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“About what?”

“A young woman who believes she knows what’s best for everyone.”

“Sounds tiresome.”

“She is, at first.” Eden opened to the marked page. “She improves.”

“Wouldn’t count on it.”

Eden’s laugh surprised him. It was warm and brief, and he wanted to hear it again.

“Would you like me to read?”

“Go ahead.”

She began. Her voice carried easily through the small room, the words clearer than the sounds drifting in from the street. Jesse listened to a chapter about a young woman meddling in other people’s affairs, then interrupted when the heroine refused to admit she’d been wrong.

“She ought to apologize.”

Eden lowered the book. “I agree.”

“Does she?”

“Eventually.”

“How long?”

“You’ll have to listen tomorrow.”

Jesse frowned. “You’re stopping?”

“You’ve been fighting sleep for the past ten minutes.”

He wanted to deny it, but a yawn caught him first.

Eden marked the page. “I’ll leave the book here.”

“Stay a minute.”

She settled back into the chair.

Jesse watched her straighten the pages with her thumb. A woman had traveled all the way from Missouri because Emily had written a letter. He’d expected pity or some foolish talk about marriage. Instead, Eden had argued with him, handed him a cloth, and read a story with a heroine he couldn’t stand.

“Your brother,” he said. “Josiah.”

“Yes?”

“Was he as difficult as me?”

“On his best days.”

Jesse gave a soft snort. “You must’ve been glad when he got well enough to marry.”

“I was glad he had Laurel.”

“And you?”

She held the book against her lap. “What about me?”