Free Heart of Stone by Jill Marie Landis Page B

medicine before the performance—” She suddenly flushed with color.
    Laura found herself wishing she’d remembered Amelia concocted nerve medicine and had bought some before tonight.
    Mary Margaret leaned closer. “It’s nice to see you here, Laura. I’m happy the reverend convinced you to join us.”
    “Yes, well…” She’d never made small talk in this sort of asituation. “Thank you, Mary Margaret. It’s nice to see you out from behind the teller window.”
    Mary Margaret was seventy if she was a day, yet she worked five days a week in the bank alongside her husband, Timothy, who was notoriously hard of hearing.
    “We’ve been so busy lately. Not that I’m complaining, but with so many folks purchasing homesteads and ranches, most of them wanting some kind of loan, it’s been hectic for us. It’ll be interesting to see how many of these folks actually take. Not everyone adjusts to Texas. It takes a certain breed to fit in. The weather and the isolation out here will beat the stuffing right out of you, if you let it.” She shook her head at Laura. “Never thought you’d last, but you did and we’re mighty glad.”
    Laura was overcome by a sudden stinging in her eyes and wondered what on earth was wrong with her until she realized it was the threat of tears. Her carefully constructed facade was coming apart at the seams.
    “I was thinking of starting a ladies sewing circle. Do you sew, Laura?” Charity asked.
    “I’ve never even tried.” She immediately realized they might wonder why not. “I…have to admit, I’m spoiled when it comes to sewing. I…my mother never taught me.” She turned to Mary Margaret. “How about you?”
    Mary Margaret shook her head. “Sew? When on earth would I have time to sew?”
    “What about a Bible study group?” Charity was unwilling to let go of the notion of getting them all together. Laura feigned interest in the cuff of her gown.
    “I don’t have time for a lot of reading,” Mary Margaret said. “By the time night falls, I’m tuckered out.”
    “Would you enjoy a Bible study group, Laura?” Charity asked.
    “I’m afraid running the boardinghouse takes all of my time. I don’t know how I could possibly attend a meeting,” she admitted.“I do love to read, though.” Laura wondered what Charity would say if she told her she’d never even read the Bible.
    “Maybe if you invited Brand, Charity, we could get Laura to join.” Mary Margaret chuckled.
    Laura nodded as her face grew warm. She glanced around the room. Coming tonight had made a statement to everyone. Their preacher was interested in her.
    What now, she wondered.
    She spotted Brand still in deep conversation with the men. As if he felt her gaze on him from across the room, he looked up, met her eyes, and smiled. It was such a simple, innocent gesture, and yet the unexpected thrill—that was becoming less unexpected by the moment—ran through her. It frightened as well as excited her.
    “What
do
you read, Laura?” Libby wanted to know.
    “Novels.” Laura tried to focus on the conversation. Their little group had been joined by three other women who had moved closer, closing ranks around them. They were all listening intently.
    “Nathaniel Hawthorne,” she added. “And Dickens. I’ve read most of his work.”
    “How about Jane Austin?” Mary Margaret wanted to know. “I used to love reading her novels when I was young.”
    Laura could relate to Dickens’ starving orphans, the underbelly of London’s streets, and Fagan with his band of ragtag child thieves. She knew the polite constraint of the social world in which Jane Austin’s characters moved merely masked what really went on beneath the varnish of polite society.
    Standing there chatting with stout, hardworking Mary Margaret and Brand’s sister, Laura was reminded that she didn’t really know these women and had absolutely no real connection with them—and never would. She would never be able to fool them for long.