“That explains it, then. Ben told me you weren’t a drinker.”

  Roen let his hand fall to the arm of the chair and rest there. “You know, Mrs. Salt, I graduated at the top of my class, two of my bridge designs were written about in scientific journals, and I can confidently say that I am on the high side of fair to middlin’ when it comes to intelligence, but here, right now, I can only claim to be a fool. Victorine Headley deserves me. You do not.”

  Lily’s gaze dropped away from his. She stared at his hand resting on the arm of the chair. He had long, slender fingers with nails that were clipped and buffed. A pianist’s fingers, she thought, though she didn’t know why. She’d only ever seen Buzz Winegarten at the keys of his player piano. Perhaps Roen had an artist’s hand like his mother. She could see it curling around a paintbrush and moving with deliberation from palette to canvas. Then she saw his hand as it truly was, an instrument in the service of his considerable intellect and imagination, scrawling numbers and formulas across a blank page that would become manmade wonders when applied in the three-dimensional world.

  “You proposed a marriage of fiction,” she said, still looking at his hand.

  “Yes.”

  “I want to propose a marriage in fact.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Mrs. Salt?” Roen bent his head to catch her eye. She was staring at his hand. When she didn’t look at him, he wiggled his fingers. That seemed to lift her out of her trance.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did I hear you correctly? You want a marriage in fact?”

  She said nothing for several seconds. “Yes, that’s what I want. A legal marriage. I require nothing for myself beyond a certificate. No church ceremony. No marital bed. No ring. For my children, I require that you assist in providing for their care and demonstrate respect for me in front of them. When your work requires you to move on, we can arrange to be divorced.”

  “Those are your terms?”

  She nodded. “I would still like to have the tutoring, but that is up to you.”

  Roen searched Lily’s face and could find no hint that she was anything but serious. Still, he needed to hear it again from her. “You’re sure?”

  “I am. I know what I’m offering is not what you were proposing, but I cannot agree to the arrangement you want. You have not said whether you can agree to mine.”

  “No romantic entanglements,” he said, more to himself than to her. It was how Ridley Madison had characterized his interest in Lily Salt. She’s a widow with four children who has even less interest in romantic entanglements than you. The terms by which Lily was agreeing to help him certainly bore that out. “I accept your terms.”

  Lily laid a hand against her midriff and sank her teeth into her lower lip.

  Roen moved to the edge of the chair cushion in anticipation of Lily requiring his help. “Are you all right? There’s no color in your face.”

  She smiled weakly. “There’s no breath in my lungs.”

  “What can I do?”

  Lily shook her head and waved him back into his chair.

  Roen sank back but didn’t take his eyes off her. She looked as if she’d been poleaxed. “Did you think I would say no?” he asked.

  She inhaled deeply through her nose and released the breath slowly through parted lips. “I suppose I did.”

  “Do you want to change your mind?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “No.” He noticed her cheeks were regaining their modest color. Lily had skin as smooth as her namesake but only when she was troubled was it as pale. He wondered if she’d had freckles as a child, maybe a light spray across her nose and cheeks that faded as she grew older. Hannah had that freckle spray, and Hannah bore the most resemblance to her mother. “Will you tell me about your particular terms? Why do you want a husband?” He watched her eyebrows lift in surprise and knew then what was coming.

  “Did you misunderstand, Mr. Shepard? I don’t want a husband. Wasn’t I clear? I want a father for my children. Even if you only fill that position for a short time, it will be a good experience for them.”

  Roen wasn’t as sure, but he didn’t argue the point. “There isn’t much time to arrange a ceremony.”

  “I know, so you are fortunate that Frost Falls is on Judge Miner’s circuit and that the judge will be here Friday. That gives you all day tomorrow to make the arrangements.”

  “Yes, the arrangements. What are those exactly?”

  “Your sister Artemis was married three times. Weren’t you paying attention to any of them?”

  Roen gave a shout of laughter that pushed Lily back in her rocker. She had to set her feet down firmly to stop it moving. “Sorry,” he said.

  She regarded him narrowly. “I don’t think you are.”

  “Probably not. Not really. You have a rather biting sense of humor that I appreciate.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be humorous.”

  “I know. You have a gift for it.”

  “Truly, Mr. Shepard, we will—”

  “Roen, please. We’re engaged.”

  Lily sighed heavily. “Roen, then. We will never be ready by Friday if you keep leading me down wayward paths. Conversation with you takes odd turns.”

  “All right. You were going to tell me about the arrangements.”

  “We will have to secure witnesses,” she said. “Ben and Ridley will do nicely, I think, but you’ll have to ask. You can send them here if they balk. It will be a shock and they might require convincing.”

  “What do I say to them?”

  “The truth is best. They won’t believe that we’re marrying for love, so you shouldn’t try that one on.”

  “Then I should tell them about Victorine.”

  “Heavens no. That sordid melodrama belongs in one of your brother’s novels.”

  Roen opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. He let her go on.

