guilt he felt that she’d been injured at his place. Though she didn’t blame him for her clumsiness.
Laura took away the plates and brought dishes of pudding to each of them. “Sorry, the pie is all gone,” she murmured to Mr. Remington.
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say no to pie.” He took a mouthful of the pudding and savored it, if the look on his face meant anything. “But this is excellent too.”
The meal was over, and Laura returned to the empty dining room to gather up dishes and carry them to the worktable. She gave Mr. Remington a look full of you-can-go-now.
He either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it.
Laura looked at Delcie and tipped her head almost imperceptibly toward the man.
Delcie nodded understanding. “Thank you for your help.”
“I’ll stay until the work is done.”
She sighed. He couldn’t possibly miss her meaning. Indeed, he did not.
He grinned at everyone and let his gaze stop at Kent. “Do you think she’s suggesting I leave?”
Kent, eyes wide, looked at Delcie. “Auntie, I don’t mind if he helps.”
“Me too.” Sally nodded so hard her hair flew back and forth. “Miss Rags says she don’t too.”
“There. That’s enough for me.” He poured hot water from the kettle into the dishpan, grabbed a pile of dishes, and submerged them.
He handed a washed plate and a towel to Kent. “Many hands make light work.”
Kent didn’t even blink an eye, and none of his customary protests that men didn’t do dishes came from him.
“Me too.” Sally loved to “help.”
Delcie wondered if Mr. Remington would see Sally as a nuisance, but he snagged another towel and handed it to her.
“Miss Rags might need to sit here.” He patted the worktable. “Where she can watch and make sure I do a good job.”
Sally clung to her doll a moment then nodded and let Mr. Remington put her where he indicated, propping her against a cup so she sat up.
Warning bells went off in Delcie’s head. It was too easy to earn the trust of a child and then take advantage of it. She exchanged looks with Laura and knew her friend was feeling every bit as wary at how easily this man had wormed his way into their home. Though she could hardly blame him for the circumstances that had brought him here. Still, one couldn’t be too cautious.
Mr. Remington guided the children as they dried dishes. Their low voices, the clatter of cutlery, and the splash of water were the only sounds as Delcie watched him with narrowed eyes.
He looked like he had washed dishes before. Of course, being a bachelor, living alone like he did, washing dishes occasionally would be a necessity. But something about the way he did it made her think a woman had been involved. Well, he’d had a mother. Good for her for teaching her son to be useful around the kitchen. Many men expected to be treated like royalty while their wives did all the work of running the home. Not that she didn’t understand that men had their share of work. She shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she meant except there was something reassuring about seeing a man wash dishes and involve the children.
Protests screamed through her head. Caution was needed here.
The dishes were done. The pots scoured and put away. The water had been dumped on the garden. The towels hung on the line outside. The water pails were full. The woodbox topped up.
All by Mr. Remington’s hands with willing assistance from Kent though Delcie wondered how helpful the boy was. His small size was such a marked contrast to the tall, broad-shouldered man.
Mr. Remington stood in the middle of the kitchen, his presence pressing into Delcie.
Laura managed to find more to do in the dining room rather than be in the kitchen with a man. The swish of broom bristles informed Delcie she was sweeping.
Kent and Sally stood looking at him as if wanting to know what he’d do next.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
Delcie wanted so badly to be annoyed, but it was impossible in light of how helpful he’d been and how kind he was to the children. Not that appreciating his kindness made her trust him.
“We can certainly manage. Thank you for your help.”
“But Auntie,” Kent protested. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Aren’t we going to have baths?”
Of all the days for Kent to remember bath night and to ask for it. Never before had it happened. Usually he protested at the idea.
“I think