Free Beauty for Ashes by Dorothy Love Page A

sure that marriage is the right thing for both of us.”
    Smoke curled from Nate’s pipe and drifted toward the pressed-tin ceiling. “I can appreciate that, but we’re neither one getting any younger. I want a wife and children before I’m too old to appreciate ’em.”
    He made it sound as if any woman capable of fulfilling his wishes would do. A pang shot through her. She cared for Nate; at times she convinced herself she loved him. Certainly she admired his intelligence, his kindness, his gentle humor. He would be a wonderful father. The children of Hickory Ridge adored him. He always had time to read a story or show them a sleight-of-hand trick that left them gaping in wonder and clamoring to know how it was done. She could imagine a life with him, a life of quiet contentment. Maybe that was the best she could hope for now. And yet . . .
    Nate glanced around the cluttered bookshop. “You could help me out here,” he blurted.
    “What?”
    “Since Mrs. Whitcomb can’t hire you, I’ll pay you to assist me.”
    “Nate, I—”
    “Just look at this place. It’s a disgrace. If folks had another bookshop close by, they’d never darken my door.” He set down his pipe. “Not that too many folks have been coming around lately anyway. If this depression doesn’t end soon, I don’t know that I can continue to hang on.”
    She saw how much that prospect hurt him. Books were his passion.
    “What about your college accounts?”
    “Barely keeping me afloat for now. The locals don’t come around anymore. Nobody has money for extras like books. And with only three trains a week, the business I’m getting from travelers is not enough to take up the slack.”
    “Then I can’t let you spend money on me. I’m grateful, from the bottom of my heart. But I wouldn’t feel right, taking your money at a time like this.”
    He drew her to her feet. “I must go. I’m expecting a shipment of books this afternoon. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll reconsider my offer of employment.”
    Carrie stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, but I’ll get by.”
    He sighed. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, going off on your own like this.”
    She blew out a long breath. “So do I.”
    He walked her to the door and opened it, jingling the little bell. Somewhere far off a dog howled with such mournfulness that Carrie was assailed with doubt and longing. She missed the farm and the life she’d left behind. And now she’d turned down a chance to earn her keep. Had she made the right decision?

SIX
    Carrie woke to sun pouring in her window and the sound of hoof beats in the street below. Leaving her bed, she crossed to the window and peered out in time to see Ada Caldwell emerging from her rig.
    She dressed and grabbed her straw hat, hastily pinning up her hair as she descended the creaky staircase. She glanced into the kitchen, where Rachel and Rosaleen sat at the table. The smells of boiling coffee and burned biscuits filled the air. Torn between happiness at seeing Ada and complete mortification to be found living in such a shabby place, she hurried along the threadbare carpet and opened the door for her friend.
    “Carrie?” Ada swept into the parlor and peeled off her gloves. “I stopped by the farm this morning, only to be told that you’ve moved here.”
    Carrie nodded. “The Verandah isn’t much to look at, but the other residents are kind. Not a one of them has tossed a snake into my face, punched me in the stomach, routed me from my own bed, or ordered me about like a servant.”
    “Oh my dear, was it really as bad as all that?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    A burst of laughter from the kitchen punctuated her words.
    Carrie fiddled with the ribbons on her hat. “I’d offer you some coffee and biscuits, but I’m afraid they aren’t very—”
    “Nonsense.” Ada looped her arm through Carrie’s. “Let’s buy something decadent from the bakery and go to the park. I haven’t been there in