A tantalizing blend of cooking smells from downstairs prompted a smile as Diana exited her bedroom late the next morning. More of her favorites, no doubt. Millie, bless her heart, always made sure that whenever her charge came home, there’d be a steady supply of dishes and baked goods Diana especially liked. But since this was no mere visit, a bit of discretion might be prudent. Too much indulgence, and soon enough, none of her gowns would fit.
Passing the older woman’s bedroom, next door to hers, Diana couldn’t help but note the homey quality. So different from the cloudlike rose-and-white frills that made up her own domain, the bright, warm colors in Millie’s room invited a person to come in, sit down, linger. She admired the reds, yellows, and blues of a Log Cabin quilt draped over the walnut sleigh bed, the complementing hues in the shirred curtain. The coziest cushioned rocker occupied the corner. A last wistful glance, and she continued toward the staircase a few yards away.
But instead of going down, an impulse took Diana beyond them, to her parents’ quarters at the end of the hallway. She stopped respectfully in the open doorway, as if visiting a museum or the bed chamber of one of America’s founding fathers, feeling like an intruder.
Immaculate, as always, the room appeared ready for occupancy at a moment’s notice, with hand-crafted furniture proof of Nathaniel Harmon’s incredible talents. Sunshine glinted across the emerald and ivory satin coverlet on the four-poster bed, lighting upon the cut glass trinket dish on the carved wooden bureau and scattering miniature rainbows about the pristine walls. A plush Oriental carpet’s intricate pattern graced the floor. Such splendor, Diana thought sadly, and no one here to see or enjoy the beauty. She would never understand why. Hiking her chin, she turned and retreated to the stairs, clutching her lavender-striped dimity skirts in both hands as she descended.
“Mmm. Something smells delicious,” she said, upon reaching the kitchen, where fat cinnamon rolls cooled on the sideboard, creamy icing trailing down their puffy edges.
Stirring a pot of porridge at the hearth, Millie turned. “Good morning, Dear. Sleep well?”
“Like a dream.” She took the spot awaiting her at the table.
“Good. Perhaps you’d like to run a few errands with me, then.” Ladling out some oatmeal, she carried the bowl to Diana, then brought over a pitcher of milk.
“Thank you, Millie. I doubt I’ll ever be the cook you are.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Child. All a body needs is practice.” She replaced the lid over the pot.
Spreading the linen napkin across her lap, Diana bowed her head for grace, knowing the housekeeper would expect that much. Even the school kept up that ritual, though it didn’t carry much significance for Diana. She had difficulty with the concept of a loving Father. “What sort of errands?” she finally asked, pouring milk over the hot cereal.
“Oh, I wanted to take some baked goods to Charlotte Warner.”
“The widow down the street?”
Millie’s gray head nodded. “The old dear sprained her ankle a few days ago. Of course, she’s much too self-reliant to allow anybody to do things for her, whether she’s hobbling around or not. But she’s so good about fixing meals for others, even making sure if there’s a prisoner at the sheriff’s place the fellow has a decent supper. About time somebody does her a kind turn. She shouldn’t find fault with a couple cinnamon buns.”
Chewing thoughtfully, Diana had to agree. “I’d be more than happy to tag along.”
“Splendid. And since I made so many, I’ll take a few to the Tidewells while I’m at it. That nephew of theirs about eats them out of house and home when he comes in from working at Nate Harmon’s.”
The oatmeal suddenly tasted like straw. Brady Forbes, with that quick wit and smart mouth of his, had embarrassed her to no end on her last visit. Just as she arrived at the sewing circle, she caught the cad doing an exaggerated impression of her. She could still hear the stifled giggles and snickers from the other girls at Mrs. Tidewell’s gathering, and she didn’t relish being the butt of his jokes again any time soon.
Not picking up on Diana’s discomfort, Millie whipped off her big apron without missing a beat. “Edna promised to let me borrow a new crochet pattern that came all the way from Philadelphia, too. While you finish eating, I’ll just run upstairs for my bonnet, make sure I don’t have flour on my nose. Shouldn’t be more than a minute.”
“Take your time,” Diana mumbled in the housekeeper’s talkative wake.
But Millie turned out to be amazingly spry for someone of her age and returned to the kitchen before a single minute had gone by. She removed two baskets from the cupboard and filled them with baked goodies, spreading a checked cloth over top of each. “There. All ready. We’d best hurry. My old bones feel a storm coming.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” No longer hungry since Millie mentioned visiting the home of Brady Forbes, Diana left the remains of her breakfast and rose. She washed her hands on a damp rag and hastened after the housekeeper.
“The shawl you wore yesterday should do nicely,” Millie suggested, plucking it and Diana’s straw bonnet from a hook in the entry and handing them over. With no further ceremony, the two of them stepped out into the crisp morning, baskets looped over their forearms.
