The Bride Next Door. Winnie Griggs

down his nose at her.

      Reminded her of Grandmère Longpre—one was always aware when she was displeased. Of course her grandmother would never dream of being impolite. The niceties of civilized society were too important to her.

      Ah, well, Mr. Fulton didn’t really know her yet, and she’d just roused him from his sleep. She couldn’t really blame him for being in a bad mood. And she shouldn’t forget that he had helped her out from under that shelving, so she should be grateful and more forgiving. As her father would say, never moon over should bes when your have nows are enough to get you by.

      She’d just have to prove to Mr. Fulton and the rest of the townsfolk that she aimed to be a good, neighborly citizen of this community. Starting with making this place clean and inviting. Too bad she didn’t have a broom and mop yet. She’d need to take care of that first thing in the morning. For now, she’d just make do as best she could.

      She maneuvered an empty crate next to the space where she planned to place her bedroll, wincing at the bit of noise she made. Hopefully it hadn’t been loud enough to disturb her neighbor. Again.

      Once she had the crate in place, she eyed it critically, then nodded in satisfaction. “This’ll make a fine table for now—just right for setting my lamp and Mother’s Bible.”

      Kip answered her with a couple thumps of his tail.

      She decided her change of clothing and the rest of the meager belongings she’d brought along with her could stay in her pack until she found an appropriate and clean place to store them.

      She arched her back, trying to stretch out some of the kinks. Tomorrow she’d give this place a good scrubbing, and maybe pick some wildflowers to add a bit of color. It would take a while to fix it up the way she wanted, but the cleaning and scrubbing part didn’t cost anything except time and effort.

      Already, she could picture it the way she would eventually fix it up—with bright curtains on freshly washed windows and a new coat of paint on the walls. She’d have a roomy pantry and sturdy shelves built in here for all her cooking supplies, and a big, shiny, new stove over on that far wall.

      She grabbed her bedroll, still thinking about the red-checkered tablecloths and the ruffled curtains she’d purchase. But before she could get the makeshift bed unrolled properly, her neighbor returned, a scowl on his face. What now?

      “Mr. Fulton, I’m so sorry if I’m making too much noise again. I promise—”

      He shook his head impatiently, interrupting her apology. At the same time she noticed he was carrying a broom and a cloth-wrapped bundle.

      He set the broom against the wall, nodding toward it. “I thought you might be able to make use of this,” he said. Then he thrust the parcel her way. “I also brought this for you.”

      His tone was short, gruff, as if he wasn’t happy. Was it with her or with himself? His accent had deepened, as well.

      And more important—just what in the world had he brought her?

      She gingerly unwrapped the parcel and was pleasantly surprised to find an apple, a slab of cheese and a thick slice of bread inside. “Why, thank you. This is so kind of you.”

      He waved aside her thanks. “It’s just a few bits left over from my dinner.” He nodded toward the broom. “And that’s just a loan.”

      That might be true, but the food seemed a veritable feast to her, and the broom would cut her work tonight in half. “Still, it’s very neighborly.” Just saying that word cheered her up.

      But he still wore that impatient scowl. “Yes, well, I’ll leave you to get settled in.” He glanced at the sleeping area she’d set up and then back at her. “See that you keep the noise down.”

      She smothered a sigh, wondering why he had to spoil his nice gesture with a grumpy attitude. “Of course. Good night.”

      “Good night.”

      As she watched him leave this time, her smile returned. Regardless of his sour expression, Mr. Fulton had been quite kind. Perhaps she’d already made her first friend.

      Bowing her head, she said a quick prayer of thanks for the unexpected meal, and for the man who’d given it to her.

      Then she looked down at Kip as she broke off a bit of cheese to feed him. “Look here, boy. We have a nice meal to help us really celebrate our first night in our new home. Isn’t God good?”

      And, much as he tried to hide it, she was beginning to believe Mr. Fulton had some good in him, as well.

      * * *

      The next morning, as Everett prepared his breakfast, he could hear the sounds of his new neighbor’s renewed efforts at cleaning out her building. He certainly hoped she didn’t keep that racket up all day. Besides, did she really think she could single-handedly turn that musty, junk-cluttered place into a working restaurant?

      Glancing out his window, he saw a pile of rubbish in their shared back lot that hadn’t been there yesterday. He rubbed his jaw, impressed in spite of himself at the amount of effort she’d already expended this morning. Apparently, she planned to try to make her ambitious but improbable dream a reality.

      As he stuck a fork in his slightly overcooked egg, he wondered how she’d fared after he left her last night. Had she gotten any sleep at all given her less-than-ideal accommodations?

      He took a sip of coffee. Perhaps he should go over and check on her this morning. Not that her welfare was his concern, but she didn’t seem to have anyone else to look out for her. And, even if it was confoundedly inconvenient, someone should make certain her ankle wasn’t any worse this morning and that she had something to eat.

      When he carried his dishes to the counter he spied her through the window, dragging another load of debris to toss on her trash pile. That unfortunate-looking mutt she’d had with her last night was racing from her heels to the far end of the lot and back again.

      At least she didn’t seem to be favoring her left foot. As for food, he waffled a few moments over whether to involve himself further in her business. He supposed, as long as he made it clear he expected her to fend for herself going forward, it wouldn’t hurt to offer sustenance one more time.

      He’d do the gentlemanly thing and invite her up for something to eat, or at least a cup of coffee. And maybe see if she was as optimistic about her enterprise this morning as she’d been last night.

      But before he could act on his decision, he saw her reappear carrying a sack and head toward the edge of town, the dog trotting beside her.

      What in the world was she up to now?

      Feeling slightly deflated, Everett washed his dishes and headed down to his office. Enough of this unproductive preoccupation with his neighbor. He had work to get to.

      But over the next few hours he had trouble focusing on his work. He found his thoughts drifting to speculation as to where she’d gone off to and, to his irritation, caught himself listening for her return.

      He supposed it was only natural to worry about any unprotected female heading out on her own in unfamiliar surroundings. No matter how far she’d walked to get here.

      Everett was finally rewarded a couple of hours after her departure by the sound of her return. Minutes later, he could hear items being moved around and other evidence of her renewed efforts. Did she plan to work the entire day? He even thought he heard snatches of some cheerful but slightly off-key humming a time or two. It appeared that, no matter what other qualities Miss Johnson might have, she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

      And apparently, word of the new arrival had spread through town. There was a steady parade of folks strolling past his glass-fronted office, and stopping by his neighbor’s place. With all the interest Miss Johnson was garnering, he wondered just how much work she was actually managing to get done.

      He resisted the urge to walk over and see for himself. The impulse had been born of