Miss Whitman finally turned and spotted him. “Well, hello there. Did you have a nice nap?”
He stiffened at that. “Glad to see you made yourself at home,” he said, pointedly ignoring her question.
She smiled, waving her cook spoon haphazardly. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in, but no one answered my knock.”
“You must not have knocked very loud.”
By her raised brow he could tell his dry tone hadn’t been wasted on her this time.
“Perhaps not. But I figured the children would be sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb them. They needed to get some rest after your journey. As did you.”
“I apologize for not being available to show you around,” he said stiffly. “But you appear to have found everything you needed on your own.”
Either missing the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it, she nodded. “No apologies needed,” she said brightly. “As you can see, I’m quite capable of finding my way around a kitchen all on my own.”
There was definitely no denying that. He looked around. Apparently she’d found all the dishes, pots and utensils she needed.
“I checked on the children when I got here,” she said, turning back to the stove. “The little lambs were sleeping sound as could be.”
What had she thought of finding him snoozing on the sofa?
Pushing that decidedly uncomfortable thought away, he looked for something else to focus on. “What’s that you’re cooking?”
“Rabbit stew. I also plan to bake some bread and prepare a peach cobbler for dessert.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of picking up a few things for your larder since you’ll be cooking for three now.”
Cooking for three—something else he hadn’t thought through yet. Kids probably required more than the plain fare he normally cooked for himself. But that was his problem, not hers. “Thank you.”
She gave him a curious look. “I hope it’s not too forward of me, but I’d like to ask a question about your time in Colorado.”
He hadn’t noticed that being forward was something she worried overmuch about. “Ask away.”
“You were gone for several weeks. Were the children in your care during that time?”
“Not entirely. Miss Booth, a friend of my sister’s, took them in right after the accident. Chloe needed doctoring and I had to tend to the funerals and to the settling of their parents’ business affairs. Besides, I was staying in a hotel. It just seemed best that they stay where they could be more comfortable and have someone familiar to take care of them. I checked in on them every day, though.”
“I see.”
There was something about the way she said that that raised his suspicions. “And just what is it that you see?”
“That you really don’t have much experience caring for them on your own yet. Not that it’s your fault. It’s just something we’ll need to take into consideration.”
Then she smiled. “But enough of that. Did the menu sound to your liking?”
“Yes, of course. Let me thank you again for taking the time to—”
She waved his thanks aside. “Oh, you’re quite welcome. I’m happy to do it.”
Hank rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how she would react if he asked her for another favor, especially since he hadn’t been exactly gracious so far.
Before he could figure out the best way to ask, she turned around. “There’s no point in you standing around, watching me cook. I figure you’re eager to go down to the mill and check on how your business fared while you were away. Since Alex and Chloe are sleeping, now would be a good time. The stew won’t be ready to eat for a while yet and the children will probably sleep at least another hour.”
How did she always manage to anticipate him like that? “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I would like to drive out to the mill. I’ll try not to be gone too long.”
“There’s no need for you to rush on my account. The children and I will be fine while you are gone.”
He bowed. “Once more I’m in your debt.”
She grinned. “I’m not nearly as altruistic as you seem to believe. But I really think I can help the three of you, and it would give me immense satisfaction to do so.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he merely nodded and headed out to the small carriage house, where he kept his buckboard.
And as he went, he found himself wondering why the schoolteacher, who had such an obvious fondness for children, wasn’t married. Sure, she was a bit bossy, but he knew there were men who’d be willing to overlook that, especially given her other attributes.
Unless there was something wrong with her that he hadn’t seen yet. He supposed he should keep a close eye on her, just to see if he could figure out what that might be.
* * *
“Where’s Uncle Hank?”
Janell looked up to see Alex standing in the doorway, watching her with solemn eyes.
“He went down to the sawmill.” She tried to infuse her voice with reassurance. “He’ll be back in time for supper.”
The boy cocked his head to one side, as if trying to puzzle something out. “Do you live here, too?”
Was she imagining the hopeful tone in his voice? “No, sweetheart, I just came over to help your uncle make your first day here as comfortable as possible.”
Alex nodded but didn’t say anything. And didn’t seem inclined to come any closer. What was he afraid of?
She waved a hand toward the counter, where a couple of loaves of bread were cooling. “I just pulled those out of the oven. I love the aroma of fresh-baked bread, don’t you? Why don’t you have a seat at the table and I’ll cut you off a piece so we can see if it tastes as good as it smells?”
He finally moved forward, but didn’t say anything.
“Where’s Chloe?” she asked, trying to draw him out.
“She’s still in bed.” He slid onto his chair, watching as she sliced the bread.
“Is she still asleep?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. She’s reading.”
The way he eyed the bread, one would think he hadn’t eaten for days. She placed a thick slice on a saucer and set it in front of him. “Perhaps I should ask her if she wants a little something to eat, too.”
Alex popped up out of his chair. “I’ll go.”
She waved him back down. “Enjoy your bread. I’ll go.”
Alex slowly sat again, his expression troubled.
The little boy was touchingly protective of his sister. Admirable, but she had to help him focus on just being an eight-year-old.
Janell grabbed the large slate and some chalk she’d fetched from the schoolhouse earlier and headed for Chloe’s bedchamber. She paused in front of the door, her hand raised to knock. Such an action was meaningless in this situation. She’d need to find a way to perform that function visually in order to allow the girl her privacy. For Lizzie they’d rigged a system with rope and cloth flags.
Janell opened the door and paused on the threshold, waiting for Chloe to notice her. The girl, who was reclining on the bed with her book, looked up, and Janell saw the flicker of surprise, quickly replaced with a not-quite-genuine