She pushed the door open fully, then stepped inside. “I brought you both the evening meal. You’ve been working so late, and I didn’t want you to go hungry.”
As he reached her, his attention locked on the food. “I’ve never eaten so well as since you came here. I’ve wanted to come by to thank you, but by the time all the customers left last night, it was far too late to come calling on a lady.”
Good thing the lighting in here wasn’t strong enough forhim to see her blush. Her little dirt-floor cabin on the other end of the courtyard was a far cry from the morning parlor back in their Richmond townhouse.
Tanner wasn’t looking at her anyway, for his eyes were still fixed on the food as he took one of the plates. “That looks like corn bread, but there wasn’t cornmeal in the cabin.” He lifted his eyes in question. “Did you find it in the storage room?”
The heat spread to her ears as she shook her head. “It’s cream cake. I’m not sure it’s any good, though. I hope I haven’t wasted all the ingredients trying to bake it over an open fire. I’ve only made it in a cookstove oven before.”
His eyes rounded, but she couldn’t tell if it was from frustration for her possible waste or anticipation of sampling the treat. He glanced down at the plate in her hands. “Is that yours?”
“For White Horse. When I bake, I sample too much, then I’m never hungry for the actual meal.” And the knot in her middle had stolen the rest of her appetite anyway.
Tanner glanced toward the open front door. “He’s walking our visitors back to their camp. I think he’s telling them we’re closed for the night too.” His mouth curved in a wry smile, then he lifted the plate. “Do I have to wait for him before I dig in?”
His eagerness made it easy to smile. “Nay. Eat when you like.”
His eyes lit as he reached for the square of cream cake. “May I start with dessert?”
“Absolutely.” His little-boy excitement was so much fun to watch. She should temper his expectations, though. “It likely won’t be as good as you’re expecting. The bottomcame out a little black. And I couldn’t get the inside as done as I wanted.”
He lifted the slice with his hand. “I’ll have to ask Wally to bring a cookstove with his next load.” Then his eyes drifted shut as he bit into the cake.
She held her breath, especially as his eyes stayed closed while he chewed. Did it taste so foul he couldn’t look at her?
Then one eye opened to catch her staring, and a smile spread to the corners of his mouth. “Best I’ve ever eaten.”
He was teasing now. She shook her head and looked away but still couldn’t fight the tug of a smile. “You don’t mean that.”
“It’s definitely the best thing I’ve eaten since coming west.” Humor laced his voice. “Seriously, it’s wonderful. I’ve never had cream cake, but I think this could easily become my favorite treat.” He took another hearty bite, and not even the crunching of the blackened bottom seemed to get in the way of his obvious enjoyment.
Warmth slipped through her. “It’s my favorite too. My sister Juniper always makes it on my birthday. I didn’t think we’d get to have it this year, mostly because we had no flour or sugar or milk.” She sent him a thankful smile. “But I also wasn’t certain it would bake correctly without a real oven.”
He’d nearly downed the whole square of cake now and swallowed his bite before speaking. “When is your birthday?”
“The sixth of May.” Would he realize that date was coming quite soon? Even if he did, her birthday would hardly be a significant event for him. He had his hands full with his business and now with the onslaught of customers they’d brought to his doorstep.
He slid a look at her. “Monday?”
She nodded. “If we kept track of the days correctly.” As she shifted her gaze around the room, the heaping pile of furs against the back wall was hard to miss. “The Sioux have been good to trade with?”
He grimaced as he picked up a piece of smoked deer meat. “Some of them expect more for their furs than is fair, and they get a bit grumpy when I disagree. It’s hard to find the balance at times between fair trade and good business decisions.”
She raised her brows at him. “Aren’t they the same?”
“Not always. Sometimes I need to accept a less-than-equal exchange to keep that customer from spreading untrue rumors about our store. And sometimes I do it as a matter of safety. But usually I need to hold fast to my scruples about what’s fair to both sides. It takes a bit of discernment to know which tactic to take in each situation.”
He spoke the words casually, as though the ideas were a matter of course. Yet that kind of innate wisdom didn’t come naturally to most men.
“Have you always been a merchant?” she asked. “Is that what you did back in Boston before joining the Day Police?”
His mouth formed a thin line. “No, but my father has always been a merchant. He was founder and president of the great Mason Mercantile chain. I suppose it’s in my blood.”
Mason Mercantile. She’d heard of them. In fact, she, Papa, and Faith had visited one when they traveled with him to Washington City. It was a great big structure with two levels that took up nearly a whole block. Most men might have spoken those words with pride, but Tanner’s voice held anedge of bitterness. What was the story there? How far did she dare press? “But you ... didn’t work for him?”
He shrugged. “I did for a time. Clerk and delivery boy while I was studying at university. I thought I should learn the business from the bottom to the top.”
Something about his practiced indifference made her chest ache. There must be pain in that part of his life. Did she dare ask more? She couldn’t seem to stop herself. “What made you change your mind?”
