Annabel opened the icebox, looking at it with great interest, as if she had never seen such a thing before. It was a pretty modern contraption, Cole thought; he'd had it for only a little over a year. Maybe Annabel had never seen one before.
In short order, she was cooking eggs, cheese, and potatoes in a frying pan, working quickly and efficiently. The coffee began to boil, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma. Sally Higgins, the cook, would be arriving soon, Cole thought, and she would probably be outraged to find another woman puttering around in her kitchen. But at the moment he didn't really care. He enjoyed watching Annabel move around the room.
A man could get used to that, he found himself thinking.
When the coffee was ready, Annabel poured cups for both of them, adding milk from the icebox and sugar from the sugar bowl to hers. Cole took his black. She divided the omelette in half and slid it from the pan onto a couple of plates she took from a cupboard after Cole told her where to find them. If she stayed around here a while, he thought, she would soon know where everything was.
She put the food on the table and sat down on the other side. They dug in, eating without much conversation.
When they were almost finished with the food, Annabel said, "I have to find a place to stay today."
"What's wrong with right here?" Cole heard himself saying.
She gave him a stern look. "That's not going to work, and you know it. I'm already in your debt enough. Cole Brady."
"I wouldn't say that . . ." He shrugged. "But I suppose you're right. It wouldn't be proper."
"I don't care about what's proper. I'm used to having a place of my own."
He tried not to look shocked. She was certainly more plainspoken than any of the young women he had known before.
"All right," he said. "I know of several decent boardinghouses. I'm sure we can find a room for you in one of them."
"That's fine. And I'll start paying you back as soon as I find a job."
"A job?" he repeated with a frown. "What would you like to do?"
There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she looked across the table at him and said, "I was thinking about trying to get hired by the San Francisco Fire Department."
Cole's jaw tightened. He didn't want her even joking about such a thing. The idea of working alongside any woman, even one as obviously capable as Annabel, was disturbing.
But of course, he didn't have to worry about that, he told himself. Chief Sullivan would never hire her.
"I think you should consider some other line of work," Cole said as diplomatically as possible.
It wasn't diplomatic enough, he discovered as Annabel frowned and said, "Why? Don't you think I could handle being a firefighter?"
"We're called firemen" Cole pointed out. "There's a reason for that."
"They have women firefighters back in New York. You said so yourself."
"That's New York," Cole said. "And they only have one woman in their department, as far as I know. It's different out here."
"Why?" Annabel asked.
Cole felt himself growing impatient. "It just is. We're . . . we're not accustomed to having women in the fire department."
"And you never will get used to it unless you hire some of them. That day is coming, you know. Sooner or later, women will work in almost every profession there is."
Cole couldn't stop himself from snorting in disbelief. "The next thing you know, you'll be telling me that women will vote and run for political office."
Annabel's eyes narrowed, and he knew he had perhaps pushed this too far. "It could happen," she said coldly. "There might even be a woman president someday."
Cole couldn't imagine a woman in the White House in any capacity other than First Lady, but he didn't say that. He had already begun to realize that perhaps it would not be wise to have this argument.
"You may be right," he said, "but that doesn't change things right now. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to apply for a position in the fire department. You'd just be disappointed when you were refused."
"Just how fragile do you think I am?" she shot back at him.
He held up his hands, palms out. "That's not what I'm saying. Perhaps you're strong enough to handle the job—"
"But I'm emotionally fragile, is that it?"
"No, I just—" He broke off with a sigh. "For now, why don't we just concentrate on finding a room for you in a nice boardinghouse?"
"A room that you'll pay for." She drained the last of her coffee and set the empty cup back in its saucer with a rattle of china. "I want you to keep track of every cent you spend on me, Mr. Brady. I intend to pay you back—with interest."
"That's not necessary."
"I say it is." Those magnificent eyes of hers bored into him, challenging, defiant.
All he could do was sigh in defeat. "All right. If that's the way you want it, that's what we'll do."
Annabel nodded and said, "It is."
Cole put his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going upstairs to clean up. After that I'll sleep a while, and then this afternoon we'll go out and find a place for you. Does that meet with your approval, Miss Lowell?"