Page 89 of Charlotte
His gaze moved past her toward the street. “Mrs. Schulte sent you?”
“No. Mrs. Schulte is still recovering from my departure.”
“Then you should go back.”
“No.”
He folded the paper once and tucked it into his vest pocket. “This ground needs measuring.”
“It appears measured.”
“It needs measuring twice.”
“I have heard that is a sensible practice.”
“It is.”
“I am not in the way of you measuring.”
“You are standing on the front step.”
Lottie looked down.
She was standing inside the twine rectangle, precisely where the door would be.
The realization moved through her like a small bell.
She did not step back, but the largest smile broke over her face. “So, I am.”
Peterson looked at her, and his jaw tightened as if the sight hurt him. That, more than anything, made her anger rise again.
“You should have told me,” she said.
“There was nothing to tell.”
“You are staking out a building.”
“Stafford is staking out a building. I am helping.”
“You gathered the men.”
“I asked questions.”
“You sent Olsen to ask about the number of shelves.”
“Would rather have too many instead of too few.”
“You sent Luke to ask about rain.”
“Drainage matters.”
“You are building me a library, Peterson.”
His eyes met hers then. “I am giving the town what it needs.”
“What do I need?”
He said nothing. The wind moved the twine near her skirt. Somewhere behind the schoolhouse, a child laughed, then a woman called him back to the shore. Life went on as if Charlotte Bellamy were not standing in the doorway of a dream with the man she loved trying to make himself small enough to disappear inside good works.
