When Hank arrived at home he was greeted by the aroma of food simmering on the stove, the warmth of a fire in the fireplace and the sound of a woman humming as she worked.
A man could get used to coming home to this.
He walked into the kitchen and was met with a cheery greeting and warm smile from Miss Whitman. Aunt Rowena was no doubt relaxing in the schoolteacher’s cat-free room at the boardinghouse.
After a quickly exchanged smile with Miss Whitman, he turned to the kids. “So, Alex, how was your first day of school here in Turnabout?”
The boy shrugged. “It was okay. Miss Whitman is a good teacher.”
Hank glanced up and met Miss Whitman’s smiling gaze. “I’m sure she is.”
The boy sat up straighter. “And guess what? She’s teaching a bunch of the kids at school how to do sign language, too, so they’ll all be able to talk to Chloe.”
Hank met her gaze again with a warm smile. “Is she, now? A whole bunch, huh?”
Miss Whitman’s cheeks turned pink. Nice to know he could have that effect on her.
“It’s purely voluntary,” she said, “but the majority want to participate.” She grinned. “The ones who normally wouldn’t be inclined to join in will be afraid of missing out on something fun.”
Then she turned back to Alex. “Don’t forget to tell your uncle about the choir.”
“Choir?”
Alex nodded. “The choir lady comes to the school three days a week to teach music. And she said I could join the children’s choir if I want to.”
“And you want to?”
Alex nodded again, more vigorously this time. “Lots of the kids are in it, even the boys.”
“Well then, I think it’s a good idea.” The kids might actually learn to feel at home in Turnabout after all. Or Alex, at least.
Hank turned to his niece. “And, Chloe, how was your day with Aunt Rowena?”
The girl just gave him a blank stare.
Miss Whitman nodded toward the slate. Hank obediently picked it up and wrote out his question.
Chloe read it and shrugged, then bent her head back down over the paper she’d been scribbling on. Was she deliberately shutting him out? Or was it just a normal thing for a girl her age?
He tried again. “What are you doing there?”
Hank grimaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. It was still hard to remember his niece couldn’t hear him.
He moved closer and looked over her shoulder. To his surprise, this was no childish scribble. It was a drawing of a dragonfly on a blade of grass, and while it was by no means perfect, it was obvious Chloe had a talent worth nurturing.
He tapped her shoulder to get her attention. When she looked up he laboriously signed out good picture.
Chloe watched his hand movements closely, a little furrow of concentration creasing her forehead. When he was done she glanced up to meet his gaze and gave a shy smile, then ducked her head and went back to her sketch.
He glanced up to see Miss Whitman smiling at him with approval. Why did such a simple act suddenly make him feel ten feet tall?
* * *
Janell was beginning to look forward to these few minutes when Mr. Chandler walked her home. It gave them time to talk privately about the progress the children were making, about his search for a wife and about nothing at all.
“Have you seen any of Chloe’s drawings?” he asked.
“Yes. They’re quite good for a child her age.”
“I think so, too. Why didn’t I see evidence of this talent before? I mean, I’ve noticed her scribbling but never paid attention to what she was actually creating.”
She touched his sleeve. “Don’t take yourself to task. You’ve had quite a few other things on your mind lately.”
He placed his hand on hers and gave it a light squeeze before releasing it. “That’s no excuse. I have vague memories of her hunched over a tablet of paper, scribbling away, but I never paid a bit of attention to what she was drawing. I just figured it was another way for her to avoid me.”
Janell dropped her hand from his arm, but her fingers still tingled from his touch. She tried to push away that thought. Much better to focus on how vulnerable he seemed at the moment. “But you have noticed now, so what matters is what you do with that knowledge.”
“I’ll encourage her, of course, and let her know how special her talent is.” He eyed her quizzically. “Is there something else you think I should do?”
“Mitch Parker, the teacher for the older students, is quite accomplished at sketching. I can ask him for resources that might be of interest to her if you like.”
He nodded, and then he changed the subject. “I see most of the shopkeepers in town have got on board with the decorating contest.”
Janell smiled. “For once I have to agree with Mayor Saunders. I think the decorations are very festive and cheery.” They were currently passing by the dress shop. “Like this one, for instance. That tree decorated with lace and sequins is quite pretty.”
