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  The neighbor let out a hearty laugh. “Is that so? Your mother doesn’t seem to think it’s so wonderful. She told me it ruined her best rug. After that, I could never agree to buy one. Never.” She sniffed. “I daresay my rugs are even more valuable than your mother’s.”

  “Well.” Cecily wanted to defend her mother’s fine rugs, but decided that to argue the point wouldn’t help her case. “It’s true that Mother believed her rug to be ruined, and that’s why she didn’t speak favorably about the carpet renovator.”

  “Don’t I know it.” The neighbor bored her stare into Cecily.

  Averil cleared his throat. “We are here, Madame, to tell you that after seeing the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator in its true light, she has changed her mind.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. MacGregor folded her arms and kept her attention on Cecily. “I’m listening.”

  Cecily ignored her doubting posture. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mrs. MacGregor. All the dirt on Mother’s carpet this morning just vanished.” She snapped her fingers. “It all disappeared right away when Mr. Kingsley used this wonderful machine on it. I wouldn’t have believed it myself had I not witnessed it with my own eyes.”

  “I saw that rug and the state it was in. Your mother was nearly in tears about it,” Mrs. MacGregor observed. “I never would have thought any carpet renovator would have touched it.”

  “Neither did we. We were sure it was a total loss,” Cecily agreed.

  Mrs. MacGregor leaned against the door. “So you say the dirt vanished in an instant? All of it?”

  “Every last speck.” Cecily nodded. “And that’s why Mother bought her very own Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator.”

  Mrs. MacGregor cast a look down her long nose. “She did? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Miss Eaton is right,” Averil interjected. “As soon as Mrs. Eaton saw how hygienic her home would become with continuous use of this fine machine, she was eager to purchase one for herself. I just wish you had been there to witness it, Mrs. MacGregor. Every last speck was gone in the blink of an eye.” He snapped his fingers to illustrate. “And, Mrs. MacGregor, if you’ll reconsider and place an order with me today, you too will find that the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator performs in the same exemplary manner with each and every use.”

  “Well.” Mrs. MacGregor unfolded her arms. “I have been considering buying a new machine for some time. Mine is getting a little bit of age on it.” She touched her thumb and forefinger to her long chin.

  “And I might add, Mrs. Eaton bought a fine set of accessories as well,” Averil said. “I assure you, with such a fine device and easy-to-use accessories, the Eatons will enjoy one of the most sanitary houses in the city.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. MacGregor responded in a tone that indicated she still wasn’t convinced. She set her gaze once again upon Cecily. “My dear, you have been my neighbor for your entire life. I remember the day you came into this world just as surely as I remember the birth of my own daughter. So I expect you to tell me the truth. Are you saying he used the same machine on the rug? Or did he use a new one?”

  “He used the very same one.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Averil said.

  “Indeed?” Mrs. MacGregor asked.

  Cecily nodded. “You see, the carpet renovator worked all along. It only left dirt on the rug the first time because, well, because it was all my fault.” Cecily cringed. “It seems I let Mr. Kingsley use an electrical outlet that wasn’t working properly. Once the right amount of current went through the machine, it worked wonders.”

  “So your mother let an outlet go bad, eh? I’m surprised.” A victorious smile slid over her mouth as she rubbed her chin. “All right, then. I’ll reinstate my order.”

  “You will?” Averil asked. “Why, of course you will. Thank you, Mrs. MacGregor. I’m so pleased we managed to clear up this misunderstanding.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Cecily.” Mrs. MacGregor didn’t wait for an answer. “Cecily, you say your mother ordered a set of accessories?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Standard,” Averil elaborated.

  “In that case,” Mrs. MacGregor said, “put me down for a set of deluxe accessories.”

  Averil nodded and made the entry in his receipt book. “A very wise choice indeed, Mrs. MacGregor.”

