Heaven Sent Read Free

of the
piecrust table and sat. Good heavens, the man was
precipitant.
    Laying her calling card on the table,
he said, “What kind of employment?”
    Callie cleared her throat. “I’ve been
the carrier on the Santa Angelica postal route for three years, Mr.
Lockhart. I handle the rural route. Mr. Phi1pott delivers mail
within the village limits.”
    “ You’re a postman—er,
woman?” Aubrey’s sooty eyebrows arched like rainbows above his dark
brown eyes.
    “ Yes, sir.” She wondered if
she should tell him she’d met his daughter while driving her route,
but decided to save this piece of information until later. She
might need a weapon.
    “ Do you have any
education?”
    “ I do. I graduated with
honors from the Brooklyn, New York, Teaching Seminary for Young
Ladies in June of 1893.”
    His eyes narrowed further. “Why’d you
go all the way to New York to attend school?”
    As if that were any of his business.
However, Callie replied to his question calmly. “My uncle is the
dean of students. He recommended the college to my parents. I
applied, and was granted admission.”
    “ Hmm.”
    “ I was not,” Callie added,
feeling defensive, “granted anything else. I mean, I was given no
special consideration, but was admitted on my own merits and my
academic record. I earned a scholarship based on my academic
achievements, as well.” She was darned proud of that
scholarship.
    “ Hmm.”
    Callie wanted to jump out of her
chair, dash over to Aubrey Lockhart, and batter the hmms out of
him. They were rude, and they made her edgy.
    He squinted narrowly. “Why aren’t you
teaching, if you have a degree in it?”
    That was none of his business, either.
She said, “My family lives in Santa Angelica. Santa Angelica didn’t
need any teachers when I returned home from college. I needed some
type of employment, and since there was an opening for a mail
carrier at the post office, I applied. I would, of course, rather
be teaching, but I do enjoy my postal route.”
    So there.
    “ Do you have written
references?”
    “ No, sir. You may feel free
to call upon Mr. Wilson, the postmaster in Santa Angelica. He can
vouch for my dependability and moral character. Miss Myrtle Oakes,
the Santa Angelica schoolmistress, is a good friend of mine and can
also vouch for my character. I can supply verification of my
employment and education. I have a diploma, of course.”
    “ Hmm.” He stared at her some
more, his brows drawn straight over his eyes. He looked formidable;
cold, aloof, annoyed, and unfriendly. Callie stared back, doing her
best not to frown.
    “ Have you ever cared for
children in your vast work experience?”
    Oh, so he was going to be sarcastic,
was he? Well, Callie would just show hint who was capable and who
wasn’t—and she wouldn’t have to resort to sarcasm, either. “I not
only possess a teaching degree, I’ve also had a good deal to do
with my sisters’ and brother’s children, Mr. Lockhart. I care for
them often when my family needs help.”
    “ That’s far from the same as
being a nanny to a six-year-old girl.”
    She inclined her head a quarter of an
inch. “Perhaps you don’t know as much about six-year-old girls and
their needs as you think you do.”
    His head jerked up so fast that Callie
was surprised not to hear his neck snap. “Is that so?”
    She hated to do it, but she
apologized. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Lockhart. I have had abundant
experience caring for children, but I shouldn’t have been
impertinent.”
    “ Indeed.” He squinted at her
again. “How old are you?”
    Well! In any other circumstances,
Callie would have told Mr. Aubrey Lockhart what he could do with
himself if he were sufficiently dexterous. However, she cared
enough about Becky to hold her tongue. “I shall be twenty-five
years old in May, Mr. Lockhart.”
    “ You don’t look
it.”
    Whatever did that mean? Did he mean
she looked like a crone, or that she looked like a
child?
    “ You’re too young,”