Page 50 of Hank and Elsie
Whether Miss Taylor’s encouragement would be enough to budge Elsie from her hurt and stubborn stance….
At least, he could feel some hope. “I’ll talk to Miss Taylor when we reach town.”
Hank spent the rest of the way thinking about what he needed to say to Elsie’s employer and mentally rehearsing his speech. He barely noticed when they reached the outskirts of town and then rode through the familiar streets, ignoring the passersby.
Brian pulled up in front of the mercantile. “I’m picking up a few things. Want me to wait for you?”
Hank glanced at the sun to check the approximate time. “Nah. Don’t know how long I’ll be.”
Brian flashed one of his rare grins. “Think Miss Taylor will wash her hands of you?”
Thinking of the friendship he’d built over the summer with her and Dr. Angus, he shrugged.
“Good luck.” Brian touched the brim of his Stetson in a salute.
With a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, Hank turned Chipper in the direction of the Gordon Building. Once there, he dismounted, gave the horse a short drink in a nearby trough, and tied him to a hitching post. Entering the large wooden doors of the building, he looked down at his dustyclothes and shuddered at the idea of stepping into Miss Taylor’s pristine and feminine shop.
Her door was canted, so he removed his Stetson, stuck his head inside, and looked around. To his relief, he saw no customers. The dressmaker wasn’t in sight, but he heard the whir of the sewing machine through the open door of the back room. “Miss Taylor!” he called. “It’s Hank Canfield.”
The sound stopped, and the woman walked into the main room, smiling. “Good to see you, Hank. Is the harvest finished? Seems faster than the Baileys anticipated.”
“Brian Bly came with me, so we helped cut short a couple of days. As far as I know, Elsie plans to return to town on Sunday.”
“Wonderful. The place is so quiet without her vivacious energy. I’ve really missed her.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I’m that obvious?“Elsie’s angry with me.”
“Elsie angry? Our Miss Sunshine? Difficult to imagine.”
He thought of the implacable look in her eyes as she spurned him. “I supposed when pushed hard enough, like anyone else, Elsie has a temper.”
Miss Taylor glanced around. “Let’s go upstairs, and you can tell me everything.”
He looked down at his dirty clothes. “I’m not fit.”
With a reassuring smile and a pat to his shoulder, she tilted up her head toward the stairs. “I’ll just lock up down here.”
In her apartment, he hung his hat on a decorative hook by the door and took a seat in the wooden chair at the small table. His shoulders slumped.
She bustled around making tea, setting the table, and laying out some cookies, before sitting across from him. “Tell me.”
The story poured out of him, from the talk with Elsie’s father, to her refusal to discuss the issue. When he finished, he slumped, deflated and afraid to look into Miss Taylor’s face.
“Drink your tea, Hank.”
“Miss Taylor, I?—”
She held up a hand. “I should have told you weeks ago to call me Constance. I guess, it’s been a while since you’ve addressed me by name, and I forgot we haven’t had that conversation.”
Startled by her unexpected response, he looked up and met her gaze.
She motioned to his teacup.
Obediently, he picked up the cup and sipped the fragrant beverage. “I promise you, I didn’t intend to propose to Elsie. Well, not yet, at least.”
“Of course not. You’ve wisely been conducting a patient courtship, waiting until Elsieletyou know she was ready for a more serious relationship.”
“I was aiming for three or more years.”
