The Bride Next Door. Winnie Griggs

friends now. As long as Kip wants to stick around, he’s welcome to do so.”

      Everett resisted the urge to shake his head. He could understand her wanting the animal’s companionship and protection while she was on the road. But now that she was settled in and trying to establish herself, couldn’t she see he would only be a drain on her limited resources?

      But he’d said his piece. If she was an overly sentimental sort, then that was her problem.

      The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. He was even forced to grudgingly admit, at least to himself, that Daisy could be a pleasant companion when she tried to be.

      Later that evening, after he’d seen Daisy to her door and she’d promised to show up about nine o’clock the following morning since it was her first day, Everett returned to his own office.

      He settled at his desk where he went to work transcribing his interview notes into an article. Tomorrow was Friday, one of the two days a week the paper went out. Tuesday was the other. That meant he had a long night ahead of him. Luckily, he’d already set aside space on the second page for his interview with Miss Johnson. He just had to craft his article so that it fit the allotted space.

      As he wrote the article, he thought about what he’d learned from the sketchy details she’d given him. She was an optimist and a dreamer, that much was clear. And she wasn’t afraid of hard work. She had a certain amount of courage, too, as evidenced by her striking out on her own, on foot, with nothing but what she could carry to start her new life with. But did she really have it in her to stick with a project like this and see it all the way through?

      He was certain there was more to the story of the time she’d spent with her grandmother than she’d been willing to tell him. That hint of a story to uncover intrigued him.

      Then there was her idea of opening a restaurant. That was reaching a bit high, especially for a female with no experience running a business. To make a go of it, she would need more than optimism and elbow grease. She would need financial reserves and business acumen, neither of which he saw much evidence of in her.

      No, it would be much more practical if Miss Johnson took on a permanent job as cook for some family in town who needed her more than he did. And once he was satisfied he could vouch for her expertise, he would be willing to give her a recommendation to help her find such a position.

      That should fulfill his obligation to see her settled properly.

      Perhaps then he could get back to life as usual.

      * * *

      Daisy settled onto her makeshift bed, tired but pleased with the recent turn of events. It had been a long day, but she’d gotten a lot accomplished. This storeroom that still served as her bedchamber was now clean as a rain-washed wildflower. She’d crafted a broom of her own and rigged up some of the broken crates and furnishings to serve as temporary tables and chairs. She’d traded the telling of her tale for a satisfying meal, and she’d landed herself a job without having to look too hard.

      All in all, a good day.

      Daisy rolled over on her side. She was still having trouble figuring out Mr. Fulton. He could be so nice at times, and at others...

      Even when he was being nice, he had that snippy, amused air about him that was just downright irritating.

      The snooty tone he’d used when he asked if she intended to keep Kip still irked her. What she should have told him was that if given the choice between Kip’s company and his, she’d likely pick Kip's.

      I know that’s not a very charitable thought, Lord, especially since I have him to thank for my meal and my job, but something about that man just riles me up. I can’t abide a person who’s constantly looking for warts rather than dimples.

      She thought about that for a moment, then winced at her ungrateful attitude.

      That was a poor excuse for an excuse, wasn’t it, Lord? You tell us to judge not, and here I go judging again. And we both know I’ve got a wagonload of faults myself, so I’ve got no call to go throwing stones. I promise to try to do better in that regard. Just be patient with me if I slip again. And I’ll add him to my prayers. He obviously has some kind of bee in his bonnet, and he could use some help to learn how to look for the good things around him. Maybe he just needs someone to show him the way.

      Feeling better, she settled down more snugly on her bedroll. Starting tomorrow, Mr. Fulton was going to be a part of her daily life and she a part of his. If this was her purpose for being here, then she aimed to tackle it with all the enthusiasm at her disposal.

      Mr. Fulton was going to learn how to shed some of that stiff-necked, snobbish air of his, or her name wasn’t Daisy Eglantine Johnson.

      Chapter Five

      “Good morning, Mr. Fulton. You got those papers ready for me?” Jack Barr, Adam and Reggie’s adopted son, stood in the doorway of Everett’s office. Ira Peavy, the Barrs’ live-in handyman and sometimes photography assistant to Reggie, stood behind him.

      Everett smiled a greeting at the pair. “That, I do. Your stack is the one closest to the door.”

      Jack pulled a red wooden wagon into the building and started loading papers into the bed.

      When he’d first opened the newspaper office, Everett had hired Jack to take care of making household deliveries to his regular subscribers. Of course, Ira Peavy usually went along, too, ostensibly to provide Jack with some company.

      Everett exchanged greetings with Ira, then looked past the man to see the faint hint of the approaching dawn. He prided himself on having the paper available when his patrons started their day.

      “You’ll find one extra paper in your stack,” he told Jack. “Mr. Cummings over on Second Street started subscribing this week.”

      “Yes, sir, I’ll add him to the list.”

      As they loaded the last of the papers, Everett reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Here’s this week’s pay.”

      Jack’s eyes lit up. “Thanks!”

      Ira placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’d best be on our way if you want to get these deliveries done before school starts.”

      As soon as they departed, Everett grabbed the other three bundles of papers waiting by the door. In addition to the copies he printed for his subscribers, he always printed a number of extras. Those who chose not to subscribe often purchased copies when they were out running errands.

      He kept some of those copies here at his office, of course, but he’d also made arrangements with the proprietors at the mercantile, hotel and railroad depot to sell copies in exchange for a small portion of the purchase price.

      He stepped out on the sidewalk and exchanged greetings with Tim Hill, the town’s lamplighter. Tim was in the process of turning off the streetlight outside the newspaper office, which meant Everett was right on schedule. Punctuality was a virtue he considered an indication of character.

      As he walked through town delivering the bundles of papers to the appropriate locations, he took time to visit the merchants where Daisy would need to make purchases for her role as his cook. As he’d promised her, he instructed them to bill her purchases to him.

      That request raised questions, naturally, but he offered up only the bare information that he had hired her to cook for him. Anything else they wanted to know about her, they’d have to ask her.

      By the time he returned to his office, a light was shining in Daisy’s downstairs window. So she was already up and about. Was she looking forward to her first day working for him? Or dreading it?

      At precisely ten minutes after nine, Daisy walked into his office. He supposed that was as close to punctual as he should expect from her.

      “Good morning, Mr. Fulton,” she said by way of greeting.

      Everett stood