“At this bloody hour? Only if ye know how to make it,” he informed her.
Not a challenge for someone of her vast experience. She crossed the office, seized the pot from atop the coal stove, then filled it with water from the pitcher.
I watched with growing amusement as she rummaged about, found the tin of coffee, then added several spoonfuls and set it on the stove.
Brodie made a sound, crossed the office barefoot, made another sound, and then proceeded to add coal to the stove and stoked up the fire.
Lily returned to the table and seized another biscuit, looking at me thoughtfully as if there was nothing unusual about bursting in unannounced when it was barely light outside.
“I’ve been thinking…” Lily announced.
Brodie groaned. “Ye can find me at the public house.” He returned to the bedroom, put on his boots and made a half-hearted attempt to tame that mane of dark hair.
The outer door to the office snapped shut behind him.
“Someone twist his tail?” Lily inquired, then with a look at me, “Did I interrupt somethin’?”
“Sit,” I told her as I went to the stove where the pot now simmered. I badly needed coffee.
My relationship with Lily was… somewhat undefined. I was not old enough to be her mother—well, not unless I started quite young. I suspected our friendship needed some refining, as she was now my ward. Which brought me back to the present situation.
I had brought Lily from Edinburgh with an arrangement to provide her with an education and the ability to provide for herself. And admittedly, I was quite fond of her.
Brodie and I had agreed to make inquiries regarding Charlotte Mallory’s death, which seemed warranted under the circumstances. When we had information that could be helpful we would provide that to Lily, as we would with anyone, client or no. However…
“Yer peeved at me,” she said, most observant as I sat at the desk with cup in hand and thought how best to handle the situation.
She wasn’t a child, therefore scolding her as one was not appropriate. Nor was she a woman full-grown, even with her background. She had learned to survive with spirit, determination, and grit, as my friend Templeton called it. A term she picked up on her tour through the United States.
Lily most certainly had that.
Brodie had marked our unmistakable resemblance and perhaps that was part of the reason we usually got on so well. I sayusually. It did seem as if I now needed to step into another role with her.
‘Stepping in it’ conjured all sorts of images that had to do with horses and other animals.
Very well. I had made this commitment, best to determine the appropriate way to handle the present situation. I started with a question, as I was most curious.
“I’m surprised you made it past the hound, and the office door was locked.”
“The hound weren’t no problem. He’s right friendly if ye bring a bit of food with ye.”
The apple and the tree came to mind.
“Wasn’t,” I corrected her.
“That’s wot I said.”
With memories of my own distaste for lessons, I didn’t belabor the point.
“The lock at the door?” I reminded her.
“That weren’t no problem. I picked it, just like ye showed me.”
Oh dear. She was most observant. This was not going at all well.
“Only to be done in the case of a necessary situation,” I reminded her.
“It was necessary. I wanted to speak with the two of ye about my idea.”
