Page 13 of Charlotte

“You speak strangely,” he said at last.

“I have been told that.”

“By your sister?”

“Mostly by my sister.”

“Does she always ask so many questions?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Only when I care about the answers.”

For one breath, Lottie thought he might stay. He might ask about the book or tell her an ordinary thing about himself. He might even say her name.

Then a man in a plaid shirt and leather suspenders called from the parlor doorway, “Peterson! Are you hiding from cake or women?”

A few men laughed. Mr. Peterson’s hand flexed in the pocket. Lottie could see the fabric move. His shoulders settled into a shape Lottie did not like, as though he had picked up a weight he knew well.

“Good evening, Miss Bellamy.”

“Good evening, Mr. Peterson.”

He stepped past the laughing men without answering them and went out the side door into the dark.

Lottie stood in the hall with a book held close against her waist. One of the younger loggers looked at her, then at the door Peterson had used. His smile faded. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, miss. Peterson’s just Peterson.”

“What does that mean?”

The young man rubbed the back of his neck. “Mostly that he doesn’t like folks asking what he means.”

That was not helpful. It was also, Lottie suspected, very true. She returned to the parlor because standing in the hallway after a man had left was not a dignified activity. Delly was now in active conversation with Mr. Simms and likely required sisterly supervision, whether or not she wanted it.

Delly’s notebook was open. Mr. Simms had a piece of cake. Mrs. Schulte looked delighted while Mrs. Beck looked overcome. Mrs. Hanford looked as though the entire concept of courtship had escaped its pen and was loose in the parlor.

“You have not answered my questions,” Delly said to Mr. Simms.

“I know.”

“That is inconvenient.”

“Likely for the best.”

Lottie picked up a piece of cake and slid into the space beside Val.

Val looked at the book in her hand. “Did Mr. Peterson frighten you?”

“No.”

“Good. That would be a serious mark against him.”

“He told me Peterson will do.”

Val’s amusement softened. “Ah.”

Lottie glanced at her. “You know something.”