17

Cassie stepped away from the worktable and brushed a smudge of flour from her cheek. Six rhubarb pies cooled on racks near the door to the dining room. If Mr. West thought she couldn’t do anything but bake pies, she’d make sure they were the best pies anyone ever tasted.

The muscles in her neck tightened when she heard his crutches tapping their way toward the kitchen. She slammed the lid on the flour bin and hastened to the sink, turning her back to the door.

Jenny shook soapy water from her hands and moved aside to make room for Cassie. “Sooner or later you’ll have to talk to him. I don’t know what happened last week, but I told you not to go out there.”

“Nothing happened.” She grabbed a dishrag and plunged her hands into the water. “He thinks my competence stops at the kitchen door, apparently. So we have nothing more to talk about.” She scrubbed at burned-on gravy in a skillet.

Mr. West crutched his way over to the sink. “The word is out about your baking.” He fished in his pocket and placed a sheet of paper in a dry spot next to the washbasin. “Here are orders from two households in town. They each want a whole pie.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” She flexed her aching shoulders and read the names without meeting his eyes. “Thanks to Jenny’s help, we’re keeping up.”

“I don’t do that much.” Jenny picked up a brush and stepped away to clean the cooled surface of the range.

He spoke close to Cassie’s ear. “Look at me. Please.”

She glanced at him sideways. The pleading in his eyes rattled her resolve to remain silent in his presence.

He moved his crutches in front of him, then shifted his weight and swung his good leg forward, bringing him closer to her side. His voice rumbled. “I know I’ve wounded you. Soon as we’re finished for the night, I’d like to drive you home in my buggy so I can explain.”

The scrub brush scratched over the range top. Jenny kept her back turned and appeared to be absorbed in scrubbing, but Cassie knew her ears were tuned to every word she and Mr. West said.

“That’s kind of you, but you know I live just across the street. It’s not a taxing walk.”

“We can take the long way around. I’ll have the buggy at the kitchen door a little before seven.”

To be fair, she should listen to what he had to say. She dried her hands on her apron. “All right. I’ll be ready.”

Cassie sensed Jenny’s gaze following her out the door as she threw her shawl over her shoulders and hurried to meet Mr. West. She couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say that could explain his actions.

He waited next to his horse and buggy, a rueful smile on his lips. “Forgive me for not helping you in. It’s all I can do to hoist myself up.” Supporting his weight on his crutches, he took her hand and held her steady while she put her foot on the step. After she settled on the leather seat, he made his way around the buggy and gathered the reins.

He placed his crutches at her feet and stepped up with his uninjured leg, then flung himself onto the seat. The buggy jounced when he landed. “Not polished, but effective,” he said, grinning.

She dared a smile back. “I can see you’ve practiced.”

“I wanted to be sure I could get in and out without falling.”

“I’d help you if you fell.”

“I believe you would.” His gaze locked with hers for a breathless moment before he guided the horse out of the alley and rolled south. Instead of turning toward her cabin, they traveled down Third Street, past the church and Rosemary’s home.

When they reached the street that paralleled the railroad, he stopped in front of a park across from the tracks. He pointed to the lattice-enclosed bandstand in the center of a grassy area. “If you like, we can walk over there and watch the sunset before I take you home.”

After glancing at his right leg, which he had stretched as straight as possible on the buggy floor, she shook her head. “It would be a bit difficult for you to get out and in again, wouldn’t it? I’m comfortable right here.” Next to you, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

“Miss Haddon . . .” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared about my welfare. Takes some getting used to.”

He’d given her the perfect opportunity. She drew a deep breath and turned to face him. “Your welfare was the reason I took it upon myself to make the entries in your ledger. I could understand your reaction if I’d made mistakes, but you said there were no errors.”

His head jerked up. “You surprise me with your boldness.”

“I surprise myself sometimes.” She rubbed her sweating palms on her skirt. She’d gone too far to back down now. “You said you would explain. I’m listening.”

Mr. West leaned against the seat back and fixed his eyes on the horizon. He spoke in a monotone, as if reciting from memory. “Before the war, a man named Colin Riley loaned me the money to open my business. He trusted me, so I trust him. Aside from that, I learned a long time ago to depend upon few people. So, I work alone.” A corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile when he met her gaze. “Change comes hard, but if you’ll bear with me, I’m willing to try.”

She released a long breath. “You weren’t angry with me?”

“No. But it would have been better if you’d asked first.”

“How could I? You weren’t at work.”

His brows drew together, then his lips twitched. After a moment a husky chuckle erupted. “You’ve got me there. I’m not practiced with ladies—that must be obvious.”

She straightened her skirt as a pretense to move an inch or so closer. “I like you just as you are.” Her hand flew to her lips. Of all the bold things to say. Why couldn’t she learn to think before she spoke? “I . . . I mean, you don’t have to act in any special way.” Oh, goodness, that was worse. She turned her head, certain that her face must match the color of the rosy sunset.

“So you wouldn’t mind if we spent more time together?”

“Mind? Of course not.” This was the moment she’d dreamed of—to sit beside Jacob and listen to his deep voice express his feelings for her.

“Good.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I have a question for you, but I want you to think before you answer.”

Cassie thought she’d swoon from joy. Here’s where he’d ask if he could court her. She drew in a breath. “What’s the question?” Her heart trip-hammered while she waited for his response.

“If I hire a girl to help you, would you be interested in operating a bakery from the restaurant kitchen, just for your pies? Of course I’d increase your salary.”

“What!?” Her voice rose to a squeak.

“I thought about this all last night. You’ve shown a good head for numbers, so you can keep your own records. We’d meet at the end of the day and I’d enter the totals in my ledger.”

She felt like sinking through the floor of the buggy. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her thoughts—her words had been bad enough. Speechless, she released his hand and scooted toward her side of the buggy seat.

He leaned toward her. “I know this is sudden. Take as long as you need to answer.”

Moments ticked by while she struggled to form a response. Despite her dismay at the turn their conversation had taken, his proposition sounded appealing. She enjoyed the clockwork timing of baking pies between scheduled mealtimes. With a little rearranging, she and Jenny could make the kitchen a more efficient place to work. And with an extra helper she could handle more orders.

She dipped her head toward her lap. A few months ago, she hadn’t known she possessed the ability to bake a single pie, much less take orders and sell them. The Lord had blessed her. She couldn’t let embarrassed pride stand in her way.

Jacob shifted on the seat. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am. Thank you for the opportunity.” She kept her head down, lest he see the disappointment in her eyes. How silly she’d been to think he wanted anything more than a business relationship.