The saddle and leather goods shop was next door and Hank nodded toward the lack of ornamentation. “At least Nate Cooper hasn’t succumbed yet.”
Janell grinned. “Just wait. Verity told me today of some ideas she has for it.”
He groaned, then changed the subject again. “Any progress on the wife hunt?”
She ignored the little twinge of dissatisfaction. She refused to think of it as jealousy. “Only to scratch another name off the list, I’m afraid.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Joan Wimple.” She watched him obliquely for signs of disappointment. Joan was a very pretty young lady with an infectious smile.
“What was it this time?”
“Joan is the oldest and only female of seven siblings. She’s been helping her mother raise her younger brothers most of her life. At the moment Joan’s more interested in a bit of freedom than in tying herself down with children.”
Mr. Chandler didn’t say anything but she thought she heard a smothered sigh.
“Don’t worry.” She almost put her hand on his arm again, but got hold of herself just in time, brushing at her skirt to hide the involuntary movement. “There are still other names on the list to check out.”
They’d arrived at the boardinghouse by this time. But for some reason Janell wasn’t ready to go inside just yet.
She paused on the top step of the porch and turned around to face him. “Your aunt is truly a selfless woman. I’m not certain I could have lasted this long, much less be willing to stay for another day and a half.”
Mr. Chandler nodded and leaned his shoulder against a support post. “She is a good, God-fearing woman. I’ve often thought it was a shame she never had kids of her own. I feel bad for putting her through this, even though she insisted.”
“No one can blame you for that. You’ve been put in a difficult position and are doing the best you can.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her quizzically for a moment. “I know why Aunt Rowena is going out of her way to help me. She’s family. What I can’t quite figure is why you’re going out of your way to help us.”
She held her head up, willing herself not to let him see that his question had flustered her. “Why, for Chloe and Alex, of course. Helping children is what I do. It’s what I’ve made my life’s work.”
“And that’s your only reason?”
“Of course.” Or at least it had been at the outset. In the past few days it had got a bit more complicated. But he didn’t need to know that.
He studied her silently for another long moment, and it was all she could do not to squirm under that steady gaze.
Finally he straightened. “Well, Aunt Rowena will be wondering what happened to me. I’d best be heading back home.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and nodded. “Good night, Mr. Chandler. Thank you for escorting me home.”
Janell watched him leave, an unsettled feeling jangling inside her.
This was ridiculous. Discounting the fact that he’d been a vague figure who happened to live in the same town as she did, Janell had known Mr. Chandler for less than a week. How could she be developing such strong feelings for him?
She’d known her ex-husband, Gregory, for more time than that, and look what had happened there.
No, she had to keep her distance, had to make certain they maintained a strictly platonic friendship.
But a little voice inside her whispered that it was already too late.
* * *
Hank stuffed his hands in his pockets as he headed home. He was convinced the very proper Janell Whitman wasn’t as cool toward him as she’d have him believe. He’d felt her reaction when he squeezed her hand earlier and he’d caught her watching him a time or two lately with unmistakable warmth.
So why was she being so stubborn about accepting his offer? Did he not measure up to her standards of what a husband should be? Even if she came from a wealthy background, she obviously led a fairly simple life now.
Or maybe it was something much simpler? She’d been harping on the fact that he shouldn’t be quite so abrupt and businesslike when he proposed to whatever candidate made it to the top of his list. Perhaps that was what she was looking for—a bit of romance.
He rotated his head from side to side, trying to ease some of the tension in his neck. He supposed he could court her a bit. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what his ultimate goal was, so it wouldn’t be deception. She, of all people in this town, knew exactly what his intentions were.
But just because he hadn’t been acting like some besotted mooncalf didn’t mean he couldn’t introduce a bit of romance into their relationship. At one time he’d played the part of the love-struck beau, courting a woman who’d gone and made a fool of him.
However, now he’d be doing it with open eyes and guarded emotions.
Yes indeed. If she wanted a proper courtship, he could definitely play the role.
The next morning he put his plan into motion. When he walked Alex to school, he made sure to compliment Miss Whitman on the color of her dress. He held her gaze for a couple of extra beats, just long enough to see her pupils expand. He also made a point of finding an excuse to touch her arm briefly and ask her opinion on a few trivial matters.
