“I wouldn’t know,” she primly replied as she turned to her son.
“Now, boyo, I’m going to hold you still so Mr. Trenton can properly set your arm. If you’re quiet, and keep the stick between your teeth, there’ll be apple tarts for dessert.”
Apple tarts were her son’s favorite, and she wasn’t above bribery to achieve her ends.
“Am I invited for dinner?” Cass asked.
“My mother would say it’s the least I can do.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured as he tapped his chin. “That wasn’t a yes.”
“It was a perhaps. You’ve yet to demonstrate your proficiency at bone-setting.”
As if to refute her claim, he lifted James’s arm in the air, his long fingers feeling for the location of the break. When he found it, he wrenched her son’s arm in a sudden movement.
James winced. “Ouch! That hurts like the dickens,” he said as he pulled the piece of wood from his mouth.
“I’m all finished lad, we just need to tie the sling around it so you can heal.”
Deirdre set his arm in the fabric and looped it around his neck. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t reward you for your ministrations.You may stay for dinner,” she addressed Cass as she knotted the fabric.
He sketched a bow. “You learned to cook from Brigid Flaherty, so it will not be a hardship.”
“My boarders will be back soon, so I must finish preparing the table. You may keep yourself entertained in the parlor until it’s ready.”
Mary Kate grabbed his hand. “Can you make me a stick while we wait?”
Cass pulled a piece of wood from the pocket of his overcoat. “I just happen to have everything I need, so yes, I’ll carve you one just like your brother’s while we wait.”
Deirdre held in her laughter as her daughter scrunched her face into a frown.
“I want mine, not his.”
“Understood, Miss Mary Kate. Let us adjourn to the parlor so I can follow your instructions.”
Deirdre watched them go, Cass obediently following where her daughter led. For a brief moment, as she gazed after them, she let herself wonder what would have happened if he’d known. If he’d stayed.
Chapter Three
Cass
When Cass walked into the small dining area attached to the kitchen, he knew Deirdre had indeed studied her mother’s recipe book. The supper she’d laid out was in a wholly different league than the years of saloon food and simple fare he’d ingested.
The two boarders were jocular men who heaped their plates with no hesitation. Cass felt the sting of jealousy at their easy familiarity - even if it was of a transactional nature.
“How long have you been in town?” He casually asked one of the men as he accepted the platter of roast chicken.
The man dabbed the grease from his chin and tucked his napkin into his collar before giving Cass an affable grin. “I’ve been clerking at the bank for three years now, and consider it fortuitous that I found Mrs. O’Shaugnessy’s boarding house just before my former lease was ending. The table she sets is beyond compare.” He lifted his fork in Deirdre’s direction as he delivered the compliment.
It annoyed Cass that her cheeks flushed prettily as she set the basket of fresh biscuits on the table. “You are too kind, Mr. Edmonds,” she said with a half smile.
“Mr. Edmonds is correct in his assessment, Mrs. O’Shaugnessy. I daresay your culinary skills rival those of the chief cook at Trenton House.”
Cass’s comment didn’t earn flushed cheeks or a half smile. Instead, she flashed him a look of annoyance. The jealousy he felt at that dismissal shouldn’t have shocked him.
“I’m glad you could join us, and am grateful for your rescue,” she snipped with a furrow between her brows.
She sounded neither glad nor grateful.
