There were so many things about her husband that she didn’t know. So many things she planned to learn. She’d been in a stupor after losing Hattie, retreating into the safety of her story world, but she needed to regain her presence now. Learn everything about the man she’d promised to love.
Izzy returned with a toddler on her hip, tufts of blonde hair wisping across the girl’s forehead as she rested on her mother’s shoulder. When the child reached out, Olivia offered her hand, the girl clutching one of her fingers. She was older than Annabelle had been when she fell asleep that last time but not by much.
“She’s my world,” Izzy said, kissing the girl’s cheek.
“What’s her name?” Olivia whispered.
“Greta, but the professor calls her Angel. Now she won’t answer to anything else.”
“Angel,” Olivia said, wishing she could take the child in her arms. “It suits her.”
“The professor will be thrilled to see you.” Izzy waved her inside before locking the door behind them. “He hasn’t been quite the same since Ruthie died.”
“Did you know Ruthie?”
Izzy shook her head. “She passed before I moved in.”
Moved in...“You live here?”
Izzy appeared equally confused. “Of course.”
Even though Simon needed someone to help with his cleaning and meals, it didn’t seem right for her husband, a professor at that, to have a young woman living in as a housekeeper. They would discuss it when she reached his office.
“Do you mind if I wash up before I walk over to the college?” If she saw Dr. Kinsley or another professor or a student who’d attended the panel, it wouldn’t do to look so disheveled.
“Take all the time you need.” Izzy led her to the powder room, and Olivia quickly rinsed her face and applied a peach lipstick and dab of powder before repinning her hair. She much preferred Simon visiting her in Catawba than the pressure of meeting his colleagues, but she would honor him well as the new Mrs. Farrow.
They could wait to talk about the nasty business of money, after she surprised him. With the war and uncertainty in the world, everything was messy right now. They would quickly iron things out between them.
After slipping back into the hall, she stopped by the parlor to gaze at a family portrait above the mantel. Simon was much younger in the painting, probably twenty or twenty-one, his chin lifted high, handsomeeyes focused on something in the distance like he was deep in thought. Or annoyed. Perhaps he’d been forced into standing for the portrait.
His mother was seated in a chair upholstered at least a century past, wearing an elegant dress with pearls. His father stood tall beside the chair, quite distinguished with a trimmed beard and formal suit.
Where was his sister?
Simon rarely spoke of his family. His parents lived near Winfield, he’d said, but she wasn’t sure where or how they felt about their only son marrying again, especially at a courthouse in Pennsylvania. After their whirlwind wedding, she and Simon needed to start over. Expand their relationship to include his family and her small circle of friends.
She searched the walls for a photograph or portrait of Simon and his first wife—even just a picture of Ruthie alone—but saw none. Perhaps he’d taken them down after she died. Or maybe he’d stored them when he remarried.
She and Simon needed to hire a photographer soon. Then they could frame and display their portrait in both homes.
Izzy directed her to Simon’s office, promising to send the professor over if they missed one another. Olivia walked two blocks to the stone administration building and asked the tidy secretary—Mrs. Vane, according to her nameplate—for Professor Farrow.
“He’s teaching for the next hour, but I can give him a message when he returns.” Mrs. Vane reached for a memo pad. “What is your name?”
Olivia took a deep breath and then smiled. “Mrs. Farrow.”
The woman looked horrified, like Olivia was making light of the professor’s loss. Didn’t Simon tell her that he’d remarried? He’d have to introduce them properly the moment he returned.
“Could you direct me to Dr. Farrow’s classroom?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
Because a professor’s wife should know such a thing. Mrs. Vane didn’tbelieve her, and why should she if Simon hadn’t told her about their marriage?
Olivia stepped toward a couch between office doors. “I’ll wait for him.”
The woman eyed her skeptically until Olivia looked away. While she’d packed a small tablet in her handbag, she was too nervous to write. Too nervous to do anything as the minutes turned into an hour.
