The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

“Put your coat on,” Lizzie said. “By the time you come back, I’ll have this put together. You can go out the back door here.” She pointed to the door that opened to steps into the yard.

“I suppose I have the time,” I said, joking.

“Not so much time,” Mrs. Wu said, “before you’re old like me.”

Risking my life by carrying a tray in this weather, I followed the tracks of Phillip’s footsteps out to the shed. A fresh layer of snow had partially covered them, and his stride was much longer, so I was afraid to trip and fall. By the time I got there, my shoulders ached from the effort. I caught a glimpse of him through the window. He looked up with a startled expression, then disappeared from view. A second later he hustled out the door and tromped through the snow to me. He took the tray.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You could slip and hurt yourself.”

“I thought some hot tea and a few of Lizzie’s scones would warm you.”

“They will, but I don’t want you hiking out here just for me.”

“Nonsense. I grew up here. A little walk in the snow won’t hurt me.”

“Come inside. It’s warmer in there.”

I allowed him to open the door for me and passed by him, all too aware of his strong arms and shoulders. The tabletop was perched upon two sawhorses. He put the tea on the crude potting counter. Wood shavings covered the floor. The room smelled of fresh cedar and a slightly acidic smell that must be from the stain.

“Phillip, it’s pretty.” I pulled off one glove and trailed my fingers over the polished cedar. Light in color with the pretty patterns of the natural wood, it was a work of art. The pieces had been laid out to make it as seamless as possible. “How did you get the wood like this?” The surface felt like silk.

“Fine sanding and then a technique I learned for polishing using a stain.” His brow wrinkled. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“They’ll love this. It’s fine, fine work. They’ll be proud to give it to their mother.” I turned to look at him. “They’ve had such a hard year. Losing their father and with Mrs. Cassidy not well. This will be something fresh and beautiful to cheer them.”

He crossed over to the cabinet in the corner and held up a partially finished leg. “I don’t have the right tools to make anything too ornate, so I’m giving them a simple taper.” It was indeed gently tapered, starting fat and ending slender.

“I’ve only got the one done, but they’re going fast compared to the tabletop.”

“How will you get it

out to them?”

“I’ll leave the legs unattached and put them on when we get it into the kitchen. I’m using screws, so they can be taken apart if needed.”

“They’re going to want new chairs,” I said.

“If so, I can make them. Your father was generous with the wood.” He gestured to the pile of boards at the other end of the room. “Being back to work in this way feels good. The hours float away.”

“I wasn’t sure if interrupting you would be welcomed. I’m not an artist like this, but I hate being bothered when I’m reading.”

“You think I’m an artist?”

“What other conclusion could I come to?”

He grinned, obviously pleased. “Regardless of what I’m doing, there will never be a time when I wouldn’t want to see you. Also, hot tea sounds like heaven.”

Shy now, I backed up toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then. There are scones and butter too.”

He put his hands in his pockets and shuffled from one foot to the other. “You could stay. Have tea with me?”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll have a cup of tea with you.” I moved over to the cabinet and poured the strong tea into two cups. Steam rose playfully in the drafty room. “Sugar?” I asked even though I knew the answer. He drank his black.

“No, thank you.” He took one of the cups and its saucer from my outstretched hand. “Shall we sit? My feet are tired.” He gestured toward the bench located under the shed’s only window.

Knowing he wouldn’t unless I did, I agreed, sitting primly with my cup and saucer resting on my lap. He sat next to me, watching me as he lifted his cup to his mouth.

I sipped from my own cup, enjoying the bitterness and warmth of the tea. “Oh, I almost forgot. I made these for you.” I took the gloves from my coat pocket and handed them to him. “The fingertips are left off so you can still grip.”