  “You can say that I was questioning whether I was doing right by my children to remain unmarried. Tell them we had the conversation while discussing Clay’s education. You can add some detail here and there. You’ll do what you do best.”

  “Make the ridiculous sound reasonable?”

  “Exactly that.”

  Roen thought he should be offended, but he was learning that, with Lily, he was not. “What else?”

  “You ask Ben to make sure Judge Miner makes time for us. I’m unaware of any criminal cases that he’s hearing, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I want this to be a private affair. Explain that to Ridley and Ben. The children will also bear witness. That assures our marriage will not remain a secret for long, but I don’t want people gathering to observe the ceremony, and I certainly don’t want a fuss following it.”

  “Not even a little fuss?”

  “No. Why? Do you?”

  He shrugged. “I like cake.”

  Laughter sputtered on Lily’s lips. “All right. I’ll bake a cake. Any particular kind?”

  “Almond.”

  “Then I’ll order it from Maxwell’s bakery. His almond cake is better than mine.”

  Pleased, Roen asked, “Do you want flowers? I know that Dolly Mangold has a little greenhouse behind the drugstore because she uses flower petals to flavor some of her teas.”

  “Flowers. No. I don’t think so.”

  “What about bouquets for Hannah and Lizzie?”

  “Oh. Unfair of you to use them, but yes, two small bouquets would be appreciated. The girls would like that.”

  “Do you want to change your mind about a ring?”

  Lily’s fingers curled into light fists. “No. I never had one. It isn’t important.”

  “You have lovely hands.”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that. It’s a lie. You must have noticed that my fingers are crooked.”

  “I didn’t.” He’d given an enormous amount of attention to her Mona Lisa mouth. “Show me.”

  Lily’s fists tightened.

  Roen’s eyes dropped to Lily’s clenched hands. “Is that what you really want to do?”

  “I thought you were being kind not to ask about them, but now you’re telling me you’re just blind.”

  He said nothing and continued to regard her expectantly.

  Lily’s mouth flattened. The creases at the corners of her eyes deepened. She held out her fists, splayed her fingers, and kept them there until Roen waved them down. “See?”

  “Actually, I don’t. The knuckles on the third and fourth fingers of your left hand are perhaps larger than the others, and the pinkie on your right hand curves left, but I think what you see is what your hands looked like when your fingers were broken, and what you feel is the pain that accompanied it. I would suppose that more than three of your fingers were damaged, so that means they healed remarkably well. What I see are capable hands and that makes them not only lovely, but also interesting. I would be pleased if you would allow me to mark the occasion of our wedding with a ring.”

  When she didn’t respond except to take a calming breath, he added, “I wouldn’t expect you to return it if we divorce.”

  “You mean when we divorce.”

  He shrugged. “If you prefer.”

  Lily shook her head. “It feels wrong. Let’s not argue about it. You agreed to my terms. That was one of them.”

  “You’re right. I won’t bring it up again. Is there anything else? You have a gown?”

  “I have something suitable. You?”

  “A suitable suit.”

  “Good. I’m assuming that you know we will live here. There are three bedrooms upstairs. One for the boys, one for the girls, and mine. You can keep your belongings in my room but you’ll have to sleep on the sofa.”

  Roen’s eyes slid sideways as he regarded the overstuffed piece of furniture. He wondered if it would swallow him. “It looks short.”

  “It won’t be if you curl on your side.”

  “Of course. Curl on my side.” What curled was Roen’s lip. “Won’t the children find it odd for me to be down here? You and your husband shared a bed, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then?”

  “If they ask, which I doubt, I’ll tell them you snore.”

  “You have answers for everything.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, although I’m not sure you meant it that way.”

  “Mm.”

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “Are we? What about the kiss?”

  “The kiss?”

  “I think that’s the customary conclusion to the ceremony. Even a civil one.”

  “Customary, perhaps, but not required. Ben and Ridley won’t expect it since you’re going to explain it’s not a . . . not a . . .”

  “Love match? Is that the term you’re searching for? Somewhat old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It serves.”

  “So it’s no to a kiss.”

  “Yes, it’s no.”

  “Now I could go either way, but Hannah is a romantic. She’ll expect it.”

  “What makes you think my daughter is a romantic?”

  “Besides the fact that she’s commented on my noble profile?” He turned his head sideways to emphasize the aquiline shape of his nose. When he turned back, she was shaking her head rather sadly at him. “Forget my profile. I saw what Hannah was reading. Did you?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “It was a Felicity Ravenwood adventure. Something about taming a beast. I only caught a glimpse of the title when she closed the book. The cover told me all I needed to know. Hannah is a dyed-in-the-wool romantic.”

  “She was reading about Alice’s adventures the other day.”

  “Finding her way, then. It doesn’t mean she won’t expect a kiss.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “A little. You didn’t stipulate that there couldn’t be kissing.”

  “I’m stipulating it now.”

