As she descended, she smiled at the uneven three-four meter of the piano piece, which didn’t quite obscure the melody of a Strauss waltz. Having had her own struggles to smooth out that same meter, she couldn’t resist peeking into the parlor.
A dark-haired girl of perhaps twelve years sat ramrod-straight on the piano stool, her fingers arched over the keys. Mrs. Foster sat in a chair beside her, wearing a strained smile.
“My dear Anna, I don’t believe you’ve been practicing enough this week.”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t.” Anna sat back and crossed her arms in a rebellious pose. “I don’t want to play piano. I want to learn to ride and shoot like Miss Maisie and her sisters.”
“Laurie Eberly plays, Anna, and enjoys it very much.”
“Humph. She’s the only one.”
While Mrs. Foster sighed, Marybeth ducked back out of sight and stifled a laugh. Oh, how she remembered the days of resisting Mam’s lessons. Now she wouldn’t trade her skill for the world. The memory of Rand’s approval when she’d spoken of wanting to play caused a little hiccough in her heart. To reward all of his kindness, she would find out which songs he liked best and play them for him at the first opportunity.
“Well, my dear,” Mrs. Foster said, “your brother insists that you learn, so let’s try to get through this, shall we?”
After heaving out a loud sigh, Anna resumed her hesitant playing just as someone knocked on the front door.
Marybeth stepped into the parlor. “Let me answer that for you.”
“Please do.” The widow nodded her appreciation even as she frowned at Anna.
The front door boasted an oval window with an exquisite etching of wildflowers. Through the glass, Marybeth could see a well-dressed young gentleman, bowler hat in hand, gazing off toward town as he waited to be admitted. When she opened the door, he turned her way, stepped back and blinked in surprise. He quickly regained his composure.
“Ah. You must be Miss O’Brien.” He gave her an elegant bow. “Welcome to our community. I am sure Randall Northam is happy at your safe arrival.” He reminded her of the businessmen she’d seen at church back in Boston. Like some of them, he possessed plain patrician features that became more attractive when he smiled. “Please forgive my forwardness. I am Nolan Means, and I have come to escort my sister home.”
It was Marybeth’s turn to lose her composure. This was the banker Rand had mentioned. Thank You, Lord! Before she blurted out her amazement, along with a plea for a situation in his bank, her schooling in deportment took control. “How do you do, Mr. Means? Please come in. Anna is a charming child, and I believe her lesson is almost complete.”
A sociable look lit his brown eyes as he entered the front hallway. “You have met her?” He chuckled. “How did she do today?”
Marybeth gave him a reserved smile. “I haven’t met her yet, only observed her. I do look forward to making her acquaintance.” How could she turn this conversation into a request to work at his bank? “She seems to be a delightful child who knows her own mind.”
He chuckled again. “That is my sister, all right. And you are gracious to say it that way. Her schoolteachers have never known quite what to do with her.”
The waltz ended with a poorly done arpeggio, and Mr. Means grimaced. “Am I wasting my money and Mrs. Foster’s time?” he whispered.
She shook her head and leaned toward him with a confidential air. “I resisted my lessons at first, but my mother’s persistence paid off in the end. Now I love to play. Give her a little more time.”
“Would you be so kind as to tell Anna that? Perhaps it would encourage her to continue.” He regarded Marybeth with a friendly gaze. “Are you a music teacher, too?”
She swallowed a giddy laugh. The Lord had surely arranged this opening. “Why, yes, but only as my second occupation. I recently completed secretarial training and hope to find employment.” His arched eyebrows foreshadowed the question she didn’t want to answer. “Rand and I haven’t set a wedding date, and I do want to keep busy.”
“Ah. I see.” His changing expression revealed myriad thoughts: surprise, speculation, perhaps even interest. Yet his brief intense look stirred no emotion within her as Rand’s had. In fact, she was relieved when his face took on a businesslike aspect. “Secretarial training, you say? Perhaps our meeting is fortuitous, Miss O’Brien. I have need of a new employee at my bank. Did you also study accounting?”
Somehow Marybeth managed to control her smile. “I did, sir.” She assumed the professional posture her teachers had taught her. “As well as typing.”
“Typing?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This is indeed a fortuitous meeting. I have obtained one of those Remington Sholes and Glidden typewriters for sending out business correspondence, but I have not found anyone to hire who can manage a letter without errors. Perhaps you can help.”
She gave him a slight bow. “If you’re speaking of the improved 1878 model, I learned on that very machine.”
“Well, then, Miss O’Brien.” He reached out to shake her hand and she responded in kind. “If you will come to the bank at nine o’clock on Monday morning, we can discuss your employment. That is, if you are interested.”
“Nolly!” Anna dashed into the front hall and flung her arms around her brother’s waist. “Oh, do say I don’t have to take lessons anymore.” The sob that accompanied her plea sounded a bit artificial to Marybeth.
Wringing her hands, Mrs. Foster appeared behind her student. In that moment Marybeth realized the dear lady needed the income from these lessons. Losing a student might create a serious problem for her. All the more reason for her to secure the job at the bank so she could pay for her room and board. She could not remain this dear lady’s guest forever.
“Now, now, Anna.” To his credit, Mr. Means seemed not to notice Mrs. Foster’s anxiety. Nor did he appear embarrassed by his sister’s behavior. “We will talk about it later.” He questioned Marybeth with one arched eyebrow. “As well as what you and I discussed, Miss O’Brien?”
She returned a nod, assuming he meant both Anna’s lessons and the situation at the bank. Even if he decided she wouldn’t do for the job, she would be glad to encourage the child to continue. That would be a small repayment to Mrs. Foster for her hospitality.
They took their leave and Marybeth turned to her hostess. “May I help you prepare supper?” She must keep busy until Monday to make the time pass quickly.
Mrs. Foster appeared to have recovered from her alarm, for she gave Marybeth a bemused look. “Nolan seems quite taken with you.”
Marybeth coughed out a nervous laugh. She’d thought her demeanor was entirely proper. “Oh, I certainly hope not.”
Mrs. Foster seemed satisfied with her answer. “Very well. Shall we get busy with supper? I thought chicken and dumplings would be nice.” She beckoned to Marybeth then proceeded down the center hallway.
“That sounds wonderful.” Grinning to herself, Marybeth complied. She couldn’t wait to tell Rand about having the same supper dish Miss Pam had served them for dinner. The cooking rivalry between these two ladies clearly amused him, but following his example, she would praise her hostess’s dish as nothing short of perfection.
Why had she so quickly thought of sharing such a thing with Rand? Perhaps because he’d been in