excited smile and bubbling words.
"We were just heading into town, and we decided to stop and see if you needed anything," Miriam said breathlessly, her blue eyes sparkling. "And I wanted to say hello—Lord, don't you look busy!"
Sari gave her a smile and got to her feet. "Not that busy," she said. "You and John can stay for some coffee, can't you? And dinner's nearly ready."
"I don't—" Miriam threw a glance back at her husband, who was talking with Charles, and then she laughed. "Well, yes. I'd love to. It's been so long since we've talked. And I brought those Godey's Lady's Books for you to look at."
It was hard to be fearful in the light of Miriam's obvious pleasure. Sari's smile broadened. "I'm not sure I even want to look at them," she said. "No doubt I'll see something I want."
"I know." Miriam nodded. "I've probably earmarked twenty pages for myself—all for the Christmas dance." She chuckled, then stopped short, her expression sharp with curiosity. "Goodness, who's that?"
Sari's heart dropped in her chest as she followed Miriam's gaze to Conor. He strode over to the wagon with a confidence that made Sari clench her fist. Charles was already at the wagon, talking to John, and Conor hadn't been there more than twenty seconds before the two of them laughed in response to something he'd said.
Sari frowned. That effortless charm, that facile talk. She knew how easily he could win John over, how quick he would be to feign friendliness. And it was all an act. Just a stupid, meaningless act.
"Are you all right, Sari?"
She looked up to see Miriam staring at her. Sari forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"Who is that?"
Sari slowed her step. "Conor Roarke," she said evenly. "He's a ... an old friend."
"An old friend?" Miriam eyed Sari speculatively.
"He was a friend of Evan's," Sari said forcefully. "I barely know him."
"You barely know him?" Miriam asked. "And he came out all the way from Pennsylvania?"
They were nearly to the wagon. Sari shook her head quickly. "I'll tell you everything later," she said in a low voice.
The promise hushed Miriam's questions, if only for the moment. But Sari would worry about that later. Now it took all her concentration to keep from frowning her disapproval at Conor, to keep from hating his smile and easy manner.
"Hello, Sari!" John called as they approached. He lifted a bundle of magazines tied with string from the back of the wagon. "Miriam's brought practically her whole collection for you to see."
"Oh, John." Miriam laughed.
John grinned at her. He glanced at Conor. "Conor, this is my wife, Miriam. Miriam, this is Conor Roarke."
"Mr. Roarke," Miriam said prettily. "Sari was just telling me you've come all the way from Pennsylva nia.
"All the way," he admitted, smiling. He glanced at Sari with a warmth that was horribly disconcerting. "But I think it was worth the trip."
She wanted to strangle him. Especially when Miriam gave her an oblique glance.
"You can stay for dinner, ja ?" Charles asked. "Or at least coffee?"
"We're going into town," John said, "but I think we can spare a few minutes."
"Longer than that, I hope," Charles said, slapping John lightly on the back. "And I would like your advice, John, about the fence."
They went into the soddy, Miriam chattering the entire time, keeping up a constant dialogue that Sari was too distracted to hear. She was too aware of Conor walking behind her, too dismayed by that warm and far too intimate look in the yard. She would never be able to dissuade Miriam from her suspicions now, and she hated that he'd put her in this position, hated that he was interfering in her life—again.
She poured coffee and chatted with the others, but Conor's presence agitated her. She was constantly aware of him and the way he stood beside her the entire time, reaching around her for the coffee, keeping Miriam and John laughing as he refilled cups. When he and John and Charles finally went outside to talk about the fence, Sari nearly sagged with
"We were just heading into town, and we decided to stop and see if you needed anything," Miriam said breathlessly, her blue eyes sparkling. "And I wanted to say hello—Lord, don't you look busy!"
Sari gave her a smile and got to her feet. "Not that busy," she said. "You and John can stay for some coffee, can't you? And dinner's nearly ready."
"I don't—" Miriam threw a glance back at her husband, who was talking with Charles, and then she laughed. "Well, yes. I'd love to. It's been so long since we've talked. And I brought those Godey's Lady's Books for you to look at."
It was hard to be fearful in the light of Miriam's obvious pleasure. Sari's smile broadened. "I'm not sure I even want to look at them," she said. "No doubt I'll see something I want."
"I know." Miriam nodded. "I've probably earmarked twenty pages for myself—all for the Christmas dance." She chuckled, then stopped short, her expression sharp with curiosity. "Goodness, who's that?"
Sari's heart dropped in her chest as she followed Miriam's gaze to Conor. He strode over to the wagon with a confidence that made Sari clench her fist. Charles was already at the wagon, talking to John, and Conor hadn't been there more than twenty seconds before the two of them laughed in response to something he'd said.
Sari frowned. That effortless charm, that facile talk. She knew how easily he could win John over, how quick he would be to feign friendliness. And it was all an act. Just a stupid, meaningless act.
"Are you all right, Sari?"
She looked up to see Miriam staring at her. Sari forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"Who is that?"
Sari slowed her step. "Conor Roarke," she said evenly. "He's a ... an old friend."
"An old friend?" Miriam eyed Sari speculatively.
"He was a friend of Evan's," Sari said forcefully. "I barely know him."
"You barely know him?" Miriam asked. "And he came out all the way from Pennsylvania?"
They were nearly to the wagon. Sari shook her head quickly. "I'll tell you everything later," she said in a low voice.
The promise hushed Miriam's questions, if only for the moment. But Sari would worry about that later. Now it took all her concentration to keep from frowning her disapproval at Conor, to keep from hating his smile and easy manner.
"Hello, Sari!" John called as they approached. He lifted a bundle of magazines tied with string from the back of the wagon. "Miriam's brought practically her whole collection for you to see."
"Oh, John." Miriam laughed.
John grinned at her. He glanced at Conor. "Conor, this is my wife, Miriam. Miriam, this is Conor Roarke."
"Mr. Roarke," Miriam said prettily. "Sari was just telling me you've come all the way from Pennsylva nia.
"All the way," he admitted, smiling. He glanced at Sari with a warmth that was horribly disconcerting. "But I think it was worth the trip."
She wanted to strangle him. Especially when Miriam gave her an oblique glance.
"You can stay for dinner, ja ?" Charles asked. "Or at least coffee?"
"We're going into town," John said, "but I think we can spare a few minutes."
"Longer than that, I hope," Charles said, slapping John lightly on the back. "And I would like your advice, John, about the fence."
They went into the soddy, Miriam chattering the entire time, keeping up a constant dialogue that Sari was too distracted to hear. She was too aware of Conor walking behind her, too dismayed by that warm and far too intimate look in the yard. She would never be able to dissuade Miriam from her suspicions now, and she hated that he'd put her in this position, hated that he was interfering in her life—again.
She poured coffee and chatted with the others, but Conor's presence agitated her. She was constantly aware of him and the way he stood beside her the entire time, reaching around her for the coffee, keeping Miriam and John laughing as he refilled cups. When he and John and Charles finally went outside to talk about the fence, Sari nearly sagged with
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