There. Good as new, almost.” Avoiding Diana’s eyes, Brady climbed down the ladder in her bedroom, a white-tipped paintbrush still in his hand.
Diana watched him from the padded rocking chair where she’d sat embroidering, a few feet away, aware that her presence made him uncomfortable. Tiny dots of white speckled the strands of his dark brown hair and the bridge of his nose, adding even more appeal to his square-jawed face. He made quite a sight in that faded cambric shirt and trim-fitting trousers. Despite herself, she couldn’t help gawking at him or enjoying it. The very thought warmed her cheeks. “You do excellent work, Brady. Thank you.”
With nothing but a lackluster grin, he bent over and began rolling up the oilcloth protecting the floor beneath the work area. “I’d keep the windows open the rest of the day so the fumes don’t give you a headache.”
Diana already had a headache, and it had nothing to do with the smell of new paint. Aside from a few wordless glances in her direction while he worked, Brady had studiously ignored her since her first stroll with Martin Crabtree last week. He hadn’t even dropped in on the sewing circle for baked treats. The uncharacteristic silence bewildered her. She missed his easy smile, his funny remarks. More than that, she missed the new friend she thought she’d found in him. Had someone told him to mind his place around her? Had it been Martin?
While Brady had been occupied covering the water stain on her ceiling, she’d tried to picture Martin doing something enterprising like repairing a leaky roof or repainting a ceiling. But the widow’s son had hands even whiter and softer than Diana’s. Most likely if the young attorney were to be faced with such needs around the home, he’d have to hire the work done for him, as her father did.
That had been her own mind set, until coming home to stay. How different things were here. Everyone appeared self-reliant and competent enough to handle most tasks. Not only would folks in town not pay someone to do common repairs, but they would also help each other out, when possible, with no charge for the service. Being neighborly, they called it, a term Diana appreciated more each day.
The roll of oilcloth under his arm, paint supplies in hand, Brady gave a tight-lipped smile on his way to the hall. “Stay dry, Diana.”
“You too. Don’t fall off any ladders.” But her attempt at levity drew no response whatever. “Thank you,” she repeated lamely as he clomped downstairs.
Diana gave a resigned sigh and put down the bookmark she was embroidering for Elsa, the last of three she’d made to surprise her sewing circle partners. She couldn’t let it pass, this—whatever it was—between her and Brady. She had to learn what was amiss.
She found the kitchen deserted on her way through, but the scent of Millie’s scones lingered. No doubt the housekeeper had taken some over to Charlotte Warner. Though the widow’s sprained ankle had healed well enough, she’d caught a chill a few nights past and was abed once again.
Exiting the house through the kitchen, Diana spied Brady in the backyard, putting away the paint things. His none-too-quiet movements and the closing of the squeaky shed door masked the sound of her footsteps as she approached. Just what she’d hoped, since she hadn’t an inkling what to say.
Brady secured the latch and turned. Indigo eyes focused on her, and his dark brows flared high. “Did I forget something upstairs?”
Why did he seem so much taller up close? Diana swallowed. She shook her head.
A frown etched a pair of grooves above his nose. “Then what is it?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering.” Feigning bravado to conceal her quivering insides, she schooled her expression to remain calm.
With a grimace, Brady ran spattered fingers through his hair. “Look, Diana, I’m kinda busy right now. If there’s something you need me to do, spit it out. Otherwise, I gotta get back to work.” He shot a sidelong glance toward the Crabtrees’ house. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep His Loftiness waiting. It’s probably time for your little stroll.”
Her jaw gaped. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” she asked incredulously.
The tips of Brady’s ears reddened. With an offhanded shrug, he shifted his stance. “Well, it’s not exactly a secret, you know. The whole town watches the two of you strolling the riverbanks together every day.”
“We are not together every day.” But even as she defended herself, Diana fought to temper the offense caused by his remark. She placed her hands on her hips. “And I’ve only gone walking with Martin twice … not that it’s any of your concern.”
He raised a hand in concession. “Forgive me. You’re right. It’s none of my business who you spend time with. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Montclair, I have to get back to the shop. Some of us common folk must work for our living.”
Diana elevated her chin and arched an eyebrow. “Well, far be it from me to detain you,” she flung back in her haughtiest tone. “I’ve neglected my needlework too long as it is. I … I just—” Her shoulders sagged, and she softened her voice. “I just missed the friendship I thought we shared. Excuse me.” Snatching her skirts in both hands, she bolted for the house before completely humiliating herself by bursting into tears in front of him.
Inside, she sagged against the door. What made her think she needed Brady Forbes anyway? Widow Crabtree was probably right. If Diana ever wanted to be accepted in her parents’ world, she’d be wiser to cultivate a relationship with a man they’d approve of.
“My, but you’re quiet today, Diana,” Mrs. Tidewell remarked the next afternoon. Reading silently in the rocking chair, she closed the Bible, but kept a finger in place.
“Most likely has her head in the clouds,” Elsa said on a teasing note. “Strolls along the river, drinking in the beauties of approaching summer … I remember when I first fell in love.” A dreamy smile curved her lips.
Diana stopped stitching. The whole town did know of her walks with Martin. But just what was everyone saying about the two of them? “I assure you, I am not in love,” she insisted.
