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“Why would you say that?” I stared at him, shocked.

“He said in his letters to us that he thought you were worried about becoming an old maid, which made you susceptible to his charms. All the girls in your circle were getting married and you weren’t.”

I huffed as I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t worried about getting married. Not at all.” This was a blatant lie. When Martha had married Dr. Neal and then Elsa had married the dentist she’d met in Denver, I was terribly jealous. The weddings had been such fun. They’d been beautiful brides, and I’d looked around the garden and wondered when it would be my turn. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to be a spinster, whether I was afraid of it or not.”

Flynn laughed. “Jo, there’s no way you’re going to be a spinster. You’re too pretty.”

“And clever,” Theo said.

I looked over at them, both smiling at me. I’d always been able to tell them apart, and not just because of Flynn’s scar. Their personalities were direct opposites. In a moment of anger, I’d once called outgoing, competitively ruthless Flynn a scoundrel. Whereas Theo was the scholarly type, bookish and shy. “I’m dedicating my life to the library. I’ll never let myself be hurt like that ever again.”

“Give it some time,” Theo said. “Someone new will come along.”

“I told you. I’m not interested.” I tightened the grip of my hands on my elbows. “What about you two? Do you have your eyes on anyone?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Nah, I’m too young,” Flynn said.

“Not too young for war but too young for a wife?” I asked.

“I think I’ll be a bachelor,” Flynn said.

“You must have thought of someone while you were away? Did you write to anyone? Theo?”

“I didn’t write to anyone but I would’ve liked to.” The tips of Theo’s ears turned pink. “But I know she wouldn’t have wanted a letter from me. Flynn, probably, but not me.”

Flynn groaned. “Not this again. He thinks he’s in love with Louisa and that she’s in love with me.”

“Louisa?” Louisa Kellam Lind had a bit of a history with our family. When Quinn had first opened the school, Louisa came without her father’s permission. Later, we found out he’d been hurting her. After Mr. Kellam was killed, Pastor Lind and his wife, Pamela, had taken Louisa in as their own. Since then, she’d thrived, changing from a skinny, shabby little girl to a beautiful young woman. I’d no idea Theo liked her. Did she have eyes for Flynn? I hoped not, for Theo’s sake. “When did this happen?”

“Never mind,” Theo said. “It’s not anything to talk about.”

“Does she know you like her?” I asked Theo.

“I told her after we enlisted,” Theo said. “She wasn’t interested.”

“She’s been away at finishing school,” I said. “But Mrs. Lind says she’s coming home for the holidays and not returning. It’s because they adopted Louisa when she was already nine. They want more time with her.”

“Isn’t that what we all want?” Theo asked. “More time?”

Footsteps in the foyer drew our attention. Harley appeared in the doorway, carrying his hat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know I’m headed out to the train station to pick up Mr. Baker.”

“Thank you, Harley,” I said. “I’ll be here.”

“What do you know about this Baker character?” Flynn asked after Harley left.

“Not much,” I said. “Other than he was kind enough to write me when Walter died.”

“I hope he’s as handsome as the devil,” Flynn said. “And brings you back to the land of the living.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “This isn’t a romantic novel where a stranger arrives in town to capture the maiden in distress’s heart.”

Phillip

The moment I walked into the Barnes home I smelled the aroma of cookies. I didn’t have too much time to think about that, however, because Josephine appeared. Her photograph had lied. She was prettier in person. I hadn’t thought that possible. She wore a green wool dress that flattered her slender figure. However, she was smaller than I’d imagined—medium height with narrow shoulders and a small bust. Her eyes were the color of an emerald and slightly upturned, as if they were smiling. Golden hair piled on top of her head shone under the overhead light.

My stomach churned from nerves as she stepped forward to offer her hand. I brushed my lips against her gloved knuckles. I dared not hold on to her for long.

“Phillip, welcome to Emerson Pass,” Josephine said.


Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical