"For the love of God, Charlie! If you thump up those steps one more time, I'm going to break your ankles!" Dorothy hollered as the heavy clump-clump-clump went through her for the umpteenth time.
She wouldn't say she was having a bad day. She was busy, but the small accomplishments made her feel good. After she'd done her wash and hung the clothes from the veranda, she'd heated what was left of the hash she'd made Charlie for breakfast. Once Charlie had bolted off to wait for Robbie on the sidewalk, she took her breakfast in bed.
It was an indulgence she refused to feel guilty about after the week she'd had. Dirty floors could wait until the afternoon, which was precisely how long she lounged and read adventure magazines before getting up to bathe and do the dishes.
She hissed through her teeth as the heavy tread grew closer, but instead of the rattle of the doorknob came five sharp knocks.
Dorothy went stiff. Everyone else banged on the door. She had only ever had one visitor who rapped so politely.
"One minute!" she called, already flying into the bedroom. She still wore her housecoat and slippers, and her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders. As quickly as she could, she slipped into a skirt and blouse, then threw Ian's heavy sweater over it.
He knocked again and she prayed her stockings didn't roll down to her ankles without any garters. There was no helping her hair, so she just tied it back.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she scooted to the door and opened it. "Don't tell me he never showed."
Robbie chuckled. "Hello to you, too. Can I come in? This step is pretty narrow and I'm a little afraid of heights."
Dorothy opened the door a little, then stopped. "No, you can't. I have underthings hanging up. You'll have to wait here a minute."
Robbie opened his mouth to speak, but she closed the door in his face. Even quicker than she had dressed, she collected every bit of clothes she'd forgotten about in her mad dash and tossed them into her bedroom.
"All right, come on in," she said back at the door, and Robbie sauntered in with an amused smile. She walked ahead of him, not looking back even though she wanted to, and offered him a seat at the kitchen table. "So, where is he?"
"I left him on a corner down on Agricola Street. He wanted to show off to a friend." With her puzzled look, he sank down into the chair and grinned. "We went out in my Ford."
"He must have gotten a thrill out of that. Tea?"
"Yes -- no, don't make a fresh pot."
She ignored him. She wasn't about to serve him up the slops in the bottom of the pot. "How did it go?"
"Good. The pups aren't weaned yet, but I found one that likes me. The loudest of the bunch."
"I'm sure that will go over swimmingly with your mother."
Robbie's laugh tickled her as she stoked the fire. "It will be after Christmas before I can take him, and then Mother won't have to worry about the noise of some beagle-terrier mix."
"How do you suppose you'll manage that? Dogs will bark."
"This dog can bark all it wants in Port Williams. I'm headed there before New Year is through."
"What's in Port Williams?"
"Quiet." The chair creaked, and when she glanced back at him, he had leaned forward and that smirk was back. "In spite of the way she snipes, I think my mother would be sorrier to lose you than she would me. At least you're useful to her. She might just be furious with me if I have my way,"
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Dorothy moved aside to get the other teapot from the cupboard. "What does that mean?"
"You're dying to know why I'm here, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course I am." She went to the table and set the pot down on top of the folded tea towel she'd made a trivet out of.
"For one, I wanted to thank you for letting me take Charlie away from you for the morning. I really enjoyed myself. Your brother is quite a character. But, for another, I wanted to know if you would be willing to come and work for me."
Hand on the tea tin, Dorothy stared at him. "You want me to go to the valley and keep house for you?"
"That's exactly what I want."
Dorothy stared at him for a moment, looking for some indication that he was joking. When she found none, she shook her head. "No, I can't. I can't take Charlie out of school in the middle of the year."
"They have schools in the valley. I'll pay you more than Mother, and there'll be no more living over a tavern."
"It's not a tavern, it's a restaurant — and who says I mind living here?"
"You may not, but your brother does. He was pretty adamant about it."
"He should keep his mouth shut." Dorothy dumped tea into the pot and told herself to keep her thoughts to herself, but in seconds she found she couldn't keep it in any longer. "What is it you want, anyway?"
"I just said it. I want a housekeeper."
"I mean this: coming around here, giving Charlie work, asking me to stop and talk to you when you know we shouldn't be having anything to do with one another, and now asking me to go to your house in the country with you. What more could you want other than what you rejected the other night?"
She didn't realize until that minute that she'd taken Helena's warning seriously, but if that's what he had come for -- the same thing that Daniel had wanted, only with the pretence of a love affair to keep himself occupied until he felt more like himself again -- she wanted it out in the open.
Having let out some of the vitriol his presence had stirred up, Dorothy set aside the tea tin and forced herself to look him in the face.
Just like when she had quipped at him yesterday about giving Charlie money, Robbie showed his frustration with her in blue eyes turned stormy. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"May I ask what I've done for you to act like I'm some bastard?" He gave her no chance to answer before he went on. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that what I say and do is sincere? Or are you just going to carry on pretending I'm no different from my brother, even though I've done absolutely nothing to deserve it?"
"That doesn't answer my question," she countered.
He got to his feet and glared down at her. "I told you once already: I only want your friendship."
"You want to be friends with the woman who scrubs your mother's floors?"
"Why not? Give me one good reason why I wouldn't want your friendship other than you being a stubborn little witch when you've got your arse up? Tell me, if you can come up with something. If you're going to treat me like this, you could at least tell me why."
"Because people like you aren't friends with people like me," she told him, giving back as much bluster as he gave. "Look around you. Does this look like the sort of place I could entertain a friend, much less one who has so much money that he can just give it away?"
"Is it the money that's eating at you? If that's the case, then I change my mind. You'll pay me back what I gave you." He rapped on the tabletop. "Right now."
