City Girl (7 page)

Reagan faced her squarely.

“I just got off the train. I don't have a place to live, and I haven't eaten yet today. If I find a place to stay, I'll come back as soon as I can, but for right now, I've got to make plans for tonight.”

“Fair enough. Plan to eat when you get back here, even if you don't have a chance to work. The least I can do is feed you.”

Reagan smiled and left without another word. She wasn't at all sure where to start, but start she would.

“A place to stay on only my new salary,” she said quietly to no one but herself. “This could take awhile.”

“Whose bag is this?” Holly Bennett asked of Russell when she brought him his lunch.

“Some little gal's. I didn't get her name.”

“Did she take a horse?”

“No. She said she was job hunting and the bag was heavy.”

Russell smiled at his wife's wide eyes.

“She knew what she wanted, Holly. You would have liked her.”

Holly looked at him teasingly. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Bennett. You speak as though I've been strong-willed in the recent past.”

She chose to turn her back on him and jumped a little when he landed a swat on her seat.

“Russell Bennett! Someone could have seen that.”

But the blacksmith had just put half his sandwich in his mouth and managed to look innocent as he chewed.

Holly only shook her head. He was always so much fun.

“Where's Alisa?” Russell asked.

“Mrs. Ellis stopped in and offered to stay with her, but I should probably get home.”

“Thanks for lunch.”

“You're welcome. I'll see you tonight.”

A quick kiss later, Holly went on her way. Russell watched as she turned back at the door and waved at him the way she always did. He waved in return, but as soon as she was gone, his eyes landed on the bag that had been left. He wanted to laugh all over again. He also wondered how the mystery woman was doing.

“This door has no lock on it.”

“You want how much a week?”

“I have to share a bed?”

Those were Reagan's three responses to the three places she checked. Kinkade was not lacking for rooms to rent, but it was also clear why some of them were empty. Nevertheless she was undaunted. At the moment, Reagan was following directions she'd been given at the general store and found herself wishing she'd started there. The lady had been kind, almost motherly, and not asked a dozen questions that Reagan did not have time to answer.

“This must be it,” she said, still talking to herself.

Knock on the door of the big house, not the little one.

“I don't even see a small house,” Reagan mumbled as she remembered the woman's words and climbed resolutely onto the porch. She was about three blocks from Mr. Harmond's place and thought that if this didn't pan out, she might have to ask him for help, at least for the night.

“Of course Sally might have an idea. That would probably be...”

“Hello.”

Reagan had not heard the door open, so she was startled to hear someone speak to her.

“Hello. My name is Reagan Sullivan, and the woman at the general store said you might have a room to rent.”

“Oh, I do, yes. Did you say your name was Megan?”

“No, it's Reagan with an
R.”

“It's nice to meet you, Reagan. My name is Holly. Would you like to see the house?”

“It's a house?”

Holly Bennett smiled. “A small one.”

“How much is the rent?”

She named a price that made Reagan's heart sink.

“Would you still like to see it?”

“Well,” she said honestly, her truthful nature rising to the surface, “it's a little steep for my pay right now.”

To her surprise the woman smiled.

“Why don't you see it anyhow?”

Not sure if this was wise or not, she agreed.

Holly Bennett led the way around her own house and down a short lane. About 20 yards behind the main house was a small structure. A shed might have been the best description, but it was in good shape and had windows and a front door that made it look like a small house.

Following the woman, Reagan walked over the threshold behind her host, and in the space of one heartbeat fell in love. All in one room, this tiny house had every amenity. In one corner was a brass bed, and next to it was a low table. Opposite the door was an overstuffed chair with an ottoman, and behind the chair was an oak dresser. A tiny stove sat next to a table for two and there were even shelves for a pantry. Holly opened a closet that had been built in behind the front door, and Reagan could only stare.

Reagan had never imagined such a place. Visions of living alone, something she had never done—quiet mornings and no one snoring in the night—floated through her mind.

“How much did you say it was again?”

Seeing her face, Holly made herself quote the price she and Russell had decided on. It was hard to do because she wanted this woman to move in, but she remained true to her agreement.

