A Family for Christmas Read online

  He sensed her stiffening without even looking her way. Didn’t she know he was trying to help?

  But Abigail apparently noticed nothing amiss. “Of course.” The girl gave Eve a big smile. “I’d be glad to loan you a book, free of charge. Sort of a welcome-to-town gift, for you to read while you’re here.”

  His companion shook her head, though this time there was nothing firm about the gesture. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want to take advantage—”

  “Not at all.” Abigail lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. “Besides, it’s good advertisement if folks see people borrowing my books.” She waved toward the bookshelves. “Feel free to look over what’s available while I clear these dishes.”

  Chance could see Eve’s resolve wavering as she stared longingly at the bookshelves. Deciding she needed another nudge, he stood and pulled her chair out for her. Pitching his voice so only she could hear, he whispered, “It would be an insult for you to refuse Abigail’s offer.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “I certainly wouldn’t want to offer her any insult.” She glanced again toward the shelves. “Perhaps I’ll go over and just take a look.”

  He watched her cross the room and then slowly, almost reverently, run her fingers along the rows of books, taking her time studying the various titles. What kind of book would she select? Would her prim and proper side win out and have her select a volume of dry essays or sermons? Or would her more daring side win out and point her to some more entertaining work of fiction?

  She pulled out a book and smiled as she silently read a passage. Suddenly, that familiar kick of jealousy tinged with shame twisted his gut and he turned away.

  “Why is she so excited about a bunch of books?” Leo asked, wrinkling his nose.

  Chance pushed his ugly emotions aside and smiled down at the boy. “You’d be surprised how many people enjoy reading,” he answered. “There are a lot of adventures to be found between the pages of a good book.” Some of his favorite memories were of his mother reading to him as a boy.

  “Adventures?” That had obviously grabbed his attention.

  Did the boy know how to read? If his story was true, he likely hadn’t seen the inside of a schoolroom since he was eight years old, if at all. Maybe he should have a talk with Mitch about how to get Leo prepared for returning to the classroom eventually.

  Then Chance pulled himself up short. He wasn’t the kid’s father and he certainly wasn’t planning to make this little diversion a long-term commitment. He had too many problems of his own right now. Once the boy’s guilt or innocence was determined, there would be decisions to be made about him, decisions that, one way or the other, would relieve Chance of any future responsibility.

  With the unexpected visit from his father looming, he’d have plenty of other issues to deal with during the next few weeks.

  Chance glanced toward Eve, who was still studying the bookshelves with single-minded focus. Did she realize she’d have to hand over Leo to someone else soon? Unless she intended to adopt the boy, which didn’t seem likely given what little she’d revealed about her circumstances. Just how deep did her attachment go? Would she walk away gracefully and let the authorities do what must be done?

  She finally plucked a book from the shelves and turned to rejoin them. Pausing at the desk, she dutifully wrote in the ledger, apparently following the directions the trusting Abigail had posted.

  “What did you select?” he asked when she returned.

  She held up a small book bound in leather with dark red lettering on the front. To his relief, she also described her selection. “It’s a book of poetry.”

  Well now, wasn’t that an unexpected and interesting choice?

  So she did have a less straight-laced, more romantic side to her, even if it was buried a bit deep.

  Yep, the next few days could prove interesting indeed.

  Chapter Six

  Eve clutched the borrowed book to her chest as they left the restaurant, feeling one part guilt and one part excitement. She shouldn’t have taken advantage of Abigail’s generosity the way she had, but the idea of having a book to read had been too irresistible a temptation.

  They made a quick stop at the sheriff’s office to retrieve her carpetbag and then headed for Mr. Dawson’s place.

  Eve still felt uncomfortable with the idea of moving into the home of an unmarried man, especially one she’d met only a few hours ago, but accepted that she had little choice in the matter. The fact that Dotty and the sheriff saw nothing amiss with the plan did reassure her. And she was selfishly glad Mr. Dawson had tapped Dotty to play the part of chaperone. She’d liked the woman almost on sight.

  “Tell me,” she asked Mr. Dawson, “what sort of business are you in?”

  Was that a wince? Had she overstepped with her question?

  But almost immediately he was flashing one of his carefree grins again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, let her fancy run away with her as her grandmother often accused.

  “I repair mechanical devices,” he said.

  “Mechanical?”

  “Yes, I tinker around with all sorts of machinery— stationary engines, grandfather clocks, sewing machines—I repair and adjust them when they break down.”

  Leo’s eyes lit up. “Are you working on anything right now?”

  Mr. Dawson rubbed his jaw, but she saw a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, let’s see. Mrs. Carlisle’s sewing machine is giving her problems so I’m taking a look at it for her. And I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately tinkering with a stationary engine.”

  Leo nodded solemnly as if he knew exactly what Mr. Dawson was talking about.

  “Of course, you might be more interested in the mechanical toys I’ve taken apart just to see how they work.”

  Leo’s face brightened further. “Can I help with that?”

