Grams might linger for a day or two, but he doubted it. She would probably die tonight. In spite of the boarders in the rooms upstairs, Jane would be alone. And Adam couldn't think of any way to ease her sorrow or his own guilt.
Jane sat in the straight-backed chair beside Grams's bed and held a hot, fragile hand gently in her own. She had slept in the chair the past two nights, but tonight sleep wouldn't come. It had taken until nearly midnight to clean up the kitchen and dining room. She had hated to leave her grandmother even for a few minutes, afraid she would die alone.
Now, as the clock ticked toward three o'clock, she thought of all the things she wanted to tell her grandmother. She prayed that Grams would wake up one more time so Jane could tell her how much she loved her. She would tell her how grateful she was for all the things Grams had taught her. She would …
The breathing stopped abruptly. Just like that. Jane stared at the beloved face. "Grams?"
The hand she held was still hot, but the pulse she'd felt a moment before had stilled. Grams was gone.
Jane had thought she was prepared for this but she found herself shaking. Unshed tears burned behind her eyes and formed a lump in her throat. She would have to face a future without Grams.
"I won't give up," she whispered. "I won't lose the boardinghouse. I'll work hard and make you proud, Grams."
Adam arrived for breakfast at the appointed hour and found the parlor deserted. George stepped into the hall and motioned him toward the dining room. "The old lady died last night," he said softly. "Such a shame. Jane's gone to make the arrangements and has asked the Cartlands to fix breakfast. We're trying to set the table."
Tim Martin was arranging plates and coffee cups, while Lawrence Bickford lounged against the sideboard. "What do you think?" Martin asked.
"Does it matter?" Adam replied. "As long as we've got what we need to eat with."
"Dr. Hart, I'm surprised at you!" One of the Cartlands, the one with orange hair, had come in from the kitchen with a plate of biscuits. O for orange; it was Naomi. She gave him what could only be described as an indulgent smile. "The forks go on the left and the knives on the right," she instructed Martin sternly before flouncing back into the kitchen.
"You've been overruled," Martin said softly. He went to work switching the flatware on his side of the table, and Adam stepped up to take care of the other.
"How is Miss Sparks holding up?" he asked.
"Haven't seen her," Martin answered. "Have you, George?"
"Early this morning. She was her usual efficient self. She said her grandmother just slipped away in her sleep. It was a mercy, really. Ah, here comes breakfast."
The Cartland sisters paraded in, one with a platter of scrambled eggs and the other with sliced ham. Nedra spoke as she approached the table. "George, would you get the coffee? I swear that pot is just too heavy for either of us to be carrying around."
George moved quickly to do her bidding.
When Naomi approached a chair near where he stood, Adam automatically stepped forward to hold it for her. Her flirtatious smile made him curse his ingrained manners.
Naomi was in Jane's place, Adam to her right and Nedra to her left. George filled the coffee cups, and, when he was seated, the Cartlands started the platters around the table.
"Cooking for this many people is quite an experience," Naomi commented.
The eggs were so rubbery Adam was sure he saw them bounce when he dropped them on his plate.
"So many things to watch at once," her sister concurred. "Why, I swear it would tax less intelligent women."
Adam heard a biscuit actually clink against George's plate.
"Jane makes it look so easy," Martin commented.
Naomi tossed her head as if the comment was inconsequential. "I suppose if one has no other skills, cooking for large groups of people would at least be something."
Her sister nodded. "But we thought it was our duty to be of help to poor Jane."
The men politely murmured their understanding and thankfulness. All of the women's comments had been directed toward Adam, and they watched his every move. He took a sip of coffee and put the cup down quickly, hoping they hadn't seen his grimace, then hoping they had. They had used an egg to settle the grounds, but the coffee had been allowed to boil again afterward, leaving it tasting more like eggs than the eggs on his plate.
Adam tried to eat a little of the poorly prepared food, telling himself that it was the nutrition that counted. A glance around the table told him the other men were doing the same.
"There might be something to be said for practice," Naomi commented.
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.
"Tell me, Adam," Nedra began. "I can call you Adam, can't I?" She fluttered her heavily blackened eyelashes.
"Of course." If he-took small enough bites of the biscuit and chewed it long enough his stomach ought to be able to digest it, he reasoned. It couldn't be any worse than the hardtack soldiers ate.
"So tell me, Adam." She actually giggled. "What do you think of our little town so far?"
Adam swallowed, then took a sip of the coffeeand-egg brew to be sure it went down. "Well," he said, "the people are certainly friendly."
"Of course they are," Naomi said, obviously trying to draw his attention away from Nedra. "You should let me show you around."
"Wouldn't that be fun?" Nedra said. "We could do it anytime."
Naomi's eyes shot venom at her sister, but Nedra didn't notice; she was too intent on Adam.
Adam thought again of mentioning his humble beginnings, but somehow, initiating any conversation with either of these women seemed risky. He glanced at Mr. Bickford and found him eating as if he were the only one present. Perhaps experience had taught him to keep his thoughts to himself.
"Well, I'm off to the bank," George said, rising from the table. "Can I get anyone more coffee before I go?" Adam wasn't surprised that there were no takers.
With the ice broken, the rest found it easy to leave as well. Adam was back in his empty little house in no time. After the initial elation of being away from the Cartland sisters came the more sobering realization that, until he had a patient, he didn't have much to do. He wished again that Doreena had consented to come with him. He would at least have company while he waited.
He slouched in one of the chairs in his front room and gazed at his surroundings. He wanted to hire a carpenter to build the shelves. And he ought to lay in some food in case the Cartlands cooked again.
He laughed out loud. "That was the worst meal I've ever eaten," he said softly. If nothing else, it had prepared him for Doreena's inexperience. She couldn't possibly do worse.
It wouldn't do him any good to sit and think about Doreena all day. He would put a note on his door and run his errands. The task was done almost as quickly as the decision was made, and in a moment he was bounding down the steps.
He stopped and inhaled deeply. The air smelled fresher than what he was used to, clean and sweet with just a touch of wood smoke. He hadn't noticed yesterday, in the confusion of the welcoming committee and the fear for his first patient.
His first patient. He had to put her and her granddaughter out of his mind. He headed down the dirt street, determined to enjoy his first full day in the West, which was proving to be less wild than the novels had described. It was just as well, he supposed. He didn't really want to be treating gunshot wounds on steely eyed gunmen.
It was the independence and the opportunities he had come for, a chance to live free from the constraints of a society that didn't quite include him, yet wanted to govern his every move. This pretty little town was the perfect place for him.
Clyde's business district started only a block and a half from his house-and ended three blocks beyond that, where a bridge crossed a little creek. A hard-packed path served as a sidewalk. A few small trees had been planted to separate the path from the street a few feet away.
Adam walked the entire length of Washington Street, then crossed it and started back. He discovered several grocery stores, some in unlikely combination with other things like shoes or livestock feed. One was combined with a drugstore, and Adam stepped inside.
After arranging with Mr. McIntosh to supply him with medicine once his own supply ran low, he purchased a few canned goods and staples, mindful of the fact that he would have to carry them home.