Reagan licked her lips. She would probably be in rags because she wouldn't be able to afford new clothes, but she couldn't let this get away.

“Is there a lock on the door?” she remembered to ask at the last minute.

“Of course,” Holly answered in surprise.

Reagan felt a smile building up inside of her. She wouldn't even have a blanket for the bed that night, but the thought of being chilly didn't stop her. Before she headed back to the livery for her bag, she gave Holly Bennett the money for one month's rent.

Four

R
USSELL REALIZED SHE COULD HAVE
taken her bag and left, but she didn't do that. He had been busy shoeing a horse when she returned, and when he looked up she was standing there, the bag at her feet.

“Thank you for watching my bag.”

“You're welcome,” the big man said as he used his handkerchief on his face. “How did the job search go?”

“I found one, and a place to live as well.”

“Well, now, you've been busy.”

Reagan couldn't hide her pleasure and didn't try.

“So where do you work?”

“At the hotel, in the kitchen.”

Fearing that her skills would be inadequate, she hesitated to call herself a cook and then find herself out of work in a week.

“So you cook?”

Reagan smiled. “I hope so.”

The big man laughed again.

“And where did you find a place to live?”

Reagan's guard went up in a hurry. She had learned many survival skills living in New York City, and one clear law was not volunteering information to strangers. Her hand came out as if he hadn't spoken. Russell shook it automatically.

“Thank you again for watching my bag.”

“You're welcome.”

With that she moved on her way.

The blacksmith was not exactly sure what had happened, but a customer came in the door looking for his horse, and he ran out of time to speculate.

“Well, you certainly can eat a lot, can't you?” Sally said about an hour later, having watched Reagan methodically polish off a large plate of food.

“It's good food.”

“We certainly want the customer to feel that way,” she said pointedly, but Reagan only smiled.

“Actually,” Sally started again, “I need to tell you that I want you to come in the mornings and bake. If the truth be told, I don't mind the cooking. It's the baking I hate.”

“All right. I can do that. What time?”

“You'd best be here by four, since the first breakfast customers come between five and half past. You'll bake all the bread, rolls, pies, and cakes for each day.”

“All right, and when do I get my first raise?”

“Raise? You haven't even started.”

“I know that, but you said my pay was because of inexperience. I just figured when I had some experience, it would be worth it to you.”

Sally's look was shrewd, but Reagan met it unflinchingly.

“I'll let you know” was all she would say.

“Oh, don't worry about it,” Reagan replied lightly, “I don't mind asking again.”

Sally was taken off guard and found herself laughing. She'd have kept on laughing if she hadn't heard an impatient sniff. She turned to see her front-desk man standing nearby, his face disapproving when he saw that Reagan was eating. It told him she'd been hired.

“What is it, Pierce?”

“I was wondering if you'd had a chance to look at those ledgers yet.”

“Yes, they're done and on my desk.”

“Thank you.”

After he walked away, Sally shook her head.

“He drives me crazy.”

“Why do you keep him on?”

Her brows rose as if Reagan should know.

“His manners at the front desk are excellent. The customers love him.”

She sounded so aggrieved that Reagan smiled.

“Well, if you're finished eating, you can clear out.”

“You don't want help tonight?”

“Tonight's all done—that's what you're eating. I'm always done cooking by three, and the waitresses, who will be here any minute, do the coffee and small stuff.”

Reagan stood. “So I'll see you in the morning.”

“Four o'clock.”

Reagan stared at her for a moment.

“Thank you, Sally, for everything.”

“You'll earn it, Reagan,” the older woman said confidently, albeit kindly.

Reagan retrieved her bag from near the door and stepped outside. It was time to head home.

“Here you go,” Holly said to her daughter that evening as she handed her a piece of bread.

“Thank you, Mama.”

“How about you, Russ?”

“Yes, please. Elly, would you please pass me the butter?”

The ten-year-old handed it to him and then realized she needed it back for her own bread. They spent a little time working together and then laughed when seven-year-old Jonah realized he needed bread with butter too and the passing began all over again. Nine-month-old Alisa sat in the high chair, smiling at anyone who would look her way and cheerfully eating whatever was offered.