When Phoebe returned to the first floor, she heard the sound of voices. She paused outside the kitchen doorway and just as she’d suspected, what appeared to be the two youngest of Seth’s brieder were in the mudroom, noisily shedding their coats and boots. The boy she suspected was Kish was recounting a story about how someone named Annabeth had been smiling at him during recess.
Jesse, the younger of the two, was grinning but otherwise not participating in the discussion.
“Where is your friend?” Kish asked. “Is she here yet? Will she be cooking our supper so we don’t have to eat Daniel’s cooking again?”
Phoebe stepped into the kitchen. “Jah, I’m here. And jah, I plan to cook your supper.”
The boys whirled around to face her.
She smiled at them both. “Gutentag. I’m Phoebe and I’ll be working here with Edna for a while.” Then, before either of them could comment, “And jah, I’m younger than what you expected but I promise I’ll still be able to do the work required.”
While the boys digested her words she took a moment to study them. Kish was broader, with wider shoulders and more muscular arms than his younger bruder. He also carried himself with more self-assurance.
Jesse had more of a not-yet-filled-out boyishness about him and seemed more restrained. The boy pushed his glasses higher on his nose with one finger and studied her with an earnestness that seemed beyond his years.
When she asked them about their favorite and least favorite things to do, instead of pointing to team sports and chores, Jesse said his favorite thing was working on puzzles and playing board games, and his least favorite was hunting.
Phoebe felt an immediate connection to the boy.
Then she remembered how it was when her brieder came in from school and later from the fields. Mamm always had something on hand for them to eat, telling Phoebe that growing boys needed lots of fuel. Again she kicked herself for dropping those cookies.
“Are you boys hungry? I haven’t had time to prepare any proper snacks, but I saw some crackers in the pantry and some cheese in the refrigerator. How does that sound for a quick snack?”
The boys immediately signaled their approval.
Phoebe set the jars of peaches on the counter and went to work pulling the impromptu snack together.
She saw a pitcher of apple juice in the refrigerator and decided that was just the thing to go with their snack.
She was going to be able to do this after all.
Seth studied the now-complete chessboard with a critical eye. The grid lines were straight and the board level. Each square seemed exactly the same size. The color of the wood was rich and deep. But it might have looked better if the dark squares were just a touch darker for better contrast. He’d tinker with the stain again before he made the next one.
This one was ready to send out to his customer. Tomorrow he’d start all over again on another set.
He always felt a slight sense of letdown at the end of a project like this. It was as if he put a part of himself into the construction of these chess sets and yet didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy them himself. None of his brieder liked the game the way he did so he rarely had a chance to play, even on his own set.
Putting away that unproductive thought, he stood and stretched. He reached for one of the sturdy packing boxes he kept on hand then stopped. Perhaps he’d deal with the packaging tomorrow. He had some paperwork and bills in his office to take care of. And he was curious to see how Phoebe was doing. She’d no doubt met the three youngest of his brieder by now. How was she faring? Had she been able to hold her own against their rambunctiousness?
Once inside the mudroom, Seth wiped his boots on the mat and removed his jacket. He could smell an appetizing aroma wafting from the kitchen—that was a gut sign.
As he stepped into the kitchen proper he spotted Edna sitting at the table. Phoebe was at the sideboard, trying to reach the upper shelf, presumably to get one of the large serving bowls. She’d pulled up a small step stool to compensate for her short stature and was currently balanced precariously atop it on her tiptoes. A disaster waiting to happen if he ever saw one.
“Here, let me get that,” he said, crossing the room quickly.
She started at the sound of his voice and turned her head toward him. It overset her balance, and she frantically waved her arms in an attempt to maintain her footing.
Sprinting the last few feet, Seth was able to get to her in time. Grasping her by the waist he steadied her and then set her feet on the floor. “Are you okay?”
She looked up at him, her gold-flecked brown eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise. Then she answered his question with a nod.
“Gut.” He released her and reached up to the top shelf, where he pointed to a large blue bowl. “Is this what you were trying to get?”
Again Phoebe nodded.
Why did she look so stricken? Had she been startled so deeply? Perhaps he’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended.
Seth handed her the bowl and she seemed to finally recover some of her composure.
“Danke.” Then she lifted her chin. “I wasn’t clumsy, you know. You just startled me.” There was a note of defensiveness in her tone.
“My apologies. And I never said you were clumsy.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Nee, of course not.” Her gaze slid from his and she turned and carried the bowl to the counter near the stove.
Something about her pose as she stood there with her back to him made him feel the need to comfort her. He decided to ignore the impulse—she had work to do and so did he. But instead of turning toward his office, he found himself saying, “Whatever it is you’re cooking smells wonderful gut.”
She turned at that and gave him a grateful smile. “Danke. It’s something my mamm taught me to cook.”
“I look forward to tasting it.” Satisfied he’d done what he could, he turned and headed down the hall.
Chapter 9
Once Seth left the room, Phoebe took a deep breath. Had she made a fool of herself with that thoughtlessly blurted comment about not being clumsy? Seth seemed to be a wonderful kind man. And very strong. He’d lifted her from the stool and set her down with very little effort.
“Isn’t it time to get your casserole from the oven and put in the cobbler?”
