Legacy of Love. Christine Johnson
Carter inventories them.”
“How do you know so much?” She was gushing, but how could she help it? A pharaoh’s tomb had been discovered, and this man knew all about it.
“I read the archaeology journals and reports.”
“You do? Do you think...?” She hesitated, but the twinkle in his eyes persuaded her to ask. “Do you think I might borrow your journals someday? When you’re done, of course.”
“You may,” he corrected. “Come by my new bookstore, The Antiquarian, when it opens next month.”
Next month? January was two weeks away. She didn’t know if she could wait that long, but she had no choice. He hadn’t offered to loan his precious journals a moment earlier.
“Thank you, oh thank you,” she said a bit too eagerly.
If he found her schoolgirl reaction amusing, he had the kindness not to mention it. “I suggest you begin with Dr. Davis’s book on Tutankhamun.”
She nodded dumbly.
“Until then.” He turned to the meat counter.
“Until then,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze from him.
“Oh, good, you got the meat. Thank you.” Mariah gently took the string-tied package from her hands. “We should be going. I just need to sign the account first.” She tugged Anna toward the sales counter where the rest of her purchases were already piled into a crate.
Anna reluctantly followed, but her mind lingered elsewhere. She glanced back at the butcher counter. This fascinating man was opening a bookstore. And he read archaeology journals.
“Deliver it to the house with the rest,” the man said to the butcher. He grasped an ivory-headed ebony cane in his right hand. A cane like that could only have come from Africa. The Dark Continent. He must have traveled the world. She would do that one day.
He limped toward the sales counter, and Anna turned away so he wouldn’t notice she’d been staring at him. The cane. The limp. Perhaps he’d been gored by a rhinoceros or barely survived a tiger attack. Maybe natives shot a poison dart into his calf, and he’d lost the use of his foot.
“I’ll have Josh drop this off,” the clerk said to Mariah.
After thanking the man, Mariah asked Anna if she wanted to come over for a cup of tea.
Anna shook her head. “I’d better go home. Ma wanted me to make supper.” She sighed. “Cleaning and cooking. Does it ever end?”
“When you’re doing it for your loved ones, it’s a joy,” Mariah started. “Goodness, is that the school bell?” She hastily buttoned her coat. “I’d better hurry.”
“Go ahead. I want to look around a little.” And read more of the article.
After a final farewell, Mariah left.
Before Anna could drift back to the newspapers, the door opened with a rush of icy wind, and none other than Sally Neidecker entered. Sally had graduated from high school a few years before Anna and went to college the following year, which is where she should be now. Mrs. Neidecker hadn’t expected her daughter’s return until the end of the week. Her appearance now meant trouble.
Anna pretended to be engrossed by the candy selection and hoped Sally wouldn’t spot her.
No such luck. Within seconds, the girl had ferreted her out.
“There you are.” Without so much as a greeting, Sally flounced toward her, the hem of her scandalously short skirt barely peeking out below the bottom of her fur-trimmed coat. “How could you leave Mother without help on the day of her Christmas party? She was beside herself. Absolutely hysterical. I thought we’d have to call in Dr. Stevens.”
Anna’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I, uh—”
“Is that any way to treat a friend? I thought we were friends, Anna. Haven’t I always helped you?”
Not always. True, she’d looked up to Sally when she was younger, and Sally had taken her under her wing, but not like a friend. More like a foot soldier.
“I, uh, thought you were still at the university. Your mother said Michigan didn’t let out for the semester until the end of the week.” It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it worked.
Sally lifted her nose even higher. “I finished my coursework early, and my new guy drove me here.”
The familiar way Sally mentioned her beau made Anna’s skin crawl. She acted as if he was some swell from the big city. Maybe he was, but driving all the way from Ann Arbor alone with a man?
“He’s perfect,” Sally continued, her stained lips bright against the fox fur, “much too good for the girls around here.”
Anna didn’t bother to point out that Sally came from here. Instead, she glanced toward the newspapers.
That reminded Sally of her purpose. “You have to come back to work.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“But then who will clean up after the party?”
Anna stared at the candy jars. “I don’t know.”
“What is wrong with you? It can’t be the wages. Mother pays better than anyone else in town.”
“I’m not a servant,” Anna said through clenched teeth.
Sally snorted. “You’re a maid. Maids are servants.”
“I clean houses.”
“Just like your mother.” Sally lifted her nose. “We would have hired her, if we could. She’s more reliable. You should be grateful we gave you the job.”
Anna struggled to choke back her indignation. “I’ll get another job. Someplace where I don’t have to wear a humiliating uniform.”
“Is that what all this is about?” Sally flicked her hand dismissively. “I’d think you’d be proud to wear it. Mother bought them directly from Ashton’s. They cost a fortune and are in the latest fashion, something you wouldn’t know a thing about.”
No one could misconstrue Sally’s meaning as her smug gaze raked downward from Anna’s threadbare coat to her sagging wool stockings.
Anna blinked back tears of angry humiliation. The Bible said to turn the other cheek. It didn’t mention how tough that could be.
Out of nowhere came the warm masculine voice of the distinguished stranger. “If the uniform is that fashionable, perhaps you should wear it.”
Anna’s jaw dropped. She could have hugged the man for lobbing that volley at Sally. He’d come to her rescue in as spectacular a fashion as Mr. Rochester had lifted Jane out of the driving rain and onto his horse.
“The nerve,” Sally said under her breath, before pasting a smile on her lips. Cocking her head until the ostrich feather on her stylish turban swept downward, she fixed every ounce of feminine wile on Anna’s hero. “How witty you are, sir. I don’t believe we’ve met.” She extended a hand.
He ignored it. “At least you’re correct about that.” He nodded curtly. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
Without another word, he strode out of the store and straight into Anna’s heart.
* * *
Despite the blustery December weather, Brandon Landers felt hot. He couldn’t stop thinking about the young woman in the store. Her friend had called her Anna. Intelligent, lively and unspoiled, her enthusiasm reawakened hope—and a much more frightening emotion. No woman had generated such feelings since before the war.
Anna clearly hadn’t two dimes to rub together, but she had the nerve to walk away from a degrading job. He had to admire a woman who put ideals ahead of money. Add to that her