Read Online The Heirloom Brides Collection by Tracey V. Bateman - Free Book Online
Authors: Tracey V. Bateman
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eating here.”
Stuart’s neck warmed as he followed her gaze to Betsy, who set plates down at a table with three men, her cheeks flushed.
As she turned away from the table, her gaze caught his. She smiled all the way to her eyes, and Stuart felt like a king. She walked to them. “Good evening, Mrs. Fields. Stuart. Would you like a table?”
“We certainly would,” Ma said. “What on earth are you doing working for that woman?”
Betsy smiled. “It’s not so bad.” She led them to a table.
Ma reached out and took Betsy’s hand. “That attitude just shows what an angel you are.”
Angel? Betsy might look like one, but she was far from angelic. Although, Stuart had to admit, her sharp tongue and abrupt ways didn’t seem nearly as common or annoying as they used to.
He tried not to watch her as she moved about the dining room. She brought them tea and moved quickly to the kitchen, coming out a minute later with two plates that she took to a young couple in the corner. “Betsy!” Miss Annie called from the kitchen, and Betsy quickly answered the call.
“I vow that woman is working our Betsy to death. Are we going to let that go on?”
Stuart scowled. “What are we supposed to do about it? You already know she’s stubborn as that horse of Old Joe’s. She’s not going to accept anything she suspects is close to charity.”
Ma lowered her voice as Betsy swung back through the kitchen door, carrying two more plates and headed straight for their table. “I’ll just have to find a way to convince her she’s the one being charitable.”
As Betsy set their food on the table, Stuart noted the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Ma was right; they would have to find a way to get her out of this place. If she would let them. One thing he knew for sure: she would have to believe it was her idea.
He ate as slowly as he could, but an hour later, when the table next to them had changed customers three times while they sat there, his mother leaned over. “Stuart, I’m tired. You can’t stay here all night.”
He glanced around as they stood, looking for Betsy, who hadn’t been in the dining room for the past fifteen minutes. To his disappointment and Ma’s annoyance, Miss Annie had taken over at the tables. “You two leaving us?” Miss Annie hurried to them, smiling as though she had no idea how much Ma despised her. But was there any reason for her to know? Ma had a way of being sweet as pie, and only he could tell she was spitting mad all the while.
He nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for the price of their meal. “It was delicious, Miss Annie.”
The older woman flushed with pleasure. “Why, thank you. And how did you find our new girl?”
Ma patted his back. “We found her simply delightful, didn’t we, Son?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And such prompt service. Why, we would have had a wonderful meal even if, say, the chicken had been a little dry, not that I’m saying it was, of course.”
Miss Annie sniffed and lifted her chin. “I should say not.”
As they left the restaurant and began the short walk home, Stuart smiled. “Did you really think the chicken was dry, or were you just trying to get under Miss Annie’s skin?”
“I’d have been ashamed to serve it. I had to wash down every bite with a sip of tea.”
They walked in silence, while Stuart replayed the evening in his mind. Betsy had moved around the dining room in a blur without making the customers feel her rushing. She’d remained pleasant and smiled, even when Miss Annie bellowed her name from the kitchen. Never once had she revealed the frustration she must certainly have felt, nor had she neglected the patrons’ needs.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
Ma gave a huff. “I know you’re not talking about Annie.”
He chuckled. “No, Ma. I mean Betsy.”
“Don’t pretend you’ve never noticed how special that girl is before now. I remember when you were a boy in school…”
“Yes, Ma. I was a little
Stuart’s neck warmed as he followed her gaze to Betsy, who set plates down at a table with three men, her cheeks flushed.
As she turned away from the table, her gaze caught his. She smiled all the way to her eyes, and Stuart felt like a king. She walked to them. “Good evening, Mrs. Fields. Stuart. Would you like a table?”
“We certainly would,” Ma said. “What on earth are you doing working for that woman?”
Betsy smiled. “It’s not so bad.” She led them to a table.
Ma reached out and took Betsy’s hand. “That attitude just shows what an angel you are.”
Angel? Betsy might look like one, but she was far from angelic. Although, Stuart had to admit, her sharp tongue and abrupt ways didn’t seem nearly as common or annoying as they used to.
He tried not to watch her as she moved about the dining room. She brought them tea and moved quickly to the kitchen, coming out a minute later with two plates that she took to a young couple in the corner. “Betsy!” Miss Annie called from the kitchen, and Betsy quickly answered the call.
“I vow that woman is working our Betsy to death. Are we going to let that go on?”
Stuart scowled. “What are we supposed to do about it? You already know she’s stubborn as that horse of Old Joe’s. She’s not going to accept anything she suspects is close to charity.”
Ma lowered her voice as Betsy swung back through the kitchen door, carrying two more plates and headed straight for their table. “I’ll just have to find a way to convince her she’s the one being charitable.”
As Betsy set their food on the table, Stuart noted the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Ma was right; they would have to find a way to get her out of this place. If she would let them. One thing he knew for sure: she would have to believe it was her idea.
He ate as slowly as he could, but an hour later, when the table next to them had changed customers three times while they sat there, his mother leaned over. “Stuart, I’m tired. You can’t stay here all night.”
He glanced around as they stood, looking for Betsy, who hadn’t been in the dining room for the past fifteen minutes. To his disappointment and Ma’s annoyance, Miss Annie had taken over at the tables. “You two leaving us?” Miss Annie hurried to them, smiling as though she had no idea how much Ma despised her. But was there any reason for her to know? Ma had a way of being sweet as pie, and only he could tell she was spitting mad all the while.
He nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for the price of their meal. “It was delicious, Miss Annie.”
The older woman flushed with pleasure. “Why, thank you. And how did you find our new girl?”
Ma patted his back. “We found her simply delightful, didn’t we, Son?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And such prompt service. Why, we would have had a wonderful meal even if, say, the chicken had been a little dry, not that I’m saying it was, of course.”
Miss Annie sniffed and lifted her chin. “I should say not.”
As they left the restaurant and began the short walk home, Stuart smiled. “Did you really think the chicken was dry, or were you just trying to get under Miss Annie’s skin?”
“I’d have been ashamed to serve it. I had to wash down every bite with a sip of tea.”
They walked in silence, while Stuart replayed the evening in his mind. Betsy had moved around the dining room in a blur without making the customers feel her rushing. She’d remained pleasant and smiled, even when Miss Annie bellowed her name from the kitchen. Never once had she revealed the frustration she must certainly have felt, nor had she neglected the patrons’ needs.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
Ma gave a huff. “I know you’re not talking about Annie.”
He chuckled. “No, Ma. I mean Betsy.”
“Don’t pretend you’ve never noticed how special that girl is before now. I remember when you were a boy in school…”
“Yes, Ma. I was a little
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