Free Full Steam Ahead by Karen Witemeyer Page A

workshop. They would rarely needto cross each other’s path. Besides, once she’d been around a few days, he’d grow accustomed to her, much like one grew accustomed to a new piece of furniture in a room. She’d eventually stop standing out and would be absorbed into the surroundings, like everything else about the place.
    Yes, he could handle her.
    He spun around again to face her, though he focused slightly to the side to avoid full contact with her eyes. “Meals will be included, and a stipend will be delivered at the end of each month.”
    “Week.”
    His gaze arrowed back to hers. “Pardon?”
    This time she was the first to look away. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d prefer to be paid at the end of each week. My father is ill, and I’m trying to do all I can to help him.” She looked directly at him again, and while he didn’t detect any untruth in her, he did sense there was more to her story than she was letting on.
    Curious.
    “A compromise, then.” He watched her closely. “Payment twice a month. Would that be agreeable?”
    A slight tightening about her lips was the only hint of her disappointment. She nodded. “Yes.”
    “Good. Then I’ll have Wellborn assist you in collecting your things from town.” Right after he had his man remind him of his new secretary’s name.

Chapter 7
    N icole unpacked the last of her belongings in the small chamber that was to be her home for the next two weeks. Most likely the room had been intended for a maid or other servant. No paper decorated the walls, a small rag rug on one side of the bed was all that broke up the monotony of the oak floor, and the only furnishings the room boasted were a washstand, a thin wardrobe, and a tiny bureau that contained two drawers. However, it was spotlessly clean, and Mrs. Wellborn had plucked a handful of buttercups and placed them in a stoneware crock atop the bureau. The yellow blooms cheered the room considerably.
    She’d only had space to hang three of her five dresses in the wardrobe. The rest of the space contained table linens and the like. But she didn’t mind. With her trunk cleared out, the remaining dresses could be stored there without fear of excessive wrinkles.
    A light tap echoed as her door pushed open. “I found another rug and a length of calico that we can use over the window to brighten the place up. What do you think?” Thehousekeeper bustled into the room, her smile doing more to brighten the place than the pink fabric she carried.
    “It’s lovely,” Nicole enthused, coming forward to take the calico. White flowers dotted the pink cotton in a feminine pattern.
    Nicole crossed to the stark bar hanging above the narrow window and began experimenting with the cloth. Perhaps a twist here, then a swag, and another twist . . . She stepped back to eye her handiwork, made a few adjustments so the fabric hung symmetrically, then turned to the housekeeper with a grin. “It really warms the room up. Don’t you agree?”
    “That it does, dearie. That it does.” The plump woman dropped the rug into place in front of the bureau, gave it a tug or two, then straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. “Though I must say, it’s having you here that truly warms this old place. I can’t tell you how delighted I am to have another female about. Mrs. Graham, our cook, comes in every day to prepare the midday and evening meals, but she never actually dines with us. Says it’s not her place.
    “I suppose it’s natural for a former slave to feel that way, but no matter how many times I explain that Arthur and I are servants on equal footing with her, she refuses to come to the table at lunch, preferring to take a plate out on the back porch and eat on the stairs. In the evenings, she leaves as soon as the food is prepared so that she can get back to her family.”
    Nicole smiled as the woman took a knitted throw from its storage at the top of the wardrobe and unfurled it across the narrow bed.