The Gamble by Karen Sommers

Author:Karen Sommers [Sommers, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-26T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Margrett had once heard that “when there is only a single path ahead of you, the choice has been made.” While that sounded simple enough, more often than not, it wasn’t the easier path. In fact, sometimes that particular path was all but impossible. As she reached her fist up to knock on the door, she realized that in this case, the path was positively… galling.

Mr. Baker opened the door and cocked his head to look down at her, obviously surprised, though he tried hard to hide it. “Back again, Miss…”

“Childs,” she prompted, with a smile that she hoped was perhaps somewhat endearing.

“Yes, I remember it being infantile.” He nodded and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “What can do for you tonight?”

“Mr. Baker, may I come in and discuss the matter with you, Please?”

“I don’t know, Miss Childs,” he said, his face unreadable. “It’s rather late in the day. What will people say if they see you entering my home at this late hour?”

“A great deal less than they are already saying, I assure you, sir. I have already had an earful of idle gossip and slander against my virtue and your good name.”

“So why would I want to make it worse?” he asked reasonably.

“Because, Sir, you don’t care a whit for these people or their opinions.”

She was taking a gamble with that, but from what she’d learned after going back to town and talking to the few people who would still talk to her, Mr. Baker was rather partial to gambling. Or so she’d been told.

“Very perceptive of you,” Baker growled. She could see the distance in his eyes as he stood back, allowing her to enter the house. He was cautious, she’d give him that, but at least he seemed willing to hear her out.

He turned and walked into the parlor, leaving the door open. It was her choice to close it. She considered the number of insects and strays in the area and decided that this conversation would be better served with the door closed. Let the neighbors say what they will.

“Mr. Baker…” she began. She’d spent the past hour trying to perfect what she would say to him and how to go about saying it, but now that she had him listening, blast if every last pretty word had gone straight out of her head.

“Sit down.” It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Margrett bristled at his tone but considering she needed his assistance, and he truly had nothing to gain from helping her, she swallowed the anger and perched on the edge of a chair.

It surprised her again how genteel and gracious the room was, given the rough character of the man who owned it. The chairs were almost delicate, artistically shaped and covered with a fine fabric that seemed to melt under her. This was a sitting room that could have been found in any fine home in Boston, except for the potted cactus on the end table.

“Mr. Baker…” she began again, thinking a second run at the speech would find the lost words for her.

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