Winnie Griggs by The Bride Next Door Page A

smart, friendly dog like you.” Another example of how stuffy her boss could be.
    Then again, Mr. Fulton had admitted to playing with a dog when he was a child. So at one time he’d known what it was to have fun. What had happened to him?
    As soon as she stepped outside, Daisy pushed those gloomy thoughts aside and lifted her face to the sky, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine, inhaling deeply of the fresh air. Did Mr. Fulton ever do this, just take a moment to enjoy what the day had to offer?
    She doubted it.
    As they headed toward the outskirts of town, Daisy began her usual one-sided conversation with Kip. “Remember all those berries I picked yesterday? Well, I traded them to Mr. Blakely over at the mercantile for some rope. Tonight I’m going to string it on the bed frame and make it good as new. Now if I can just gather up enough grass to finish stuffing my mattress, I can have me a proper bed. I’ll sure be glad when I don’t have to sleep on the floor anymore.”
    Kip answered with a bark.
    She smiled down at him. “Don’t worry. There’s a new bed in the works for you, as well.”
    Kip gave another bark, then took off after a squirrel he spotted across the road.
    Daisy watched him tree the bushy-tailed sprinter with a smile. Kip was such a good companion. Mr. Fulton would see that if he could look past his stuffy notions.
    Maybe that was something she could teach him, unobtrusively of course, to repay him for all the nice things he’d done for her. Surely she could find ways to teach him to smile—genuinely smile, not flash that amused-at-the-world, snobby twist of his lips that passed for a smile.
    He might appear stiff and cold, but he’d done so much to help her, whether he cared to admit it or not. She had to believe that there really was a kind heart under that don’t-need-anybody exterior of his.
    And she aimed to make him believe it, as well.
    * * *
    On Sunday, Daisy stepped out onto the sidewalk at almost the same moment as Everett left his building. “Good morning, Mr. Fulton. Are you on your way to church service, too?”
    “I am.”
    So he was a churchgoer. She was relieved. Perhaps his reluctance to say grace at their meals was no more than a dislike of praying aloud.
    He gave her an approving glance as he fell into step beside her, and she stood a little straighter, feeling a tiny touch of pride. The dress she wore was one that had belonged to her mother. It wasn’t as fine as some of the other dresses that would no doubt grace the women filling the pews this morning, but it was one she could hold her head up proudly while wearing.
    As they strolled down the sidewalk, Daisy felt a little self-conscious walking beside him. But she considered him her friend, not just her boss. Did he feel the same? “It sure is a beautiful day,” she said, breaking the silence.
    “So it is.”
    So much for starting a conversation. But he seemed perfectly at ease, and within a few moments she began to relax.
    They received several greetings from the townsfolk they encountered, with Everett taking the time to introduce her to those she hadn’t yet met, and Daisy suddenly caught another glimmer of what it would feel like to be an accepted part of this community. It felt every bit as good as she’d imagined it would.
    “Good morning to you, Miss Johnson, Mr. Fulton.” Hazel Andrews, the seamstress, had stepped out of her home to join them.
    Everett tipped his hat, and the three exchanged pleasantries. Then Miss Andrews smiled Daisy’s way. “That’s a very fine dress you’re wearing. A bit dated perhaps, but I can tell the workmanship is exceptional, and the fabric and detailing are quite lovely.”
    “Thank you. It belonged to my mother.”
    They arrived in the churchyard, and Miss Andrews excused herself to join a group of friends. Before Daisy could do more than look around, the bell began to peal, indicating it was time for the service to start.
    Everett took her elbow and looked at her with