The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,139

what she’d been considering was not only foolish, but impossible. She clutched her hands against her middle and willed herself not to cry as the bartender spoke.

“Miss Smithson… please… you shouldn’t be, I mean… is there someone you… uh, are you looking for your father? Is something wrong?”

Fannie cleared her throat. Even though she’d gotten herself in here, it appeared it was going to be more difficult to get out. Her fingers were trembling and her voice was two octaves too high and weak, as if someone was choking off her airway even as she spoke.

“I, uh… I mean, I was going to…”

She shrugged. No need embarrassing herself any further by admitting the truth. The least she could do was lie and save what was left of her reputation.

“My, father… I was trying to find—”

Immediately assuming that something dire had transpired to force Fannie Smithson into his bar, Myron took her by the elbow and escorted her outside to the bench beneath the windows. Once he’d settled her onto the seat, he sat down beside her.

“Has something happened? Your father is not here, but I’d be happy to go look for him.”

It was the sympathy in his voice that was Fannie’s undoing.

“I lied. I wasn’t really looking for my father,” she said, and then tears started to roll.

For lack of anything else to do, Myron took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Please don’t cry, Miss Smithson.”

She swiped at her tears with his handkerchief then delicately blew her nose before crumpling it into a wad between her fingers.

“I’m not crying,” she muttered.

Myron looked at the tears in her eyes and sighed. It had been years since he’d kept company with a decent woman, and wasn’t sure what to do next. However, he was convinced that arguing with Fannie Smithson wasn’t smart, even if he could still see the tears.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

She took a deep breath and then sighed. There was no use taking her hurt feelings out on Myron Griggs.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and began fussing with the front of her dress, smoothing down the bodice as if it was the most important thing on her mind. “I wasn’t looking for my father. I was coming in to talk to you about a job.”

Myron’s mouth dropped. “A job? Oh no, Miss Smithson. A saloon is no place for a lady like you.” Then he added. “As for that, why on earth would you feel the need to work? Surely your fiancé would not want—”

Fannie slapped the flat of her hand on her knee.

“My fiancé… my father… everyone seems to know what’s best for me without consulting my own feelings.” She drew a shuddering breath, unaware that it revealed her vulnerability even more. “You see, Mr. Griggs, I’m a realist. I know I’m not pretty but—”

Before he thought, Myron took her hand.

“But Miss Smithson, that’s just not true.”

Fannie frowned. “I’m sorry?”

Myron let go of her hand. “No, it’s me who is sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward. Please forgive me. Will you let me escort you to your father’s barber shop?”

Fannie stood abruptly. “No, but thank you for your concern. He’s already dismissed me for the day, so I hardly think my arrival at his place of business would endear me to him even further. As for my fiancé, he could care less about my feelings. He doesn’t care for anything but my dowry.” Then she laughed, but it was not a happy sound. “It’s called a dowry, you know, but it’s really pay-off money.”

Myron frowned. “Miss Fannie, you really shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what? Care that I will grow old without ever being loved? Care that I’m nothing but a thorn in my father’s side?” She shrugged as tears welled. “Maybe you’re right.” She stuffed the handkerchief back in Myron’s hand. “I’ll just be going now.”

Myron felt as if he’d just failed a huge test, although for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what he could have done or said differently.

“Miss Fannie?”

She paused, and turned around.

“You are a very handsome woman.”

Fannie frowned. “I do not like to be made fun of.”

Now it was Myron’s turn to frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I am not blind, nor am I fanciful. I am not a handsome woman and I don’t appreciate your factitiousness on my behalf.”

Myron’s frown deepened. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I can assure you I was not making jest of you. I think you’re a fine, upstanding woman, as well as a