“Should I apologize?”
“For making me lose myself in a kiss? Never.” He gave her a wry look. “But that is exactly why I wouldn’t kiss you in the carriage. Imagine Winnie’s horror if you’d emerged with bruised lips and mussed hair.”
“She might not have been as scandalized as you think.” She gave him a mock glare. “One of us should have realized she was eavesdropping.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’m afraid you fully occupied my attention.”
“Although,” she continued, playing with the top button of his shirt, “there was one thing that confused us both.”
“What’s that?”
“The pronunciation of the word. You know. The one that means kitten.”
Olive was amazed to see his ears redden. So there was something that could embarrass him.
“Min käraste,” he said finally.
She repeated it, committing it to memory. “Unfortunately, neither of us could remember the term of endearment I came up with for you,” she lied.
Kitten and beloved were not on the same level, and she would sooner die than make the same mistake twice.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” His attention lowered to her injured wrist, bulky in its wrapping and cradled in her lap. “How is your wrist?”
“Healing, thank goodness.”
“Can you play?”
“Not yet, but I already found a replacement for my weekly hour in the Turner Hotel lounge, so the manager shouldn’t be too upset with me. And Mrs. Loughlin was understanding when I had to cancel playing at her birthday luncheon. I should be able to play after that.”
His brows furrowed. “What will the cancellations do to your expenses?”
“It won’t be easy, but we’ll manage.”
“What does that mean?”
The blunt question made her bristle. Why couldn’t he accept her lie as easily as Winnie had? “It means I’ll figure something out.”
“Why should you have to manage when you could thrive?”
She sighed in exasperation. “It’s not as if this is the first time this has ever happened. Two years ago, I had pneumonia and lost several weeks’ pay. We managed.”
“You keep saying that word. Manage. It’s a stupid word.”
“Now, wait just a minute?—”
“We’ll go to Ballard,” he said abruptly. “You’ll give lessons to my family to make up the pay.”
“You can’t force your family to learn piano just so I?—”
“My sister has begged my father for years,” he interrupted. “I’ll collect you on Sunday and we’ll visit.”
She wrestled with her resolve. On the one hand, she would have to admit she couldn’t manage on her own. But on the other hand, it would be a relief to admit she couldn’t do it all by herself. Why shouldn’t she accept some help from him? It wasn’t quite the same thing as accepting money from a friend, and they weren’t exactly friends, anyway.
“Thank you,” she said a moment later.
He squeezed her waist in response. “Now. I’m dying to know more about how you wrote the most popular song of the year and managed to keep it a secret until laudanum loosened your lips.”
“Even from you,” she couldn’t resist teasing.
