“Why does the house feel so quiet all of a sudden?”
Mother's question pulled Noah from staring down at his bacon and eggs as they ate breakfast in the large, ornate dining room. He'd wrestled with his interest in Kizzie McAdams all night long, praying for God to take the desires away, but the morning left him in the same befuddled state.
People didn't have an overwhelming preference for someone they only just met, did they? His experience with Elinor proved as different as night and day to this. He'd loved her, but it had been a quiet, deep sort of affection, nothing nearly as noisome as the current now clashing in his head and his heart.
How could he even propose to pursue something with her? George would never allow it. And his livelihood hinged on George's place as head of the Lewis funds.
He shook his head to clear it and looked back at his mother. “What do you mean?”
Though he already knew. He'd felt it too.
“How could Kizzie and Charlie's presence make such an impact?” She pushed her uneaten eggs around on her plate. “They weren't even with us a full twenty-four hours.”
But a lot had happened in those hours. His chest twinged with the interest he kept trying to squelch. “It wasn't a typical visit, Mother. I suppose that's what made it more memorable.”
She sighed and took a sip of tea. “It was nice to have them here, Noah. It was nice to laugh again.”
A loneliness edged her words. Since the elopement of his sister, Clarice, and his father's death, Mother had led an even more solitary life than before. She'd never bonded with some of the higher society ladies of The Hollows, and with the absence of his sister, her social events consisted of church and occasional trips into town for shopping.
She lacked female companionship, a truth Noah had failed to notice or even consider before Kizzie's presence brought the starkness of his mother's quiet life into focus. She didn't complain. He bit back a growl. But heshouldhave noticed. He was the son who tried to mind those particulars.
“I suspect we could invite her to dinner sometime, perhaps ask her to help with your garden plans this spring.”
His mother's face brightened. “Do you think she'd agree?”
“I think she may be surprised by the offer, but she's in need of some good friends.”As much as you are, Mother.“You could do her good.”
The idea hit its mark and bloomed into a smile on his mother's face. “Of course. That's an excellent notion, isn't it? A young girl who is new to our town could do with companionship.” His mother picked up a piece of toast and nodded, the light in her eyes warming a place in his heart. “We can ask her today when we take her trunks to her.”
He raised his gaze to her, suddenly trapped in his own tangle. “We?”
“Of course.” Mother sliced a piece of her bacon, her voice slipping into a chipper pitch. “We'll go near enough to Carters for church, and I haven't been into town in two weeks. Besides, it's proper to give a lady some advance notice about something as significant as being a dinner guest. And we ought to smooth over a bit of ruffled feathers from George's nasty little fit yesterday, don't you think?”
“Kizzie seems to have managed George's fit much better than most, Mother.”
“Dinner would still be a nice way to apologize.” Mother shrugged a narrow shoulder and took another bite of eggs, her appetite suddenly restored. “Why the scowl, Noah? Surely you're not prejudiced against her because of her past choices, are you? You've never been the sort—”
“No, Mother. I believe Kizzie has grown a great deal from her past.” Heat from the steam of his coffee somehow attached to his cheeks. “From what I can tell, she's a very admirable young woman.”
Her gaze bore into his profile as he took a long drink of water in an attempt to cool his face.
“The two of you seemed to get along very well from what I could tell.”
“Well enough.” He crammed a much-too-large bite of eggs into his mouth.
“Excellent.” She looked at him over her teacup, her smile turning in such a way it twisted his stomach. “Perhaps Kizzie and Charlie McAdams could do us both good in healing from our own pasts.”
Footsteps clacked against the entry followed by the sound of the door closing. Heavy and quick footsteps, which only meant one person.
George rounded the archway into the dining room, his dark hair slicked back, his brown suit fitted to his broad frame.
Noah stiffened in his chair. Mother's cup returned to its saucer with aclink.
“Have you seen the damage from the fire?” His voice boomed too loud in the silence of the room.
“Good morning to you too, George,” came Mother's gentle response as she waved to the chair nearest her. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”
A rush of air released through George's nose like a frustrated snort from Nugget. He moved toward the chair but, instead of sitting, grasped hold of the back of it and looked from Mother to Noah. “We don't have time or funds to cover such carelessness, Noah. You're floor manager for a reason, and that is to keep things like this from happening.”
