"Lydia."
She lowered her eyes.
He stepped closer.
"Are you pleased with the work?"
She nodded.
"Very."
"Do people pay you fairly?"
"Most do."
"Then I'm pleased too."
She looked up.
A smile spread across her face.
For a moment, she seemed almost young enough to be the woman she had been before Everett.
Gideon looked at her with unmistakable tenderness.
Lydia noticed.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
She laughed.
"Gideon."
He smiled.
"You look happy."
Lydia considered the words.
Then nodded.
"I am."
He reached for her hand.
She took it.
And together they stood in the little workroom, surrounded by cloth, thread, and the ordinary evidence of a woman building a life she could call her own.
Everett visited the workroom three days later.
Lydia was alone when he knocked.
She had been fitting a sleeve onto a blue dress.
At first, she assumed the visitor was a customer.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Everett stepped inside.
Lydia went cold.
He wore a dark suit and expensive boots.
A silver watch chain crossed his waistcoat.
He carried a walking cane.
The sight of him filled the room with memories she had spent months trying to escape.
He smiled.
"Lydia."
She placed the needle on the table.
"Everett."
He looked around.
"A dressmaker again."
She lifted her chin.
"Yes."
He examined the garments.
"How modest."
Lydia said nothing.
Everett moved toward the ledger.
She placed one hand over it.
"Please don't touch my accounts."
His eyebrows rose.
"Your accounts?"
"Yes."
He smiled thinly.
"You've become rather independent."
Lydia felt her pulse quicken.
"What do you want?"
Everett looked toward the closed door.
Then back at her.
"Your sewing book."
She kept her face still.
"Why?"
"Because it contains private business information."
"You told me those were only freight figures."
"They are."
"Then why do you need them?"
His smile faded.
"Lydia, don't be tiresome."
The familiar phrase struck her.
For a moment, she felt herself shrinking.
Then she looked toward the table.
The blue wool dress.
The ledger.
The purse containing money she had earned.
The key to her own workroom.
She took a slow breath.
"I'm not giving you the book."