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wedding date. Luvena must have felt the awkwardness too, for as soon as their shopping was done and they stepped outside, she broached the subject they’d avoided throughout their walk.
    â€œThere won’t be much opportunity for a woman like me to find employment here in Grand Coeur. Will there?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’m not an accomplished seamstress like Mrs. Treehorn, and I’m not trained as a teacher. Whatever else is there for me to do?” Fear laced her words. Fear, but also determination.
    But of course. Wasn’t it obvious? He should have thought of it before. “For now, you can work for me.”
    â€œFor you?”
    â€œYes, you can help me manage the opera house. With your experience, it’ll be the perfect fit.”
    She shook her head slowly. “To what experience do you refer?”
    That was when he knew. The mysterious letter writer at the Hitching Post had struck again. “You never worked in an opera house, did you?”
    â€œNo. Whatever made you think—” She broke off as understanding dawned on her too.
    â€œWhat do you know about opera, Miss Abbott?”
    â€œI received vocal training as a young woman. Before the death of my parents.”
    â€œDid you ever perform on the stage?”
    One of those small smiles that he was learning to anticipate played across her mouth. “Not really. I sang in church on occasion, and I was in a local production when I was fourteen. My vocal instructor said I had perfect pitch, and that if I’d been born to another family, I might have had a career singing. I don’t know if that is true or not, but I believed it for a while. I hoped for it for a time. But, of course, such a thing would not have met with my parents’ approval, even if . . . things had turned out differently.”
    She’d wanted to be an opera singer but her family wouldn’t have approved. Why did that bit of information tug at his chest?
    Luvena forged on. “Mr. Birch, my family were patrons of the arts before our money was lost. I have seen numerous operas and plays performed in Boston and Newport and New York. Even in London. I believe I may still be of help to you.” She paused to draw a breath. “If you’ll allow me.”
    What choice did he have? What choice did either of them have? She had no money at all and what funds he had were tied up in the Grand Coeur Opera House. It seemed, even without marriage, that their futures—at least their immediate ones—were tied together.
    He would have to get used to sleeping in his office.

Chapter Six
    When Luvena put the two younger children to bed, life didn’t seem as hopeless as it had seemed that morning. She would work for Clay Birch, helping him with the opening and running of the opera house, and in addition to the modest salary she would receive, she and the children would have a place to live and food to eat. Plus, he’d promised her a bonus if the theater made a profit at the end of three months.
    It wasn’t a great deal of money, but it should be enough so she and the children could leave Grand Coeur and settle someplace where there were more employment opportunities. Or perhaps more marriage opportunities. After all, the scandal that had stained her name in the East was rather meaningless here in the West. Or so she hoped.
    After kissing Ethan and Elsie good night, she left the bedroom. She found Merry still seated in the rocking chair, mending a tear in the skirt of her favorite gown.
    At fourteen, Luvena had been—and still was—rather hopeless with a needle and thread. But then, she’d had a lady’s maid seeing to her every need until her father’s misfortunes. Merry had been much younger when financial loss and scandal struck, robbing her of such luxuries.
    â€œDo you have enough light?” Luvena asked as she moved closer to the rocking chair.
    Merry glanced toward the nearby lamp.