“That’s the best part. Seems the barkeep had a sudden lapse of memory when it came to identifying the other party. Ol’ Trestwell will bear the brunt of the blame for the broken tables and chairs. Ho ho!” He cuffed Bram on the arm good-naturedly. “Best of luck on your museum and all. Being there’s no refreshments of my sort, I suppose I shall find other enterprises for the morning. Good day to you both.”
Eva dipped her head. “Good day, Mr. Finebridge.”
The moment he was out of hearing, Bram murmured, “That man’s liver is going to swim away before he realizes it is gone.”
“You, sir, are a scoundrel.” Eva batted his sleeve, laughing. “But likely very correct. The man is—”
Bram’s gaze drifted past her, a subtle shake of his head accompanying his silent observation.
She turned to face the Reverend Mr. Blackwood, dressed from head to toe in his usual grey, though since becoming headmaster at the newly founded Haven Academy, he’d added a sprig of colour to his monotone garments: a badge of red with the school’s insignia on his lapel.
“Mr. and Mrs. Webb.” He tipped his hat.
“Mr. Blackwood. Thank you for coming.” Eva folded her hands, posture at once straightening. Though the man had admittedly softened these past months, her old habit was hard tobreak. “I am surprised you took time away from your students this morning.”
“Classes are cancelled due to personal business. It is my monthly prison visit to see my sister, but I thought to first stop by here and offer my congratulations.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” Eva’s brows gathered. “How is Mrs. Mortimer holding up?”
“As profitably as she can possibly make of her situation. She sells contraband to the other inmates, and though I’ve informed the staff, they have yet to catch her in the act. Needless to say, I pray daily for her soul.”
“I shall join you in that prayer, Mr. Blackwood.”
“Thank you.” He moved on to Bram. “When you have a moment, Mr. Webb, I should like to speak with you in reference to a workshop or two for my students.”
“I will meet you inside shortly.”
“Very good.”
Mr. Blackwood moved on, Eva’s gaze following him. Other than the splash of red on his frock coat, he didn’t look any differently on the outside, but inwardly he’d been transformed. “His sister’s conviction surely did alter that man,” she murmured.
“Bearing the weight of tragedy can reshape a person’s perspective on what truly matters.” Bram glanced down at her, empathy shining in his eyes. “Adversity has a way of reshuffling one’s priorities in life.”
“Yes, but to open a school for vulnerable children? I would say that is quite a miracle.”
“Turns out a heart does beat beneath that grey coat of his after all, eh?”
“Mrs. Webb.” Mrs. Muggins stepped up to her next, offering neither a hand of greeting nor a smile.
“Mrs. Muggins.” Eva dipped a small curtsey, for though the woman refused to play by her own rules, the old widow stillheld others to more formal acknowledgments. “Thank you for visiting the museum on opening day.”
“It is my civic duty, though it remains to be seen if it is a waste of my time.” She passed by Bram without a word.
Bram leaned aside. “If there were a profession for skeptics, that woman would win the highest acclaim.”
And so went the next half hour, until finally the last patron paused in front of Eva and Bram, the woman’s greeting as trilling as a nearby skylark singing in a tree. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Webb. This museum is a fine addition to Royston. Just what we needed!”
“Mrs. Quibble, how lovely to see you.” Eva lightly squeezed the woman’s arm.
“I knew it would be a grand event with you at the helm.” Her gaze shot to Bram. “No offense, Mr. Webb.”
“None taken, Mrs. Quibble.”
Eva gestured toward the door, where merry conversation drifted out. “There are refreshments inside. I think you will especially find the lemon fingers to your liking.”
“No doubt I shall.” She patted her gloved hand against her stomach, then stepped closer. “However, I purposely held back to have a private word with you, Eva. I’ve put off asking you to return full time to the relief society being you’re newly married and all, but it’s been nearly half a year since your wedding, and I feel confident you are settled in your matrimonial role. In light of such, when can I expect your service to resume? It is never too early for you to start planning the next fundraising gala, you know.”
“That is very true, Mrs. Quibble, and I am happy to help with preliminary arrangements, but I am afraid I will not be able to attend the December event.”
