Page 57 of The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

“Perhaps a little.” I glanced up at him. What a neck it was, thick and strong, albeit covered with a scarf at the moment. I had it memorized. More than once I’d wondered what it would feel like to trace the area from his ear to the base of his throat with my fingertips.

The snow had stopped and the world was in the quiet, still state that came afterward.

“I was thinking about the first year we were all at school together,” I said, changing the subject. “All the boys from that year will want to help with the barn. I’m going to organize the women, too. We’ll raise money and get them a milk cow.”

“How?”

“By throwing a Christmas party at the house. With cakes and dancing and punch.”

“How does that raise money?” he asked.

“Because we’ll have a donation jar. Placed somewhere discreetly so as not to be gauche. In the invitations I’ll say it’s for the Cassidy family during their time of need and encourage them to donate what they can. I’ll ask Papa to match the total at the end of the night.”

The afternoon had dimmed, but we were close to home. I could see the lights from our house.

Without my prompting, he easily steered the horses into our driveway. “Dancing, huh?”

“Yes, do you like to dance?” I asked.

“Depends on who my partner is. If it were you, for example, I should like it very much.”

“I’ll save you at least one.”

He laughed. “Only one?”

“Or two. I’ll probably be very busy running the party.”

“Would you rather do that than enjoy yourself? Being useful, as you say.”

I thought for a moment. “I never think about it that way. Before this, there was never anyone I cared to dance with.”

“Before this? Does that mean before me?”

I flushed despite the coolness of the air on my cheeks. “Yes, that’s what it means.”

Our merry bells and stomping of the horses’ hooves stole the quiet as we slid over the slick tracks toward home.

“We went out to the Cassidys’ farm today,” I said at dinner.

“And?” Mama asked.

“They’re not well. Actually, it’s worse than I thought,” I said. “I should’ve done a better job of seeing what was happening out there.” I shared with them what we’d learned of their plight, including Mrs. Cassidy’s idea that they return to Ireland.

“With Alma away at nursing college, the younger girls have been doing all the chores by themselves. Despite their efforts, the farm’s falling into disrepair. They’ve not enough to eat. The girls look gaunt and exhausted.”

“I had no idea they’d lost that many cows,” Papa said. “We’ve not been good neighbors or friends. I should’ve been over there to see them.”

“I’m ashamed,” Mama said. “Moira’s always been private. I’m sure asking for help didn’t feel like something she could do.”

“Speaking of help, Phillip’s offered to work out there for them, starting with the barn.” I smiled at him from across the table. My hero with the pure heart smiled back at me.

“How thoughtful of you, Phillip,” Mama said.

“I can help,” Cymbeline said.

“You have school, darling,” Papa said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Flynn and I can help,” Theo said. “We’re at a standstill on what we can do at the lodge and ski area until the snow melts.”