The Widow Warner’s small dwelling, a few houses down Birch Street, sported an uncustomary light coat of dust on the porch, evidence that the woman’s mishap had slowed her down. But greenery in the flowerbeds on either side promised a bounty of geraniums to come, now that winter was but a memory and summer just around the corner. Millie rapped softly.
“Come in,” came the labored reply.
“It’s Mildred,” the housekeeper announced as they entered the dimly lit cabin, “and our Diana, come to visit. How are you getting along, Charlotte?”
“Oh, fair to middlin’,” the slight widow responded from the padded rocking chair where she sat tatting lace, her brownish hair askew, the heavily splinted ankle propped on a pillowed footstool. A thin fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden glow over plain, but serviceable furnishings. “Set a spell.” She gestured to the faded settee and smiled as they sat down. “Don’t mind sayin’, it’s been kinda lonesome around here lately. Seems odd not to be up and about the way I’m used to. My backside is purely tired of stayin’ in one spot.”
“I’d imagine. You are a person who keeps hopping.” Millie paused. “I thought you might enjoy some sweets. You know me, always making too much.”
“Yes, and I do appreciate your kindness, Millie.” She switched her attention to Diana. “Home for the summer again, Child?”
“No, to stay this time,” she answered. “I’ve finished my schooling, and my aunt back East has passed on.”
“Well, the town can always do with another young face,” Mrs. Warner said kindly. “‘Specially one pretty as your’n.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Millie affirmed, precluding Diana’s response.
Diana averted her attention to some samplers and embroidered proverbs on the walls while the two older women chatted for a time about local happenings.
“Can I fix you some tea while I’m here?” the housekeeper eventually asked.
“Thank you, no. Just finished a pot. Thought it might help keep me awake, since settin’ around makes a body sleepy.”
“Well, then, we shan’t keep you from your rest.” Standing, Millie moved to put the basket within the widow’s reach. “We’ve a few more errands to run before the sky completely clouds over. We’ll come by again real soon.”
“God bless you, Mildred, little Diana. Many thanks.”
Neither spoke for several moments after taking their leave. Then Diana broke the silence. “I wonder if Mrs. Warner would like one of us to drop in and read to her now and then, while she’s laid up, I mean. Since she can’t get out at all, her days must seem overlong.”
Millie beamed at her. “Why that’s a splendid idea. Wouldn’t seem so much like we were keeping a close eye on her that way. I do worry about the old gal, seeing as how she’s by herself so much.”
“Then let’s look through Daddy’s library when we get home and see what we can find.” Though she had never done anything of that nature before, Diana actually found herself anticipating the possibility of reading to a shut-in. She’d always gotten along with older people. Somehow they didn’t seem so critical and judgmental as people nearer her own age.
But as she and Millie neared the parsonage, the elation faded. Would he be around?
“New steps,” the housekeeper remarked with an appreciative eye when they started up to the porch. “No one can accuse young Mr. Forbes of not being handy. Those old ones were starting to sag in the middle.”
The front door opened before they knocked. “Saw you two comin’, I did,” short Mrs. Tidewell informed them. “Come in. Come in.” The woman’s little round face had a glow about it that Diana always found endearing.
“We can’t stay long,” Millie said. “Just brought over some cinnamon buns from this morning’s baking. Thought perhaps that nephew of yours might appreciate them when he comes home at noon.”
Brady’s dark-haired head peeked around the kitchen door at the opposite end of the room. “Is that what I’m smelling? Let me at ’em.”
Diana’s pulse thudded to a stop when, grinning broadly and rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he crossed the expanse between him and his aunt in a few long strides. His presence somehow made the air around them seem charged, as if a thunderstorm were directly overhead, though why he had that effect on her was a mystery. After all, it wasn’t as if she was interested. Anything but.
Mrs. Tidewell bestowed a proud smile on him and slipped an arm about his trim waist. “Brady came home a little early today, since he’s in the middle of some project or other that needs long, involved work this afternoon.” A light dawned over her sweet features. “In fact, the two of us were just about to sit down to dinner. Noah’s visiting some of our sick folk in the outlying areas. We’d love to have you join us.”
No! Diana pleaded silently, her gaze studiously avoiding his. She’d only just had breakfast a short while ago, even if she hadn’t consumed all of it.
“Well,” Millie hedged, “I did have a few more things to do before we head home, but the sky doesn’t look too threatening just yet. We’d be glad to stay.” With that, she shrugged out of her shawl, then waited for Diana to do the same.
Moments later, they gathered around the long, linen-covered table in the dining room, Mrs. Tidewell and Millie occupying the end chairs. Diana and Brady sat opposite one another on the sides. A hearty beef vegetable soup and crusty hot buns with butter lay before them. Diana tried to focus on that and the tidy familiarity of the parsonage in general, while she picked at the food.
“We’re so happy you’ve come back to us, Diana,” the minister’s wife gushed. “All finished with school now?”
