Free A Heart Revealed by Julie Lessman

blue-and-white dress, snug at her hips in the style of the day before flaring just below her knees. Propping her hands to her slim waist, she gave Emma a generous smile, lips sporting the popular “Crawford smear” with rose lipstick rounded above to exaggerate their fullness. Meticulously drawn brows lifted in question. “So, what do you think? Will this new dress catch his eye?”
    Emma reached to straighten the matching polka-dot sailor bow that complemented the sleeveless white bodice and leaned back with a chew of her lip. “Mmm . . . I’d say his eyes will be on you most of the night, young lady, instead of the marathon.” Her lips squirmed in jest. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
    A gleam lit in the young woman’s blue-gray eyes as she wiggled her brows. She twirled a blond strand of hair from her Marlene Dietrich hairstyle, modeled after her latest Photoplay magazine, no doubt. “Maybe not wise, but certainly fun.”
    “Casey Miranda Herringshaw!” Emma folded her arms in the pretense of shocked disapproval, doing her best to bite back a smile. “What would your mother say?”
    Casey laughed and surprised her with a voracious hug. “She’d say, ‘If Emma approves, I approve.’” She pulled back to give Emma an impish smile. “You know you’re the only reason she lets me stay in Boston by myself, don’t you? Because you keep an eye on her little girl?”
    Emma studied her through affectionate eyes, well aware that Susan, her best friend from the store, would have never gone home to Kansas to care for her sick mother if her daughter were alone in the big city. So Emma had not only found Casey an apartment in her building, but an excellent job with one of her suppliers as well, giving Susan her word that she would look after her daughter. A rush of love welled in Emma’s chest as she cupped a gentle hand to Casey’s innocent face. “Yes, and to keep an eye on the young men who come courting.”
    Casey grinned and squeezed herself in a hug. “Oh, Emma, he’s such a dream! Tall, dark, and handsome and the perfect gentleman.”
    “Is he now?” Emma said with a curious tilt of her head. She motioned a hand toward her sofa. “Care to come in and tell me all about it?”
    “I wish I could, but I told him I would meet him outside the Ocean Pier Ballroom at eight, so I have to run.” She glanced at her watch, then looked up at Emma with a nervous tug of her lip. “Do you think I can borrow that darling little cloche I saw you wearing the other day, you know, the blue one?”
    “Mmm . . . I suppose. In exchange for some information, that is.” Smiling, Emma closed the door with a lift of her brow. “Like his name, for instance?”
    Casey made a beeline for Emma’s bedroom, shooting a smile over her shoulder. “His name is Johnny McIntire, and he’s as Irish as St. Patrick himself, with the most wonderful brogue. His family moved here from Killarney, and now he’s one of the top salesmen at work.”
    A frown puckered the bridge of Emma’s nose as she followed Casey down the hall. “A top salesman? Goodness, how old is he?”
    “Got it,” Casey said with a snatch of a blue cloche off the shelf in Emma’s closet. She ruffled a hand across Guinevere’s silky, white body as she snoozed on the bed quilt amidst a splash of bright flowers, then hurried over to the mirror to put it on, finally turning with a squeal. “Oh, Emma, it’s perfect! I can always count on you to have the latest styles from Dennehy’s. How do I look?”
    “Beautiful, as always.” Emma’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “How old, Casey?”
    Casey’s smile faltered. “He’s really nice, I promise, and he goes to church . . .”
    Moving to where Casey stood picking her nails, Emma adjusted the cloche just an inch to the right. Her voice softened to a whisper. “How old?”
    A blush tinted the young girl’s cheeks as she peeked up through heavy lashes. “Gosh, Emma, I don’t know. Thirty-two,