At first she felt grateful for his company. She thought it might help alleviate some of her homesickness, but she soon regretted her choice to dine with him. Although he was mannerly, he wasn’t the least bit interesting to Charlotte. While he prattled on and on about his hobbies and various businesses, all successful according to him, her thoughts drifted to Max. Max hadn’t mentioned what he did for a living, and Charlotte hadn’t bothered to ask, which she regretted. He didn’t know much about her either, other than the look of her body in scant clothing and the lash of her sharp tongue. She regretted that too.
Simon interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Rose, are you quite well? You seem distracted.”
Charlotte started out of her musing. “Pardon me, Mr. Evans. I have a bit of a headache.” It was the truth, actually, and the sound of his plummy voice wasn’t helping. She recalled how deep and soothing Max’s voice sounded.
Simon stood. “Perhaps we should meet another time, my dear. I wish you to be well when we dine.” He gave a bow, then pivoted and exited the dining room.
Charlotte watched his retreat. Although he hadn’t said anything untoward, and in fact had addressed her in a very polite manner, she felt uneasy about how he took his leave. She realized it wasn’t anything he’d said that bothered her, it was what he hadn’t said. He hadn’t inquired about her health after she admitted a headache, and he seemed irritated, without saying so out loud. Charlotte shrugged to herself and poured another cup of tea, grateful for the time to be alone with her thoughts.
Upon finishing her meal, she walked to the schoolhouse. Max filled her thoughts during her walk just like he had during her breakfast. She felt frustrated and attempted to think badly of him so she could remove him from her mind. She conjured up every infuriating thing about him, from how he insisted on calling her Charlie to how he threatened her with a spanking. Though she didn’t succeed in removing him from her mind, she did somewhat succeed in thinking on him negatively for the time being.
Pushing the heavy door to the one-room schoolhouse open with a shove, she entered and got to work cleaning where she’d left off the previous day. Classes would start in two weeks, and the schoolhouse wasn’t yet sufficiently prepared. The large room contained two rows of four benches with tables. Each bench would seat up to five children, which, from what she understood of Weston’s population, would be sufficient. However, the desks were in a state of terrible disrepair. The legs were cracked and some even broken, and the surfaces of the tables were splintered and showed water damage. Her own desk in the front was missing all of its drawers.
Charlotte sank to her hands and knees to scrub the floor. Though the labor was far from glamorous, she enjoyed it. She was making her own path in life. She felt proud to be a government employee. The schoolhouse was under her care, and she felt a sense of duty and the desire to be the best schoolmarm Weston had ever seen, which started with making sure the room was ready by the time the children began their studies.
An idea came to her after a couple of hours of cleaning. She decided that she needed to visit the marshal. As one of the only other government employees in town, the marshal might be able to advise her on obtaining a stipend from the county to pay for repair of the furniture. Inspired by the thought, she set her scrub brush aside, shook the dust from her skirt, and headed for the jailhouse.
Marshal Davis greeted her when she opened the door to his office. “Hello, Miss Rose. How are you this morning?” he asked, rising from his desk as she walked in.
“Not bad at all, marshal, thank you.”
The two sat across from each other. They discussed the warm weather before Charlotte got to her point about how to request funding. He rubbed his chin and frowned thoughtfully. “Didn’t the superintendent inform you of your budget? You should have some funding to use on supplies in addition to your salary.”
“Really? No, I had no idea.”
“It would be in your contract if so. I’m given a share of money to keep the jail in running order, noted in my contract drawn up by the county sheriff. I assume it would be the same for you.”
“I see. Do you know who in town I might hire to repair the schoolhouse furniture?”
“That would be a man you already met—Max Harrison. He can build and repair just about anything.”
Charlotte kept the same expression on her face, though her heartbeat quickened and she felt a rush of excitement. “Where might I find him?”
“You don’t know? He owns the blacksmith shop. It’s a block east on this street.”
“Thank you. I’ll go speak to him.”