  “I think so. As they say, you get what you pay for.” Mrs. MacGregor sent them a decisive nod. “You may come by this evening and pick up the bank draft from Mr. MacGregor.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Averil tipped his hat. “Thank you, Ma’am. I know you will enjoy your new carpet renovator for many, many more years to come.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. MacGregor smiled at Cecily. “Remember me to your mother.”

  “I will. And thank you.”

  Averil and Cecily exchanged victorious looks before Mrs. MacGregor could shut the front door. They turned and nearly glided down the brick walkway together.

  “Two sales in one hour and both with accessories!” Averil exclaimed, beaming. “Now no one can tell me I’m not a good salesman.”

  “Is someone telling you that?”

  His face clouded, but he didn’t speak.

  Cecily wished she hadn’t let her curiosity get the better of her. She wondered who would try to undermine Averil’s confidence. His boss, perhaps? Or a family member? Judging from his expression, he was in no mood to share his thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

  He brightened. “No, there’s no need for you to be sorry.”

  “It’s just that you. . .well. . .” She watched her boot-clad feet clomp, one in front of the other, as though she were a toddler who needed to observe them to keep from falling. “You exude such confidence. I never thought you’d doubt yourself for a moment.” Then, remembering what Mother had told her about male pride, she wished she hadn’t posed an idea that might corner him into confessing a weakness. “ ‘For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith.’ ”

  “You have just quoted one of my favorite passages from the Book of Mark,” Averil said, “one I have referred to time and time again in the course of my life.”

  “As have I.” Trying to make light of the matter, she added, “As you can tell, since I have committed it to memory.”

  Their shared mirth broke the tension Cecily had become aware of since she brought up the subject of doubt. Laughing with him felt good.

  “I don’t mind confessing to you that I have felt doubt in my life. And I still do today. I hope you don’t think me less of a man for it.”

  “No indeed. I think you a better man for being able to admit it.”

  He leaned toward her, close enough that she could breathe the pleasant scent of his clean skin. “I must tell you, Mrs. MacGregor looked like an immovable mountain when she first opened the door.”

  “You are too silly.” Her merry chuckle filled the air. “You know, when I was a child, I used to be just a wee bit afraid of her myself. But then I grew taller than her, you see.” She clamped her mouth shut. She had forgotten Averil was shorter than she! How many times would she err in her speech today? Such nervousness and missteps weren’t like her. She wasn’t sure she liked being so tense.

  If he found insult in her observation, Averil didn’t miss a beat. “Tall or short, you’re a mighty fine salesgirl, Miss Cecily. Maybe you and I should be a team.”

  “I appreciate the flattery, but if I hadn’t known Mrs. MacGregor since I was a little girl, she never would have bought a carpet renovator from me. Or anything else, for that matter.” Cecily giggled. “She’s always been a bit tight with her money.”

  “In that case, a sale to her is a victory indeed. And if she didn’t know your mother, she never would have bought deluxe accessories,” Averil added. “She said she rem
embers the day you were born. Why do I have a feeling she and your mother have been rivals at least that long?”

  “At least that long.” She gave his forearm the lightest of touches. “I remember they would have pictures taken and then compare to see which one had the most beautiful children.”

  “You won, of course.”

  “I wouldn’t be so immodest as to say that.” Cecily giggled and steered the conversation to firmer terrain. “We must tell Mother about the accessories. I’m sure as soon as she hears that our neighbor bought the deluxe package, she’ll buy one too. Maybe she’ll even buy five.”

  ❧

  Later that day, Averil returned as promised. After Mrs. Eaton’s obvious reluctance to have him join them for lunch, he made sure to schedule his appearance well before the normal dinner hour. The sun was setting. Averil drew his wool topcoat more closely around him to ward off the chill. He could only hope that the chill from Cecily’s parents wouldn’t match the cold outside.

  For the first time, he regretted his agreement with Cecily that he would ask her father if he could escort her to the Celebration of Spring. He remembered Mrs. Eaton’s rebuff that morning.

  At least I won’t be asking her mother if I can be her escort. Praise the Lord for that!

