brothers did their work, Matthew growing more aggravated with every hour Eli failed to show up. Making matters worse, where Nathaniel was usually clear minded in tending the stills, his present lack of vitality was wearing on Matthew’s last nerve.
After hours of grueling labor, Matthew checked the time and called it a day.
“But we ain’t done yet,” Nathaniel complained. “We still need to check the mash and bleed the lines on ol’ Bessie.”
“It’ll keep.” There was no one at the grill and customers would be coming soon. “You can take care of it tomorrow once you get the lead out of your ass.”
When they were driving out of the foothills, Nathaniel began fidgeting. “Wanna go into town and see if they got our sugar order in?”
“No, Nathaniel,” Matthew puffed a cigar and shot his brother a glare, “I don’t got all day to fool around.”
“We could call on Charlie,” Nathaniel offered, picking some dried hay off his shirt.
Distrustful, Matthew darted a narrow-eyed glance at his brother. The very thought Nathaniel might be sweet on Charlotte made him grumble and start cursing under his breath. The girl may like to share rough talk, he told himself, but she would never bat her eyelashes at his brother… Or would she?
Skidding to a halt outside Devil’s Hollow, Matthew climbed out and began yanking the tarp off the crates of shine, pausing at the sound of muffled feminine giggles.
What the hell?
Stalking up the steps like a snorting bull, he pulled open the screen only to find the grill empty.
The sound of a squeal echoed from above. He heard Eli’s voice, the scrape of furniture shifting, and more of the golden girl’s peals of laughter.
The ruckus was coming from his room. Eli was making her cry out… and gasp. Knowing just what inspired those kinds of noises, Matthew saw red. About ready to murder his cousin, he bounded up the stairs, ignoring how Nathaniel chased after him, telling him to calm down.
Furious, Matthew threw open his bedroom door, causing the two people standing in the middle of the space to look at him as if he were insane.
Charlotte gaped, her blue coveralls scattered with paint smudges, a smear of white milk wash down one side of her face. The startled woman had a paintbrush in her hand… one that looked like she had been attacking his cousin with—seeing as the boy was practically covered in dripping white.
Matthew’s scowl was so deep he could practically feel his brows touching.
“Now calm down, Matthew,” Eli said, recognizing the signs of impending violence.
“You don’t like it…” Chewing her lip, Charlie’s face fell in disappointment.
That look, that sad little frown, made Matthew glance around to find the cause—realizing, at last, his room had been wallpapered in soft cornflower blue.
A deep breath left his lungs, the tension visibly easing when Nathaniel called, “Eli, come on downstairs now.”
The youngest Emerson hightailed it out the door, praying under his breath that Matthew would not be too hard on Miss Charlie.
When they were alone, Charlie timidly stepped closer. “I went to Charleston to get everything so no one in town would gossip.”
Pale eyes looked from the subtle vertical pattern in the paper, landing right on her paint-smeared face looking all kinds of guilty. “Why did you do this?”
Wringing her hands, and clearly struggling to meet his eye, Charlie said, “It’s plain to see that you are so caught up in taking care of your family that you don’t spend any time seeing to your own comfort. So, I decided to step in and do it for you. As a thank you, of sorts, for allowing me to stay in town, giving me shelter when I got caught in that storm, tending my ankle… kicking the shit out of the Grimes boys. I thought—” she stammered, lamely explaining herself “—I thought… I hoped… you might enjoy waking up to see something beautiful.”
The tips of his ears went bright red, the man stuck for something to say.
Looking back to the newly decorated walls, Charlie added, “I made sure the wallpaper wasn’t prissy—something masculine and soothing. I saw this and thought of you.” She tried to be funny. “I don’t imagine the Matthew Emerson would like walls covered in flowers.”
He cleared his throat and let his eyes leave her face, forcing himself to look again at what she’d done. Everything about the room seemed different, lighter… comfortable.
As if taking his silence for approval, Charlie went back to whitewashing the window frame.
“Would you have picked something, uhhh—” the tightness in his throat was making it near impossible to speak “—something different for yourself?”
He saw her smile, those sapphire eyes focused on making short, concise strokes. “I like what I chose for you.”