“Leo is your name, and who is this young lady?” Olive smiled at the girl who was watching her closely from her father’s arms.
“This is Stella. She likes warm milk, shortbread cookies, and playing with her dollies.” Mr. Scott smacked a kiss on her cheek, causing the girl to giggle. He buried his face into Stella’s neck, making her squeal and push against him.
Olive looked away, not sure that she understood why. Mr. Scott was so easy with his smiles, with his affection. She was uncomfortable being a witness to it, but he obviously wasn’t embarrassed. He looked totally at ease in his clean suit, ready for a night on the town with his wife.
Where was his wife?
“I’ll show you around the house,” he said. “Follow me.”
To her distress, she realized that there was no chance he would forget her. His gaze was too curious. He pointed out the kitchen and opened the pantry. Olive’s heart began to pound as they strolled through the library. The built-in bookcases on the sides of the fireplace were full of books, and even from a cursory glance, she could tell that they were books on architecture. More books on architecture than the Joplin library had. Many more.
He was watching her and had noticed her interest. Olive shifted her bag around as if she could hide behind it.
“Feel free to avail yourself of a book once the children are asleep. They should go to bed around eight. I’m afraid you won’t find any interesting novels on the shelves, but there are some books of poetry.”
Poetry? He had no idea. Olive felt her confidence returning. “That would be delightful. I just might.”
He walked her through the downstairs, and all the while she was keeping an eye open for Mrs. Scott. No doubt she was dressing for their evening out. Whatever her reason for not greeting Olive, Mr. Scott surprised her with his knowledge. For such a busy man, he took an unusual amount of responsibility for the children’s care.
“Do you live nearby?” he asked as he led her upstairs.
“Just around the corner.” She stepped aside to let Leo run past.
“I’ve heard the name Kentworth. Do I know your family?”
“I have a lot of family around town, but my father is a manager at the Fox-Berry Mine. He works for Mr. Blount.”
“I know Mr. Blount. I’ve worked with him before.” If this was a normal situation, perhaps Olive would ask about his work, but Olive knew all about his work for Mr. Blount, and wasn’t going to wade into those dangerous waters. Thankfully the gregarious Mr. Scott didn’t need any inducement. “I designed his house.”
Oh, it was torture to be in the presence of a man who had all the knowledge she desired and not to be able to learn anything from him. Olive wanted to cry. Instead, she said, “You design houses? I thought I’d heard your name before.”
“Very kind of you. Architects don’t get to sign their works like an artist, so one never knows if it’s recognized or not.”
And that was the only reason Olive thought she could ever stand to be an architect.
Their tour took them to the children’s room upstairs. This was the entire house, and despite Mr. Scott’s instructions and the children’s chatter, the house was strangely silent. No noises coming from behind the closed bedroom door. No woman hurrying out to say goodbye to the children.
“So, that’s everything.” Mr. Scott led her downstairs with the children following. “If I’ve forgotten something, make do the best you can. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the icebox.” His buoyancy was increasing as he neared the door. “I’ll return around eleven, and—”
“And Mrs. Scott?” Olive looked up the staircase. Clearly she wasn’t home. Would she be returning before him or was she out of town?
Mr. Scott reached for his suit coat. “I am a widower, Miss Kentworth. My wife passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” The room had gone quiet, but Olive knew better than to offer empty words, even to fill the silence.
He looked around the room as he pulled on his coat. His eyes traveled the breadth of it as if it were a trap closing in on him. “You can see why your help is needed.” Then he flashed that engaging smile. “Good luck, Miss Kentworth,” he said and walked out the door.
CHAPTER
4
As much as he loved his children, Maxfield was eager to escape. After stopping at Trochet’s Flower Shop to buy Ruby a bouquet, he hurried to the Keystone Hotel.
When he’d asked Pastor Cook’s wife for a recommendation, he’d expected she’d send someone older and more experienced. Miss Kentworth was charming. Despite her efforts to avoid notice, she couldn’t hide the emotions that played across her expressive face. She’d been so nervous when she’d first arrived, but after a bit she managed to control it. It wasn’t until he told her about Georgia that her mask slipped again, and that time it exposed a deep sorrow. Perhaps she had experienced her own?
Maxfield shuddered. He’d had enough sorrow. He didn’t need to carry someone else’s.
Besides, she seemed like a sweet girl. He only hoped Leo and Stella wouldn’t take advantage of her naivety. Either way, he and Ruby would have a marvelous time together. Well, Ruby always had a marvelous time but, finally, he’d be able to join in.
Ruby answered the door, wearing her namesake color. She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him inside. “Papa, look who has come to see us.”
“I didn’t come to see your father.” Maxfield felt carefree and reckless. He winked at Mr. Dennis before saying, “I see him every day. This time I came to see his daughter.”
“Because it’s been nearly a week.” She pursed her lips up into a pout but couldn’t hold it longer than a heartbeat. “Did you find someone to watch the children, or did you leave Leo in charge of tending Stella?”
“I found someone to watch them. We can stay for the whole concert.” It was impossible to be morose with Ruby around. That’s why she was essential. Even if Maxfield didn’t love the orchestra or theater, he needed something to distract him. He couldn’t work around the clock.
“No need to hurry away.” Mrs. Dennis was as severe as Ruby was lenient. “You’ve only arrived.”
“Thank you for the offer, but the concert starts in half an hour.” He didn’t leave his own home to stay in the Dennises’. “I don’t want to rush Miss Dennis along the way.”
“Bye, Papa.” Ruby smacked a quick kiss on her father’s cheek. She snagged her reticule off a side table without slowing down in her path to the doorway.
She’d never kissed Max on the cheek, or anywhere else. Maxfield tipped his hat to Mr. Dennis, then followed his daughter. What would Ruby think if he kissed her? She was so full of life and affection, Maxfield couldn’t imagine that she’d take offense. She’d probably laugh at him and forget all about it. He might as well forget all about it. They had a concert to attend.
The best part of these outings with Ruby was when they approached the venue. Maxfield loved being in the crush of the crowd. He loved the greetings and acknowledgments, and for him there were plenty. Ruby was patient while he worked his way through the people he wanted to visit. Even when surrounded by strangers, their greetings and good cheer strengthened Maxfield. He felt shored up, supported, knowing that there was a community around him and that life hadn’t stopped when Georgia’s did.