Chapter Seven

      Saturday morning, Daisy arrived at Everett’s office a few minutes after nine o’clock. It was a beautiful day and one that promised to be highly productive.

      “Good morning,” she said cheerily. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

      Her boss glanced up, then went back to looking at his ledger. “I suppose.”

      Not a very cheery response. “The butcher had some fine-dressed venison this morning,” she continued. “I hope venison is something you like.” She was already planning the way she would cook it up with a thick, rich onion gravy and some beets and dandelion greens seasoned with bacon on the side.

      “Venison is fine.”

      He still seemed to be paying little attention to what she was saying. She hefted the basket and tried one more time to get something other than a distracted response. “By the way, I opened the door on my side of the wall when I left this morning. But don’t you worry. I made sure Kip understands he can’t cross the threshold.”

      This time he did look up and actually met her gaze. “You made sure...” He gave her a look that seemed to call her sanity into question. “And do you honestly think he understood?”

      Maybe drawing him out hadn’t been such a good idea. “He’s actually pretty smart.”

      “There’s nothing pretty about him,” he said dryly.

      “Mr. Fulton!”

      “Sorry.” His tone sounded anything but. “Just see that you reinforce that little talk you two had with some firm discipline if he doesn’t appear willing to follow directions.”

      What would he do if she stuck her tongue out at him?

      Cheered by the image that evoked, Daisy turned and headed up the stairs. As soon as she set her market basket down, Daisy opened the adjoining door. Kip was sitting there waiting on her, his tail wagging furiously. Daisy stooped down and ruffled the fur on his neck. “Hey, boy. What do you say we prove Mr. High-and-Mighty Fulton wrong? I’ll pop over and visit you occasionally, but I have a job to do so you’ll have to stay over here.”

      Kip gave a bark, which she took as agreement, so with one last pat, she stood and returned to her work. Today she was determined to conquer the eccentricities of the stove, and turn out bread rolls that were perfectly golden-brown.

      Yes, sir, there would be nothing for her employer to fuss about today.

      * * *

      All morning, Everett heard the sounds of Daisy bustling around in his kitchen, more often than not humming or singing some cheery song. He could also hear her talking to her mutt, carrying on one-sided conversations as if the raggedy animal could actually understand her words.

      He gave in to the urge to go upstairs and check on her at about ten-thirty. It only made sense, he told himself, to make certain things were going as they should with this new arrangement of theirs.

      The angle of the adjoining door was such that, once his shoulders topped the second floor, he was able to see through it to her place. Her dog sat at the threshold but, as she’d promised, no part of him was across it. How had she managed to make her pet obey—especially when the food smells were so tempting?

      Beyond the animal, he could see enough to tell him that she’d made quite a bit of progress since he’d been up there yesterday. Despite himself, he was impressed with how much she was getting accomplished.

      The dog barked. Everett wasn’t sure if it was a greeting or a warning, but it caught Daisy’s attention and she turned, smiling when she spied him.

      “Hello. If you’ve come to check on the meal, I’m afraid it’ll be another hour or so until it’s ready.”

      Feeling as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t—which was ridiculous—he tugged at his cuff. “Not at all. I just need to fetch something from my room.”

      He strode purposefully to his bedchamber, grabbed the notebook he kept by his bedside, then headed back out.

      “I want to thank you again for letting me prop these doors open,” she said as he neared the stairs. “I’ve already been able to get quite a bit of work done in my place this morning.” She nodded toward the door. “As you can see, Kip is behaving himself just like I told you he would.”

      Everett made a noncommittal sound and, with a nod, headed back downstairs.

      When she called him upstairs for the noonday meal, Everett deliberately took his time. No point appearing overeager.

      “Your oven and I are getting along much better today,” she said as they took their seats at the table. “You won’t find nary a scorch mark on these rolls.”

      Again she asked if he’d like to say grace, and again he passed the task to her. He noticed the speculative look she gave him, but he kept his expression bland. There was no reason for him to explain himself.

      He didn’t pray aloud, or pray much at all if you got right down to it. The clergyman who held the living on his father’s estate in England had made certain he was familiar with the Bible and that he attended church services regularly. And for most of his childhood, Everett had been quite faithful to those teachings.