Returning to the parlor, she lined the glass containers on the mantel and filled each one with water from a pitcher. With Ginny’s help, she arranged the flowers and set the bottles on every possible surface in the sterile parlor. The flowers added a much-needed feminine touch to a room heavy with leather, rough-hewn wood, and stuffed animals.

“It smells like we’re still outside,” Ginny said, sniffing. She knew somehow that her mother had entered the room even before Emily did. “Oh, look, Mama. Look what we did.”

Peggy Sue’s gaze lit on Emily, her expression dark. “If you didn’t like how I take care of the house, I wish you’d have said something.”

Emily blinked in confusion. “I am happy with your work. You do an amazing job.” She wasn’t just saying that to be kind. The Texas dust was relentless and found its way through even the smallest cracks and crevices. Keeping the house dust-free was a full-time job.

If there was anything Emily wasn’t happy about, it was the woman’s lack of concern for her child’s education. Ginny couldn’t count much past twenty, didn’t know the alphabet, and couldn’t even write her own name.

Now, however, didn’t seem like the time to broach the subject. Not with Ginny in the room. Instead, Emily made one last attempt to soothe Peggy Sue’s ruffled feathers.

“Please don’t take offense. You keep a beautiful house. Mr. Knight…McKnight and I are most grateful. As for the flowers, I couldn’t resist picking them. We don’t have many wildflowers where I come from.” Boston’s gardens were much more formal, every flower carefully cultivated. Here in Texas, nature was permitted freedom to run wild.

Chase entered the room, bringing with him the smell of sunshine, leather, and sage. His piercing blue eyes shifted from Emily to the housekeeper and back again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just a…misunderstanding,” Emily said.

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Peggy Sue lifted her chin. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Come along, Ginny.” She turned, skirt swishing, and quickly left the room. With one hand extended in front, Ginny followed her mother close behind.

Chase waited until they were gone. “What was that about?”

“I’m afraid I got carried away with the flowers,” she said, turning the mason jar on the piano to better display an arrangement. Her gaze fell on the daguerreotype of a young boy, who she now suspected was Chase’s late brother, Michael.

“And Peggy Sue didn’t approve?” he asked.

Pulling her gaze away from the photograph, Emily turned from the piano. “She thought I was criticizing the way she keeps house.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said.

His questioning gaze met hers. “Why not?”

“Like I said, it was just a misunderstanding, and I believe we settled it.” She didn’t want to alienate Peggy Sue any more than she had already. Ginny was a perceptive child and would sense any hostility in the air.

“Very well. If she gives you any more trouble, let me know.”