Rebecca smiled, but Eleanor could tell it was strained. She hadn’t seen her sister be truly happy since before the death of her husband. As if in response to one of Eleanor’s questions, little Emmy toddled quickly around the corner of the shop. She stopped next to her mother and gripped Rebecca’s skirt.
“Bear,” she said, pointing behind Eleanor.
Eleanor didn’t have to turn around to know that Merrick was behind her. He’d set the crates down by the door and now stood awkwardly beside them. Eleanor squatted down until she was at eye level with Emmy.
“Emmy, that’s Uncle Merrick. He isn’t a bear. He’s a man.”
“Mer Bear,” Emmy said, her wide eyes staring at Merrick.
Eleanor rose, trying and failing to keep the grin from her face. “I’m afraid once Emmy has her mind set on something, it’s difficult to persuade her otherwise.”
“It’s fine,” he said sheepishly. He bent down to one of the crates and extracted an apple. He held it out to Emmy. “For you, if you’d like it.”
The little girl grinned and took the apple carefully into her hands.
“Thank Uncle Merrick,” Rebecca reminded her.
But Emmy just ducked her head, smiled again, and then ran back to where Eleanor could hear her siblings playing between the house and the shop.
“I’ll bring these inside,” Merrick said, stacking the crates again.
“Thank you.” Eleanor reached out and squeezed his arm. His face reddened, and he moved quickly around the building.
“I daresay that man is infatuated with you,” Rebecca said as she watched him go.
“We hardly know each other,” Eleanor replied. She didn’t know ifinfatuatedwas the correct word, particularly when he’d jerked his hand from her arm earlier and hadn’t even taken her elbow when they walked to the shops. He was kind, though, and he seemed to want to ensure her comfort. Her situation could be much worse.
“And yet you’re married?” Rebecca asked.
“We are. But I want to hear about you.” She studied the dark circles under Rebecca’s eyes and the tense lines around her mouth.
“Mr. Whiteside has passed away.” Her sister’s words were strained.
“I’ve heard,” Eleanor said softly.
“His brother has kindly placed us at a boardinghouse,” Rebecca said. “And . . .”
Eleanor waited a moment, but when Rebecca didn’t continue, she said, “And?”
Rebecca drew in a deep breath. “He’s offered to marry me.”
“That’s wonderful!” Eleanor clapped her hands together, grateful her sister still had the opportunity to make a life here.
But Rebecca didn’t look as happy as Eleanor thought she might be about the offer.
“You didn’t accept him,” she said, piecing her sister’s silence together.
Rebecca shook her head. “Not yet. I don’t know what to do.”
“Is there a reason you don’t wish to marry him?” Eleanor imagined the many vices or terrible personality traits the man could have.
“There isn’t. It isn’t because of him, particularly, although he seems rather distant. It’s me.” Rebecca frowned at the ground, seemingly lost in thought.
“I understand.” Committing to marrying the men they’d written to—men they didn’t know and so soon after the loss of the husbands they loved—was hard enough. But to come here and marry someone entirely different was even harder. “Will he give you time to mull it over?”
Rebecca looked up at her then. “Yes, he seems to be willing to wait, at least for a little while. I don’t want to take advantage. I’m sure that boardinghouse isn’t inexpensive. I’ll have to make up my mind soon.”
Eleanor took Rebecca’s hand. “Well, if there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know. Now, would you like to see my new home?”
