at the tops.”
“You’re throwing away half the carrot, Connors,” Smitty replied. “I didn’t break my back picking those out of the garden for you to waste ‘em like that.”
Jennie set aside the big spoon she’d been using to stir the stew and reached to put the cover on the big pot. “It doesn’t matter, boys. However you chop them will be fine. We have plenty of carrots.”
“Well, someone else is going to have to go grub in the dirt and find them,” Smitty said under his breath, but he moved a step back from where Brad continued to chop furiously, throwing the top two inches off each vegetable into the garbage bin on the floor beneath them.
“I’m just grateful you’ve all agreed to pitch in and help,” Jennie said, her voice sounding a little weary. “Mr. Jones and the Millards have been quite a help to us and I don’t think I would have dared ask them to supper if Barnaby and I had to do it all by ourselves.”
“If you’d let me help…” Kate began from her corner seat, but she fell silent as Jennie fixed her with a stern look.
“We’ve told you to count on us, Miss Jennie,” Dennis Kelly said. He had finished stacking the plates Barnaby had handed him and was now warily transferring crystal goblets.
Jennie leaned back against the warm stove, heedless of her damp dress, and regarded the three men fondly. “I don’t know how we were so lucky to have you three come along just when Kate and I needed friends so badly.”
The skin around Dennis’s muttonchop whiskers turned bright red. “It’s a downright shame how the people in this town turned their backs on you two girls,” he said, his voice hoarse with indignation. “Why, you’re two of the sweetest little gals we’ve ever known. Right, boys?”
Smitty continued chopping, but Brad turned and said, “Sure as shootin’. Two of the prettiest, too.”
Dennis shot him a look of reproof. “We’ll help you through this. And I’d just like to see that old battleax try to stop us.”
Jennie’s smile broadened. She wouldn’t like to predict the outcome of a showdown between Mrs. Billingsley and her silverheels. Blood might be drawn. “Smitty, I think we have enough—honestly. You can put the rest of those down in the cellar.”
Barnaby handed down the last glass, then jumped to the floor. “When will Mr. Jones be here?” he asked.
Jennie pulled her mother’s silver watch from around her neck. “Goodness! It’s past six already.”
Kate slid off the stool. “Jen, I want you to go upstairs and get washed up. I’ll supervise the rest of this.” She held up a hand as Jennie began to protest. “I won’t make a move. I won’t lift a dish. I’ll just give orders to this handsome crew here.” She indicated the three miners and Barnaby with a smile and a wave of her hand.
Jennie looked doubtful. “Someone needs to drop in the dumplings.”
“I’ll do it,” Dennis offered. “Kate can show me how.”
“And the apple crisp should be done any minute now. You need to keep watch because that stove burns.”
Kate came up behind her sister and gave her a little shove toward the door. “We’ll handle it. If you don’t hurry on upstairs, you’ll be greeting your guests looking like the scullery maid.”
Jennie took a look down at her bedraggled frock and gave a wail. “I wanted everything to go so well.”
Kate laughed. “I wonder why. Dr. Millard and Dorie have eaten in this house dozens of times. Which means it must be Mr. Jones you want to impress.”
Jennie frowned. “I don’t want to impress anyone. I just feel that we should thank the people who have stood up against the rest of those close-minded—”
Kate gave her a hug and a more forceful push. “Don’t get started, sis. We’re here to have a pleasant evening. So go upstairs and get yourself beautiful.”
Jennie sagged a little against her sister’s arm, which tightened against her. It felt comforting. She took a deep breath and a last look around the kitchen. Most of the meal was ready. Barnaby had disappeared into the dining room with the first of the good plates, which he evidently intended to transport one by one. Kate was right. Everything was in good shape except herself. She leaned over to give her sister a peck on the cheek, then darted out of the kitchen toward the front hall.
Barnaby stood by the front door looking up at her with wide eyes. Behind him was Carter Jones. She gave a little shriek.
“Am I early?” he asked.
Bits of dumpling dough clung to her hands. She put them behind her back. “No. I’m…ah…late. I mean, I’m not quite ready yet.”
“Shall I come back later?” he asked uncertainly.
“No, of course not.” She wished there was some way to keep his eyes from roving up and down her stained old dress that way. She pushed at the hair that had fallen down her neck, but stopped as she felt it stick to her doughy fingers. “Barnaby, take Mr. Jones into the parlor, please. Then ask Miss Kate to come out and sit with him until I…until I come downstairs.”
His gaze had followed the movement of her hands and seemed to fix on where the tendrils of hair just under her left ear were now stuck to her neck with dough. Jennie could feel the beginning of one of those blushes whose existence she had so recently discovered.
He smiled at her, his gray eyes warming. “I’ll be fine, Jennie,” he said softly. “Take your time.”
She let out a long breath, irritated that her heart refused to slow to anything near normal. With a lift of her chin, she returned his gaze directly and said, “I’ll be down in five minutes.”
Dorie Millard had worn her hair styled in the same blond ringlets framing her face ever since Jennie could remember. She was two years older than Jennie, approaching old-maid status by Vermillion standards, but her single state wasn’t for lack of offers. Jennie reckoned she’d be hard-pressed to find an eligible male in town under the age of fifty who hadn’t asked for Dorie’s hand. But the doctor’s breezy daughter seemed perfectly happy to continue being the unmarried belle of the church ice-cream socials and the harvest dances at the back of the feed mill.
Jennie watched with unusual interest as Dorie turned her sunshiny smile on Carter, waiting for the inevitable male response. But to her surprise, Carter seemed to divide his attention equally among the ladies present. In fact, he addressed just as many comments to Dr. Millard and the silverheels, or at least Dennis. Brad and Smitty weren’t much for conversation.
She wouldn’t admit to herself that she was gratified by Carter’s apparent failure to be charmed by Dorie. After all, it was possible that he was just being polite. He was a politician, used to having to stay on good terms with everyone. With three women at the table, he probably knew enough not to play favorites.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help noticing that Carter’s eyes followed Jennie herself when she began to help Barnaby clear away the dishes. And while Dorie was in the middle of one of her most vivacious stories, Carter was smiling at Jennie and seemed not to be paying the least attention.
She hummed a little ditty to herself as she went swinging through the door to the kitchen, her arms full of plates.
“The dinner went well, didn’t it?” Barnaby whispered when they were both on the kitchen side of the door. He seemed to sense her good mood.
Jennie smiled. “It certainly did, young man. Thanks to your help.”
Barnaby looked pleased but embarrassed. “I only put out the dishes,” he mumbled into his chest.
“You did a fabulous job.” Jennie reached over to give his small shoulders a squeeze. “You served the meal like a real waiter from the most elegant restaurant in Virginia City.”