said could’ve rivaled the silence for discomfort.
Mr. Fenton. Molly wished she’d never heard of the man. Why had she allowed her parents to convince her to take after him? He belonged to Prue. She had half a mind to summon him before Prue became fonder of his absence. Molly’s mouthful of meat seemed to expand the longer she chewed. She’d have to swallow it whole.
Junior spoke up again. “But at least you stopped crying, Bailey. Things must be looking up.”
Molly had forgotten the tears. Could he be missing her? She looked at his now clear face, and just as she reached for her glass, he winked.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Junior cried, but it was too late.
Molly’s glass tipped and a flood of tea rushed across the table and onto Bailey’s lap.
“Whoa there!” Bailey jumped out of his seat, sending the chair crashing to the floor.
“Oh no.” Molly threw her napkin on the table to stop the rivulets streaming off the edge onto Prue’s clean kitchen floor.
General chaos broke out as Prue went for a mop and Mr. McGraw removed the dishes so the soaked tablecloth could be taken away. Molly dove onto the floor with the dish towel, crawling awkwardly with her bustle bouncing above her.
Bailey met her midway under the table. “It was only a wink,” he whispered. “No reason to drench me.”
Molly tilted her head up, inches from his face. Why, oh why, did her heart have to beat like a hummingbird’s wings? Why couldn’t her anger prevent the fluttering in her stomach?
Fluttering or no, his unsettling smile must be dispelled.
Lifting the saturated dish towel over his head, she squeezed it, sending a cascade of dirty tea rolling down his face.
“I have every reason to drench you,” she cooed and willed the butterflies to calm before she rose to help her shocked hostess.
“But you mustn’t walk by yourself,” Prue said to Molly after supper as she gestured to the street. “This neighborhood isn’t safe at night.”
Bailey, stretching with his arms overhead and enjoying the early winter evening, almost missed his cue. “I’ll see her home.”
Was it wrong that he enjoyed the glower Molly shot his direction? He stepped off the porch and rubbed his belly. “It’s the least I can do for my hostess after that bang-up meal. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Perhaps we could do it again.” Prue leaned against the porch rail.
“Sounds dandy,” Bailey said. “Aunt Frances won’t miss having me at her supper table. That’s a fact. You might check with your pa, though. I don’t think I’m going to be working for him much longer. Not with the havoc the smoke plays on my eyes.”
“Smoke? That’s what’s wrong with you?” Molly blurted.
“What did you think? That I was spilling tears over some heartbreak?” But Bailey couldn’t be sure she’d heard, for she was already marching down the street unescorted.
Prue chuckled low. “You two make quite the pair. Better catch her before a vagrant crosses her path and she beats him senseless.”
“You’re right. Thanks again, Prue.” He settled his hat on his tea-damp head and trotted after Molly, who was plowing a path through the scraps of former fences left in the walkway.
Instead of wasting time offering his arm, Bailey took Molly’s and directed her to the street. She tried to pull away.
“What’s wrong? We’re in public. Are you afraid I’ve lost my convictions?”
“No, but your shirt is wet. It’s getting my sleeve dirty.”
He grinned and pulled her arm even tighter against his side. “It’d be dry if you hadn’t baptized me under the table.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind—seeing how you’ve got so much religion these days.” Her eyes flashed blue above rosy cheeks.
“Why are you worked up? You aren’t still mad at me, are you?”
Her little chin jutted out like a billy goat’s preparing to butt heads. Charming. ’Specially knowing that anger wasn’t what ailed her. It was jealousy. Bailey
Mr. Fenton. Molly wished she’d never heard of the man. Why had she allowed her parents to convince her to take after him? He belonged to Prue. She had half a mind to summon him before Prue became fonder of his absence. Molly’s mouthful of meat seemed to expand the longer she chewed. She’d have to swallow it whole.
Junior spoke up again. “But at least you stopped crying, Bailey. Things must be looking up.”
Molly had forgotten the tears. Could he be missing her? She looked at his now clear face, and just as she reached for her glass, he winked.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Junior cried, but it was too late.
Molly’s glass tipped and a flood of tea rushed across the table and onto Bailey’s lap.
“Whoa there!” Bailey jumped out of his seat, sending the chair crashing to the floor.
“Oh no.” Molly threw her napkin on the table to stop the rivulets streaming off the edge onto Prue’s clean kitchen floor.
General chaos broke out as Prue went for a mop and Mr. McGraw removed the dishes so the soaked tablecloth could be taken away. Molly dove onto the floor with the dish towel, crawling awkwardly with her bustle bouncing above her.
Bailey met her midway under the table. “It was only a wink,” he whispered. “No reason to drench me.”
Molly tilted her head up, inches from his face. Why, oh why, did her heart have to beat like a hummingbird’s wings? Why couldn’t her anger prevent the fluttering in her stomach?
Fluttering or no, his unsettling smile must be dispelled.
Lifting the saturated dish towel over his head, she squeezed it, sending a cascade of dirty tea rolling down his face.
“I have every reason to drench you,” she cooed and willed the butterflies to calm before she rose to help her shocked hostess.
“But you mustn’t walk by yourself,” Prue said to Molly after supper as she gestured to the street. “This neighborhood isn’t safe at night.”
Bailey, stretching with his arms overhead and enjoying the early winter evening, almost missed his cue. “I’ll see her home.”
Was it wrong that he enjoyed the glower Molly shot his direction? He stepped off the porch and rubbed his belly. “It’s the least I can do for my hostess after that bang-up meal. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Perhaps we could do it again.” Prue leaned against the porch rail.
“Sounds dandy,” Bailey said. “Aunt Frances won’t miss having me at her supper table. That’s a fact. You might check with your pa, though. I don’t think I’m going to be working for him much longer. Not with the havoc the smoke plays on my eyes.”
“Smoke? That’s what’s wrong with you?” Molly blurted.
“What did you think? That I was spilling tears over some heartbreak?” But Bailey couldn’t be sure she’d heard, for she was already marching down the street unescorted.
Prue chuckled low. “You two make quite the pair. Better catch her before a vagrant crosses her path and she beats him senseless.”
“You’re right. Thanks again, Prue.” He settled his hat on his tea-damp head and trotted after Molly, who was plowing a path through the scraps of former fences left in the walkway.
Instead of wasting time offering his arm, Bailey took Molly’s and directed her to the street. She tried to pull away.
“What’s wrong? We’re in public. Are you afraid I’ve lost my convictions?”
“No, but your shirt is wet. It’s getting my sleeve dirty.”
He grinned and pulled her arm even tighter against his side. “It’d be dry if you hadn’t baptized me under the table.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind—seeing how you’ve got so much religion these days.” Her eyes flashed blue above rosy cheeks.
“Why are you worked up? You aren’t still mad at me, are you?”
Her little chin jutted out like a billy goat’s preparing to butt heads. Charming. ’Specially knowing that anger wasn’t what ailed her. It was jealousy. Bailey
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