  “Too late. There will be kissing.” He said it lightly. There could be no mistaking that he was teasing, and yet what he saw in her face told him that she hadn’t heard it in the vein it was intended. He was put in mind of the first time he’d stepped into her kitchen, when there had been such wariness in her expression that he thought of her as a creature in the wild and himself as a feral beast. She had been so still on that occasion, and she was that still now. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Perhaps if she had not said it so quickly, or perhaps if there had been a modest change in her countenance, he might have believed her. “I was teasing, Mrs. Salt. Clay would say I was funnin’ you. I can’t promise that I won’t do it again, only that I won’t do it about this. There will be no kissing.” Whatever breath she had left seemed to be stuck in her throat. “You can breathe now.”

  She did, sipping the air as though through a straw.

  “Better,” he said. “Take another.”

  She nodded and sipped again.

  “It would help if you would enlighten me. I don’t know your mind, and you obviously don’t know mine. That will come in time, or I hope it will.” When she said nothing, he took a different tack, offering what he thought was the likeliest explanation. “Did you take what I said to mean that I would insist on kissing you?”

  “You said there will be kissing. What interpretation am I to take from that except that there will be kissing?”

  “You heard the words and took no account of the tone. Did you think I would force you?”

  “You said it yourself. I don’t know your mind.”

  “Did he force you?”

  Lily was quiet, then, “This is a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re not mad. I am.”

  Roen held up a hand as though he could interrupt her thoughts. “Wait. Don’t do this. Think. Perhaps we’re both a little mad, but you know it’s a fair, even good, arrangement. Your children will think so. Hannah and Clay have been trying to find ways that you and I might cross paths. Were you aware?”

  Her eyes widened, providing the answer without having to say a word.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said, lowering his hand so it rested on his knee. “Your older children have their own ideas about who they judge would suit you. For a while, I was their choice, and I have to tell you I was flattered.”

  She shook her head as if she didn’t believe it or didn’t want to.

  “It’s true. All of it.”

  Lily spoke quietly as if it would hurt too much to say the words any other way. “You said you were their choice for a while.”

  “Mm-hmm. They changed their minds.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “The short of it is that I made you sick.”

  “What?” Lily frowned deeply.

  “Perhaps I’m doing it now. Are you sure I can’t get you anything? A headache powder?”

  She touched the twin creases between her eyebrows with her fingertips and smoothed them away. “No. I’m fine. Confused, but fine.”

  “Do you recall accompanying me to the drugstore for fizzy drinks?”

  “Very well.”

  “Then you might also recall that you were not feeling well afterward. I have this information from Clay, and he and Hannah both knew it was not the fizzy that caused your distress. You were not yourself for days, I believe. Hannah told Clay you were grieving. They concluded that I needed to stay away.”

  “Grieving? Hannah said that?”

  “According to Clay she did. He was inclined to believe her.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Was she right? Were you grieving?”

  Lily stared straight ahead and didn’t answer.

  “Clay said I make you skittish.”

  “My son tells you things he knows nothing about.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s true. He observed that I make the librarian twitchy.”

  Lily’s hand flew to her mouth. She hid her bubbling laughter behind it.

  “I know,” said Roen. “It made me laugh, too. Not in front of Clay, mind you, but later when I thought about it.”

  Sobering, Lily lowered her hand and picked up her teacup. The tea was cold now. She sipped it anyway. “You have good instincts where Clay is concerned, and I’ve glimpsed the same with his brother and sisters.”

  “I wish those same instincts were as sharply honed with you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do.” She fell silent, holding her teacup in both hands but not drinking from it again. “Why me, Mr. Shepard?”

  “Roen,” he said.

  She didn’t bite at the dangling bait and continued doggedly instead. “Why put your proposal to me instead of any of the other unmarried women in Frost Falls?”

  “Miss Fletcher, for instance?”

  “Well, yes. Or Mrs. Fish’s daughter. Or Cerise Palmer.”

  “Do you mean to name every unmarried woman? Don’t forget Miss Renquest. If not for the fact that she’s nearing ninety, I would have gone to her home first.”

  “Please . . . Roen . . . answer my question.”

  “I already explained that Dr. Madison gave me the idea.”

  “And that’s the whole of it? A stray comment in a conversation prompted your proposal?”

  “Dr. Madison’s comment presented itself as a solution to the problem of Victorine Headley, but that doesn’t go to the heart of your question. The truth is, Mrs. Salt, I find you intriguing. I have from the first time I saw you in church. You sat in the last pew, your children on either side of you, and there was such calm about your person. Then I saw your smile, just a slip of a thing really, but it—are you familiar with a da Vinci painting called the Mona Lisa? Perhaps seen a reproduction of it in an art book?”

  Lily shook her head.

  “Well, she’s famous for her smile, and the way you looked in church put me in mind of her. You don’t smile nearly enough, but the hint of it sometimes hovers at the corners of your mouth, and I find myself wondering what secret amusement you’re hiding.” Roen lifted an eyebrow as Lily set her teacup down and pushed back in the rocker. “Ah. I think I’ve made you skittish.”