Josie’s muffled voice shrieked from upstairs, “What on earth fell?!”
Braxton steadied the lamp, his breaths uneven. “I reckon half the roof’s snow came down. It’s a good thing we weren’t standing out there.”
“It’s a good thing no one was.” Phoebe pushed a curl behind her ear with a trembling hand. She was certain her face was on fire. “We… we should get George settled and go home.”
“Right,” Braxton said gruffly. “Good idea.”
They worked after that. Not looking at each other any longer than necessary.
When the last of the letters were sorted, Braxton gathered his coat from her shoulders with care, as if touching her again were dangerous. “I’ll see you home,” he said.
Phoebe nodded, relieved and disappointed all at once.
They donned their hats, coats and scarves, and stepped outside into a world muffled by white. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and their breaths rose in soft clouds. They walked in companionable silence. Occasionally, their coat sleeves brushed. Each time set Phoebe’s heart fluttering.
When they finally reached her boardinghouse door, she turned to him. “Thank you. For everything.”
He tipped his hat, eyes softer than she’d ever seen. “Anytime, Phoebe.” To her surprise, he took her hand in his. “Sleep well.”
Her hand in his felt like a spark struck iron. Phoebe slipped inside before her knees betrayed her, leaned back against the closed door, and pressed a hand to her galloping heart.
She tried to tell herself it was the cold. Yes, that was it. She was shaking because of the cold, not because Braxton held her hand.
Phoebe took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched up the stairs to her room to pack. She didn’t have the money to pay her rent. She had only half. No doubt she might find herself on the street in the morning. Until then, thoughts of Braxton would hopefully calm her.
Or perhaps not…
Chapter Eleven
The next morning Phoebe awoke to more snowfall. The wind last night wasn’t as bad as she thought it might be, and this morning the flakes were coming down gently. Okay, at least she wouldn’t have to look for another place in a blinding snowstorm.
She got up, went through her morning routine then looked at her meager belongings packed into two large valises. She’d have to try to find lodgings in a cheaper neighborhood. But the problem with that was, how was she going to make money in the meantime? Did she dare ask the Merriweather sisters? She and Braxton had been helping them for at least a week now, and she’d only been presented with one groom. In person no less.
Phoebe shuddered at the thought of Mr. Pringle. He was a man who would make her miserable in no time at all. He didn’t want to marry for love. He wanted to marry for looks and prestige. She’d be nothing but ornamentation for him.
She shook her head as she searched her room for any item still not packed. Poor Braxton hadn’t faired much better with Miss Poppenstock. Gads, the woman wanted to become an ornament. Phoebe hoped the sisters matched Miss Poppenstock and Mr. Pringle together. She was sure they’d be very happy together. Neither seemed to care about love.
A loud rap sounded at her door. Phoebe jumped, a hand to her chest then drew in a shuddering breath. She knew that knock. It was Mr. Randall, come to collect the rent. She glanced at her valises and blinked back tears. This was it.
Phoebe opened the door. “Mr. Randall,” she managed calmly. “Good morning.”
He frowned at her. “Your rent’s caught up and paid through December. He gave her a curt nod, turned on his heel, and marched down the hall to the staircase.
Her jaw dropped. “Wh-what?”
“You heard me,” he called back.
Phoebe stepped into the hall and watched him disappear down the staircase. “But… how?” She shivered then hugged herself. “What… I…,” her eyes widened. “Braxton.”
Phoebe hurried back into her room and closed the door behind her. “Oh, Braxton, you did’nt…” But she was sure he did. How else did the rent get paid?
Phoebe put a hand to her mouth as something between a sob and a laugh escaped her. She looked at her valises, tears in her eyes, and began to unpack. But should she?
Phoebe stopped and looked around the room. If she got lucky, and the sisters would find her a groom in the next few days, then she’d just have to pack everything up again.
Her face fell. The likelihood of Augusta, Margaret, and Josie finding her a groom in the next couple of weeks was slim to none at the rate they were going. She might still have to move at the end of the month. She only had to have the rent money for January now. Could she get the sisters to hire her and make the rest? Maybe she could act as their assistant until Miss O’Malley returned.
She left her valises alone, donned her coat and hat, and pulled on her gloves. She’d go straight to The Sister’s Mail-Order Bride Company and ask them if they’d hire her. If they said no, then she’d have to think of something else. She would also have to stop helping them. If they couldn’t pay her, she had to find some form of work to earn the other half of the rent money she’d need for January.
