“He could tell me a little about himself,” Darcy complained to Beatrice as she helped her friend unpack the dozens of items she’d purchased on her wedding tour. She’d missed having a confidante the past month. “Even acquaintances chat about friends and family to pass the time. I’ve babbled on and on about Pearlman, but other than his sister, he’s told me nothing. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Beattie calmly folded a linen tablecloth. “Men, as a rule, don’t care to discuss their family.”
Darcy wasn’t sure she liked her friend’s newfound sense of superiority. The old Beattie would have pondered the problem.
She ripped the paper off a heavy object. “A mechanical monkey bank? Why do you need this?”
“For children,” Beatrice said quietly.
“Whose children? Oh,” she gasped, realizing what her friend meant. “Beattie. You’re not.”
“Not yet, but soon. I’m sure of it.”
Darcy couldn’t picture her friend round like Amelia. Bedridden. “Why rush? There’s plenty of time.”
Beatrice smiled faintly. “That is why two people get married.”
True. That’s why she wouldn’t marry. At least not until she’d flown across the Atlantic. “You seem so young.”
“Minnie Alexander was seventeen when she had her first, and Paulette Grozney just turned eighteen.”
“Yes, but don’t you feel a bit…inexperienced?”
“If you mean am I scared, yes. Something could go wrong.”
Darcy paled.
“Don’t worry.” Beatrice patted her hand. “The women in my family deliver easily. My little sister was born in only six hours. Doc Stevens didn’t arrive in time, and Daddy had to deliver the baby.”
Darcy tried to imagine Jack delivering a baby. Impossible.
“My biggest concern,” said Beattie, “is being a good mother.”
“No worry there. You’ll be the best mother ever. Would you like to practice with three lovely children?”
Beatrice burst out laughing. “That’s your blessing.”
“More like my penance.”
“You’re doing just fine, from what your mother tells me.”
Darcy found that difficult to believe. She ripped the tissue off a porcelain teacup. Yet another pattern. How many had Beattie bought? “It’s not what I want to be doing.”
“I know,” Beatrice sighed compassionately. “Tell me everything that happened while I was gone.”
“What’s to tell?” Darcy set the cup on the nearest saucer. Never mind that it didn’t match. “I take care of Amelia’s children morning and night. I work on the plane while they’re in school. Jack barely talks, and when he does it’s about nothing personal.”
“Have you asked about his family?”
“Of course. But he always turns the topic back to aviation.”
“Maybe he’s afraid.”
“Of what? I would never say anything against them.” Darcy picked up another cup-sized bundle.
“Maybe that’s not what scares him,” Beattie said quietly, smoothing her chintz apron. “Then what?”
Beattie hesitated long enough for Darcy to know she wasn’t sure how to pose her reply. “Does he ever ask you questions?”
Darcy shrugged. “Nothing significant. How Amelia is faring, if the bank is doing well, who owns what business in Pearlman, if I like rutabagas. Ordinary chitchat.”
“Nothing significant? Why Darcy, that’s as significant as a man can get.”
“What?” Darcy dropped the teacup she was unwrapping. Thankfully it bounced on the sofa.
“A man in love wants to know about all the little things in a woman’s life.”
“In love?” The thought was oddly warming. “You must be mistaken. He won’t do anything with me other than work on the plane. He won’t even go to a church supper.”
“You’ve asked?”
Darcy dug deep into the box. “I’ve mentioned them.”
“And said you were going?”
“Of course.” She pulled the paper off an object that turned out to be yet another teacup. “Worse, I never see him at church.”
“He could attend another church. We do have three in town.”
“I know, but…” Darcy couldn’t shake the worry that he attended no church at all. He reacted so negatively whenever she mentioned her faith.
“Don’t make trouble where there isn’t any. If you’re meant to be together, it’ll work out.”
Darcy didn’t share Beattie’s confidence. “We’re not as close as we were in Buffalo. Something’s changed, but he won’t tell me what.”
Beatrice paused in her unwrapping. “Are you saying you’re in love?”
Darcy felt her color rise. “No. Well, maybe. But how can I find out if he won’t talk to me?”
Beattie unconsciously tapped a finger on a box. “That is a problem. Perhaps he isn’t interested.”
Darcy recalled the moment in the snow the night of Beattie’s wedding. He would have kissed her if that car hadn’t gone by. “I’m pretty sure he is.”
“Is there anyone else?”