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“You should fix a plate and take it into town for him. A bachelor like Charles doesn’t often get the opportunity to enjoy a home-cooked dinner.”
“He seems to be doing just fine on his own,” Steffie said, hiding a smile. Her father wasn’t even trying to be subtle.
“He’s a fine young man.”
“Yes, I know. I think he’s probably one of the most talented newsmen I’ve ever read. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s still in Orchard Valley. I thought one of the big-city newspapers would’ve lured him away long before now.”
“They’ve tried, but Charles likes living here. He’s turned down several job offers.”
“How do you know?” That he’d received other offers didn’t surprise Steffie, but that her father was privy to the information did. Then she remembered he and Charles had worked together on the farm-worker article.
“I know Charles quite well,” her father answered. “We’ve become good friends the past few years.”
Steffie crossed her legs. “I’d forgotten the two of you wrote that article.”
Her father shook his head. “Charles wrote nearly every word of that story. All I did was get a few of the details for him and add a comment now and then, but that was it.”
“He credits you with doing a lot more.”
Her father was silent for a few minutes, reflective. Steffie wondered if he was worrying about Valerie the way Norah had been. She was about to say something when her father spoke.
“Charles is going to make me a fine son-in-law.”
Steffie closed her eyes, trying to control the burst of impatience his words produced.
“Daddy, don’t, please,” she murmured.
“Don’t what?”
“Talk about Charles marrying me.”
“Why ever not?” he asked, sounding almost offended. “Why, Princess, he’s loved you for years, only I was too blind to notice. I guess I had my head in the clouds, because it’s as clear as rainwater to me now. Soon after you left for Italy, he started coming around, asking about you. Only…he was so subtle about it I didn’t realize what he was doing until I saw the two of you together last night.”
“I know, but—”
“You don’t have a clue, do you?” her father said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you since I didn’t guess it myself.”
The way her father made it sound, Charles had spent the past three years pining away for her. Steffie knew that couldn’t be true. He was the reason she’d left. He’d humiliated her, laughed at her.
“When your mother said you’d be marrying Charles—”
“Dad, please.” Steffie felt close to tears. “I’m not marrying Charles.”
He studied her, eyes narrowed in concern. “What’s wrong, Princess? You love him, don’t you?”
“I did…but that was a long time ago when I was young and very foolish.” Her father had no way of knowing just how foolish she’d been.
Even after the incident in Charles’s home, when she’d soaked in his tub until her skin resembled a raisin, she hadn’t stopped. Some odd quirk of her nature refused to let her believe he didn’t want her, not when she loved him so desperately.
Oh, no, she hadn’t been willing to leave well enough alone. So she’d plotted and planned his downfall.
Literally.
Leaving a message at the newspaper office that her father needed to see him right away, Steffie had waited in the stable for Charles’s arrival. She’d spread fresh hay in the first stall.
No one was home and she tacked a note on the front door directing Charles to the stable.
He’d arrived right on time. She had to say that for him; he was punctual to a fault. He hesitated when he saw she was there alone, then asked to talk to her father. He kept his distance—which might have had something to do with the pitchfork in her hand.
