Billie found it hard to leave the mercantile. Charlotte Quinn was engaging, fun, sophisticated, well-read, ladylike – everything Billie wished she could be but wasn’t, even before her injury. It was hard to believe this was the daughter of Nellie Davis, the town’s worst gossip. Then again, she’d confessed she hadn’t always been so nice – best remember that, just in case. But she liked Charlotte a lot, despite what Mr. Miller had told her.

Oh dear – Mr. Miller, she thought as she set her purchases on the dresser. They were meeting for lunch in an hour. She’d spent longer than expected with Charlotte, having too good a time to pull away. Charlotte must have enjoyed it too – she’d invited Billie to tea that afternoon. Billie had briefly met Charlotte’s sister Abigail when she arrived, but looked forward to spending more time with her. According to Charlotte, she was an exceptional seamstress.

She wondered if Abbey had also been different years ago. Had she gossiped? Hurt people? Caused a stir wherever she went? But honestly, why was she worrying about other people’s pasts? Perhaps a nice relaxing tea was what she needed. She just hoped Mr. Miller didn’t send her off on the afternoon stage – it would be a pity to miss it.

Billie packed her purchases into her trunk in preparation for her inevitable departure. If she could spend another night, she’d leave Nowhere happy and even somewhat fulfilled. Her hope now was to find the same happiness she had today someplace else like … Seattle. Yes, that was an idea. It was a large enough city to provide work and cheap accommodations. Plus, other than San Francisco, it was the only seaport she’d heard of within a thousand miles.

She read until it was time to meet Mr. Miller for lunch. When she left the hotel Mrs. Ferguson was nowhere in sight. Which was a mercy – who knew what her comings and goings would conjure in the woman’s mind. She reached Hank’s Restaurant, but didn’t see Mr. Miller. It was noon – where was he? “Oh, goodness, was I supposed to meet him at the hotel?” she muttered. Or worse, was he not going to show?

“Well, hello again!”

Billie turned to see Nellie Davis, coffeepot in hand. “Hello. How are you?”

“I’ve been better. Of course, I was always better before I had to work here, but that’s a story I don’t want to bore you with. Coffee?”

“I was supposed to meet Mr. Miller, but perhaps I was supposed to meet him at the hotel.”

“Never mind that – have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup.” Nellie waved toward a chair, and Billie shrugged and took it. Nellie poured her some coffee, went to the kitchen and returned with another cup, which she filled. “There – now his coffee’s waiting for him when he gets here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Davis, that was very thoughtful,” Billie said.

“Well, it’s just good manners. I suppose if I were hosting in my home I would do the same.”

“Do you work here all day?”

“Depends on the day. I’m off in a few hours – I’m not working the supper shift today.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m, um, having tea with your daughter later this afternoon.”

“You are? Then we’ll be having tea together. Charlotte came by here earlier and invited me.”

Billie wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. But manners … “I look forward to it.”

“And I’m sure Mr. Miller is looking forward to lunch with you,” she said, tossing her head at the door. “There’s your beau now.”

Billie turned as Mr. Miller approached them with a smile. “Hello. Sorry I’m late – I went to the hotel to get you.”

“I’m sure all’s forgiven, Lucien,” Nellie drawled. “I just poured your coffee. Special today’s beef stew.” She headed back to the kitchen.

Mr. Miller cringed as he sat. “I’m ordering a ham sandwich. Hank’s stew is too heavy for me.”

“Oh?” Billie glanced at the kitchen and back. “Then I think I’ll have the same.”

“Wise decision,” he said with a chuckle. “So how was your morning?”

Billie saw his bright eyes and cheerful demeanor, and hoped he wasn’t so happy because she was leaving. “It was fine,” she said as her eye drifted to the table. She took a sip of coffee to battle the tears.

“Mine was busy – papers, papers, papers. As always. Any plans this afternoon?”

“Charlotte Quinn invited me to tea,” she said, eye still on the table.

“Tea? That’s wonderful – you’re making friends already.” He took a sip of coffee, set it down and smiled even wider.

“What is it?” she asked, catching the flicker of anticipation in his eyes.

“Well …” He leaned forward. “After your tea, how would you like to see our house?”

Billie froze. “House?” Our?!

“Yes … is something the matter?” he asked, concerned. “I thought you might like to see it. If you’re worried about a chaperone, we can ask Charlotte or someone else to accompany us. You needn’t worry about that.”

Billie could only stare. “Why… why would you want to show me your house?”

He looked baffled. “Excuse me … you’re asking why? Because it’s where you’re going to live, of course.”

Billie’s chest tightened. What was he doing, toying with her like this?

He leaned forward again. “Miss Sneed … Billie? What’s the matter?”

