Free Blessed Assurance by Lyn Cote

you’re here.”
    From the comfortable wing-back chair, Henry examined the parlor. The oak floor and woodwork gleamed in the lamplight. Everything else also spoke of a notable homemaker.
    â€œDr. Gooden, I’m so happy you could come.” Jessie swept in, her hand outstretched to him.
    He stood, took her hand, bent to kiss it. The scent of lavender floated from her. He smiled. “For the invitation, I thank you.”
    â€œPlease have a seat.”
    As he waited for her to sit first, he gazed at her with admiration. She lowered herself delicately into her chair, then perched on it like a lady with her spine held straight, not touching the back of her chair.
    â€œHave you had a busy day, Doctor?”
    He liked her question, the perfect social start to a conversation. Tonight, she was dressed all in black, and though simple, it was cut in the latest mode with the skirt swept toward the rear to a modest bustle. “A day of usual cases. But I never tire of it.”
    â€œI understand.”
    Her two quiet words touched him. This woman did understand. Nodding, he smiled at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old woman coming toward them.
    â€œWho is this you’re sitting with?” the old woman barked.
    Deferentially he stood up.
    The old woman glared at him. “That doctor? What is he doing here again?”
    â€œMiss Wright, I’ve invited Dr. Henry Gooden for dinner.”
    As he bent over the old woman’s hand, she grumbled, but the old woman said no more. His hostess was definitely the mistress of her home.
    â€œMother?” Linc scrambled into the parlor. “Dinner is served.”
    Jessie rose. “Lincoln, please tell Susan we’re coming right in.”
    Henry wanted to offer his arm to Jessie, but good manners dictated he offer it to the elderly spinster first. When she rebuffed him, he entered the dining room with Jessie’s hand featherlight on his arm.
    The dining room impressed him as the parlor had. “The carving on your sideboard, it is beautiful.”
    â€œMy late husband’s father was noted for his fine woodworking.”
    â€œHe was an artist.” Dr. Gooden seated Jessie at the head of the table and waited while she introduced him to her other two boarders. The young blonde was a treat to behold, but the redhead was mutton dressed as lamb. While Jessie still wore widow’s black, the widowed schoolteacher was arrayed in pink ruffles instead of tastefully in some sober hue.
    At the foot of the table at Jessie’s request, he gave the blessing. “God, thank you for this home and this meal. Amen.”
    â€œSo you have family?” Miss Wright asked tartly.
    â€œMy mother lives in Cleveland with my older brother and his wife.”
    â€œSir, what made you become a doctor?” Miss Greenleigh, the young blond lady, asked him.
    â€œWhen I was only eight, my sister nearly died. With the diphtheria. A doctor saved her life. After that, I became his shadow.”
    â€œYou began your avocation early, then?” Jessie asked.
    He liked the way her voice sounded so sure, so confident. The meal went on just as he’d hoped, good food in a genteel setting. He ate his final bite of sweet rhubarb pie with light whipped cream.
    Susan came through the curtain. “Mrs. Wagstaff, could Lincoln be ’scused from the table now?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œMr. Smith is here. He wanta know can Linc come out and play ball?”
    Henry was pleased to see that though Linc eagerly sat up straighter, he did not bolt from the table. Only when Jessie nodded, did the boy disappear in a flash behind Susan.
    Mrs. Bolt stood up. “Dr. Gooden, perhaps you’d be interested in attending a temperance meeting with me tonight?”
    He shook his head. “So sorry, ma’am. Already I am involved in much charity work.”
    â€œVery well.” Her mouth primmed up.
    â€œPerhaps Mr. Smith would like to accompany