Courting Trouble Read Free Page A

she had her way, she would soon be proprietress over it all. But first, she must slip behind the lines, learn the lay of the land, and then take over to the point where Mr. Crook would become almost dependent upon her. Where he couldn’t imagine life in the store without her. Once there, advancing from helper in the store to helper in the home was just a staircase away.
    She smoothed her hand up the nape of her neck. She mustn’t waver from her goal. She must stay strong in her purpose no matter how nervous she felt.
    Still, subtlety would be the order of the day. She didn’t want to scare him off by pushing too hard, too fast. Heading to the readymade clothes section, she removed an apron from one of the shelves. Shaking it out, she tied it around her waist and mentally cataloged the boots, shoes, long johns, hats, bonnets, and handkerchiefs that lined the tables and shelves in this little nook.
    She returned to the back room, picked up a broom and began to sweep the store, starting in the farthermost corner where the stove, chairs, and checkers had been set up. She was nearly finished with the entire floor when Mr. Crook came through the curtain.
    His short black hair had been slicked down and parted in the middle, while square spectacles perched upon his nose. Rosy cheeks graced his oval face, making her wonder if she had been the one to put that color there.
    He grasped the opening of his cassimere coat and tugged, drawing 20 her eyes to the snappy plaid vest he wore along with a four-in-hand tie.
    ‘‘Miss Spreckelmeyer? What are you doing?’’
    She looked down at the broom in her hand. ‘‘Oh. I just thought I’d make myself useful while I waited.’’
    He strode forward and snatched the broom away. ‘‘That is quite unnecessary. Now, what emergency has brought you to the Slap Out at this early hour?’’
    She clasped her hands together. ‘‘No emergency, sir. I didn’t mean to worry you.’’
    ‘‘Then what is it?’’
    Stay strong . ‘‘I know things have been a bit difficult for you since Mrs. Crook’s passing, and I thought I might ease your burden a bit.’’
    He smiled warily. ‘‘Well, that is quite thoughtful of you, but Mrs. Peterson watches the baby and takes care of my meals.’’
    ‘‘Oh no. I didn’t mean that. I meant with the store. The other evening I saw you sitting at your desk burning the midnight oil, so to speak, and realized you must do nothing but work and sleep and work and sleep. I thought maybe if you had an extra hand, perhaps you could do some of that bookkeeping during the day.’’
    He rocked back on his heels. ‘‘Are you, uh, asking for employment, Miss Spreckelmeyer?’’
    She gasped. ‘‘Good heavens, no. I had no intention of charging you for my assistance. I merely meant to give you a helping hand.’’
    ‘‘I see. Well. I don’t know what to say. That’s very kind of you, but—’’
    ‘‘No need to say anything a’tall.’’ Smiling, she patted his arm. ‘‘I’ll just finish up with this sweeping here, then start dusting the shelves.’’
    She took the broom back and put it to work on the last section of flooring, praying he’d be too polite to refuse her offer.
    He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. ‘‘Miss Spreckelmeyer, I really don’t quite know how to say this, but—’’
    “Oh, now, Mr. Crook, no need to thank me. It’s my pleasure.’’
    ‘‘No, you misunderstand. What I was going to say was—’’
    Five succinct hammers sounded on the door. ‘‘Hamilton? You in there?’’
    Mr. Crook withdrew a pocket watch from his vest and popped it open. ‘‘Please, miss. I appreciate your concern and your very generous offer—’’
    She rushed to the door and gave the shade a good yank. It flew up, wrapping itself around a cylinder at the top, flapping as it rotated several more turns than was necessary.
    ‘‘Oh, look,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s Mr. Vandervoort come for his coffee, and