Chapter 12 #2
No one had told her to slow down since Amos died. There had been plenty of people willing to tell her she could not manage the inn alone, but none of them had suggested that perhaps she deserved to put her feet up for an afternoon.
Jonas watched her with the faintest hint of amusement.
Martha folded her arms. “You are impossible.”
“Is that a yes?”
She opened her mouth, then stopped.
Jonas raised his eyebrows.
The fact that she was actually considering it seemed to surprise her almost as much as his suggestion had.
The kitchen was quieter than usual. Only a few pots simmered on the stove, and the dining room beyond stood empty between meals. The week had brought fewer travelers than the one before. Even the front bell had remained silent for nearly half an hour.
Her gaze drifted toward the doorway, and he knew she was counting all of those things up as well.
“You mean a couple of hours?”
“That would be a start.”
Martha worried her lower lip.
Finally, she sighed. “If Eliza agrees.”
Jonas smiled. “I knew you were reasonable.”
“Do not make me regret it.”
She left him by the stove and crossed to the far end of the kitchen, where Eliza was measuring flour into a shallow bowl.
Jonas settled deeper into the chair Martha had ordered him into. His leg had begun to throb beneath the fresh bandage, a reminder that she had been right about the hay even if he had no intention of admitting it.
From where he sat, he could see most of the kitchen: the long worktable dusted with flour, copper pans hanging above the stove, and pale winter light coming through the window over the washbasin.
Martha stopped beside Eliza. “I need a favor.”
Eliza did not even look up from the scale. “Go.”
Martha planted one hand on her hip. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“You’re going to ask if I can manage the inn for a few hours while you rest.” Eliza tipped the measured flour into her bowl and glanced toward Jonas. “He looks far too pleased with himself, so I assume this was his idea.”
Jonas lowered his gaze to the book lying unopened on his lap, though not before he saw Martha look his way.
“He says I should take the afternoon off.”
“He’s right.”
“His judgment is questionable. He fell into a river.”
Jonas looked up. “I can hear you.”
Eliza laughed while Martha gave him a look that contained no apology whatsoever.
Then Eliza reached for the sugar crock. “I can handle the desk and supper preparations. The inn is quieter today, and if anything catches fire, I’ll send Percy to find you.”
“That is not especially reassuring.”
“It should be. Percy runs very quickly.”
Martha remained beside the table instead of leaving. Jonas expected another list of instructions about guest rooms or bread or the troublesome pantry latch, but her attention settled on Eliza instead.
“How is your life going?”
Eliza’s measuring spoon stopped halfway into the sugar.
Slowly, she turned her head. “My life?”
“Yes, your life.” Martha leaned her hip against the worktable. “You’ve had quite a bit to say about mine lately. I thought I might return the favor.”
Jonas watched Eliza’s face redden.
Martha saw it too.
Her expression brightened immediately. “There is someone.”
Eliza turned back to the bowl. “I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Martha.”
“Is there?”
Eliza stirred the flour and sugar together with considerably more attention than the task required. “Possibly.”
Martha’s smile widened. “Possibly a man?”
Eliza sighed, though Jonas could see the corner of her mouth twitch. “Yes. There is a man.”
He looked down at his book again. The conversation was becoming personal enough that listening felt intrusive, but the kitchen was too small to pretend he could not hear it.
Martha lowered her voice, though not quite enough. “And?”
“And nothing.”
“That is plainly untrue.”
The wooden spoon scraped around the bowl. Eliza added a pinch of salt before saying, “I may have judged him too quickly.”
Martha folded her arms. “What did you think of him before?”
“That he was rude.”
“And now?”
Eliza hesitated. “Now I think he is still rude.”
Martha laughed.
“But perhaps not only rude,” Eliza added, fighting a smile of her own.
Jonas found himself wondering who they were discussing. He knew enough men in Willow Crossing to believe Eliza’s description eliminated very few of them.
Martha seemed equally interested. “Has he said something to you?”
Eliza cast a glance toward the doorway before answering. “He’s made it fairly clear that he would like to court me.”
“And you would like him to?”
The spoon slowed.
Eliza stared into the bowl. When she spoke again, there was less embarrassment in her voice and more uncertainty. “I think I might.”
Martha’s teasing expression softened.
“The trouble is that people would have opinions,” Eliza continued. “A great many of them.”
“People always have opinions.”
“You know what Willow Crossing is like.”
Jonas certainly did.
Outside the kitchen, someone crossed the lobby, boots striking heavily against the floorboards. The front bell gave a single dull chime before the door closed again.
Eliza rubbed a streak of flour from the back of her hand. “It would cause trouble. For him too, not only me. Sometimes I think it would be easier not to start something everyone else is determined to make difficult.”
Martha was quiet for a moment.
When she answered, the humor had left her voice. “I’ve made choices other people didn’t agree with.”
Jonas’s attention lifted from the book.
Martha stood with one hand resting against the edge of the table, her face turned partly away from him.
“That doesn’t mean every choice I’ve made was wise,” she continued. “But there comes a point when you have to decide who is actually going to live with the consequences. The people gossiping about you won’t. You will.”
Eliza watched her closely.
“If this man is good to you,” Martha said, “and being with him makes you happy, then that matters more than whether Mrs. Harper has something interesting to discuss over tea.”
A laugh escaped Eliza before she could stop it.
“You make that sound simple.”
“It probably isn’t.” Martha reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”
Eliza’s expression warmed. “Thank you.”
Martha released her, but the curiosity returned almost at once. “Now, are you going to tell me who he is?”
Eliza picked up the flour scoop and pointed it at her.
“Go rest.”
Martha laughed and retreated before Eliza could make good on the threat.
Jonas was still smiling when she returned to him.
“You enjoyed that,” he said.
“Immensely.”
“You didn’t learn his name.”
“Not yet.”
There was enough determination in the answer that Jonas suspected Eliza’s secret would not remain one for long.
Martha looked down at his leg. “How is it feeling?”
“Better.”
“Truthfully?”
Jonas considered the steady ache beneath the bandage. “Better than it did an hour ago.”
She seemed willing to accept that.
“Good. Don’t move.”