"Now, we wouldn't want your condition to go untreated, Rosemary, in case it's serious."
Rosemary hung her head and turned back around. "Which way?" she asked.
Adam pointed toward the examination room. Once she was out of her mother's sight, Rosemary perked up. "Isn't Mama something?" she asked as soon as the door was closed.
"There's nothing wrong with you, is there?"
Rosemary shrugged. "I'm supposed to show you the scrape on my knee if I can't think of anything better. You want to see it?"
"Might as well."
Rosemary hopped up on the stool and flipped up her dress without displaying the least bit of bashfulness. "I've been puttin' Mama off for weeks, then this happened, and I couldn't do it anymore. It's a honey, though." She rolled down her stocking and unwound a white bandage. "I got it getting Riley's ball off the roof. That's my brother. He was scared to try to climb the trellis. I wouldn't have gotten hurt if I'd been wearing pants. Try to explain that to Mama."
Rosemary had taken most of the skin off the lower part of her knee. Adam knelt on the floor to get a better look. It seemed to be healing nicely. "Did you treat it with anything?"
Rosemary bent forward and poked at the edges. "I put honey on it. Mama wanted to wash it with vinegar, but I lied and said I already had."
Adam rose to get some ointment that might be a little more effective than honey or vinegar. "You lie to your mother at lot, do you?"
"Oh yes! We all do. It's the only way to live with her. You should hear what my sisters told her happened in here."
Adam winced. "I think I can live without that."
Rosemary shrugged. "I know what really happened 'cause they told each other. We never lie to each other."
He returned to the girl with the jar in hand. "I'm more curious what your mother told you."
Rosemary laughed. "Mama wants you for a sonin-law. You should be flattered. She's letting you have your pick of the litter."
Adam spread the salve gently on the wound. "So, what are you going to tell her?"
"First I'm going to tell her that you're awfully old."
Adam looked up to see her smiling down at him. "You don't know how nice it is to hear that."
She laughed. "You should tell her this is terribly infected, and it'll cost a lot to take care of it. In fact, I should stay with Aunt Jane 'til it heals or you'll have to cut off my leg."
"Just what Aunt Jane needs," he muttered. He got a clean bandage and rewrapped the knee.
"At least tell her you put twenty dollars' worth of stuff on it. And tell her," she continued as she rolled her stocking back into place, "that you think I'm dumb or ugly or something. Mouthy! She'll believe that."
Adam helped her off the stool. "I think you're the pick of the litter, but you're too young to leave your mama."
Rosemary scowled. "That's not going to help me for very long!"
Mrs. Finley seemed pleased to see him smiling when he escorted Rosemary back into the front room. She paid the dollar and nickel quite cheer fully, and promised she'd be seeing him again soon. Rosemary rolled her eyes at Adam before she followed her mother out the door.
Jane thought young Ferris was fitting in nicely. He had found employment at George's bank and seemed to be settling in as if he expected to stay awhile. With all four rooms upstairs filled, she needed to prepare to move out of the downstairs bedroom at a moment's notice. Tonight after supper she would move all the things in Grams's dresser into one of the trunks in the attic. Her own dresser could be quickly moved into the room off the kitchen when she got another boarder.
Jane was rushing around putting the final touches on dinner when Adam arrived. He didn't come to the kitchen to see if he could help like he used to. The last several days he had waited in the parlor with the rest until she called them for dinner.
Still, she knew the moment he arrived. Even before she heard his voice, she recognized his step. She had thought the distance she had forged between them would help keep her from thinking of him. It hadn't worked that way at all.
He even seemed to be cooperating with her plan. He spent less time with her, and when they were together the conversation rarely got personal. Not since he had told her she was working too hard.
Jane took a last inventory of the table, straightened her spine, put a smile on her face and went to call the guests. She stood in the hall for a moment admiring her parlor. The furniture gleamed with polish and the windows sparkled. Fresh cockscomb and strawflowers graced every tabletop. She was sure the curtains and the rug looked a shade brighter for having been thoroughly cleaned. Grams would have been proud of her.
And proud of her, too, for not letting anything come of her attraction to Adam. He was watching her, of course. He was the only one who noticed her presence.
"Dinner's ready, everyone," she said.
They trooped to the table and took their usual places. Even Mr. Bickford was on time. The conversation centered on the activities of the town and was intended mainly for their newest member. The Cartland sisters vied for Ferris's attention, much to the obvious relief of both Adam and Mr. Bickford.
Jane only half listened. She was already planning how to get Grams's things up to the attic. What chore could she tackle tomorrow? Mr. Bickford's room hadn't been cleaned yet; he spent a lot of time there writing and hadn't been receptive to the suggestion. Perhaps he would be willing to name a day when she could do a thorough cleaning. Once it and her bedroom were done the house would be as clean as she could make it.
The others were leaving the table when Adam said softly, "Let me stay and help you."
He hadn't asked for so long it startled her. "That's not necessary," she said quickly. "I was going to sort through some of Grams's things before I start on the dishes."
Adam shook his head. "You can go through her things after the dishes are done. Or better yet, put it off until tomorrow. I want to talk to you."
As soon as the others had left the room, Jane gathered a stack of dishes. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Adam do the same. It felt a little like old times, except now she knew she was in love with him and understood just how foolish that was. Her only defense was to pretend that nothing was different from the first time he had stayed to help.
"What did you want to talk about?" she said as they walked to the kitchen.
"I think you're working too hard."
"You told me that before. Want to wash or dry?"
"Jane, I'm serious. You're too pale. You've lost weight. There are shadows under your eyes again."
There was no use denying any of it. "You sure know how to compliment a girl," she said, hoping her smile looked real.
"Are you getting any sleep at all?"
"Of course, I am." She turned away to gather more dishes. He trailed behind her.
"Look, maybe it's none of my business, but I thought we were friends."
"It's kind of you to worry," she said. "But I'm fine, really."
"No, you're not fine." He took the dishes from her hands and put them back on the table. "This place is too much for you to handle alone."
A suggestion was one thing. Telling her what she couldn't do was another. Especially when he was the primary cause of her sleepless nights. "I'll have you know I've run this boardinghouse for years."
"With your grandmother's help. You're alone now. You need to consider doing something else."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Sit down for a minute, Jane."
"I have work to. do." She gathered up more dishes and headed for the kitchen.
He followed her, of course. "What I'm getting at is that if you do decide to give up the boardinghouse, I'd like to buy it."
That stopped her dead in her tracks. "You want to buy my house?"
She let him ease her into the chair that stood just inside the kitchen and lift the stack of plates from her hands. "I'd have to arrange something with the bank, or maybe Doreena's parents."
He turned away from her to begin washing the dishes. He seemed to be talking to himself more than to her. Or perhaps it was the buzzing in her ears that produced that impression. He wanted to buy her house. For Doreena. Was there any truth in his declaration of concern?
"I just wanted you to know there are other options besides working yourself to death at the boardinghouse. I've seen you with children. You'd make a wonderful teacher."
The logical part of Jane's brain told her teaching was a good idea, since she loved children and would never have any of her own. Another part of her brain had no interest in logic. Female teachers weren't allowed to marry. Was that why he'd suggested it? Pretty women found husbands in a matter of days, he had said. What did that make her? Such a poor catch she might as well give up? He didn't know she had vowed never to marry!