Page 80 of Winterset
It did look like one of his toppers. My cheeks warmed. “WhereisMr. Jennings this morning?” I said, trying for nonchalance but achieving the opposite.
“Town,” Charlie said simply, either not catching on or commenting at my eager interest.
“For what purpose?” I asked.
“I couldn’t say.”
Couldn’t or wouldn’t? “He’s probably gone to buy another ridiculous hat.”
Charlie’s mouth tugged up at the corner. “Knowing him, you’re probably right.” He opened his mouth like he intended to say something more, but his attention focused on something over my shoulder, and he stood.
I followed his gaze behind me and saw Mr. Jennings standing at the kitchen door. My heart jumped at the sight of him. He looked so handsome in his greatcoat that I nearly missed the plethora of parcels tucked under his arms.
“Perhaps hedidgo to town to buy new hats,” Charlie whispered, and I laughed lightly.
“Something funny?” Mr. Jennings asked, glancing between Charlie and me.
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, then looked at Charlie.
“I let Miss Lockwood read one of my poems,” he said. “She wasn’t impressed.”
Mr. Jennings smiled. “Ah.”
“What are those?” I glanced at the parcels.
“Thoseare the reasons I missed our breakfast this morning. Come, I’ll show you.”
Curious, I followed him to the drawing room. He closed the pianoforte lid and spread out the parcels upon it. Each was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He unwrapped the first parcel and looked at me excitedly as I opened its contents.
“Oh!” I gasped, tears filling my eyes at the sight of so many paints and brushes. I touched them reverently.
“Would you like to open the rest?” He pushed one toward me.
I quickly opened one to discover a new sketchbook and pencils. The next parcel contained canvases. The one after that held the plain wall papers I’d requested.
“I went to the store to buy only the paint and papers for the walls, like we talked about yesterday,” he admitted. “But then I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation, about how much you love to paint and sketch, and I realized you probably needed some supplies, and ...” He glanced down at all the materials, then sheepishly at me. “I may have gotten carried away. If any of these are wrong—”
“Not wrong,” was the most I could manage around the lump in my throat. “Forgive me,” I said, blinking back tears. “It’s just been such a long time since I’ve had any art supplies. I feel like I’ve been reunited with a long-lost friend.”
He handed me his handkerchief. “If I have forgotten anything, you need only ask.”
“You have left nothing undone.” I dabbed the corners of my eyes. “But even if you had, I am already so deeply in your debt. This is incredibly generous of you, Mr. Jennings. No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” he said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He produced one last parcel from his coat pocket and handed it to me.
I eagerly untied the twine and opened the package. A sweet, citrusy scent filled the air.
“Lemon drops? These are my favorite!”
“Mrs. Owensby might have mentioned that when I asked her what your favorite confection was this morning.”
I touched his arm in gratitude. I couldn’t help it!
Mr. Jennings looked down at my hand.
I quickly let it drop and stepped back, feeling self-conscious. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
He gave me a warm smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