Good heavens, he was using her Christian name! “I … It’s just … I didn’t expect …”

“You didn’t expect what?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. If you’d like me to see your house, that’s fine.”

His face twisted with confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s …?”

“Have you made up your minds?” Nellie interrupted as she approached their table.

Mr. Miller’s eyes flicked between the two women. “Um, ham sandwich, please. And what do you mean, never mind?”

“Never mind?” Nellie said. “Never mind what?”

“He was speaking to me, Mrs. Davis,” Billie said.

“Oh, my mistake. Do you know what you want to order?”

“I’ll have the same, please,” Billie said. “And an iced tea.”

“Right, iced tea. Lucien?”

“I’ll stick with the coffee.” He waved her away, his eyes locked on Billie’s. “Now what’s this all about?”

“It’s about lunch.” Nellie grumbled before stomping off.

Billie smiled at the quip. Gossipmonger she might be, but Billie was beginning to like her spunk. Not that it mattered. “I assure you, Mr. Miller, it’s nothing.”

“If you say so,” he replied, sounding like he didn’t buy it for a second. He sat back in his chair. “And please, call me Lucien.”

Lucien. She tried the word out in her mind first. “All right, Lucien.”

“And is it all right to call you Billie?”

“Of course. It’s what I’ve gone by for years.”

“Yes, of course.” He blushed slightly, which for some reason made him more attractive. He fiddled with his napkin and put it on his lap. “Billie, I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Except that he wanted to show her his house – and called it “our house”! Why would he say that? It made no sense.

“If you’re sure.” He studied her intently, clearly not sure at all.

“I’m sure.” She folded her hands in front of her stomach, which was flip-flopping all over. He was so bloody handsome – far too handsome for the likes of her. And he was making her nervous, leading her on like this. She kept waiting for him to tell her this wouldn’t work, that she had to go, that he was so sorry they didn’t suit … what was taking him so long?

Even now he just nodded, accepting her answer. “Then perhaps it’s better you spend the afternoon with Charlotte. I want you to feel welcome here. I don’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, that’s very considerate,” she replied, as in the back of her mind she was screaming. Rush it, already! Just say it – don’t leave me twisting in the wind like this, just give me the shove!

“You’ve had a long journey and one night of sleep isn’t enough to make up for it. Forgive me. I don’t want to push you into anything too soon. I know I wouldn’t want to be …”

Oh, enough was enough! She just wished he’d get it over with, and if he wouldn’t do it on his own, she was more than happy at this point to nudge him toward it. “I suppose we should decide on a date and time.” He could interpret it as “a date and time to send her away” or “a date and time to wed” – either way, it would hopefully make him act.

No such luck. “Yes, of course. If you like, we can do it together, or I can make the arrangements. Whichever you prefer.” That smile again.

She bit her lip to keep the tears back. “I’ll … let you handle things.” She almost choked on the words. Thankfully, Nellie brought their sandwiches and her iced tea, giving her something else to look at. It wasn’t bad enough he was packing her off – he was elated at the prospect and more than happy to prolong her agony by stretching it out before actually saying the words.

Not waiting for him to say the blessing, Billie picked up her sandwich, bit into it and willed herself not to cry.

Abigail Blake’s little boy was adorable. As was Abbey, as she preferred to be called. She was as good a seamstress as Charlotte had told her – Billie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s day dress.

“When is Mother getting here?” Abbey asked as Charlotte poured her a cup of tea. They were in the parlor of the Quinns’ flat behind the mercantile. Billie found their quarters charming, and had visions of opening a shop in Seattle and living on the premises. But what kind of shop? She couldn’t sew like Abbey or Isabella Weaver, so dressmaking was out. She didn’t cook well enough to open a bakery or restaurant. Perhaps a chandler’s, supplying ships – but first she’d need starting capital …

“Maybe she had to work late at Hank’s,” Charlotte suggested, filling Billie’s cup. “Sugar?”

“Please,” Billie said.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying,” Abbey said, “but I simply adore your eyepatch. It matches your outfit perfectly.”

Billie was still wearing her purple traveling outfit. As some point she really should change, but that would mean unpacking and repacking. “Thank you. The dressmaker thought it would be a good idea to make everything match.”

“And she has more of them, Abbey,” Charlotte said. “Don’t you, Billie?”

“Yes, several – each matching an outfit.” Egads, this was awkward.

“How wonderful. What a marvelous idea.” Abbey took a sip of her tea and studied Billie.

Billie sighed. She might as will get it over with. “I was attacked.” She waved at her face. “That’s why the scars. And I lost my eye.”

Abbey gasped, a hand to her chest. “You poor darling. Does it still hurt?”