  The instant Averil rang the door chime, Cecily answered. Her eyes sparkled as she invited him in. She tilted her head toward his. The scent of gardenias wafted from her. The enticing aroma had become as familiar as the increasing heartbeat he felt whenever she was near.

  “You didn’t forget, did you?” she whispered.

  Averil realized that Cecily had made her question coy in order to save face in the event he had decided he didn’t plan to escort her to the Celebration of Spring, after all. In response, he crafted his answer to be unmistakable. “Forget the Celebration of Spring? Of course not!”

  She clasped her right hand to her lace-covered throat as though she were relieved. Averil tried to not laugh aloud. Imagine! How could this lovely creature worry that he had changed his mind?

  “There you are, Mr. Kingsley,” Mr. Eaton interrupted. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Good evening. I hope this is a convenient time.”

  “Most convenient.” Mr. Eaton handed him a bank draft. “I trust this is satisfactory.”

  Averil checked. “Yes. The remainder is due upon delivery of your new machine and one set of deluxe attachments.”

  “Deluxe? I thought she ordered standard.”

  “Um, she changed her mind and ordered deluxe. It seems your neighbor—”

  Mr. Eaton lifted his hand. “Say no more. The rivalry between those two will be the death of me yet.”

  Averil chuckled. “Everything you ordered should arrive in no more than two or three weeks, upon which time I shall make haste to deliver it myself.”

  “My wife and I shall look forward to seeing you then.” He smiled and extended his hand. “Good evening.”

  “But, Sir, there is just one more matter I’d like to discuss with you.” Too nervous to stop himself, Averil continued speaking in a quickly flowing stream of words. “I’d like to escort Miss Cecily to the Celebration of Spring, if you will permit.”

  As soon as the words had left his mouth, Averil gave himself a swift mental kick. If he’d been thinking straight and not been discombobulated by Cecily’s presence, he would have asked to speak to her father in his study rather than making his request known, rather awkwardly, in front of her. As it was, if her father chose to spurn him, Cecily would witness his humiliation.

  Mr. Eaton turned to his elder daughter. “Were you aware that Mr. Kingsley would be making this request of me, my dear?”

  Cecily responded with several rapid nods. “Yes, Father.”

  “And. . .er. . .no one else has already spoken for you for that day?”

  Averil didn’t like the tone of Mr. Eaton’s voice. He seemed to be conveying a message to Cecily that Averil wasn’t supposed to understand. Cecily was lovely enough to have many suitors, but he couldn’t imagine she would ask him to speak to her father if she were betrothed to someone else.

  “No, Father. No one has spoken for me for that day.”

  “That is certainly a surprise.” Mr. Eaton chuckled. “Well, well, now. I’m sure that Mr. Kingsley here would make a fine escort, but the Celebration of Spring is three weeks away, and his machines will all be delivered in two weeks. You heard him say so yourself.”

  Averil lifted his forefinger. “Pardon me, but I did say that your machine will be delivered in two weeks. Since I have the rest of the city and the surrounding area to cover, I’ll be here for an indefinite period of time. Well past May, in fact.”

  “I see.” Mr. Eaton hesitated.

  “Please, Father?” Cecily begged.

  “Escorting your daughter would please me very much,” Averil added.

  Mr. Eaton cut his glance to Cecily. “Well, if it means that much to you. . .”

  “Yes.” Cecily’s voice didn’t rise above a whisper. She looked at the floor, as though stricken by a sudden attack of shyness.

  “Thank you for the honor, Sir.” Averil nodded to Cecily. “Good evening to you both.”

  He hurried out with as much dignity as he could muster before Mr. Eaton could change his mind. Unease propelled him to the end of the block. He looked back. Mr. Eaton wasn’t running behind him, yelling at him to stop, that he had changed his mind and how dare he even think he could ever escort his daughter anywhere.

