“Of course. Miss Elliott—I mean, Cordelia. Is it all right if I call you Cordelia?” Mr. Foster’s face went ruddy with the question.
A wave of affection passed through Delia. It was kind of him to ask. “Delia, please. Cordelia sounds so formal.” Delia made a face.
He smiled at her reaction. “All right. Delia. And I prefer Max to Maxwell.”
“Max.” She repeated the name, trying not to focus on how intimate it felt to say out loud. Perhaps if he were old and gruff, like Roy, it would feel different. But instead, it sent a warm, buzzing feeling through her entire body.
His eyes, she realized, lingered on her. And then it seemed he realized he was staring.
“Right,” he said, shifting sideways to allow her access to the stairs. “I’ll be . . . I’ll be down here.”
Delia could feel her face going hot. She was blushing. It was embarrassing and so entirely unlike her that all she could do was run up the stairs without looking back.
But when she reached the top, she came to a sudden stop.
“Anna?”
Chapter Four
MAX CLOSED HIS EYESfor half a second, wondering what in the world Anna could have done now, before flying up the stairs. He came to a stop behind Delia, and his mouth fell open.
Skirts and coats and shirtwaists and nightgowns lay draped across every surface. Jewelry littered the floor. Shoes were scattered every which way, and shining hair baubles and hats were tossed about. Max turned away from a set of underthings hanging from the open wardrobe door.
In the middle of it all stood Anna, wearing a much-too-big emerald-colored bodice and matching skirt, elbow-length gloves, and a hat with peacock feathers.
Delia was staring at Anna. She dropped the hand that had gone to her chest and cleared her throat. “Well, green is quite a fetching color on you.”
Anna’s eyes were big, as if she didn’t understand what Delia had said. But then she frowned and took a step forward, promptly tripping on the too-long hem of the skirt and landing in a heap on the floor.
“Whatare you doing?” Max asked, even though it was obvious what Anna had been busying herself with. “What made you think you were welcome to go through Delia’s things and make such a mess?”
“Max—” Delia started, but Anna interrupted her.
“They’re all ugly, anyway,” she said as she tore the skirt off, revealing her own blue calico dress underneath. “Green is ugly, and this hat is ugly, and I don’t want any of it.” She tossed the hat to the floor.
Delia looked to Max, a bewildered look on her face.
His hope sunk. In his mind, he’d harbored the hope that as soon as Anna met Delia, they’d take to each other and Delia would know exactly what to do to help. But instead, she looked to him, as if he knew what to do.
He was lost. Completely and hopelessly lost when it came to his daughter.
Anna pushed past them and ran down the stairs.
“Anna!” he shouted, running after her. “You need to come back up here and put all of these things away!”