Directly across from her, Samantha regarded her but did not speak as she exchanged significant glances with her cousin Betsy. It never ceased to puzzle Diana the way those two always had their heads together … especially whenever Martin Crabtree’s name cropped up in conversation. Frowning inwardly, she worked harder at her stitches.
She’d spoken the truth about not being in love. Nevertheless, Martin gave the distinct impression he was concocting some sort of scheme. He’d dropped hints on their last walk, regarding the possibility of a future for the two of them. As tempting as the idea appeared on the surface, Diana wasn’t completely convinced she wanted to deepen their relationship. She certainly didn’t know the man well enough to consider marriage, if that’s what he had in mind. She hadn’t even written to her parents to let them know she was interested in anyone. Likely they’d be relieved if she were no longer their responsibility.
On the other hand, if she did marry Martin, it would effectively get her out of Hickory Corners, back to civilization. Away from disturbing thoughts of Brady Forbes. Wasn’t that what she’d been hoping for?
Gradually, from the background, Mrs. Tidewell’s voice overpowered Diana’s contemplations. “… So I thought I’d pass on some verses I’ve been reading about wisdom,” she said, opening her old Bible once again. “In the fourth chapter of Proverbs, Solomon refers to wisdom as the ‘principal thing.’ I’ll begin at the first verse.”
Listening to the Biblical admonishment to seek after wisdom, Diana became even more perplexed. How could one be sure if a particular choice would be considered wise? She remembered that Millie often prayed about things. Perhaps therein lay the secret. Tonight at bedtime, Diana would ask God for wisdom. Somehow even the thought itself comforted her, and her spirit breathed a wordless petition on the spot.
After the gathering, Elsa hurried away to tend her son, and Betsy drove off in her wagon. Diana and Samantha took a turn helping Mrs. Tidewell restore order to the parsonage. Exiting when they’d finished, Samantha started toward the mercantile, but halted abruptly and turned back. “Diana? Wait.”
Diana stopped until the fair-haired girl came to join her. “What is it?”
Samantha released a troubled breath. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Betsy says you’ll think I’m prying into your personal affairs. But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“About Martin.”
Diana stiffened. Samantha had once kept company with the young attorney herself. But she was married now. Was she actually jealous that Martin was lavishing attention on someone else?
“I got a letter from Clara a few days ago,” Samantha said, her words tumbling out of her like water over a fall. “You remember her, don’t you? Clara Bucey? She used to be part of the sewing circle, only she left Hickory Corners to visit some out-of-state relatives. Now she’s decided to stay and live in New York.”
“Yes,” Diana said, trying to make some sense out of the one-sided conversation.
Samantha caught her lower lip in her teeth as if struggling over how to go on. “Well, it seems Martin’s going to relocate in New York City; did you know that?”
“I thought his practice was in Capital City.”
“Yes, it is. Or was. He’s gotten a new position, in a rather prestigious law firm back East. That’s why he’s here. To settle his affairs, sell his mother’s house, and pack up. He’ll be taking her along, of course.”
Diana shook her head. “I don’t understand. He’s mentioned nothing of that to me. Nothing at all. Well, he did hint of some change coming up, and how I might be a part of it.…”
“Don’t trust him, Diana. He’s a real bounder. He gives all the girls in town the eye when you’re not around. He’s always been like that. Take it from someone who knows.”
“But … but he seems the perfect gentleman when he’s with me,” Diana insisted. “So sincere.”
Samantha grimaced. “Martin Crabtree hasn’t a sincere bone in his body. I might as well tell you the rest. Clara says he’ll be working for her uncle … and that one of the stipulations for securing that lofty position is marriage to her spinster cousin.”
“So, I’m what one might call a ‘last fling,’” Diana said in a flat tone.
“More like a way out, I’d venture to say. He’s told Clara’s uncle he’s practically engaged to someone ‘back home.’”
“Me.”
Samantha nodded. “But believe me, the only person Martin loves is himself. He’s positive all women find him irresistible, so he uses that. He always has. I just thought you needed to be told, in case …” She bit her lip again, letting the unfinished thought dangle.
Searching her friend’s eyes, Diana sensed she’d spoken from her heart. There was no reason not to trust her. Stepping nearer, she gave Samantha a hug. “Thank you. I appreciate your telling me that. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
“I just couldn’t bear having him hurt one more of my friends,” she returned, blinking against gathering tears.
Diana couldn’t speak. She smiled instead, and with a nod, turned and walked home.
To her dismay, her handsome neighbor waited on the porch. Diana’s stomach lurched.
“Ah,” he said smoothly. “The fair mistress of the house returns at last. Would you care to come strolling? I’ve something of import to ask you.”
Forcing a smile, Diana effected her most refined posture. “Thank you, no, Martin. I’m afraid I’ve promised not to see you again.”
His features fell flat. “Promised whom?”
“Why, Brady Forbes, of course,” she blurted, then decided a fabrication ought to be elaborate enough to be believed. “Just last evening he asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
“Forbes!” Martin spat. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.” Smiling gaily, she pranced up the steps and took hold of the door handle, opening it as she spoke. “Good day, Martin. All the best in your new life … in New York.” With that she sailed inside.
Right into a grinning Brady Forbes.