Free A Mischief in the Snow by Margaret Miles

themselves. Instead, to her embarrassment, she found the answer to her earlier question. There
had
been something important, and she'd forgotten all about it— an appointment with the man who had acted as Aaron's attorney. Moses Reed had written earlier in the month from Boston, saying he wished to bring her papers to transfer a small legacy from her late husband's family.
    “Mr. Reed!” she exclaimed.
    The pleasant-looking man stepped inside, allowingthe door to be swiftly shut behind him. He was a few years past forty, but still quite fit; his upper face showed he'd taken the smallpox. His jaw was of greater interest, for it was covered with an amusing beard—soft curls of dark brown hairs a few inches long. Both women stared at this sight, for it was something rarely seen on the face of a gentleman, at least in New England. If beards were the fashion in other lands, here they marked men who had no fear of taunting children, or of more subtle disapproval from their peers.
    Charlotte took her visitor's hat and heavy coat, noticing a glint of appreciation for her own appearance in his darting eyes. At the same time she heard Hannah hurry through one of the doors that flanked the hearth.
    “Am I too early, Mrs. Willett? I fear I've startled you. Perhaps I've been somewhat forward in coming to your back door,” Moses Reed apologized. “But I see your kitchen is warm and snug, as well as busy.” He continued to assess the industry around him with his eyes and nose.
    “I'm glad to see you, sir, of course! But I'm afraid, well, the truth is—”
    “You had forgotten me! Never mind. There was a good chance the weather would delay my arrival, but I'm glad to say I reached Bracebridge last evening, as planned. I've since been presuming on the kindness of your minister.”
    “You chose to stay with Reverend Rowe?”
    “Less of an expense than the Bracebridge Inn, and more comfortable than the Blue Boar. With a large house at his disposal, I felt sure Mr. Rowe would not object… after I told him I intend to leave a donation.”
    Charlotte still had to wonder at his choice, and only hoped her expression didn't reveal this fact. Moses Reed smiled, and explained further.
    “I thought I might also look over the village recordskept there. Lawyers, you know, take pleasure in poking into the past. And since this was my early home, I have decided to follow the example of our lieutenant governor, and write a small history—as he has so admirably done for the whole of Massachusetts. I'm sure my work will never be as fine, but it could be useful one day. And, I have time on my hands, since that same gentleman balks at re-opening Boston's courts.”
    “How well I remember the day you left us, sir!” said Hannah, returning from the front room. “We were nearly young together,” she added with a silly smile.
    “Yet most would swear, Mrs. Sloan, that you are no older than my daughter,” the lawyer countered, “if, indeed, I had one.”
    Charlotte now smiled as well, noticing that Hannah's apron was straighter than it had been, and her hair tidier.
    “Someone with bats’ eyes might be fooled,” Hannah returned. “I am a
few
years older than you, sir, I'll admit.” Following Charlotte's example, she lowered her substantial body onto a chair. “We were sorry when you left us to read the law; my husband and I have followed your successes lately in the
Gazette.
But do you recall one winter day twenty years ago, when you and Samuel went out into the west hills together, and came back with a bear? Didn't we grow heartily sick of it, long before the fat ran out!”
    “We did. We've faced lean years together, it's true. But I've also heard your good husband has since prospered— and, that more than the family purse has grown!”
    “I have seven children now, including unmarried daughters. I take it, sir, that you have not yet married?”
    “That is so. Might I come and meet the family a little later, Mrs. Sloan?”
    “You