her breath that he didn’t catch, then said, “We all wondered who bought it.”
He opened the front door, noticed the lingering scent of soap as Juliette passed in front of him. Picking up the baby buggy, he carried it inside. He reckoned Juliette would not appreciate having muddy wheels leaving a mess on her highly polished floor.
It was odd, but he could swear she was frowning. Blamed if he knew why, what he might have said or done. Until now, she’d been nothing but friendly and smiling.
By the time he set the buggy in a corner and closed the front door, her troubled expression had passed.
The smile he remembered from years ago was back on her face as she answered the greeting of a young girl sitting at a table near the window.
No, not the same smile, quite, but more mature. Clearly, she’d lived tragedy, embraced joy and come out of it with more inner beauty than he could imagine.
Watching her glance down at her son, smile and coo—yes, he was certain he had never seen anyone more lovely in his life.
No pampered lady, this, with a maid to tend her needs. As far as he could tell, Juliette did it all on her own.
But, of course, hadn’t she always? With her mother gone of influenza when Juliette was young, it had fallen upon her to care for both herself and her father.
While other twelve-year-olds were being dressed in ruffles and bows by their mothers, Juliette had been left to figure it out on her own.
As children they’d had that in common—growing up without a mother. It was a hard thing for a girl. Just as hard for a boy.
The squeak of a door hinge drew his attention from the past to the here and now.
A young woman hustled out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a well-used apron that looked too long on her petite frame.
She stopped short, glancing between him and Juliette with a smile.
“Good evening, sir,” she said. “You’ve come at a good time. It’s quiet now. All the folks from the train have come and gone. What can I get for you?”
The girl sitting at the table drummed the end of a pencil on the cover of a book while she stared at him in open curiosity.
“Rose, Cora.” Juliette tipped her head toward the girl wearing the apron, then toward the child. “Please meet my friend, Mr. Culverson.”
Rose’s smile fell and her brows shot up like a pair of arrows touching tips.
Cora clenched her pencil, her fingertips going white.
“I knew it!” The child’s eyes grew round as a pair of full moons. “The wicked son come home to take up with his pa and wreak havoc on us all.”
Funny how the prospect of his evil intentions seemed to delight her more than frighten her.
Truly, he hadn’t expected to be welcomed home with open arms right off. But to be looked at so suspiciously by one of his pupils before she ever set foot in the classroom? It was disheartening.
“Cora McAllister! Mind your tongue.”
“I apologize,” Cora said with a deep sigh, then focused a glare on her sister. “But you know as well as I do, Rose, it’s all everyone is talking about.”
“Not everyone. Trea, would you mind holding my sweet boy? He’s getting heavier every day.”
Juliette placed the baby in his arms. He thought she intended the gesture as a demonstration that she believed him worthy of the honor. Something shifted inside of him. He wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant, only that it made him feel warm inside.
“That’s true.” Cora tapped her pencil on her chin. “It’s mostly the women Juliette’s age who have been saying it. And a few men who are jealous of your handsome looks. It’s what the ladies say, at any rate. Naturally, I’m far too young to take note of such a fact on my own. Sheriff Hank has a bit to say, too, but he only wants to catch you at some evil deed so that he can look reliable. Although, I doubt it will help.”
“Cora! What did I just tell you not half a second ago?” Rose looked stricken. He didn’t remember her, but she would have been very young when he left Beaumont.
“I apologize again. On occasion I say the first thing that pops into my mind. My sister says I lack maturity. I don’t mind so much because I’m afraid I will be stifled by it. From what folks say, you were not a bit stifled. And really—truly—I do admire that.”
“In that case I will do my utmost not to stifle you, Miss McAllister.”
“I don’t know how you could, since—” She gasped suddenly, dropped the pencil. It rolled off the table and came to rest at the toe of his boot.
Stooping, he carefully cradled the infant boy to his chest. He snatched the pencil off the floor and handed it back to Cora.
“As I think you just guessed, Cora, Mr. Culverson is our new schoolmaster,” Juliette announced, the quirk of her lips indicating that she bit back a laugh.
Juliette had always had an easy laugh. Thinking back, he remembered that she had never used it to smirk or deride, only to express humor.
“Oh.” Cora accepted the pencil, set it on the table with a quiet click. “I reckon I’ve never made so many apologies in such a short time. I’m sorry, and welcome, Mr. Culverson.”
“I accept your apologies, Miss McAllister. I hope you’ll be ready for class to begin in two days. We’ll be starting rehearsal for a Christmas pageant first thing.”
Cora clapped her hands. “I can’t remember the last time we had one of those!”
The idea of the pageant had been brewing in his mind for a while now. It seemed a good way to get to know the students and give them a chance to shine in front of their parents. Making their children sparkle was a good way to win them over. If he didn’t manage to win over the parents, he might as well go back to frying chicken, since he’d be out of a job by the new year.
Watching Juliette while she smiled down at her daughter, tapping the child’s button-like nose with her long, slender finger, well—he knew he did not want to leave here. And for more reasons than his need to make amends for past wrongs.
“I add my welcome, Mr. Culverson.” Rose hurried across the room, her hand extended in greeting. An interesting and familiar blend of scents floated around her. Vanilla and fried food overlaid with coffee was his guess. “And you ought to know that, in spite of Cora’s frankness, she is dedicated to her studies.”
“Devoted to them,” Cora declared. “Quite faithful, in fact. I’d rather learn than do most anything.”
“That’s admirable, Cora,” he said.
“Practical, I’d say more than that. One day we women will have the right to vote, and I don’t want to make foolish decisions.”
One day women would vote, and that would be a fine thing, but for now he suspected little Miss Cora needed to learn to have some fun along the way.
“The babies are sleeping, Rose,” Juliette said. “I can take over now. Why don’t you and Cora go on home.”
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning. I reckon you’ll be busy at the hotel. The gossip is that Elvira Pugley is leaving town tomorrow. She says if she spends one more day next door to that Ephraim Culver—” She shot Trea a suddenly sheepish glance. “I’m sorry—I plumb forgot that the man is your father.”
“Don’t trouble yourself over it. That’s a fact I wouldn’t mind forgetting, myself.”
Rose took off her apron while Cora gathered up her book and her pencil.
At the doorway, Cora turned back and shot him a sober glance. “Mr. Culverson, I, for one, do not think you are the devil come home to roost and