  “We’ll see. There’s one other thing I work with that might interest you—I spend time making certain my motor carriage stays in good working order.”

  Leo stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing rounder. “You have a motor carriage?” He said it as if Mr. Dawson had just admitted to having a pirate’s treasure hidden in his shop.

  Even Eve was impressed with the announcement. She’d heard of motor carriages but had never actually seen such a thing.

  “That I do,” he answered proudly.

  “Can I see it?” Leo was practically bouncing with excitement.

  Mr. Dawson waved a hand to indicate they should move forward again. “You can not only see it, you can sit in it if you like.” He turned to Eve. “Both of you.”

  Eve wasn’t at all certain that was something either she or Leo should agree to. Was it safe? But she settled for smiling and giving him a noncommittal “We shall see” response.

  As they turned the corner, Eve saw a building that had the unmistakable trappings of a saloon—most notably the swinging half doors and the faded but still legible sign proclaiming the name of the establishment to be The Blue Bottle.

  She looked around at the neighboring buildings. Was Mr. Dawson’s place nearby? She wasn’t comfortable being in close proximity to such a place, but if that was the case she would do her best to make it work. She’d just have to keep a close eye on Leo to make certain he was shielded from any unsavory influences.

  “From the frown on your face, I see you have some concerns about The Blue Bottle.”

  Eve gave him a direct look. “I’m not afraid to admit that I don’t approve of such establishments.”

  He seemed amused by her words. “You can rest assured that the place no longer serves as a saloon.”

  Mollified by his words, she relaxed. “That is good news. Did the town close it?”

  “No, I’m afraid providence did. It was shut down by a fire. It happened before I e
ver moved here.”

  “Oh.” They were drawing closer now and she frowned as she studied the structure. “But it seems to be undamaged and still in use.”

  “The inside has been renovated, and yes, it’s still in use. In fact I own it now.”

  Oh, my goodness. She stopped in her tracks just as they reached the corner of the building. That meant—

  His grin had a mischievous edge. “That’s right. I have my shop on the first floor and my living quarters on the second.”

  “You mean this is where we’re going to be staying?”

  He swept his hand forward with a flourish. “In all its glory.”

  A former saloon, of all things. Somehow it seemed very in character for this unorthodox gent to have set up shop in such an establishment. She slowly approached the entrance, feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what she might see inside. Just the idea of what all must have taken place in a former saloon was enough to send the warmth into her cheeks and her grandmother’s scandalized voice resounding in her mind.

  Which was foolish, she told herself firmly. It was merely a building and nothing more. Lifting her chin, she pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into a very large undivided room that took up most of the lower floor. She’d never been inside a saloon before, of course, so she’d had no idea what to expect.

  To her relief, Mr. Dawson was as good as his word and there were very few traces remaining of the former den of iniquity. The most obvious remnant of the building’s former purpose sat to her left—what had obviously been the counter where the drinks were dispensed. There was still a brass rail on the lower portion where she imagined men had propped their boots as they partook of the bar’s offerings. Looking closer, though, there was something odd about the counter, as if part of it had been lopped off. A result of the fire perhaps?

  As for the rest of the room, the section nearest the doors was bare except for two round tables that had been shoved together to the left of the entrance. Three unmatched wooden chairs, at least one of which bore scorch marks, flanked them. Is that where he entertained visitors? Assuming he ever had visitors.

  Across the room, however, it was a different story. The area was as crowded and cluttered as this side was bare. A pair of long worktables along with three smaller round ones were arranged in a seemingly random manner, all cluttered with an odd assortment of unidentifiable metal parts. There were also tools, jars, canisters, rags and crates scattered here and there. That was it. The walls were bare and there weren’t any domestic touches to speak of. Nor was it what one would call neat and tidy.

  This place was definitely more of a workshop than a home. “You have done a good job of erasing the signs of a fire.”

  “Thanks. I had to replace the staircase and a large portion of the floor. There was some damage to the far end of the counter but it’s such a fine piece of workmanship that I couldn’t bear to scrap the whole thing. And that east wall needed extensive repairs.”

  He pointed to the opposite wall, where she could see doors. “Thankfully the other rooms down here—the kitchen, office and storage room—suffered very little damage.”

  “So the building is now sound structurally?”

  “Definitely.” Then Mr. Dawson smiled without visible embarrassment. “Sorry for the mess. I like to take things apart in order to figure out how they work—or at least try to. Sometimes I don’t get them put back together right away.”

  While her host talked, Eve kept an eye on Leo, who was already halfway across the room. “Don’t touch anything,” she warned him. She was as concerned for the boy’s safety amid Mr. Dawson’s mishmash of metal parts and wires as she was for the items themselves. Then she eyed the cluttered tables again. How did the man keep up with where everything was? “Do you work alone?”

  “That I do. There’s barely enough paying work here to keep one man busy. But it’s slowly picking up. And I have some plans for diversifying and expanding my business.”