Diana swallowed the bite of roll she’d been chewing. “Yes, Ma’am. I won’t be returning to Boston.”
“Splendid. The girls will love having you at the sewing circle again.”
“Should make for a livelier group,” Brady said.
Having caught the teasing glint in his eyes, Diana lowered her lashes and concentrated on her meal.
“Well, it certainly is much livelier at home,” Millie admitted. “Not so many echoes, and I don’t feel I’m rattling around in all that empty space anymore.”
“You know? Noah and I felt the same when our Brady came to us,” Mrs. Tidewell said wistfully. “Just having him here made us feel young again. I can barely remember what our life was like before that. And he’s so good about repairs. This old house has never been in better shape. All one has to do is mention something needing attention, and he does it.”
Detecting a slight puffing out of the manly chest across from her, Diana gave intent consideration to repositioning the napkin on her lap.
“I’d imagine Nate Harmon keeps you pretty busy, then, Brady,” Millie said, offering the plate of rolls to her friend’s nephew.
“Thanks.” He helped himself. “Yes, he keeps me hopping.”
Relief flickered through Diana. Perhaps his job would keep him too occupied to pop in during sewing sessions. Even diminish the chance of running into him elsewhere. If so, living at Hickory Corners probably wouldn’t be so tiresome after all.
“I still have a little time for other projects, though,” he said. “Something in particular you need done?”
“Now that you mention it, yes. But there’s no real hurry. Perhaps sometime when you have a spare minute or two you might stop by and check the roof. I noticed a damp spot on the ceiling after the last rainstorm.”
Diana’s gaze shot to him just in time to see a broad grin spread across his face.
“Sure thing. Be glad to.”
“Oh, good. When you come by, I’ll take you right to it. In the upstairs bedroom. The one on the left.”
But that’s my room! Diana’s heart gave a lurch. Even if she wasn’t likely to endure his presence at the sewing circle, or chance meeting him in public, the clod was coming to her own private domain. She felt warmth rise over her cheekbones.
“I’ll try to come over one day this week, Miz Sanderson,” he promised. “Of course, I don’t have much experience with roofing, but I should be able to figure out the problem.”
“I’d appreciate that. And so will Diana, since the problem concerns her room.”
“Ah. In that case, I’ll make it a top priority.” The man had the audacity to flash a wink at Diana.
Suddenly devoid of even the hint of an appetite, she sank back against the chair’s spindles, no longer caring whether her spine had the proper arch.
“Might I offer everyone some apple tarts?” Mrs. Tidewell asked, rising to clear the dishes. “Made fresh just this morning.”
“They do sound tempting,” Millie confessed. “You know the weakness I’ve always had for those little pies of yours.”
“Good. I’ll be just a second.” With that, she toted away the soiled things.
“I’ll help, Aunt Edna.” Brady carted to the kitchen what she couldn’t carry. He returned with a stack of plates, which he set out with a flourish one by one, his unrelenting gaze lingering a touch overlong when he placed Diana’s.
His aunt brought in a platter of folded, golden-brown pastries and passed them around before pouring tea into everyone’s cups.
“Excellent, as always,” the housekeeper commented shortly, smacking her lips. “Just excellent. I must try this recipe sometime.”
“There’s none easier,” the minister’s wife told her. “Oh, and don’t forget, I promised to let you borrow the new pattern I received the other day. You can adjust the stitch count to make either doilies or scarves.” She tilted her head at Diana. “You crochet as well, I believe?”
“Yes, but it’s not my favorite pastime.”
“What is, Miss Montclair?” Brady challenged, obviously endeavoring to maintain a straight face. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She met those taunting indigo eyes evenly. “I particularly enjoy going to the symphony or visiting museums … neither of which is available at Hickory Corners, of course.”
“Of course. Well, we’ll have to come up with something to provide you with a few pleasant diversions then.”
Diana opened her mouth to issue a crisp retort, but Millie rose at that instant. “I do thank you, Edna, for your hospitality. We had a delightful visit.”
The minister’s wife smiled. “Always a pleasure to be in your company. And Diana. So nice to have you back home again. Please don’t be a stranger. We hope to see much more of you at church. And don’t forget the sewing circle.”
Blotting her lips on the napkin, Diana stood to her feet and smiled sweetly as she and Millie went to put on their wraps and take their leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Tidewell. I’ll definitely make time to visit with the other girls.”
“My little group is changing so quickly,” the older woman mused. “Three of the dear girls married already, one with a baby, another in the family way. But we still relish our sewing sessions. Of course, we don’t always labor over quilts or items for hope chests these days. Nowadays it can be a wedding dress, a baby blanket, what have you.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to being part of the circle again.”
“And I’ll look forward to more of that fudge you used to bring,” Brady called from the dining room.
With a disbelieving roll of her eyes, Diana followed the housekeeper outside. The man was worse than the mosquitoes of summer. There was just no getting rid of him.