An Undisturbed Peace by Mary Glickman Page A

the doorway of her kitchen. He pretended not to notice as she mimed instructions to her daughters with a desperation explained only by the fact that no matter how fresh, how dewy their cheeks, neither Bekka, Judith, nor Hannah were getting any younger. In the old country, it would have been scandalous to have them unmarried so long. Scowling, she communicated to the plump pretty one she must sit straight without fidgeting her feet, to the serious one she should turn up the corners of her mouth posthaste, and to the youngest to get her hair out of her mouth. Her hand then rested over her chest as if her mother’s heart twisted there on their behalf.
    The room turned still while Abe took his time to formulate a polite response to the farmer’s insistence. Breath was held all around. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound emerged. Tobias Milner pouted pleadingly, nodding encouragement. “Yes? Yes?” he said, softly, sweetly, as kittenish as his daughters. A multitude of considerations swarmed through Abe’s mind. On the one hand, if he delayed his rounds to stay overnight, that was one more night before he could return to Marian in the end and how he ached for her! On the other hand, if he stayed, Tobias Milner would be pleased and perhaps increase his invoice. These were Hart’s first days back on the road. Surely a horse coming back from injuries might welcome a solid night’s rest in cozy shelter. Cooking smells from the kitchen also enticed. It had been an American era since he’d eaten anything that resembled an old-fashioned family meal. He could ride harder and longer the following day, perhaps knock more than two farms off his list, if both he and his mount were better fed and slept well overnight. The three doting, squirming young women who leaned toward him in unison in a melting mass of feminine anticipation, waiting for an answer, pulled at him. How often had he the chance to immerse himself in not just womanly, but gentile attentions? He had to admit there was a dose of exotic spice added to the proposed dinner. Such an invitation would never have been extended back in London.
    He capitulated.
    â€œIndeed,” Abe said, nodding to the women with as much grace as if he had a plumed hat to doff and sweep in their direction, “if my poor company can brighten the spirits of three stars of the firmament which …”
    The ladies’ shoulders rose in expectant unison. Encouraged, Abe colored his many-hued phrase with a splash more purple.
    â€œâ€¦ already glimmer so impossibly as to near blind me. Yes, I shall stay on the single night, though I must be gone before the dawn or risk eternal bedazzlement!”
    Parental eyes widened, filial sighs sang. Abe congratulated himself on his sophistication.
    After the sisters occupied him by selecting various items out of his wares—a small brass candlestick for one, a paperweight of pressed daisies under glass for another, and a brush with a tortoiseshell handle for the last—dinner was served. The meal was as fine as he’d hoped. It was difficult to believe the family had not spent days preparing for him. The table sparkled with their treasures in crockery and cutlery. Esther troubled herself with a holiday roast although it was only a Wednesday in the middle of an unremarkable week. Besides the beef, she served mushroom soup and airy biscuits for sopping it up. There were carrots, turnips, and a tangy fruit stewed in the juice of the meat. When Abe complimented Esther on her expertise, she shared credit with her youngest. “Hannah’s the baker in this house,” she said. “She made the biscuits, and the honey cake that’s coming too.” Abe rephrased his compliments for the daughter in question, who grinned from ear to ear, then dropped her head in belated modesty.
    After dinner, the older girls got to shine. Bekka played a fiddle reasonably well, and Judith recited of a psalm of David,