she had, as well. What a long way she’d fallen since her husband’s ignominious death two years ago. If her mother were still alive today she would be mortified, but probably not surprised, by her daughter’s loss of status in the community.
Time to get some air. “If you will excuse me, I should return home and prepare the house to receive guests.”
Mr. Tucker stepped out into the aisle to let her pass. “Please allow me to escort you home.”
She again felt that tingle at his friendly, dare she say approving, smile. And again she strove to ignore it. “Thank you, but it’s only a few blocks away and I’m sure you want to get back to the children.”
But Mr. Tucker didn’t take her hint. He raised a brow with a teasing look. “I insist. The kids are in good hands for the moment. Besides, not only will this allow me the pleasure of your company, but accompanying you will let me know where your place is so I can escort the children there when it’s time.”
Before she could protest again, he turned serious. “And there are probably a few things we should talk about before I bring the children around.”
There was no polite way to refuse such a request. “In that case, I accept.” Again she’d acted against her better judgment.
She would definitely have to watch her step with this one.
* * *
Simon allowed his soon-to-be-hostess to precede him from the church building. She had returned to the cool, aloof individual she’d been when she first stood up in the meeting. Usually he had no use for pretentiousness and haughty airs. He’d seen too much of that in the home of his Uncle Corbitt, the man who’d taken him in when his folks died.
But for a few minutes he’d seen behind the mask she wore to a warmer, more vibrant woman. And that intrigued him, made him think that perhaps she was a person worth getting to know better. And she had, after all, opened her home to him and the kids. He could forgive her a lot for that.
But which one was the real Mrs. Pierce—the ice queen or the vulnerable, warmhearted lady? It would be interesting to find out.
He’d sensed some uneasy undercurrents between this woman and the rest of the townsfolk, and that, too, intrigued him. Not that the situation was any of his business. Besides, he preferred to form his own opinions about folks rather than pay attention to hearsay and gossip.
And the fact that she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about having them as guests—that just made it doubly generous of her to have done so as far as he was concerned.
As for that standoffishness she wore like armor—he was just going to have to go into this arrangement knowing he couldn’t count on the kids to get any warm motherly attention from her. But perhaps there was a housekeeper or someone else in her household who could supply that. And if not, then at least they would all be together.
Still, there was something about Mrs. Pierce that made him want to look deeper, to find out what was at the heart of this woman.
Then Simon took himself to task. What really mattered right now was how much help she’d be with the kids.
“You said we had something to discuss?”
Her dry words and tone brought him back to the present. Truth to tell, he hadn’t had anything specific in mind when he said that—it had just been a way of getting around her protests. But there were a few things he was curious about. “Do you live alone?”
“I have one boarder, Miss Dovie Jacobs.”
Boarder—not family. Interesting. “Is Miss Jacobs likely to be bothered when we all descend on your home this afternoon?”
“I don’t believe so. Miss Jacobs is a very motherly sort of woman. In fact, she is much like your Miss Fredrick, though on a smaller scale. She once took in and raised an orphaned child. If I’m wrong, however, she can always retreat to her own room.”
“That’s a relief—that our presence won’t bother her, I mean.” At least there’d be one person in the house who knew how to deal with children. Assuming she was willing to lend a hand.
If this Miss Jacobs was the only other person in her household, however, that would mean...“Forgive the personal question, but you were addressed as Mrs. Pierce. Is there no Mr. Pierce?”
“My husband has been deceased a little over two years now.”
There was no change in her expression and she didn’t expand. “My condolences.”
“Thank you.”
Again there was no emotion. Mrs. Pierce was obviously a very private person. Which made him all the more curious to learn more about her. And was it wrong that he was just the tiniest bit pleased that she was single?
Before he could ask about household staff, she halted next to a small wrought iron gate and waved a hand toward the place the gate guarded. “This is my home,” she said simply.
He studied the three-story house with interest. He could see why Reverend Harper had thought this would be the answer to his need. Not only was the structure impressively grand, it was also set on a large piece of property with plenty of room for rambunctious kids to run around. It was also one of the few brick buildings he’d seen in this town. From the front porch that was supported by imposing columns, to the rounded, turretlike section that jutted from the right side of the structure, to the dormered roofline edged in stately woodwork, this place spoke of wealth and elegance, much as the woman herself did.
It seemed a waste that Mrs. Pierce and her boarder were the only residents—the place practically cried out for a large family to inhabit it.
A closer look at the structure, however, showed that it wasn’t quite as well maintained as it seemed at first glance. Some of the woodwork was in need of painting and at least a few of the shingles on the roof were loose. The yard needed raking and trimming. And that was just what he could see from here. One thing was certain; he’d definitely be able to make himself useful while he was here.
A profusion of well-manicured plants fronted the structure—the garden hadn’t suffered from the same neglect as the house. A woman with a pair of garden shears in her gloved hands knelt among the plants lining the front walk.
A gardener perhaps? It stood to reason that a woman such as Mrs. Pierce, with an impressive house like this one, would have servants.
The woman stood as soon as she saw them, and Simon was surprised by how tiny she was. She couldn’t be any taller than four foot six or seven. And she looked old enough to be his companion’s mother.
“Well, hello.” The woman tugged off her gardening gloves, her eyes alight with friendly curiosity.
Mrs. Pierce gestured toward the smiling gardener. “Miss Jacobs, this is Mr. Simon Tucker. Mr. Tucker, this is Miss Dovie Jacobs, the boarder I mentioned.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
She acknowledged his greeting with a friendly nod. “Did you two just come from the town meeting?” She absently brushed the leaves and dirt from her skirt. “I’ll admit I’ve been nigh on bursting with curiosity.”
Simon wondered why she hadn’t gone to the meeting herself. But it wouldn’t be polite to ask. “We did,” he said as he opened the gate. “And it so happens I was the subject. I find myself stranded here in town with ten children and their guardian who has taken seriously ill.” He nodded deferentially to his companion. “Mrs. Pierce has generously agreed to open her home to us while we await the outcome of our friend’s illness.” He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. “I hope that won’t inconvenience you any.”
“Not at all. And I’m sure enough sorry about your friend. I’ll pray she recovers quickly.”
Then she turned to Mrs. Pierce and gave her an approving smile. “Good for you. I’ve thought this place was crying