  As soon as he realized his fears were unfounded, the burning fingers of anger tapped him in the gut. How dare Cecily’s parents act coldly to him! Why, he was the son of the owner of the Capital Duster Company! His father’s only male heir, Averil expected to own the company—and the considerable wealth it had already generated—one day in the distant future. The Eatons’ home was grand, but the Kingsley home was grander. Rather than treating him as an undesirable, parents of eligible ladies back home made certain his name appeared on the guest list of every important function. By the time Averil reached the front porch of the boardinghouse, his breaths were arriving in huffs. How dare they!

  How dare they? But they don’t know who you are. They think you’re a short salesman, a temporary diversion for their daughter at best. And isn’t that what you wanted them to think?

  He stopped in midstep. Yes. That was precisely what he wanted them to think. Escaping his identity was one reason he didn’t dispute his father’s wishes to establish a company branch in Virginia. He was tired of men who slapped him on the back as though they were his best friends, when they really just wanted the prestige of socializing with him or perhaps a well-compensated position in the company. He was weary of wondering if women showed an interest in him for his position rather than his person. Gold diggers, every one of them. Or at least that’s what he suspected.

  He had come here as a pioneer, to forge a new identity for himself. To prove to himself that he could make friends and attract women—or at least one special woman—without the accoutrements of wealth and position.

  Pity, the process wasn’t proving as much fun as he first surmised. But his adventure had already opened his eyes. Though the people in his set back home thought themselves broad-minded, they too would have looked with disdain upon the thought of their daughters being escorted anywhere by a door-to-door salesman.

  Maybe I should tell them who I really am. Then the Eatons would be eager for their daughter to share my company.

  No. He had begun the experiment, and he would stay with it until the bitter end. He would rather be alone for the rest of his life than to have Cecily’s love and her parents’ approval based on his position rather than his person. Averil allowed himself a little grin. He could see that she had already decided.

  ❧

  “You agreed to what?” Mother asked.

  “I agreed that Mr. Kingsley could escort Cecily to the Celebration of Spring,” Father answered.

  “This is unconscionable,” Mother pro
tested. “Doesn’t he know that she already has a suitor? Why, she’s practically betrothed to Delmar.”

  Roger, watching the exchange with youthful curiosity, stopped chewing the rather large sandwich he had slapped together long enough to interrupt. “Delmar? What would Cecily want to be with him for?”

  Mother glared at her youngest child. “You may be excused, Roger.”

  “Aww, I never get to hear anything. If you’ll let me stay, I promise to be quiet.”

  “You heard your mother,” Father warned. “You may be excused.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Roger let out an exaggerated sigh. “Who cares about mushy stuff, anyway? I’ll go see if Junior’s home. Can we go to the ballfield, Father?”

  He nodded.

  “I want you to be back before dinner,” Mother added.

  “I will.”

  Cecily and her parents watched Roger saunter out of the kitchen. As soon as they heard the bang of the back door, Mother began in earnest. “As I was saying, this carpet renovator salesman is no gentleman in my book. Why, I have a great mind to tell him to cancel my order!”

  “There, there, Dear,” Father said. “No need to vex yourself.”

  “I didn’t mention Delmar to Mr. Kingsley, so it’s my fault, not his, if you think he’s not a gentleman,” Cecily interjected. “Mother, I hate to disappoint you, but my betrothal to Delmar is a figment of your imagination. Of this whole family’s imagination, in fact.”

  “But he would make a fine match for you,” Mother protested.

  Cecily crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet on the floor. “Not if I say he doesn’t.”

  “Why, Cecily!” Mother exclaimed. “How dare you be so disrespectful. Go to your room this instant.”

  “I am sorry, Mother,” Cecily answered.

  “That should be enough,” Father countered. “Cecily, you may stay here.”

  “Fine,” Mother agreed. “Cecily can hear for herself how ungentlemanly this Mr. Kingsley is for asking a betrothed woman anywhere. No matter what you say, Cecily, I know for a fact that Delmar has eyes for you. His mother and I were speaking about it at the garden club meeting just last Wednesday afternoon.”