  Something about his tone seemed odd. But before Eve could push further, Leo spoke up from across the room.

  “You know how to fix all of this stuff?” There was a touch of awe in his tone.

  Chance shrugged. “Most of it. And I haven’t given up on the rest. I like trying to solve puzzles.”

  Eve smiled. She rather liked puzzles herself, but she had a feeling the two of them had entirely different activities in mind.

  “Do you think I could learn, too?” Leo asked wistfully.

  “I don’t see why not—so long as you’re willing to really work at it.”

  Eve was torn between being glad he hadn’t squashed Leo’s enthusiasm, and worrying that he was giving the boy false hope. After all, depending on what the sheriff’s inquiries revealed, Leo might not be in Turnabout for very long.

  Mr. Dawson raised a brow. “But you can start by learning how to keep this place neat and clean.”

  Eve swallowed a retort. Clean was one thing, but it would take hours, perhaps days, of effort to get this place neat and organized.

  Leo changed the subject. “Where’s your motor carriage?” He looked around as if expecting to see it lurking in some corner.

  “There’s a shed out behind the place where I store it.” Mr. Dawson waved to a door on the far end of the room. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Eve fought the urge to roll her eyes. He seemed as much a kid as Leo—easily distracted and always ready to play. “Before you do that,” she said firmly, “why don’t you show us to our rooms so we can get settled in.”

  Mr. Dawson gave her an apologetic grimace. “Of course. First things first I suppose.” He changed direction and moved toward the stairs.

  Leo started to protest, but before Eve could say anything, Mr. Dawson’s brow drew down in a warning look. “Miss Pickering is right—we should take care of business first.” Then he winked. “But don’t worry, there’ll be time enough for play later.”

  Then he turned back to her and motioned toward the stairs. “It’s right up this way. There are four rooms up here and they’re all pretty much the same—only the view from the windows is different. My room is the last one on the right—you can have your pick of the other three. I’ll leave it to you to make the assignments.”

  Eve looked around as they topped the stairs. The second floor was configured with a U-shaped landing over the far side of the building. There were two doors at the head of the stairs and one on either side facing each other.

  “We’ll reserve that one for Mrs. Epps,” she said, pointing to the room next to Mr. Dawson’s, “and, Leo, you can take the one next to her. I’ll take the one on the end.”

  She followed Leo into the room she’d designated as his and saw that it was not overly large but still of a comfortable size and plainly furnished. She wasn’t certain exactly what she’d expected in rooms above what had been a saloon, but it certainly wasn’t this modest appointment.

  She turned to her host. “This will do quite nicely. Thank you.”

  Mr. Dawson’s smile gave her the impression he knew what she’d been expecting. “The upstairs was barely affected by the fire, only smoke damage and minor scorching on the landing. But I got rid of most of the gaudier furnishings.”

  “I see.” Perhaps he wasn’t as unmindful as she’d assumed.

  He looked around, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “They’re rather sparsely furnished I’m afraid. Like this room, each has a bed, a chest and a small vanity and that’s about it. They’ve remained unused in the time I’ve been here so they’ll probably need a good airing and a cleaning.”

  “The furnishings are more than adequate and the cleaning and airing are something Leo and I are quite capable of handling.” Putting words to action, Eve crossed the room and opened the window, letting in the sunshine and crisp November air.

  Then she turned back t
o Mr. Dawson. “I assume you have a broom and some dust rags we can use? Oh, and a line outside to hang the sheets on for an airing.”

  He gave a short bow. “Of course. Let me set your bag in your room and I’ll fetch them for you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to wait on us while we’re here. Just point me in the right direction.” She looked toward Leo. “In the meantime, would you strip the sheets from all three beds and carry them downstairs, please?”

  Leo didn’t look happy about postponing his opportunity to examine the motor carriage, but he nodded and started to work on the beds.

  Eve followed Mr. Dawson from the room and paused with him in the hallway.

  “I keep the broom and mop in the storeroom downstairs,” he said. “Along with a lot of other odds and ends. You’ll find it just to the right of the stairway. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you need.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll find everything just fine.”

  “If you’re certain you and Leo will be all right for a bit, I need to run a few errands and then see to moving Dotty.”

  Assuring him that they would be fine, Eve headed toward the room she’d reserved for Dotty. She wanted to have it aired out before the woman arrived.

  How would Dotty feel about moving into what had once been a saloon? Then Eve gave herself a mental shake. Better not to think about the use the rooms might have been put to in times past. Collectively she and Leo would give this place new life and purpose over the next few days, and that was what mattered.

  New life and purpose. She liked the sound of that.

  * * *

  Chance was still smiling as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Yep, the next few days were going to be mighty interesting. And mighty entertaining, as well. Just how far could he make the very proper Miss Pickering bend?

  Then his smile faded. Before he fetched Dotty and her things, he had another errand to run. He needed answers about his father’s claims and there was one person in town who might be able to give them to him. Adam Barr.