Chapter Nine
“OH.”
It was the only word that came to Ruthann’s mind when Nate led her up the stairs and threw open the door to the little apartment.
The room they walked into, a small parlor, looked as if it had never seen a broom, much less a speck of water.
“It’s . . . well.” Nate rubbed his hand across his chin, a habit Ruthann remembered well from their childhood. It was just as endearing now as it had been then.
“It just needs a little cleaning,” Ruthann said. The last thing she wanted was Nate feeling badly about this place. She ran a hand over the dusty back of a wing chair. “The furniture is good. And look at the size of that fireplace. We’ll never go cold in winter.”
She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut the second the words were out of her mouth. It was June, and here she was thinking—and saying out loud—that they’d still be married come winter.
But Nate said nothing about that, instead moving to a door to the right. “I believe this is the kitchen.”
Ruthann peered around him, into a dirty and sparsely furnished, but functional-looking kitchen. And then, in front of the building, on the far side of the parlor was a bedroom.
Theonlybedroom.
A flush crept up Ruthann’s cheeks as she surveyed the bed that needed airing out, a single chair, and a small stand of drawers with a washbasin and pitcher she didn’t dare look into.
They’d agreed this was a marriage in name only. And as much as Ruthann wished to be married to Nate for love, she wasn’t certain she was ready for anything more than another kiss.
“I’ll sleep in the parlor,” he said quickly, as if he were reading her thoughts.
Ruthann nodded, although she wondered how his long frame would fit comfortably on that settee. “We’ll need some supplies. Food, of course, and dishes, pots, and pans. A broom, a scrubbing brush, some rags, clean linens . . .” She listed off a few more necessities.
Nate nodded. “Make a list, and I’ll take it to the general store when I go out to collect my things from the boardinghouse. There is a broom downstairs, and a few rags, but not much else, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Claver next door if I can’t borrow a few things,” Ruthann said, glancing around the parlor again, this time with a more critical eye. Mrs. Claver wouldn’t hesitate to help her out. “She used to give me penny candy each time Mama took me in for a new hat.”
“My mother spoke highly of her,” Nate said.
When Ruthann glanced up at him, he seemed lost in thought. “You must miss her so much,” she said gently.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pressed his hands to his hips. “I do.”
“She was a remarkable woman.” Ruthann hadn’t often seen her on social calls because Mrs. Harper had worked long hours to keep her only son fed and clothed and with a roof over his head. But she had raised him well, all on her own, and was always as gracious and giving as she could be.
Nate gave her a tight smile, and Ruthann hoped she hadn’t caused him too much sadness by speaking of her.
“I’ll speak with Mrs. Claver now,” she said, gathering her skirts and moving toward the door that led to the stairs. Her carpetbags sat just inside the door; but she hated to unpack without giving the place as much of a scrubbing as she could before it grew too late in the day.
