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much better than most of Anabel’s castoffs, and she’d put on the ugly hat Mr. Webb had thought suited her. She’d wondered briefly if she could really be contemplating spending the rest of her life with a man who had such dreadful taste in millinery, but then reminded herself that there could be worse things. Like living with her aunt and uncle.
    She’d spent a moment batting her eyes at her own reflection and trying to imitate Anabel’s way of looking at a man from under her lashes. But the look that was coquettish on Anabel seemed simply foolish on herself. Since Mr. Webb was looking for a mother for four small children, perhaps he’d be more impressed by common sense than coquetry. Common sense she had in abundance.
    Drawing a deep breath, Eleanor pushed open the door of Webb’s. She immediately had the urge to turn and run, but the little bell over the door had already given away her presence and Andrew Webb was stepping out from behind the counter, his thin face wreathed in a smile.
    “Miss Eleanor. What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”
    “Mr. Webb.” Eleanor gave him her warmest smile and was pleased to see him blink and swallow hard.
    “What can I help you with today?” he asked, regaining his composure.
    “My aunt was hoping you’d have some good linen toweling. We’ve just finished spring cleaning and she’d like fresh towels to finish things off.”
    “I have just the thing. Got it from St. Louis not two weeks ago.”
    Eleanor followed him as he went to find the requested item. Looking at his scarecrow-thin figure and neatly combed sandy hair, she tried not to picture a pair of broad shoulders beneath a plain black coat and a head of deep brown hair in need of a cut.
    “Best money can buy,” Andrew said proudly as he lifted a bolt of fabric onto the counter. “Your aunt won’t find any better, even if she went to Denver.”
    “It looks like just what she had in mind,” Eleanor murmured. Her eyes were drawn to a bolt of royal blue grenadine. The deep, rich color would suit her coloring much better than her cousin’s castoff pastels. She reached out to finger the soft fabric, picturing it made up in a simple gown with a minimum of decoration, with perhaps just a touch of lace at the neckline and wrists to soften the severity of the cut.
    “That’s much too dark a color for a young lady such as yourself, Miss Eleanor.” At Webb’s comment, she let her hand drop away from the fabric. “Something in a softer shade, perhaps. My late wife favored pinks and the softest of blues,” he said reminiscently. He seemed to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking and flushed a deep shade of red. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning my wife.”
    “Not at all. It’s only natural that you think of her.”
    “Yes. But life goes on and I’ve put aside my grief and am looking to the future.”
    The fervent look he gave her left no doubt that he was hoping the future he looked toward included her. Looking into his watery eyes, Eleanor felt her heart sink. Was she really contemplating spending the rest of her life with this man? At most, she felt a mild liking for Andrew Webb. Could a happy marriage be built on so little?
    She was saved the necessity of having to answer either him or herself by the jangle of the bell over the door. It rang again almost immediately and the harsh tones of Cora Danvers admonishing her son about something echoed through the store. Andrew jumped and blushed again, like a boy caught smoking his father’s cigars behind the privy. He glanced over Eleanor’s head toward the front of the store.
    “Are you in a hurry, Miss Eleanor?”
    “Not at all. Please take care of your other customers, Mr. Webb. I’ll find plenty to occupy myself.” She was relieved when he hurried back toward the front of the store. Perhaps if she didn’t have to look at him she’d be able to bolster her determination a little.
    She heard Mr. Webb greet Cora Danvers, heard Cora’s son