should avoid her, and yet here he was, at two o’clock in the afternoon, sprucing up to meet Dr. Letitia Morgan.
During the past two weeks, he’d done everything possible to forget the lovely bird that had alighted in town. But the more he tried to dodge thoughts of Letty, the more tenacious they grew.
Her violet scent spoke of gentle femininity, and her sweet smile charmed its recipient. Dr. Morgan was a lovely woman indeed.
And he was fool enough to seek out the confounded woman again.
He’d offered to help her with the typewriter, and he doubted the determined doctor would forget his offer. That being the case, he’d decided to get the ordeal over and done with as soon as possible. Then he could concentrate on avoiding her altogether.
Ignoring Marmie’s persistent purring, Eric dusted off the marmalade cat hairs clinging to his trouser legs. He rubbed her head,collected his bowler from the table by the front door, and went out into the crisp, winter afternoon. He hitched the chestnut mares to his black rig, then headed into town. Reasons to turn back filled his mind. So did visions of Letty.
He tethered the buggy at the post outside the doctor’s home. After straightening his black coat, he strode up to the door and knocked.
He wondered if he’d find her with patients. When he received no response, he knocked again and waited. Perhaps she’d gone on a call. Then the door flew open.
“Sorry!” Letty called out, rushing back down the hall and into the kitchen. “Do come in. Please. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Eric entered, puzzled. What was she doing?
In the interest of good manners, he took a seat in one of the mismatched chairs in the parlor. But to his dismay, she didn’t return. Instead, he heard running footsteps, barely audible mutters, strange striking sounds, and odd rustles.
“Ouch!” she cried. “Oh, no. No, sir. This time you won’t get away.”
Was she treating some particularly resistant patient? Surely not. Letty would never speak in that tone to anyone in need of medical assistance. Eric had seen her with Steven, Slosh, and Mrs. Miller, and she’d always been respectful, concerned, solicitous.
“Come back here, you . . . you scalawag, or I’ll . . . I’ll . . . oh, I don’t know what I’ll do!”
Eric stood. He was intrigued—no, he was plain curious. Who was she chasing in the kitchen? Blast manners and all that. He had to take a look.
As he hurried down the hall, a loud thump made him speed even more. At the door to the kitchen, he came to a halt. The goings-on made Eric laugh. Sieve in hand, Letty was trying to scoop up a yellow chick. Quick as she was, the baby bird managed to be just that much quicker.
As he approached the hunter and her prey, he heard a chorusof peeps from a crate near the cookstove. There he counted four more balls of yellow down. “Why would you want five chicks, Dr. Morgan?”
“Eric!” She straightened and fussed with her hair and her skirt. Her cheeks turned a bright pink. A brown curl caressed her ear, and a longer one dangled a hairpin across her shoulder.
Fists on her hips, Letty turned. “Can’t you see I’m trying to catch that imp? I won’t abide him soiling my kitchen floor.”
Eric stifled another chuckle, knowing she wouldn’t abide his mirth right then, either. “No,” he said, “I should say not. No self-respecting physician would tolerate a soiled kitchen floor.”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “My reckless mouth triumphs once again. Mother despaired of ever making me a lady, so I stopped trying and became a doctor—” she grimaced “—and a spinster, as she so often predicted I would.”
The logic in the comment escaped Eric, but he read pain on her face. “Here,” he said, doffing his coat. “What if I help you corner your scalawag?”
She swatted at the hairpin swirling over her shoulder and aimed sparkling eyes at him. “Well,” she responded, “it would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Eric
During the past two weeks, he’d done everything possible to forget the lovely bird that had alighted in town. But the more he tried to dodge thoughts of Letty, the more tenacious they grew.
Her violet scent spoke of gentle femininity, and her sweet smile charmed its recipient. Dr. Morgan was a lovely woman indeed.
And he was fool enough to seek out the confounded woman again.
He’d offered to help her with the typewriter, and he doubted the determined doctor would forget his offer. That being the case, he’d decided to get the ordeal over and done with as soon as possible. Then he could concentrate on avoiding her altogether.
Ignoring Marmie’s persistent purring, Eric dusted off the marmalade cat hairs clinging to his trouser legs. He rubbed her head,collected his bowler from the table by the front door, and went out into the crisp, winter afternoon. He hitched the chestnut mares to his black rig, then headed into town. Reasons to turn back filled his mind. So did visions of Letty.
He tethered the buggy at the post outside the doctor’s home. After straightening his black coat, he strode up to the door and knocked.
He wondered if he’d find her with patients. When he received no response, he knocked again and waited. Perhaps she’d gone on a call. Then the door flew open.
“Sorry!” Letty called out, rushing back down the hall and into the kitchen. “Do come in. Please. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Eric entered, puzzled. What was she doing?
In the interest of good manners, he took a seat in one of the mismatched chairs in the parlor. But to his dismay, she didn’t return. Instead, he heard running footsteps, barely audible mutters, strange striking sounds, and odd rustles.
“Ouch!” she cried. “Oh, no. No, sir. This time you won’t get away.”
Was she treating some particularly resistant patient? Surely not. Letty would never speak in that tone to anyone in need of medical assistance. Eric had seen her with Steven, Slosh, and Mrs. Miller, and she’d always been respectful, concerned, solicitous.
“Come back here, you . . . you scalawag, or I’ll . . . I’ll . . . oh, I don’t know what I’ll do!”
Eric stood. He was intrigued—no, he was plain curious. Who was she chasing in the kitchen? Blast manners and all that. He had to take a look.
As he hurried down the hall, a loud thump made him speed even more. At the door to the kitchen, he came to a halt. The goings-on made Eric laugh. Sieve in hand, Letty was trying to scoop up a yellow chick. Quick as she was, the baby bird managed to be just that much quicker.
As he approached the hunter and her prey, he heard a chorusof peeps from a crate near the cookstove. There he counted four more balls of yellow down. “Why would you want five chicks, Dr. Morgan?”
“Eric!” She straightened and fussed with her hair and her skirt. Her cheeks turned a bright pink. A brown curl caressed her ear, and a longer one dangled a hairpin across her shoulder.
Fists on her hips, Letty turned. “Can’t you see I’m trying to catch that imp? I won’t abide him soiling my kitchen floor.”
Eric stifled another chuckle, knowing she wouldn’t abide his mirth right then, either. “No,” he said, “I should say not. No self-respecting physician would tolerate a soiled kitchen floor.”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “My reckless mouth triumphs once again. Mother despaired of ever making me a lady, so I stopped trying and became a doctor—” she grimaced “—and a spinster, as she so often predicted I would.”
The logic in the comment escaped Eric, but he read pain on her face. “Here,” he said, doffing his coat. “What if I help you corner your scalawag?”
She swatted at the hairpin swirling over her shoulder and aimed sparkling eyes at him. “Well,” she responded, “it would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Eric
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