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Or were they? She studied him, trying to see what Cissy had really seen. It seemed to make him uncomfortable because he stood looking down at her for a long minute. “You have never attended a wedding?”
“No. Professional musicians rarely get married.”
“I see.” He stood a moment longer, then turned away. “Good night, Winifred.”
He disappeared down the darkened hallway to his own bedroom. She tried very hard not to hear his movements through the wall as she replaced Rosemarie’s now-warm teething cloth with a cold one.
The next morning Winifred brought a still fussy Rosemarie downstairs for her morning bottle and some warm applesauce Sam had prepared, then took her place at the dining room table across from a preoccupied Zane.
“Sleep all right?” he asked.
“Y-yes. The baby woke only once and dropped right off again when I rocked the bassinet and hummed a song.”
“I didn’t sleep. Too quiet.”
Winifred stared at him. “You missed Rosemarie?”
“I did.” He sent her an apologetic look. “Maybe I’m a possessive father.”
Winifred laughed. “You’re devoted, Zane. Not possessive.”
He studied his plate. “When you love someone, you grow to be possessive.”
Sam stepped in with a platter of pancakes and the coffeepot. The small rounded cakes were artfully topped with dollops of orange marmalade. “Oh, Sam, how nice.”
“Yan Li make,” he said proudly. “Cook good.” The houseboy set down the coffeepot and levered a spatula under the pancakes, sliding six onto her plate.
A happy squeal erupted from the kitchen. “Also feed baby,” Sam explained. He set the platter down in front of Zane and filled his coffee cup just as the front doorbell sounded.
Zane sighed and pushed back his chair. Then Winifred heard the door open and Zane’s surprised voice.
“Darla, what—?”
Winifred’s hand froze on her fork.
“Oh, Zane, I’ve hurt myself.”
“Come in and sit here in the chair. Tell me what happened?”
“It’s my foot. My toe, actually. I—I dropped something and it hit my toe.”
“What did you drop?”
“The cookie jar.”
Sam paused in the act of pouring Winifred’s coffee and caught her eye. His black eyes twinkled.
“I’ll just remove your shoe,” Zane said in a patient tone. “Now roll down your stocking.”
A long silence ensued. Sam lifted the coffeepot, but Winifred shook her head and put her finger to her lips. He nodded and stood motionless beside the table.
“Your little toe is red and swollen,” Zane said. “Probably broken.”
“Oh.” She moaned dramatically. “Should you bandage it or something?”
“There’s no need. It will heal on its own. Try to stay off it for a few days.”
“But—”
“I’ll give you some powdered willow bark to add to your tea. You can pick up more at the mercantile. By the way, how did you get up here to the house?”
“I...well, I walked.”
Zane expelled a breath loud enough to be heard in the dining room. “I’ll drive you home in the buggy. Put your shoe back on and wait here.”
“Oh, by the way, Zane, I’m having a social at my house tomorrow after—”
“Can’t make it,” he said shortly. “Hospital duty.”
He came through the dining room looking flushed and angry. A moment later the back door slammed.
“Boss miss breakfast,” Sam whispered.
“He’s a conscientious doctor.” Winifred spoke quietly so Darla wouldn’t hear.
“Lady trick Boss,” the houseboy muttered. He poured her cup full and tipped Zane’s pancakes back onto the platter.
Winifred sipped her coffee and thought about Darla Bledsoe. She didn’t like the woman, but she had to admire her brash persistence. She knew from her women friends at the conservatory that many a man had succumbed to less.
But not Zane. He was not simple-minded in that way. And besides, she told herself, apparently Zane did not even like Darla. But what if he were...desperate?
What made a man desperate? she wondered suddenly. Didn’t people marry because they cared about each other? Because they loved each other? Cissy had swept Zane off his feet and she had fallen instantly in love with him.
Is that how it happened? Pink chiffon and penetrating deep blue eyes? Surely relationships were not built on such ephemeral things, a pink chiffon gown and a handsome face.
