“Bjorklund, is it really you?” Ingeborg felt the tray shake in her hands at the same moment she heard the dishes rattle. She watched the man stand and, with a very private smile, remove the heavy tray from her hands and set it on an empty table. “I am glad to see you again, Mr. Gould.” She stopped her hands from twisting in her apron. “Welcome to Headquarters Hotel. I hope your business is going well.” Only through a supreme act of will did she keep her voice steady. That same act of will kept h...er from reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of hair under her coronet of braids. “Yes, it is. But if you are still in Fargo, you must not have found land to homestead yet?” “My husband and his brother Carl are out looking for land now.” Ingeborg heard mutterings from the waitress and guests at other tables. “Excuse me, I have work to do.” She whirled around, took up her tray, and headed for the door to the kitchen. “My land, child, what’s gotten into you?” Mrs. Johnson looked up from stirring more batter.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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