A Hearth in Candlewood Read Online Free PDF Page A

waving her spatula, ‘‘I’m not resting easy, waiting for one of those boys to show up on your doorstep to challenge you. From all I’ve heard—which isn’t much, I admit—one of those sons of hers has more temper than common sense.’’
    Emma walked over to the cookstove and put her arm around Mother Garrett’s shoulders. ‘‘Please don’t be uneasy. If you recall, I’ve had plenty of experience protecting people from men far bigger and a whole lot more powerful than the likes of James and Andrew Leonard,’’ she said. Not long after Jonas died, Emma had stood her ground against his brother, Allan, an influential politician in New York City. She had not hesitated to support her mother-in-law’s decision to remain in Candlewood instead of returning to New York City to the home she had once shared with her oldest son, and Emma did not hesitate to do the same for Widow Leonard now.
    ‘‘If Frances needs a champion, the good Lord sent her to the right woman when He sent her to you. But I can’t condone keeping her whereabouts a secret from them, even though she seems certain they don’t even realize she’s gone.’’
    ‘‘I’ll speak to her about it later today, after all the guests leave,’’ Emma promised. ‘‘Maybe she’ll agree to send James and Andrew a brief note so they’ll know where she is. That way they won’t worry. If not, I’ll speak to each of them at Sunday services. In any case, we have a few days before we have to worry about that,’’ she said before the sound of an approaching wagon drew her gaze to the kitchen window.
    ‘‘It’s a tad early for Mr. Westcott to make deliveries,’’ Mother Garrett remarked without looking up from the cookstove.
    Emma recognized the driver at once, but he was definitely not Adam Westcott, an area farmer who supplied Hill House with milk and butter. Even though her heart dropped to her knees and back again, she gave Mother Garrett a hug and stepped back to remove her apron and smooth back her hair. ‘‘Apparently, I have less time than I thought,’’ she explained. ‘‘That’s not Adam West-cott; it’s James Leonard.’’
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Widow Leonard standing on the bottom step. Turning and offering her a smile, she said, ‘‘It seems you’ve been discovered missing. James is here.’’
    The elderly woman paled.
    ‘‘I’ll have to tell him you’re here,’’ Emma continued. ‘‘Would you like to speak with him?’’
    Widow Leonard held tight to the railing. ‘‘Not yet. Certainly not today. I don’t want to talk to James—or Andrew, either, for that matter.’’
    ‘‘Don’t worry. Just stay here in the kitchen. I’ll take care of everything.’’ Emma started for her office, where she expected to find James waiting at the door where she customarily welcomed arriving guests. She walked slowly but steadily, ready to do battle with a good dose of common sense and the sheer power of faith as her only weapons.

4
    W ITH GUESTS RISING, DRESSING, and some dining already, the boardinghouse was literally coming to life while Emma waited for James Leonard in her office. She listened as he scraped his boots before turning a knob that sounded the bell above her door and announced his arrival.
    She whispered yet another silent prayer all would go well, then unlatched the door that opened onto the side of the wraparound porch. Emma gratefully noted the sun had chased away the chill of the past few days.
    Straw hat in hand, James nodded. ‘‘I hope I haven’t disturbed you too early,’’ he ventured, but he did not step forward. He was well over six feet tall and carried muscles heavy from years of farming. She found it hard to believe that Widow Leonard, a small slip of a woman, had given birth to this strapping man, her firstborn. A lifetime of outdoor work, however, had leathered his features, and the heavy hint of gray in the hair at his temples put his age at close to fifty, she