Martha drew in a long breath. “You’re right. I don’t even know why I said that.”

What she really didn’t know was, why she was so nervous around Callie. Why she should feel uncertain and anxious. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to Callie, because she applied herself to the roast pork and put-up butter beans, pausing every once in a while to look around herself.

“Like a doll’s house,” she said. “I don’t know why it should seem so small. It’s twice the size of the cabin I grew up in.”

A little warmth had crept into her tone, and her color was coming up.

“When’s the last time you sat down to eat a proper meal?” Martha asked.

Callie glanced up sharply. “Do I look to you like I need mothering?”

Martha jerked. “Are you sitting on a tack? Because otherwise I’m at a loss to explain your tone.”

“Hmmmpf.” Callie stabbed the last piece of meat on the plate and took her time chewing it.

Finally she said, “I should have known you wasn’t serious when we talked about building a house on my land. But you could have told me so yourself instead of me finding out from Alice LeBlanc, with a smirk on her face too.”

Martha said, “Why would you credit anything Alice has to say?”

“I see what I see,” Callie said.

Martha let out a bark of a laugh. “You are jumping to conclusions. What makes you think I’m settling in here for good?”

Callie shrugged. “Never said that.”

“If you haven’t guessed already,” Martha said, “I’m here because Lily needed the room at Uphill House and this was the only logical place for me to go.”

“There’s the Red Dog.” Callie chased a bean around her plate as if it were a matter of life and death.

“You aren’t thinking this through,” Martha said. “If I turned down the house offered me for a room in the Red Dog, how churlish and small-minded would that make me look? Elizabeth was falling all over herself as it was, trying to think of a way not to send me off. I think if I had said I was going to the Red Dog, she would have slept in the hay barn and insisted I take her bed.”

Callie grumbled into her cup.

“What was that?”

“I said, the Red Dog is good enough for me.”

“Lord give me strength. Did you come by here set on an argument? You remember that mule of Mr. Glove’s, the one so stubborn and ill-tempered that he just up and shot it between the eyes?”

The corner of Callie’s mouth jerked.

Martha said, “If you had given me the chance, I was going to ask you if you had any interest in this place. There’s another chamber with a good bed in it, and Mrs. Thicke doesn’t much like cooking for just me. Now you can talk, if you’ve got something to say. You might want to start by excusing yourself.”

Callie cleared her throat. “Is it true you’re going to take over the second classroom at the schoolhouse?”

In her surprise Martha stammered. “It’s not true. Or at least, the subject was raised and it hasn’t been settled yet.”

Callie looked at her coolly. “But if he asked, you’d do it.”

“He did ask me,” Martha said. “But the conversation never took an end. I haven’t seen Daniel in—two days, at least. What is that look, Callie? Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Oh, I think you may be lying,” Callie said, more easily. “But mostly to yourself.”

She pushed her plate away and stood. “Thank you kindly for the meal, it was good. And I’m sorry for being so sharp, but it was a disappointment to hear about the change in plans.”

“What change in plans?” Martha said, looking up at her. “I don’t see why we have to put aside the plan to build that house.”

“You don’t?” Callie shook her head. “Well, I do. And his name is Daniel Bonner. I expect you’ll marry him before the summer’s out.”

And finally, there it was, in the open. That moment in the sunlit schoolhouse with Daniel Bonner, when Callie had walked in and startled them.

She could make excuses, but Callie would see through them and would like her even less for it. The truth was very plain and undeniable: There was something happening between her and Daniel. When she remembered that moment in the schoolhouse before Callie came in—as she did, quite often—Martha felt the same pressure and tingling just under the heart, that fear and joy and anticipation all wound together. Once she had had that feeling when she was with Teddy, and here it was again, unexpectedly. Even against her will. What it meant, where it was likely to go, she had no idea. At this moment she wasn’t sure what she wanted herself, though Callie seemed to know exactly.

Martha folded her hands together to keep them from trembling. “Where do you get such an idea?”

“I’ve got eyes in my head.”

“But there was nothing to see,” Martha said. “He never touched me—like that.”

Callie turned her face away. “Seems to me that a girl would take some care, so soon after she got her heart broke. Or maybe you’re tougher than I thought. You got over Teddy quick enough.”

Martha froze, unsure of what she had heard until she saw the challenge in Callie’s face. A flicker of embarrassment and then another, sharper, of anger.

“That was both unfair and unkind,” Martha said. She said this very quietly, very evenly, but Callie held up her head and set her jaw.