Clara smiled politely.
“Then please tell us how to make that request.”
For several seconds, Lowell studied her.
He seemed surprised by her calm determination.
Then nodded.
“I'll prepare the necessary paperwork.”
Clara thanked him.
They left the office with several references and an appointment to examine the available records the following week.
Outside, Nathaniel looked toward her.
“You enjoyed that.”
She smiled.
“What?”
“Making the clerk work.”
Clara laughed.
“I enjoy organized records.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“Remarkable woman.”
She looked toward him.
For a moment, her expression softened.
Then she smiled.
“Careful, Nathaniel. That almost sounded like admiration.”
He looked into her eyes.
“Perhaps it was.”
Clara became quiet.
For a few seconds, the noise of Red Hollow seemed to fade.
Then a wagon rattled past.
Nathaniel cleared his throat.
“Hungry?”
She smiled.
“Very.”
They ate at a small inn overlooking the main street.
Clara ordered roast chicken, potatoes, and tea.
Nathaniel had beef and coffee.
For nearly an hour, they talked about the records.
Then gradually, the conversation changed.
Nathaniel asked about Missouri.
Clara described the workshop.
Her father.
And Aunt Beatrice's habit of judging people by how carefully they cleaned their boots before entering the house.
Nathaniel laughed.
He told her about his childhood.
His mother teaching him to read beside the fireplace.
His father's stubborn insistence that every Carter learn to repair a fence before learning to dance.
And the time he accidentally allowed three calves into the family kitchen.
Clara laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.
“What happened?”
Nathaniel grinned.
“Mother chased them out with a broom.”
“And your father?”
“Laughed until he nearly fell off the porch.”
Clara shook her head.
For a moment, her eyes shone.
Nathaniel watched her.
There was something extraordinary about seeing her laugh.
Her entire face changed.
Her cheeks warmed.
Her eyes narrowed with genuine delight.
And the reserve she'd carried since arriving in Arizona seemed to disappear.
He found himself wondering what it would be like to hear that laughter every morning.
The thought startled him.
He looked down at his coffee.
Clara noticed.
“Something wrong?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
She smiled.
“Thinking?”
“Unfortunately.”
She laughed again.
He looked toward her.
Then, without planning to, said something he'd been holding inside for days.
“I'm glad you came.”
Clara became still.
For a moment, she stared at him.