as Sadie offered everyone coffee. Liam noticed Harrison had been unusually quiet throughout the meal and wondered where Harrison’s son Max and his wife Lucy were. Didn’t the entire family come to the main house for supper a few times a week? They must be eating in their cabin. He knew Max enjoyed his own home – he’d helped him design it.
“When will you go?”
Liam looked at Adele whose eyes were on her last bite of pie. Was it just him or did she look sad? “You mean leave Clear Creek? I don’t know. My family needs me.”
“If I were you, I’d get out of here as soon as I could. You’ll find everything you want elsewhere.”
What an odd statement. But he kept watching her because he enjoyed it. In all the years he’d known Adele, he’d never really looked at her. She was beautiful, with Colin’s hazel eyes, her own dark blonde hair, a creamy complexion and dark thick lashes. Usually her hair was too perfect, but today some had escaped the pins. And she wore an old dress, one she probably didn’t mind spilling paint on. He liked her this way, working, a little disheveled and with those freckles…
“Liam, did you hear what I said?”
He jerked. “Mm?” Good grief, who was talking?
“I asked how your father was doing,” Harrison said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He fidgeted in his seat. “Pa’s going to go see Doc Drake soon. He hasn’t been himself of late.”
Adele looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He met her gaze again and noticed the tiny flecks of gold and dark green in her eyes. “His stomach is ailing him, along with … other things.” Too many to count, it seemed.
Her face softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope Doc Drake is able to help him.”
Liam nodded. “So do I.” No wonder he hadn’t left Clear Creek – with Pa in such bad shape, how could he?
Chapter Seven
Adele was ready when Liam showed up at the Triple-C shortly after lunch the next day, and answered the front door. “Hello,” he said. “Ready to make more banners?”
“I’ve already been working on some,” she announced.
He turned around, but the sawhorses and planks were gone. “I don’t see them.”
“Father set everything up in the barn.”
He faced her again. “Did you paint them?”
“No, but I decorated them. I didn’t want you to have to worry about wet paint on the corners while you were sketching out words.”
“Very considerate of you. Shall we?”
They left the house and went into the barn. Adele wasn’t sure how, but he seemed bigger and broader than before. Had he always been that tall? He smelled nice too.
“Very nice,” he commented as he examined the flowers she’d painted at the corners.
“Please, I’m no artist.”
“I beg to differ,” he said with a smile. “I’m good with straight lines and curves, but not like what you’ve done.”
To her surprise, she smiled shyly. “Thank you. The paint and everything else is there.” She pointed to a crate.
He took what he needed and got to work. She watched him, realizing she didn’t have anything to do until he finished putting words down. “What are you writing this time?”
“We’ll need a banner for the refreshment area, so that’s what I’m making. I’m leaving enough room for you to draw some cookies or a punch bowl.”
“That might be fun. So long as I don’t make them look horrible, which, considering it’s me, is possible.”
“If it’s any consolation I could draw a glass or two. Maybe some cookies, but we don’t have the right color paint for those. Maybe we’d better stick with a few glasses and make them look like lemonade. We have yellow paint.”
She thought a moment. “Or red for punch. I don’t think we have to get fancy.”
He glanced her way and their eyes locked, just like the day before. Only yesterday she didn’t have this funny feeling in her tummy. “No, we don’t,” he agreed. “It’s just fun to draw and paint.”
She grinned. “You enjoy this?”
“Sure, don’t you?”
She shrugged and picked at a button on her bodice. Like yesterday the dress was old – if she got paint on it, so what? But part of her wanted to look nice for him. She chalked it up to vanity – so what if Liam came to work with her on the banners?
“Is it that painful to be around me?”
Adele was startled. “No! I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Do you hate drawing that much?”
“Well, as you can see, I’m not that good at it. But