Rosie’s hands danced over the few remaining pairs of socks at their booth. Thankfully, they had more at Ana’s house, and it was just a matter of running to get them.
“Rosie, you’ve outdone yourself,” Malcolm’s voice broke through the noise as he approached.
“Thank you, Father,” she said. “Hope Springs has never seen a fair quite like this one.”
Most of the baked goods were gone, and she knew there would be a great deal of baking that evening. Perhaps even Carrie would join them. The woman seemed to have an endless supply of energy after that long train ride.
“Would you care for a walk? I’m famished, and I hear Mrs. Beasley’s meat pies are not to be missed,” Malcolm suggested, gesturing toward the food vendors who were still bustling with activity.
“Absolutely,” Rosie agreed, securing the money box beneath the counter before stepping out from behind the booth. She watched as Malcolm confidently navigated the throng, heading straight for the stand where golden-crusted pies sat temptingly on display.
“Two meat pies, please,” he ordered, handing Rosie one wrapped in a square of brown paper that felt warm against her skin.
“Father, let me show you around.” Rosie took a bite of the flaky pastry, savoring the peppery filling that warmed her from inside out. They strolled side by side, her pointing out various attractions: the children’s laughter ringing from the makeshift carousel Dr. Mercer had engineered, the choir singing carols off-key but with unmistakable joy, and the miners competing in an arm-wrestling contest, their muscles bulging as they battled for bragging rights.
“Over there,” she said between bites, indicating a group of women gathered around a quilt they were stitching together, “that’s the community quilt. Each family adds a square. By next year, it’ll be large enough to cover the mayor’s house!”
Malcolm chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I should hope Charles has no objections to such an ornate covering.”
“Charles knows better than to argue with tradition,” Rosie quipped, her heart light despite the lingering thoughts of her husband’s aloofness. Today was about celebration, about family—both old and new.
“The whole town has pulled together in a way I couldn’t have imagined for this event.” Rosie said, her words laced with a passion that mirrored the vibrant life of the fair around them. “And now, you’re a part of it too.”
“Rosie,” Malcolm said, “you’ve done a beautiful job here. I’m so proud of you!”
She met his gaze, noticing a familiar determination there that mirrored her own. “Thank you, Father,” Rosie said, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and anticipation for the future. “But we’re just getting started.”
The meat pie in her hand was half-eaten, its savory warmth a comfort against the chill that crept into the air. As she and Malcolm walked in step, Rosie couldn’t help but feel a magnetic pull toward her father.
“Your mother,” Malcolm began, his voice faltering with an emotion Rosie hadn’t expected to see in him, “she had a laugh that could light up the darkest room.” His smile waned, replaced by a somber tightness around his eyes. “I’m sorry, truly sorry, for what you girls had to endure growing up. I would’ve done things differently if only I’d known.”
Rosie glanced at him, seeing the regret etching lines deeper into his face.
“I think we’re just relieved that we aren’t related to Mr. Winslow. You’ve obviously heard some of the stories. You came at just the right time.” She paused for a moment. “I may take you up on the offer of a visit. With Ana and Izzy expecting, I know they won’t, but I’ll talk to Charles tonight.” Perhaps he’d be happy to see her go. It felt like the right thing to do, and having a father with her would help her.
Malcolm nodded, a look of relief softening his features. They continued to walk through the fair, passing children laughing as they played games and couples strolling arm in arm. Rosie pointed out each attraction, describing how it contributed to the community and the joy of Hope Springs.
“Charles really should be here to see this,” Malcolm observed, watching a young couple dance to a fiddler’s lively tune.
Rosie’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s ensuring everything runs smoothly elsewhere,” she replied, her cheeks coloring with a hint of frustration.
“Ah, the burden of leadership,” Malcolm mused. “It can make you forget to live a little.”
“Perhaps,” Rosie conceded.
As the fair began to wind down, Rosie felt a sense of accomplishment; the booth was nearly bare, her efforts having paid off. They had sold off many of the socks, and she would work on baking more that night.
“Thank you for today, for everything,” Rosie said, her gaze meeting Malcolm’s once more.
“Thank you for inviting me into your life, Rosie,” he replied, clasping her hands in his.
“Do you think I could borrow Carrie this evening? We’re completely out of baked goods, and I want to have something to offer the people who couldn’t make it today. One more day, and this is done!”
Her father nodded. “I think that would be wonderful. I wouldn’t mind coming and spending the evening with Charles.”
“Of course!” Rosie said. “Let’s find her and I’ll walk you to my home. I’m sure either Charles or I will be happy to walk you to Izzy’s when we’re finished. Izzy has the most beautiful house, and that’s where you’ll be staying.”
“Yes, Albert took our things there earlier, but we have yet to see it.”
As they walked toward the ranch, Rosie’s mind was on Charles and approaching him about going home with her father. He didn’t seem to want her around most of the time, so it would be a good solution.
