Heart and Home(3)

Adam rose to shake the man's hand. He was middle-aged, his thin hair slightly graying.

"Good to meet you," Martin said. "I was out on a call this afternoon or I  would have turned out with the rest to welcome you. Did the band play?"

Adam couldn't resist a smile at the memory of the band. "Yes, it was quite a welcome."

"Fine." He gave Adam a hearty slap on the back. "I love that band.  Brings tears to my eyes every time I hear 'em." The lilt in his voice  made Adam wonder if he meant tears of laughter.

"It could use some civilizing, if you ask me," Nedra said, tucking a strand of yellow hair in place. "I think they sound awful."

"It's their passion," Martin said, taking a seat and motioning for Adam  to return to his. "I heard an interesting story today," he continued.

With the conversation in Martin's capable grasp, Adam found himself  listening for sounds in the rest of the house, from the direction of the  kitchen in particular. He was unaccountably eager for Miss Sparks to  make her entrance, and not just because he was hungry.





Jane carried the last platter to the table. She had heard some of her  boarders come down and knew they were gathering in the parlor. There  would be seven at the table tonight. She had moved the extra chair to a  corner to give the guests on one side of the table a little more room.  George, she knew, would notice and take a seat there. Tim would probably  take the other. She wondered which seat the doctor would take and why  she pictured him at the head, directly across from her.

A quick inventory told her everything was in order but didn't banish the  nervousness that had bothered her all afternoon. It was worry for  Grams, she told herself for the twelfth time, not the prospect of eating  dinner at the same table as the handsome young doctor.

The doctor unsettled her. The fact that his eyes and voice seemed kind  and gentle didn't mean he was. She tried not to think about what he had.  suggested because it made her feel light-headed, but when she did think  about it, she knew for certain that she had made the right choice. And  Dr. Hart wasn't kind.and gentle or he wouldn't have suggested such a  thing.

But dinner was business. If George hadn't reserved a place for the  doctor tonight, there'd be two empty chairs. Every meal meant that much  more money toward the next house payment. Five more and the house would  be hers. It would finally be a home.

Grams won't be here to see it.

The realization made tears threaten. She forced them aside and headed  for the parlor. Five people sat visiting in the warm little room, but  Dr. Adam Hart was the first one she saw. He had been watching the door  instead of participating in the conversation. Their eyes locked and the  intensity of his blue gaze captured hers. Darn, he was every bit as  handsome as she remembered. One lock of sandybrown hair fell across his  forehead. She thought again that he seemed too young to be a doctor,  though he was probably a year or two older than she was.

Tim Martin came to his feet, breaking the spell. "Ah, the lovely lady of the house has joined us."

In spite of her worries, Jane had to smile. She was far from lovely,  especially now when she had had so little sleep. But Tim was a salesman.  Complete honesty wasn't part of his nature. "May I escort you to  dinner?" he asked, offering her his arm.

With a glance to make sure the rest of the guests were preparing to  follow, she took his arm and walked with him to the dining room. He held  her chair and she slipped into it. When the Cartland sisters were  seated the men took their places.

"Mr. Bickford is late again," observed Nedra, giving Naomi a meaningful look. Naomi was silent.

The guests hadn't taken the chairs Jane had expected. Naomi, of course,  had maneuvered her sister away from the center chair on the east side,  ensuring the tardy Mr. Bickford would have to be seated next to her. But  George had gone to the head of the table, and Tim had taken the chair  beside him, leaving the doctor to sit at Jane's right.                       
       
           



       

George made the introductions.

"We've met," they said almost in unison. Now why should that completely  fluster her? Her cheeks grew warm. Perhaps because she and the doctor  had the attention of everyone around the table.

"I looked in on her grandmother this afternoon," the doctor explained.

"How is the old girl?" George asked, reaching for the bowl of potatoes  that sat nearby and scooping up a mound for his plate. The others  started dishes around as well, and Jane tried to force herself to relax.

"Not good," Dr. Hart answered.

Jane mentally crossed her fingers, hoping he would not describe what he  had wanted to do. Fortunately, George didn't give him a chance to go  into detail. "Too bad," he said, shaking, his head. "We're all fond of  Grams. Naomi, grab that butter dish there beside you and pass it on  around."

The guests fell silent except for the clink of silver on china and a few  murmured requests or thanks. Jane would have been content for the meal  to continue just that way.

"Miss Sparks," the young doctor began, "I was wondering if I could arrange to take all my meals here."

Why did that seem like a dangerous request? " I can't promise I'll always have a place for you," she heard herself say.

"Tomorrow morning?"

Jane pretended to think it over. Of course she had a place-two in fact.  "Yes, you can come tomorrow morning. Beyond that, we'll have to wait and  see."

He nodded. The table was quiet again for several minutes as her guests continued eating.

Tim was the next to speak. "You married, Adam?"

"Engaged," he said.'

This created a minor stir around the table. Naomi expressed an interest  in hearing about the fiancée, smirking a little at her sister's scowl.  Perhaps Nedra had done a little maneuvering of her own. She sat directly  across from the doctor.

"Her name's Doreena," Dr. Hart began. "She's very pretty, blond hair, kind of.well, I suppose petite is the right word."

"Little bitty thing, huh?" Tim asked, nudging Hart with his elbow.

The doctor grinned, which made him look even younger than he did  already. "About this high," he said, touching his arm halfway between  his elbow and his shoulder.

She was probably twelve, Jane thought uncharitably. Though she herself  was an inch or two taller than the Cartlands, she had never felt overly  tall. Never until now, anyway.

"She's accomplished on the piano," Adam added, obviously warming to the  subject, to the neglect of the roasted chicken on his plate. "She paints  a little and is a wonder when it comes to making all the arrangements  for a party."

"Throws a good bash, does she?" Tim queried. "Sounds like quite a catch."

"Sounds like she's rich," Jane said. Just why she felt compelled to  enter the conversation, she didn't know. Was she trying to offend a  paying guest?

Instead of being offended, however, the doctor laughed and nodded. "That, too."

"Then she's definitely a catch," Tim said, joining in the laughter.

Jane forced herself to laugh, too, and wondered why she cared at all what the future Mrs. Hart was like.

The merriment died down rather abruptly, and Jane knew her final guest had arrived.

"Here you are," Naomi said in a voice that dripped with sweetness. "I was beginning to worry about you."

"The novel, you know. The term will start soon and there will be no time to work on it."

"This is Lawrence Bickford, our schoolmaster," George said. "Have you met Dr. Hart?"

Bickford shook his head as he took his seat. "I understand you're from Philadelphia."

"Dr. Hart was telling us about his fiancée," Naomi said as she made sure  all the bowls and platters were passed to the late arrival. Jane  doubted if he noticed her efforts.

"Don't get discouraged, lad," Bickford said as he filled his plate.  "Your year in the wilds will fly by and you'll be together again."

"Actually, I'm hoping she'll join me in a few months," Adam said. "I want to make a home here."                       
       
           



       

Jane tried to work up some irritation toward the prospect of a  piano-playing, party-planning neighbor. Instead she felt an odd pain at  the thought of seeing the perfect Doreena at Adam's side.

"A wedding," Naomi cooed. "Isn't that romantic?" She asked the question  of the table at large, but her eyes had turned to the schoolmaster. He  made no response.

Jane might have enjoyed Naomi's attempts to gain Mr. Bickford's  attention if she weren't feeling somehow ill at ease. Because of her  grandmother, she told herself, though to be honest she had nearly  forgotten the poor woman for a few minutes. Concentration seemed to be a  casualty of sleepless nights.