Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [64]
Georgie tapped Luke’s arm and pointed to a display of toothache gum and digestive tablets. “I hope that isn’t a portent of a fate to come.”
Chuckling, he asked what her favorite flavor was, then inched his way to the counter and ordered two helpings of tutti-frutti. Balancing a bowl in each hand, he returned to find she’d secured them a table in the corner.
“Looks wonderful,” she said, lifting a cherry from the top of her serving, placing it in her mouth, and plucking off its stem. “I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream.”
They sat in silence, savoring each bite until they’d satisfied their initial cravings.
“So what do you do at night after work?” he asked, tilting his bowl forward to scoop up the last few bites. “Once it’s too dark to be outside with your birds, that is.”
She shrugged. “Different things. I do a lot of my cooking and cleaning at night, since I’m not able to do much during the day. Lately, tasks for the Plumage League have kept me busy. And I read most every night just before I put out the lantern. What about you?”
“There’s not a lot to do at a boardinghouse. So I meet up with friends when I can.”
She smiled. “Who are your friends?”
“Duane Pfeuffer is my closest friend.”
Her smile lost some of its luster. “Duane Pfeuffer? From the Pfeuffer Feed Store?”
“You know him?”
“Not really. I’ve heard he’s a bit wild.”
“Duane?” He pretended surprise. “What else have you heard?”
“That he spends a lot of his time at Charlie’s Saloon.”
Luke nodded. “Well, I can’t deny that.”
She touched the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Is that where you spend your evenings? At the saloon?”
“Sometimes, but more for a game of billiards than anything else.”
She pushed the cream around in her bowl. “Who else do you spend time with?”
“Duane and I are going hunting with Arnold Necker on Sunday.”
Taking a bite, she looked at everything but him.
“You told me you liked Arnold,” he reminded her.
“I do.” She gave him a false smile. “What will the three of you be hunting?”
He didn’t answer.
She set down her spoon. The bouncy tune on the Pianola contrasted with her tight-lipped disapproval.
Sighing, he placed his forearms on either side of his bowl. “We’re not shooting songbirds, Georgie.”
“Well, I should hope not.” Her words were soft, barely audible.
“You know, slaughtering a cute little mild-eyed lamb isn’t nearly as pleasant to contemplate as eating spring lamb and mint sauce. But it’s done all the time.”
She tucked her chin. “I know.”
“Every November families all across our country put a turkey on the block and chop off its head.”
She folded, then refolded the napkin in her lap, refusing to look up.
“Every bird we down will be eaten. There is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying a wholesome outdoor sport when we’d otherwise have to single them out of a cote and wring their necks.”
She pushed out her chair. “I’d like to go home now.”
He looked at her bowl. “You haven’t finished.”
“Oh, I’m finished. I’m definitely finished.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“Because I want to go home?”
“Because you begrudge me my bird hunting.”
“You can do whatever you like, Luke. Just like I can. And I’d like to go home.” She stood.
Shaking his head, he pushed in their chairs and offered his arm. She hesitated, but was too polite to refuse it.
Street traffic had slowed considerably with only an occasional dray rumbling by. He checked the sun’s descent, noting the long shadows it cast along the street. He kept at a leisurely pace, though Georgie held herself stiff beside him.
A shop boy stepped onto the boardwalk to sweep the landing in front of Seelhorst Tin Shop before closing up for the evening.
As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Luke cleared his throat. “Georgie—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Luke.”
He debated pressing her, then decided against it. He’d had no business stepping out with her in the first place. Even if she knew who he really was, it wouldn’t change the fact he loved to bird hunt. And he had no intention