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Instead, all he could think of was how Elizabeth had looked when Ballard was here. The kitchen had seemed a cozy place. Warm. Almost seductive. He leveled a chunk of cake onto his plate. It sat in the middle of the white expanse, dark, moist and slathered with frosting. It should have sent his mouth watering anew. Instead, it seemed lonely somehow, sitting on that stark white plate. Like something was missing. The whole kitchen felt that way, he realized. Almost unwelcoming. Definitely neglected.
Maybe it was the pile of dishes waiting to be washed. He left the cake and filled the basin with water from the warming pan. Working up a lather on the cloth draped over the side, he set to cleaning the mess. When he was done, he glanced around. The dishes drying on the sideboard was an improvement, but things still didn’t feel right. He looked about, but couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong. No doubt about it, he wasn’t going to fully appreciate that cake without everything being just perfect.
“You didn’t eat your cake.”
Elizabeth was back. He turned to find she’d changed into a red-checked dress that made her look so prim and proper, he itched to nudge her bun askew.
“Thought I’d get these dishes first.” He tossed the dishrag into the basin. Water slopped over the side. He suppressed a curse as he fished out the rag to wipe it up.
She came rushing to his side as if it had been an emergency. “Oh, my goodness! You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s just a little water.”
“No.” She stood to his left, wringing her hands and fidgeting. He got the distinct impression she’d shove him to the side if she thought she could get away with it. “I meant the dishes. I would have gotten to them. Just when I was about to, you came in and I haven’t had a chance to clean up.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t. I really am responsible. I would have gotten to them.”
He caught her by the shoulders. She flinched. “Elizabeth, I did the dishes because I was standing here and they were sitting there. I reckon we’ll all survive.”
“But you didn’t eat your cake!”
Apparently, that was supposed to mean something. “It’s not going anywhere.”
She glanced at the table and wrung her hands anew. “I didn’t even pour you coffee!” She bolted for the stove, halted halfway there, and turned to apologize again. “It’s no excuse, but I was so worried about being presentable—”
The way he remembered it, she’d been mad because of his teasing. “I can pour coffee.”
The look she shot him said “don’t you dare” louder than if she’d screamed it. She motioned to the table. “Go sit down and eat your cake. I’ll get the coffee.”
“You don’t have to heat it up. Cold is fine.”
He might have saved his breath for all the mind she paid him.
He sat at the table. It must have been his imagination because the piece of cake seemed to have perked up in his absence. His mouth watered immediately on sight. When Elizabeth came over, coffee cup in hand, he was a little embarrassed to note he’d put a full third of the cake on his plate. She took a look at the size of his helping as she placed his coffee before him. Instead of shooting him a frown, she seemed to relax.
She waited expectantly for his first bite. He’d be damned if he was going to take it with her hovering like a waitress at a restaurant. He pushed the adjacent chair out with his foot. “Have a seat.”
“Just let me get supper on.”
“Does it need to be done now?”
“No.”
“Then have a seat.”
She sat kitty corner to him. Her hands folded primly on the table as if she didn’t quite know what to do. He cut a piece of cake with the side of his fork. Her gaze followed every inch of the short journey it made to his mouth. Her eyes stayed glued to his face as he chewed. When he made to go for another bite, her eyes followed the fork.
“Sure you don’t want some?” he asked.
“My father killed my mother.”
The words lay between them like stone. A crumb lodged sideways in his windpipe. He grabbed for his coffee. Thank the Lord it wasn’t piping hot or he’d have been short a throat come morning.
She went on as if nothing were amiss across the table. “I just thought you should know, in case you thought in marrying me, you were obtaining a respectable wife.”
He blinked tears from his eyes and stared at his wife. Sure enough, she’d just dumped a lit bundle of dynamite in his lap. He wasn’t touching it until he garnered a few more facts. He waited until he took another bite of cake, chewed and swallowed, before he asked, “Why?”
