Midnight Sun (Sinclair Sisters) Read Online Free Page B

slid back the bolt and pulled open the heavy wooden door.
    “Figured you’d want to get started early,” Maude said, shoving past her into the house. “I’ll fire up the cookstove and fix us somethin’ to eat while you get dressed.”
    That was the deal Charity had made. Maude had been hired as advisor, cook, and general all-around worker. Charity just hadn’t figured her employee would be so eager to get to work.
    With a weary sigh, she shoved back her tangled blond hair, hooking it over one ear, and stumbled back into the bedroom. She dragged on the same jeans and sweatshirt she had worn the day before and pulled on her hiking boots for a quick trip to the outhouse.
    She was shivering by the time she got back inside. The shower wasn’t working but she could at least wash her face. Pouring water from the old porcelain pitcher they had found in the closet into a matching basin, she plunged a washrag into the chilly water and began to scrub off yesterday’s dirt.
    There was a mirror over the dresser, missing most of its silver but good enough that she could see her reflection. She brushed the tangles out of her hair and clipped it back and began to feel a little better.
    She wasn’t used to going without makeup. Applying a little base that included sunscreen, a whisper of light brown eye shadow, and a stroke of blush to each cheek, she added a dab of lipstick and walked toward the kitchen, feeling almost her old self again.
    “Thought we’d start by fixing up this here furniture a little.”
    “Fix it? You mean like paint it?”
    “Needs it, don’t it?”
    Charity thought Maude must be the queen of the understatement. “Absolutely.” Though she had never been particularly handy, out here there really was no other choice. “Unfortunately, we didn’t buy any paint.”
    “I brought some I had down to the house.”
    Charity eyed her warily. “What color is it?”
    “There’s a can of bright red or kind of an olive green. You can take your pick.”
    Catching a whiff of coffee on the stove, Charity went over and filled her cup, giving herself time to mull the notion over. She wasn’t handy but she had always had a good sense of style and taste. “Red or olive green.” It sounded a little too much like Christmas, but hey, when in Rome …
    She glanced down at the peeling white paint on the breakfast table and chairs and tried to imagine them painted bright red. She didn’t think she could handle red but maybe the green, if it actually was more of an olive. She envisioned the aging dresser in the bedroom and thought of it also painted green. If the knobs were painted red along with the ornate iron headboard of the bed … if she used bright-red accents throughout the tiny cabin, it just might look pretty.
    “We’ll have to brace ’em up a little, make ’em more sturdy,” Maude said.
    “Okay, but sometime today I think we should go back in to town. I want to get the workmen started on the plumbing and we’d better get something done about the roof.” So far the place hadn’t leaked but she wasn’t sure how much longer the sagging timbers would hold out. Better to be safe than sorry.
    As soon as breakfast was over, they dragged what furniture they’d found in the house out onto the porch and started bracing each piece up so it wouldn’t wobble.
    “We’re gonna run outta nails,” Maude grumbled. “I’ll see if I can find us some out back.” She ambled off to look through one of the wooden sheds behind the cabin while Charity continued to hammer away. She was pounding, making quite a racket, when she looked up to see a man striding down the path along the creek, headed in her direction.
    He was tall, at least six-two or six-three, dressed in a pair of faded jeans that molded to long, muscular legs, and a worn denim shirt that stretched over shoulders the width of an axe handle. He was lean, no extra flesh, yet his movements spoke of power and physical strength. Whoever he was, he needed a