“She sent me a letter. Arrived the same day as Major Ramsey.”
He blinked wide. He might have known Evie would see fit to play matchmaker in one fashion or the other. “What did it say?” He laid his open hand across the table.
“And what is that for?”
“The letter. I’d like to read it.”
She folded her arms. “I don’t have it with me. Besides, it was written to me, not you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Don’t torture me, Cora. I want to know what my sister said.”
She tapped a finger to her chin. “The gist was that your parents are holding you prisoner, and that she felt a visit from me would cheer you up.”
“That sounds about like how she would put it, but her comment about you cheering me up is the understatement of the year. Having you come see me is more than I’d dared hope for or imagine.”
She touched the rose at her bosom. “I think you’ve almost turned into a poet since you left Texas.”
“If I have, it’s love that makes me so.”
She traced the swirled pattern stitched into the linen tablecloth. “Either love, or because this is your world.” She waved her fingers in the air and glanced around the café with its china, crystal, and elegant black-and-red color scheme.
“I’ve been in New Orleans for less than a week my entire life.”
“Not New Orleans.” Eyes downcast, she toyed with her spoon. “But the fancy café, the people, city life.” Her smile had evaporated.
In other words, not the frontier, ranching, and Texas. “My world is any place where you and I and Charlie are together.”
She inhaled. Her brow twitched.
Goodness. He was getting too close to a version of his proposal that he couldn’t make.
She bit her lip. “Where?—”
“Excuse me, monsieur and mademoiselle.” The waitress delivered two plates of blackened red fish, buttered rice, and green beans.
Not ready for thewhereyet, Ben said grace, then said, “Tell me about your travels. You caught the stage and then?—”
“I’ll tell you more after I hear all about thePhiladelphia Sentineland your family.”
He cut a slice of the seasoned fish. “I love my parents, but talking about them this evening might spoil my appetite. However, I’ll tell you about theSentinel, Evelyn, my grandfather, anything else you like.”
“Fine by me.” She poked a couple of green beans.
In between bites, he described his duties at the paper and the excitement of the newsroom, sidestepping the management conflict. He moved on to a brief introduction to Evie, the whole description deserving a couple meals’ worth of discussion, and ended with an abbreviated version of his summer days at his grandpa’s.
“You loved your grandfather greatly.” Her tender tone bathed him in warmth. “I’m sorry I missed getting to know him.”
“He’s the one who taught me how to dream. And to love the outdoors.”
Cora raked her fork through her remaining pieces of rice. “But you also love your work at the paper.”
“Maybe I just want you to see that I’m actually competent at something. I still have nightmares about all of those cattle lying there?—”
She leaned forward. “Goodnight himself barely avoided the same mistake, and he has lived on the frontier since boyhood.”
He slipped his hand over hers. “In the newsroom, I’m confident. I know how to succeed. I enjoy writing…”
Her smile drooped.