“I just get headaches sometimes.”

Just then, Nellie entered the parlor with Mrs. Quinn. “There she is, our new bride!”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Mrs. Quinn added. “Haven’t we, Miss Sneed?”

“Indeed.” Billie took another sip. She watched the two matrons seat themselves and fought a pang of loneliness. She often dreamed of having tea with women who accepted her for who she was, long before she lost her father, her eye and what looks she had. Now here she was, doing just that, feeling almost like an equal with them … and knowing it wouldn’t last. She fought against a sigh. Well, she’d better enjoy it while she had the chance.

“Davey, come see your Grandmama,” Nellie held her arms out to Abbey’s little boy.

“Granny!” Davey ran to her, laughing as Nellie scooped him onto her lap. Mrs. Quinn watched the pair with envy, and Billie’s heart went out to her. What if Charlotte could never have children? It was obvious Betsy Quinn wanted grandchildren, but sometimes things didn’t work out as people hoped.

She set the thought aside – what business was it of hers? She needed to worry about finding a job in Seattle once she got there, and enjoying the company of the ladies around her while she could. “Have you all lived here a long time?” she asked to change the subject.

“My goodness, yes,” Betsy said. “Seems like we’ve been here forever. Matthew was raised here.”

“We’ve been here a long time as well,” Nellie said. “Though not as long as Betsy and her family.”

“Are most of the families here original settlers?” Billie asked.

“Most of them, yes,” Betsy said. “The newer folks in town are mainly women – mail-order brides like you.”

Billie lowered her head. “Really?”

“Except for that brood of Calvin Weaver’s,” Nellie said archly.

“Mother,” Charlotte warned.

“Don’t you ‘mother’ me. It’s a wonder I’ve survived the year!”

“Mother…”

“Now, ladies,” Betsy said. “Let’s forget last year and enjoy our tea. It’s too bad Leona couldn’t join us.”

“Leona?” Billie said. Wasn’t she Mrs. Quinn’s partner in nuptial crime? Or her rival? It was rather unclear.

“Thank heavens she’s not,” Nellie drawled and gave Billie a pointed look.

Charlotte and Abigail giggled. “You remember me telling you about them earlier, don’t you?” Charlotte asked Billie.

“Yes, I seem to recall,” Billie said and smiled.

Nellie rolled her eyes. “The two of you didn’t overdo it with Abbey or Charlotte, did you? Mercy me, I can’t remember.”

“No,” Betsy said. “Nothing like what we did to Summer and Elle Riley! Remember that, Charlotte?”

“Must I?” she said flatly, then leaned toward Billie. “Back then I was such a shrew,” she sighed.

Nellie stared at the tea tray. “You still weren’t as bad as I was.”

Everyone looked at Nellie in shock – except Billie, who was watching the others’ reactions. Just how bad had Nellie been?

Nellie looked at each of them in turn. “Yes, I’ve done some thinking while working at Hank’s,” she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

Charlotte touched her mother’s hand. “We were both terrible back then. Some of the things I said to Summer and Elle were unforgivable.”

“Yes, but the Rileys did forgive you. I’m not sure they’ll ever forgive me, or that anyone in this town will.” She took a quick sip of tea. “Might just be my burden to bear.”

Billie looked from one face to the other. “Forgiveness is difficult.” She took a sip, hiding behind the rim of her cup in embarrassment – she wasn’t sure why she’d said that. It just popped out.

Nellie slowly nodded. “You’re right, child, it is. And more for some than others. I know how hard it is for me.”

Abbey smiled at her. “Mother, people will forgive you. You just have to be patient.”

“And it doesn’t hurt to ask for it,” Charlotte tacked on.

Nellie’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m not like you.”

Betsy looked at her. “Nellie?”

“What?”

“I forgive you.”

Once again, the others stared in shock. Billie sensed something major was taking place. She took another sip of her tea and continued to watch.

“Betsy …” Nellie whispered. “You do?”

Betsy nodded. “What you did last year to Daniel and Ebba was downright scandalous. And in our mercantile, no less. But I forgive you for stealing that letter, and I hope others will too.” She looked at Charlotte.

“Oh, Mother, you know I forgive you. Matthew has too.”

“He’s never said anything to me,” Nellie stated, looking put out.

“You’ve never asked him.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Nellie said. “Pride’s a powerful thing.”

Billie watched and listened, a lump in her throat that the tea wouldn’t shift. Could she forgive the man who killed her father and blinded her? Could she forgive him for what he’d been about to do to her – what the whole gang of robbers would have done, given half the chance? Thank Heaven they never got it, but if they had …

Nellie reached for a cookie. “So tell us Miss Sneed – when are you getting married?”