That afternoon he left the sawmill early, ostensibly to deliver firewood to the school. It put him in the position to be there while Janell was finishing up the day with the sign-language lessons, and then he could walk her and Alex home.
He caught her casting several confused glances his way. Was that a good sign? Was she warming to him at all?
If so, how long should he keep this up before he proposed again?
* * *
Janell wasn’t certain what to make of Mr. Chandler’s behavior. One minute she thought he was actually flirting with her and the next he seemed distant. Was it her imagination? Or was he just being gentlemanly?
Regardless of what it all meant, she had to hold fast to her resolve. Her peace of mind depended on it. But he wasn’t making it easy on her.
That evening, as he walked her back to the boardinghouse, Mr. Chandler opened their conversation with a question. “Are you sure Chloe is ready to go to school tomorrow?”
She heard the genuine concern in his voice and gave him a reassuring smile. “It depends what you mean by ready. She won’t want to go. She’ll be scared and uncomfortable and probably embarrassed. But if we waited until she actually wanted to go, she might never leave the house.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad I have you to help figure these things out. I’m not sure I could handle it on my own.”
“Trust me, you’d do fine. A lot of this is instinct and trial and error. I just have more experience, is all.”
“That’s no small advantage.”
Uncomfortable with his praise, she returned to the original topic. “I promise to make the transition as easy on Chloe as possible.”
“I know. That’s the only thing that makes this bearable.”
This was the last night his aunt would be around to watch the kids while he walked her home. Janell wondered if that meant this would be their last evening stroll together. If so, she realized she was going to miss them.
Not that she had any right to his time or his company. Even though her feelings toward him had changed significantly since she’d turned down his proposal, if he was to ask her again today her answer would have to be the same. The past she’d left behind her when she moved to Turnabout ensured that marriage—to any man—was not an option for her.
But for the first time since she’d moved here, she found herself sorely tempted.
The afternoon passed by much too fast, and before she knew it, they were once more at the foot of the boardinghouse steps.
“Thank you for escorting me home once again, Mr. Chandler.”
He gave her a small, crooked grin. “Don’t you think it’s time we used our given names?”
His question caught her off guard. “I don’t—”
“It’s what friends do. You do consider us to be friends, I hope.”
“Yes, of course—”
“Good. Then it’s settled. Good night, Janell.” And with that, he tipped his hat and turned back the way they’d come. The faint sound of masculine whistling floated back on the air toward her.
“Good night, Hank,” she said softly. Then she turned and slowly entered the boardinghouse.
He considered them friends, did he? That was both sweet and disappointing. Why did she want more when she knew she couldn’t do anything about it?
“Well, hello, dear.”
Janell paused with one foot on the stairs leading up to the second floor. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Ortolon. I’m sorry—I didn’t see you there.”
The woman gave a broad smile. “Not surprising. I could see your mind was elsewhere.” She waved toward the table in the entryway. “I just wanted to make sure you knew you received a letter. It’s from your sister, I believe.”
Janell obediently retrieved her letter. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting for this.”
“You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time at Mr. Chandler’s home since he returned with those two children on Saturday.”
Was Eunice trying to read something gossip-worthy in her actions? “I’m doing what I can to help him ease the children into their new home.”
“And that’s mighty charitable of you. And then giving up your room so poor Rowena could find some relief from that cat they brought with them. Why, that went above and beyond in my book.” She gave Janell an arch look. “I certainly hope Hank appreciates all you’re doing.”
She ignored the question, instead giving the woman a distracted nod. “I think I’ll head up to my room—I’m eager to read my letter. Good evening.”
There was no way she was going to hang around and let Eunice Ortolon drag information from her. But if Eunice had taken note of her time spent with Hank, perhaps another meeting with the city council was in order to nip any rumors in the bud.
Her lips twisted in a mirthless smile as she thought about the fact that rumors such as this were really minor when compared to the truth she’d worked so hard to keep hidden.
Then she sobered. Truth was, her reputation was something she was determined to guard closely. Much as she wished it were different, she’d never have a family of her own, so her job as schoolteacher was all she had.
And she’d do just about anything to protect it.