Mail Order Sweetheart. Christine Johnson

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      “Oh, it’s not trying. I simply wished to inquire about your thoughts on a particular topic.”

      “What topic?” He had the suspicion he was stepping somewhere he shouldn’t go.

      “A topic of which you are particularly well versed.”

      “Oh?” This definitely sounded like trouble, but he couldn’t imagine what she thought was his area of expertise. Sawing logs, sure, but no woman had any interest in that. Mrs. Smythe couldn’t possibly know about his past. Or did she? He steeled himself.

      She cast her gaze down. “Which would you say a man prefers—a practically dressed woman or one in all her finery?”

      At first Sawyer breathed out in relief. Then he figured there must be a trap in her question, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Unless she was fishing for compliments. He had to tread carefully.

      He cleared his throat. “I, uh, appreciate both. At the right time.”

      She lifted her face, which wore a frown. “That doesn’t answer the question. If all extenuating circumstances are the same, which would you prefer?”

      First she threw a word at him that the Sawyer Evans he’d carefully crafted wouldn’t understand. Then she insisted on an answer. Fine. He’d give her the one she wanted.

      “You look good, Mrs. Smythe.”

      A sigh of disgust escaped her lips just as Fiona glided into the room. Relief flooded over him until he recalled what he must tell the beautiful redhead.

      “Sawyer, I’m surprised to see you.” Fiona always made a grand entrance, and today was no exception. Her right arm floated through the air as if scooping the entire world into her domain. Her hair, her gown, that gaudy necklace, everything about her was designed to make a stunning impression. But her talent impressed him more than all of that put together.

      “Fiona.” He crossed the room, took her extended hand, just like before their concerts, and kissed it. “You look lovely this afternoon.”

      Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Louise roll her eyes and heard her snort of disgust. So, the widow was jealous. The idea made him grin. It had been a long time since women competed for his attention. Before the war, he’d drawn his share of female interest even though Father and Mother had long planned for him to marry Julia Spencer. When he courted her, Father had congratulated him on following the plan. Then he learned what sort of man his father truly was, and the world shifted abruptly. He enlisted. Julia abandoned him and married another man. His father opposed him in every way. It was war at home as well as on the front.

      “Louise said you had an important message for me.” Fiona’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Has a ship arrived?”

      “A ship? Why would you care about a ship’s arrival?”

      She seemed to relax. “Then none has docked?”

      “Right. No ships.” He glanced at Louise, who was still perched on the edge of the sofa, at least pretending to read a book. He didn’t want to break the important news with anyone else present, so he rattled on about the other news of importance. “Stockton wants the schooner finished as soon as possible, so Garrett asked me to take over his duties at the mill.”

      He puffed up a bit at the confidence the sawmill manager had shown in his abilities. Sawyer hadn’t been raised for hard labor. Father always said that was reserved for the lower classes. But Sawyer liked the good, honest feel of aching muscles and a job well done.

      “That’s why you insisted on speaking to me? Because you’ve been promoted?” Fiona didn’t look the slightest bit impressed.

      He should have known. “I thought you might be happy for me.”

      “Of course I am.” Her lips curved into a smile, but her eyes darted toward Louise with the obvious intent of sending the widow scurrying.

      Louise gathered her book and rose. “Please excuse me. Mrs. Calloway must need help in the kitchen.” She left the room.

      “There.” Fiona breathed out. “I thought she would never leave.”

      Sawyer hadn’t been mistaken. Fiona definitely had more than the usual sense of purpose this afternoon.

      She strolled toward the parlor entrance. When he didn’t follow, she returned and threaded her arm around his. “Now tell me the real reason you called on me today.”

      Sawyer swallowed. This wasn’t going to be easy, and he didn’t relish that she was standing so close when he delivered the news.

      “Well?” she demanded.

      He cleared his throat and said a quick prayer that he didn’t botch this. “Uh, word about Mr. Blakeney arrived at the store.”

      “Word.” Any hint of merriment drained from her voice.

      “Uh. Yes.”

      “And they sent you to tell me.” She let go of his arm.

      He nodded, his throat as dry as sawdust.

      “It’s not good news, is it?”

      Sawyer blew out his breath. Best to get it out. “He’s gone. He headed upriver to Allegan.”

      He couldn’t miss the dots of color on her cheeks.

      “Carson left,” she said bluntly.

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “When will he return?”

      “Uh, he didn’t leave word about that. He just paid his hotel bill and left.”

      It took a moment for understanding to settle in. Then her eyelids blinked rapidly. Oh no, she was going to cry. She never cried. That was one thing Sawyer loved about Fiona. She was a strong woman not prone to fits of emotion.

      “Well, then. That’s that.” But there was bitterness in her voice. “I should have known.”

      Sawyer wished he could find the right words. Blakeney was all wrong for her. Fiona needed a strong man who could match her energy and wits. Blakeney was one of those slippery types who made promises he never kept. It had taken all of Sawyer’s will to hold his tongue around them.

      “You deserve better,” he said.

      She gave him a sharp look. “Who? You?” Her hands braced her hips. “Why should a woman set her sights on a man who hasn’t two pennies to rub together?”

       Chapter Two

      Fiona was left empty-handed with her niece due to arrive any day. She couldn’t raise the girl in a boardinghouse. Without a reliable income, she couldn’t raise Mary Clare at all. Though she fumed at Blakeney’s cowardice, she did so in the privacy of her room. By evening, she was able to set aside her anger and work on a solution.

      She СКАЧАТЬ