Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(7)
“I’m sorry,” Lily whispered to the picture, her breath coming out in a white cloud. “I’m doing my best to find her. And once I have her, I promise I won’t ever lose her again.”
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Her parents had every right to blame her. When the orphanage had told them they were getting too old to stay, she’d pushed Daisy to go with the Wretchams. She’d thought Daisy would be happy there, that she’d have a good life with a big loving family on a farm until she and Daisy could find a way to make a home of their own.
Lily had gone to Bay City with Oren, hoping to earn enough money to eventually afford a place. She hadn’t known then that the grumpy old man and his sick wife would be two of the kindest people she would ever meet.
She’d faithfully written letters to Daisy, and Oren had even taken her to visit her sister on two different occasions. She’d always known Daisy wasn’t happy, but she’d just assumed it would take time to adjust.
She’d never expected Daisy would run away. Until she’d received Daisy’s last letter in October.
By then it had been too late. When she’d arrived at the Wretchams’, Daisy had been long gone.
Lily gave one last nod at her parents’ portrait. “I’m getting closer to finding her.”
Silence was their only answer—just as it had always been.
With the weight of guilt pressing down on her, she lowered her head and exited her room. The second floor hallway was empty, and the tap of her footsteps echoed as she made her way down the long passageway to the narrow staircase that led to the dining room.
Today she would investigate Harrison. Find out all she could about the brothels. And try to discover if anyone had seen her sister.
She stepped into the dining room, and the acrid scent of burnt coffee drifted toward her.
“There’s the morning glory.” Mrs. Heller paused in wiping a table, holding a dirty dishrag in midair.
“Oh no, Mrs. Heller. I’m most definitely not a morning glory.” Lily glanced around the nearly deserted room. Only one man was working at a corner spot, his head bent over his books. “I’m really more like an afternoon crocus. I prefer daylight and sunshine, both of which are far too rare in these parts.”
“But you’re a burst of sunshine this morning.” The woman gave Lily a smile that was the medicine she needed to chase the gloom from her soul.
“Why, thank you, Mrs. Heller—”
“You can call me Vera.”
“And I’m Lily.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll rustle up a plate of pork and beans for you.” Vera resumed her efforts at cleaning the oilskin covering, her large hindquarters wiggling in motion to the swirls of the rag on the table. “They won’t be too warm anymore, but they’ll be filling enough.”
“Don’t trouble yourself with me.” The thought of a heavy meal for breakfast made Lily’s stomach churn. “I’ll be happy enough with a cup of coffee—if you have any to spare.”
Vera stopped in midswirl and took in Lily’s appearance. “Coffee? My, my, my. You need more meat on your bones, girl. You’ll blow away with the slightest breeze. Don’t you agree, Connell?”
Lily glanced to the corner spot, only to find the young man she’d met the previous evening staring at her above spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
He quickly looked back at the open book in front of him, but the slight reddish tint creeping up his neck above his collar was evidence that he’d been paying more attention to her than to his books.
“I’m sure Miss Young would appreciate whatever you’re willing to provide.” The young man pulled out his pocket watch and peered at it. “Especially considering the fact that breakfast has been over for exactly one hour and twelve minutes.”
His hair was neatly combed, except for one sun-bleached streak that fell across his forehead. He’d shaven the scruff from his face, revealing skin that was rough and bronzed from long days outdoors.
“Connell McCormick.” Vera thumped her hands onto her hips. “You sure don’t seem to mind when I sneak you an extra doughnut or two. I think half the reason you loiter here in the mornings is because you hope I’ll feed you more.”
The faint red streaks climbed up to the base of his cheeks. He didn’t say anything and instead dipped his head and scribbled something into one of his books, as if there were nothing more important at that moment than the page in front of him.
Vera winked at Lily. “I’ll get you that coffee, but how about one of the doughnuts I fried up this morning too?”
Lily couldn’t keep from smiling. “Well, only since you’re already in the habit of sneaking them . . .” She had a feeling she was going to like Vera.
The woman disappeared into the kitchen, and Lily plunked onto the nearest bench. Too late she realized she had situated herself so that she was looking almost directly at Connell.
She fidgeted but refrained from rudely repositioning herself altogether, as she was tempted to do. She wasn’t in the habit of staring at or making small talk with strange men—or really any men, for that matter. At eighteen she was old enough to begin thinking about a husband and marriage and that sort of thing. But she’d always been too busy worrying about Daisy to be even the slightest bit interested in romantic involvements.