The two put the finishing touches on supper, and Livy smiled when Mrs. Brooks replaced the old newspapers with a pile of rags she’d saved to make a string quilt. The woman’s heart was softer than butter left too close to the stove.
Half an hour later, Livy called the children. Over the meal, they named the cat. Or at least they tried to. Seth and Georgie insisted on calling her Tiger. The girls settled on Ginger, except for Grace, who could only be induced to say kitty.
“Well, we don’t have to name the cat today. Once we get to know her a little better, one of the names will stick, and that’s what she’ll be.” Mrs. Brooks leveled a stern look at all the children. “I don’t want her upstairs in your bedrooms, do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
A knock silenced everyone. Livy hurried to answer the door. Jake stood on the porch, her black scarf covering most of his face. His green eyes sparkled beneath the brim of his hat. “Evening, Livy. Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
Georgie hopped up and ran over to him. “Hey, Mr. Jake.”
Jake took off his gloves and unwound the scarf, revealing a day’s growth of stubble on his cheeks. He ruffled Georgie’s hair. “How you doing, pardner?”
“Look, we’ve got a cat.” Georgie took him by the hand and led him over to the stove. The cat dozed on her bed of multicolored rags, seemingly unaware of the attention.
Jake hunkered down and dutifully admired the cat. Livy’s heart squeezed as he squinted at Georgie and asked with all seriousness, “What’s her name?”
“I want to name her Tiger, but the girls all like Ginger.”
Livy laughed at the disgusted expression on the little boy’s face as she motioned to the stove. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks.” His gaze slid to hers, and a lopsided smile tilted up a corner of his mouth. He leaned closer, and Livy’s stomach somersaulted. “I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere a little more private?”
She nodded, then turned to fix his coffee.
“Jake, I think someone likes you,” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice filled with laughter.
Livy sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup, and she made a pretense of wiping it up. What was Mrs. Brooks thinking, saying such a thing?
Jake laughed. “I think you’re right.”
Livy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Grace stood at his feet, gazing straight up at him. Jake held out his arms, and the toddler let him lift her high, her eyes never leaving his face.
Jake quirked an eyebrow at Livy. “That talk?”
She rubbed her hands down her apron, relieved that Mrs. Brooks hadn’t taken leave of her senses. “Mrs. Brooks, I’ll be in the parlor if you need me.”
“Take your time, dear.” The woman winked at her. Actually winked!
A heated flush swooshed into Livy’s face, and she pivoted, leading Jake out of the kitchen.
Mrs. Brooks acted as if Jake wanted to court, when there could be any number of reasons he needed to speak with her. Although she couldn’t imagine what they might be. She led the way, balancing Jake’s coffee cup. Jake carried Grace, her head resting snugly on his shoulder.
Once seated, Jake juggled his coffee cup and the child. Livy reached for her. “Come here, Grace, and let Mr. Jake enjoy his coffee.”
Grace shook her head, her dark curls bobbing with the movement.
He smiled. “She’s all right.”
“What did you need to talk about?” Livy fidgeted.
“Remember those carvings I promised you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve finished two or three horses—”
“Horsie!” Grace said, clapping her hands.
Jake raised an eyebrow and lifted the coffee cup high to keep the child from knocking it out of his hands. “Uh, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that in front of her.”
Livy shook her head. “She won’t know exactly what we’re talking about, so she can’t really spill the beans.”
“Good. I’ll bring them by later this week. Maybe I can make a couple more in the meantime.”
“Thank you. Don’t try to make them a whole stable. They’ll be happy with a couple of pieces, you know.”
“I know, but I enjoy doing it. But there’s something else.”
Grace squirmed, and he let the child down. She toddled toward the door leading to the hallway. Livy followed her and called out, “Mary, watch Grace; she’s headed to the kitchen.”
“I’ve got her,” the older girl called back.
Turning, Livy sat on the settee and clasped her hands in her lap. “You were saying . . .