, I'm glad of the help," he said, meaning it as reassurance, meaning to tell her that Ella's presence made things easier and not that it made things harder.
"Especially while you're still learning the store, the customers, all of it.
It takes a weight off, having someone who already knows the way of things. "
Maria didn't answer that, and they reached the guest house gate with nothing more said between them, her quiet sitting there unresolved in a way that made him uneasy without his quite understanding why.
"You're sure nothing's wrong?" he asked again, at the gate.
"I'm sure," she said, and managed something like a smile, though it didn't fully reach her eyes. "Goodnight, Samson."
"Goodnight." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, the way he had the night before, and she let him, though something in the moment felt more careful than it had the previous evening, less easy.
He walked back toward the store telling himself it was only tiredness, the way she'd said, a long first week catching up with her all at once.
It made sense enough. He'd seen for himself how hard she'd worked the last few days, and exhaustion could make a person quiet in ways that had nothing to do with anything being wrong.
His thoughts turned to Ella as he walked, turning the day over.
She'd surprised him, if he was honest with himself.
He remembered her from Livvy's years, a woman who'd always seemed to want more than she had, quick to borrow money she was slow to return, restless in a way that used to worry Livvy more than she ever said aloud.
He'd expected, if he was honest, that whatever brought Ella all this way had some measure of her old restlessness and avarice behind it.
But she'd been nothing but useful today.
Steady, even. Knew the store better than he remembered her knowing anything, and good with the children in a way he hadn't expected either.
Perhaps losing Livvy had changed her, the way loss sometimes did, teaching a person the value of the things they'd taken for granted before.
Perhaps he'd misjudged her all these years, written her off as flighty when grief had simply not yet had its chance to settle and reshape her.
It was a comfortable thought, and Samson let himself hold onto it the rest of the walk home.