Avery started to put the doll back where she belonged, but Tresia stopped her. “You can keep her.”
Avery grinned and clutched the doll even tighter, a look of pure happiness on her face.
Tresia held out her hand and Avery scampered in her direction, slipping her hand into hers. Together, they left the store and headed up the street, then turned a corner.
The Wagon Wheel Restaurant was crowded when they entered, almost all the tables were full, the sounds of customers enjoying their meals, chatting with each other, cutlery clanking against plates, and Oscar calling out orders almost overwhelming. Tantalizing aromas wafted from the kitchen.
She caught Elsie Blake carrying a tray of dirty dishes toward the door that separated the dining room from the kitchen. “Hello, Elsie.”
Elsie stopped in mid-stride. “Tresia! So nice to see you!” She looked over the edge of the tray. “And who is this darling little girl?”
“This is Avery Goodrich, the new marshal’s daughter. I’ll be taking care of her.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she put down the heavy tray and placed her hands on her hips. “You quit the store?”
“I did.” Oh, how wonderful it felt to say those words. And how utterly devastating at the same time, as it was something she never thought she’d do. For so many years, Sullivan’s Emporium had been her life, her solace after her mother, then Brett passed.
Elsie nodded. “Serves Arnold right. He shouldn’t have treated you so badly.”
“No, he shouldn’t have,” she agreed. “And now he’s going to find out how difficult running Sullivan’s Emporium really is. He won’t have me to do everything.”
“Good for you.” She laughed. “And bad for Arnold.” She glanced at Avery, her eyes lighting up as a big smile crossed her face. “So, you’ll be taking care of little Miss Avery here.”
“I will.”
“Well, it’s about darned time!”
Tresia cringed a bit, knowing how the explanation was going to sound even before she admitted, “Actually, Lucy suggested that I work for Marshal Goodrich.”
Her smile widened. “Lucy, huh?”
“It’s not a matchmaker thing,” she insisted, immediately trying to put Elsie’s suspicions to rest as they both knew Lucy’s main objective in anything was to have two people meet and fall in love…with her gentle encouragement. And a bit of conniving. She’d done it for so many now that she even had a sign below the Photographer one next to the front door of her home. “I have no intention of falling in love with Devlin Goodrich,” she asserted, but wondered if her words fell on deaf ears. It was apparent by the expression on Elsie’s face that her explanation was not believed. She quickly changed the subject. “I was wondering if I could pick up three fried chicken dinners to take home.”
“Of course. It’ll be a minute.” She gestured to the crowd. “We’re packed tonight. What do you want with them?”
Tresia looked at Avery. “Green beans? Or corn?”
“Corn,” she whispered, which was hard to hear over the sound of the Wagon Wheel’s patrons.
“And some of those potatoes you make, Elsie—the ones that look like little pillows. Biscuits, too, I think.”
“Excellent. Have a seat.” Elsie glanced around and pointed to a table beside the big picture window. “There’s an empty table right over there. I’ll be right back.” She picked up the heavy tray and went off to the kitchen.
“Come on, Avery.” She ushered the girl to the table Elsie suggested, acknowledging the friendly smiles and greetings from people she’d known most of her life, though some gave her an inquisitive look. By tomorrow afternoon—or maybe even sooner—it would be all over Serenity that she was no longer working at Sullivan’s and that she was taking care of the new marshal’s daughter. She smiled to herself a little as she took her seat—word spread fast in a small town—like wildfire.
Avery sat across from her and gently rocked the doll in her arms. She didn’t speak, but she did croon to the porcelain doll that looked a little bit like her, a sweet, low-pitched hum that signaled her happiness with the gift.
Elsie returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses shortly after but didn’t move on. Instead, she stood beside the table, hands on her hips, her gaze going from her to Avery then back again. If the restaurant weren’t so busy, she might have dropped into the empty chair for a nice, long chat. “So, tell me about the new marshal.”
Tresia shrugged. “He seems like a nice man. We’ve only just met. Today, in fact.” She glanced at Avery, who paid no attention to their conversation at all and lowered her voice. “He’s a widower.”
Elsie lowered her voice as well and repeated. “A widower?” Sympathy—and something else—flashed in her eyes.
Tresia nodded and eyed her, then darted her gaze toward Avery.
Elsie gave a nod, as if understanding the silent message. “We’ll talk later,” she said then noticed two more people come into the restaurant. “I’ll be back with your order.”
It didn’t take as long as she thought it would before Elsie was back, their dinners in heavy paperboard boxes in a big paper sack. “Enjoy. I added something extra for the little one.”
