“An’ we hadApfelku¨chle!” his daughter responded around the food in her mouth though she’d been told that wasn’t polite. At this moment, he didn’t care about manners. He was simply thrilled she was talking.
“Apfelku¨chle?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he was saying the word correctly. He wasn’t sure Avery was saying it correctly either. “What is that?”
She finally shrugged, her mouth full and the conversation apparently over, but it was more than he’d hoped for. Actually, after only two days with Tresia, it was a miracle. He looked at the woman he’d hired to take care of his daughter. She was smiling, her deep pansy-colored eyes bright, apparently pleased with the conversation. Though he’d been told of her reputation for being kind, he couldn’t help being impressed by her…and what she’d managed to accomplish with Avery in just a short time.
He returned Tresia’s smile. “So what isApfelku¨chle?”
“It’s a traditional German dessert. Sliced apples dipped in batter, then fried to a golden brown and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“They are. Lucy insisted we bring some home. We’re having them for dessert.”
She lapsed into silence as she shaped her mashed potatoes into a well and dumped gravy in the middle. He grew silent, too, and concentrated on his dinner, though he hadn’t been hungry when he walked in the door. The food was simple and tasty and as she’d told him, filling. Before he knew it, everything on hisplate was gone…even the green beans, which he really wasn’t fond of, but somehow the way she made them was delicious.
Avery, he noticed, ate everything on her plate as well, which made him happy. She was much tinier than other children her age, which made him worry. That, and those months of silence after Hannah’s passing.
Tresia rose, her plate in her hand. “Avery, would you like to help me clear the dishes so we can have dessert?”
Devlin sat forward in his chair, his hands folded in front of his face, and watched, with something close to amazement, as Avery picked up her plate and brought it to the counter just like Tresia had done. She returned to the table for her silverware then moved closer to him, excitement clearly showing on her little face.
“Are you done, Daddy?”
“I am.” He pushed the plate toward her then glanced up to see Tresia watching both of them, her smile warm and gentle as she scraped the scraps into a bucket, and filled the sink with hot water and soap so the dishes could soak. She pulled a plate out of the warming drawer and brought it to the table then brought the coffeepot as well.
Tresia placed two apple slices on his dessert plate then smiled at him, nodding her head toward the treats. “Try it.”
Ignoring the dessert fork beside his plate, he tried one, despite how warm they were. “It’s delicious! But hot,” he said, laughing.
Avery giggled and happily ate herApfelku¨chle. Devlin watched his daughter, thrilled that she was more like she had been before.
“Finish your milk, sweet pea. It’s time to get ready for bed. Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready? Pick out a new book for us to read.” He smiled gently, his gaze roaming over her littleface, so much like Hannah’s, his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t forget to wash your face and brush your teeth.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Avery slipped from her chair but didn’t leave the room. Instead, she grabbed Cecily by an arm, then went to Tresia, held out her little arms and hugged her. A lump formed in his throat as he watched. How had Tresia managed to do in just about two days what he’d tried to do for months?
“Will you stay for a bit? I’d like to talk to you.” He glanced at the coffeepot residing on the stove. “I wouldn’t mind more coffee when I come back”
“I will stay and make a fresh pot.”
He gave a quick nod, excused himself, and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
After he read Avery a story and put her to bed, he went back downstairs. Stopping in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, he just watched Tresia. She sat at the table, fresh cup of coffee to her left, the last of theApfelku¨chleon a plate in the middle of the table. The dishes had been done and put away, but the kitchen still smelled of coffee, apples, and cinnamon. She also had a small leatherbound notebook open in front of her, the pencil in her hand moving swiftly over a page. “I met Arnold at Sullivan’s Emporium today.”
She jumped, startled, dropped the pencil in the book and quickly closed it, then pushed it away, like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her face took on a pinkish hue as her gaze rose to his. The corners of her mouth tilted upward. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“Arnold isn’t the nicest person—at least to me. I’m sure he isn’t happy that I quit. He’s probably blaming you.”
He laughed. “No, actually, I got the impression he blamed you.”
“That’s Arnold. He never takes responsibility for anything. He probably never will.” She took a sip of coffee, her gaze meeting his over the rim of the mug. “I’m sure he’s finding out how hard it is to run the Emporium now that I’m not there.”
Her eyes were sparkling with just a hint of what he thought might be mischief. Or maybe it was something else. He didn’t know her well enough to know, but he wanted to.
“Who is he to you?”
“My cousin.”
