"Coffee's fresh. Boys are still sleeping."
She accepted the cup he offered, grateful for something to occupy her hands.
The coffee was hot and strong, cutting through the lingering cold in her bones.
"I've been thinking about what you said."
Eleanor stopped.
How exactly did one discuss a marriage proposal that wasn't really a marriage proposal?
"About your arrangement."
Thomas nodded.
His face revealed nothing.
"I need to understand what you're really asking. You say the boys need a mother, but what does that mean? What would you expect from me?"
Thomas leaned against the counter.
"The boys need consistency. Someone to make sure they eat proper meals and keep clean. Someone to teach manners and help with letters."
He paused.
"They're good children, but they've been without a woman's guidance for 2 years."
"And you?"
Eleanor swallowed.
"What would you expect from a wife?"
The word felt strange.
Something that once seemed impossibly far from her current life.
"Someone to manage the household. Make sure there's food prepared and clothes mended. Someone I can depend on when I'm working cattle or handling business in town."
Thomas studied her.
"Someone who won't run off at the first sign of hardship."
Eleanor set her cup down.
"And in return?"
"Security. A roof. Food. Protection. My name, if that matters to you."
His tone remained matter-of-fact.
"You'd be mistress of this house. The boys would be yours to raise as you see fit."
It was practical.
Nothing more.
No affection.
No companionship.
Certainly no love.
Eleanor found herself oddly relieved by the directness, even while another part of her felt hollow at how clinical it sounded.
"Separate rooms?"
"Separate rooms," Thomas confirmed. "You'd have your privacy. I'd have mine."
He hesitated.
"Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless someday we decided differently."
Thomas seemed uncomfortable with the thought.
"But that would be a long way off, if ever. And it'd be your choice as much as mine."
Heat rose in Eleanor's cheeks.
She looked away.
The practical arrangement was one thing.
The possibility that someday it might become something else belonged to a territory she wasn't ready to explore.
Small footsteps interrupted them.
Samuel appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Papa, is the lady still here?"
"Miss Hayes is still here," Thomas said. "Say good morning."
Samuel ducked his head shyly.
"Good morning, Miss Hayes."
"Good morning, Samuel. Did you sleep well?"
He nodded, then remembered something more important.
"Did you see all the snow? It's up to the windows!"
"I did see it. Quite a lot, isn't it?"
"Papa says we might be snowed in for days and days."
Samuel looked hopeful.
"Will you stay that long?"
The question hung between them.
Eleanor felt Thomas watching her.
She looked down at Samuel, then past him toward Daniel, who had appeared silently in the hallway and was listening.
"I might," Eleanor answered carefully. "If your father doesn't mind the company."
"Can you really teach us letters?"
"I can. Would you like me to?"
"Yes! Daniel says letters are stupid, but I think they're like secret codes."
"They are very much like secret codes," Eleanor said, smiling. "Once you learn them, you can decode any book."
She glanced at Daniel.
"What do you think? Would you like to learn some secret codes?"