greetings. Then Miss Hattie turned back toward the sofa. “This is their sister, Miss Ida Sinclair.” She set the mugs on the sofa table. “Ida, these are my friends, Mr. Otis Bernard and his oldest son, Abraham.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Bernard, Abraham.” Ida then walked toward Tucker. “I thought you left on the train.”
“No ma’am. My parents were the ones making the trip.”
“You’ve already met my young women?” Miss Hattie asked, her brows arching.
“Not formally, ma’am.”
“We, uh, saw one another at the depot this morning.” The woman she’d called Ida touched the brim of her hat just above her ear.
“Oh.” Miss Hattie glanced down at his boots, then back up at him. “I overheard something about a hatpin incident. You’re the one who—”
“Yes ma’am.” He spoke to her, but it was Ida who held his attention.
“I’d say proper introductions are in order.” She set the mugs on the table. “Mr. Tucker Raines, these are the Sinclair sisters—Mrs. Judson Archer, Mrs. Morgan Cutshaw, and Miss Ida Sinclair.”
High cheekbones and pronounced chins, times three. “It’s my pleasure, ladies.” He met Ida’s gaze. “I’m pleased to see that you were able to reattach your hat.”
She nodded, and then, apparently aware of him staring at her bobbing hat, abruptly grew still. “Perhaps I could have done a more thorough job of pinning it.”
“These fine gentlemen are joining us for a little refreshment.” Hattie sat on the sofa, leaving space on one side for Ida and Abraham, and on the other for Tucker and Otis. When the other women sat down, Tucker and Otis did the same.
Abraham, however, remained standing before them like a showman. “Miss Sinclair, did your hatpin really fall and stick in Mr. Tucker’s boot?”
“It did indeed, Abraham.”
“I tell jokes. Would you like to hear one?”
Her half nod was all the encouragement the boy required.
“What did the hatpin say to the big toe?”
Ida glanced over at Tucker, her lips pursed as if she were about to burst into laughter. She looked up at Abraham and shrugged her narrow shoulders.
“I’m stuck on you.”
Amidst a wave of giggles, Otis motioned for his son to sit down. “I think that’s more than enough jokes for one day.”
While Abraham seated himself beside Ida, Hattie poured hot cocoa into the mugs and handed them out. “Kat, dear, Tucker told me your Morgan is the doctor who treated his father.”
“Then I’m sure he received the best care.” Her brown eyes shimmering, Mrs. Cutshaw leaned forward in her chair. “I’ve worked with Morgan some.”
Miss Hattie lowered her cup. “Actually, that’s a fun story too. They met in a birthing room.”
Abraham giggled. The doctor’s wife blushed. And the heat rising up Tucker’s neck told him he had too.
Ida leaned forward on the sofa, looking at him. “My sister had gone in to help a stranger, and he assumed she was a midwife.”
Sister .
The word made Tucker’s heart ache for Willow. For all she’d lost. The children she and Sam would never have.
A smile tilted Mrs. Cutshaw’s mouth to one side. “He’s a fine doctor.”
Tucker recognized the lilt in her voice, the shimmer of pride in her eyes, the buoyancy in her movements. She was obviously a happy newlywed. He remembered Willow having the same glow about her after she and Sam had married nearly four years ago. Suddenly, the air left the room and he jumped to his feet. “I can’t stay, Miss Hattie.”
Her cup rattled in its saucer. “But you didn’t even—”
“I’m sorry. You must excuse me, ladies.” He glanced at the sisters without really looking at the two across from him. He still couldn’t bear to witness the joy his actions had cost Willow.
Ida was the first to stand. “Of course.”
“Another time?” Concern darkened Miss Hattie’s eyes to a gray blue.
He nodded and left the room, hoping there would be another time but dreading the explanation that
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Bernard, Abraham.” Ida then walked toward Tucker. “I thought you left on the train.”
“No ma’am. My parents were the ones making the trip.”
“You’ve already met my young women?” Miss Hattie asked, her brows arching.
“Not formally, ma’am.”
“We, uh, saw one another at the depot this morning.” The woman she’d called Ida touched the brim of her hat just above her ear.
“Oh.” Miss Hattie glanced down at his boots, then back up at him. “I overheard something about a hatpin incident. You’re the one who—”
“Yes ma’am.” He spoke to her, but it was Ida who held his attention.
“I’d say proper introductions are in order.” She set the mugs on the table. “Mr. Tucker Raines, these are the Sinclair sisters—Mrs. Judson Archer, Mrs. Morgan Cutshaw, and Miss Ida Sinclair.”
High cheekbones and pronounced chins, times three. “It’s my pleasure, ladies.” He met Ida’s gaze. “I’m pleased to see that you were able to reattach your hat.”
She nodded, and then, apparently aware of him staring at her bobbing hat, abruptly grew still. “Perhaps I could have done a more thorough job of pinning it.”
“These fine gentlemen are joining us for a little refreshment.” Hattie sat on the sofa, leaving space on one side for Ida and Abraham, and on the other for Tucker and Otis. When the other women sat down, Tucker and Otis did the same.
Abraham, however, remained standing before them like a showman. “Miss Sinclair, did your hatpin really fall and stick in Mr. Tucker’s boot?”
“It did indeed, Abraham.”
“I tell jokes. Would you like to hear one?”
Her half nod was all the encouragement the boy required.
“What did the hatpin say to the big toe?”
Ida glanced over at Tucker, her lips pursed as if she were about to burst into laughter. She looked up at Abraham and shrugged her narrow shoulders.
“I’m stuck on you.”
Amidst a wave of giggles, Otis motioned for his son to sit down. “I think that’s more than enough jokes for one day.”
While Abraham seated himself beside Ida, Hattie poured hot cocoa into the mugs and handed them out. “Kat, dear, Tucker told me your Morgan is the doctor who treated his father.”
“Then I’m sure he received the best care.” Her brown eyes shimmering, Mrs. Cutshaw leaned forward in her chair. “I’ve worked with Morgan some.”
Miss Hattie lowered her cup. “Actually, that’s a fun story too. They met in a birthing room.”
Abraham giggled. The doctor’s wife blushed. And the heat rising up Tucker’s neck told him he had too.
Ida leaned forward on the sofa, looking at him. “My sister had gone in to help a stranger, and he assumed she was a midwife.”
Sister .
The word made Tucker’s heart ache for Willow. For all she’d lost. The children she and Sam would never have.
A smile tilted Mrs. Cutshaw’s mouth to one side. “He’s a fine doctor.”
Tucker recognized the lilt in her voice, the shimmer of pride in her eyes, the buoyancy in her movements. She was obviously a happy newlywed. He remembered Willow having the same glow about her after she and Sam had married nearly four years ago. Suddenly, the air left the room and he jumped to his feet. “I can’t stay, Miss Hattie.”
Her cup rattled in its saucer. “But you didn’t even—”
“I’m sorry. You must excuse me, ladies.” He glanced at the sisters without really looking at the two across from him. He still couldn’t bear to witness the joy his actions had cost Willow.
Ida was the first to stand. “Of course.”
“Another time?” Concern darkened Miss Hattie’s eyes to a gray blue.
He nodded and left the room, hoping there would be another time but dreading the explanation that
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