“I said I’ll wash and press the garments, and they’ll be as good as new.” Josie studied her a moment, and her expression softened. “Are you okay?”

Meg moistened her dry lips. “I’m fine.”

Josie lowered the hope chest’s lid and stood. “It’s been nearly a month. You can’t keep hiding. Papa misses you at the shop. You know what a terrible bookkeeper he is, and with Christmas just around the corner…”

Guilt surged through Meg like molten steel. How selfish of her. Staying hidden like a common criminal had done nothing but place an extra burden on Papa’s shoulders. It was her job to keep the shop records, order supplies, and serve the customers, thus freeing her father to spend his time repairing watches and clocks. And yet…

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to show my face in public again.”

“Meg, that’s ridiculous. No one blames you.”

Taking the blame wasn’t what bothered Meg; it was the feeling that she had let everyone down. Papa had promised to make peace with Mr. Farrell as a wedding present. Now that the wedding had been called off, the feud between the two men had resumed. If anything, their animosity toward each other had grown worse, each blaming the other for the disastrous affair.

“Go and clean up while I fix us something to eat.”

Meg nodded and started down the hall, but not before taking another quick glance out the window. The deserted road looked as forlorn and lonely as she felt.

* * *

Moments later, Meg joined her sister in the sun-filled kitchen, her skirt still damp where she’d washed off the mud.

Josie’s kitchen table had become the sisters’ sounding board. Everything that happened—good, bad, or otherwise; every crisis, every problem—was hashed out, analyzed, resolved, or left to die upon that maple table.

Meg pulled out a chair, plopped down, and rested her elbows on the smooth-polished surface. “I don’t understand why Papa and Mr. Farrell continue to fight.” For as long as she could remember, bad blood had existed between the two men. Mama blamed it on professional differences, but Meg was almost certain their warfare had more personal roots.

Josie filled the kettle and placed it on the cookstove. “Sometimes I wonder if even they remember what started it. It happened so many years ago.” She wiped her hands on her spotless white apron and pulled a bread knife out of a drawer.

Through the open window over the sink came the sound of bells pealing out the noon hour for the residents living and working north of Main. The rest of the town, including her father, had stopped for the noontime meal a good forty minutes earlier.

“Josie…how did you know you were in love with Ralph?”

Josie gave her an odd look. “What a strange question.”

“I’m serious. How did you know?”

Josie thought a moment, cheeks tinged a pretty pink. “It was the way he made me feel. The way my heart leaped whenever he came into sight.”