He glanced once more at Olivia. He had to stop mooning over her like a lovestruck youth and focus on his priorities—his career, his daughter, and his wife-to-be.
Nothing else mattered.
As soon as the plumber came and Darius made sure the man honored his commitment to fix the leak, he would take his leave. And tomorrow he would find a new way to fulfill Mr. Walcott’s mandate.
Olivia lifted the empty wicker laundry basket. “Would you care for a cup of coffee, Mr. Reed? I mean, Darius.” Her cheeks grew pinker, making her even more attractive.
Not that he was noticing.
“Coffee would be nice. Thank you.”
Darius followed her through the back door into the kitchen.
“Oh good. Margaret made both tea and coffee, so we won’t even have to wait.” Olivia set the basket on the floor, marched over to the stove, and lifted the coffeepot. “Cream and sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
She poured the dark liquid into a ceramic mug and handed it to him. Her fingers brushed his as he took it. She snatched her hand away and turned back to the sink. She fiddled with the taps, then seemed to stand frozen while the water continued to run.
Setting his cup on the table, he reached around her to turn it off. “I don’t think we need another flood today.” He chuckled, hoping to put her at ease. But he realized his mistake straightaway as her intoxicating floral scent invaded his senses.
She backed away from the counter. Snatching a towel from a hook, she made a show of drying her hands.
Had he made her uncomfortable? Or was she as affected by him as he was by her?
While he contemplated what to say next, the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably the plumber,” she said. “Excuse me.”
Darius expelled a long breath. He needed to get a grip on himself and gain control of his emotions.
At the rumble of voices in the hall, he made his way to the front entrance.
A man stood smiling down at Olivia, admiration evident on his face.
Darius recognized the man immediately. “Dr. Henshaw? What are you doing here?”
The physician’s head snapped up. “Mr. Reed. This is an unexpected surprise.”
Olivia frowned, looking between the two men.
“I’m here to check on a patient.” Dr. Henshaw’s gaze took in Darius’s somewhat disheveled appearance. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Learning more about the maternity home and inadvertently helping with a leaky pipe.”
Dr. Henshaw laughed. “I’m sure there’s more to that story.” He turned to Olivia. “Miss Holmes is expecting me. May I go up?”
“Certainly, Doctor.”
“Good to see you, Mr. Reed. Give my best to your parents. And don’t forget Sofia’s next checkup.”
“I won’t.”
As the physician toted his bag up the stairs, Darius could feel the weight of Olivia’s stare.
“Is Dr. Henshaw your family physician?” she asked.
“He’s Sofia’s doctor. But whenever he comes to the house, my mother insists on feeding him a meal.” Darius laughed.
“My mother does the same thing with our doctor.” Olivia’s features relaxed, the suspicion leaving her eyes. “Dr. Henshaw has agreed to be the physician on call for our home. He’s a very kind person.” A soft smile flitted across her lips.
Darius stiffened. Did Olivia have feelings for the man? A strange flicker of unease tightened his chest, and instantly he bit back the unwelcome sensation. It was none of his business whom the woman cared for.
A knock at the front door provided a well-needed distraction. “Looks like the plumber is here at last,” he said brightly.
And just in the nick of time. The sooner he got away from Olivia’s captivating presence, the sooner he could clear his head and come up with a way to obtain this property for Mr. Walcott.
Then he’d never have to be tempted by the lovely Miss Rosetti again.
13
The next day, as Darius mulled over his dilemma regarding the Bennington house, the leaky pipe brought to mind the perfect idea. He would arrange for a surprise inspection of the entire Bennington property—from the peaks of the lofty roof to the bowels of the musty basement. Judging by the age of the house, something would likely fail such an intense examination.
Darius could call in an anonymous tip to the government agency, and with any luck, the inspector would find enough wrong with the building to halt operations and maybe even force a closure of the home. Mrs. Bennington would then be much more likely to accept Mr. Walcott’s offer. Walcott would get his property, and Darius would get his raise and maybe even a promotion.
But what would that do to Olivia’s dream?
Darius forced the thought away. Everything would work out. The women would merely purchase a new property, one better suited for more residents, and Olivia’s mission would continue at a different location.
When all was said and done, everyone would win.
Before guilt could get the better of him, he lifted the telephone receiver and placed the call.
Moments after he hung up, the clock on his wall sounded out ten chimes. Darius straightened his tie, grabbed his notebook, and made his way to Mr. Walcott’s office. His boss detested anyone being late for a scheduled meeting.
After a quick knock, Darius entered the room.
Mr. Walcott looked up, tight lines pinching the edge of his mouth. “Have a seat. I hope you have some good news for me today. I could use some.”
“Is anything wrong, sir?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re on the verge of losing one of our best clients. Elliott Peterson says he doesn’t think he can work with us any longer, that our lofty principles aren’t in keeping with his.” He peered at Darius, rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers. “You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
Darius shifted on his chair, his stomach diving to his shoes. He swallowed. “I had a bit of an altercation with him at the Bennington fundraiser. He was making lewd suggestions to Miss Rosetti, and I had to step in.” But that was weeks ago. Why was the man making waves now? Darius squared his shoulders. “To be honest, sir, Peterson seems to have the morals of a swine.”
Walcott glared at him. “As long as his money continues to flow into our bank account, I don’t give two hoots about the state of Peterson’s morals.”
Darius pressed his lips together to keep from arguing. It was becoming harder and harder to reconcile his Christian way of life with the reality of the business world, where people like Mr. Walcott seemed willing to go to any lengths for personal gain.
“Let’s hope this blows over in a few days,” his boss said. “In the meantime, tell me about the Bay Street property.”
In his most professional manner, Darius explained the setback there. “But I still think we can win this one if I keep after them.”
Walcott shook his head, his jowls quivering. “In light of the Peterson affair, we’d better hold off on making another offer until we get a better idea of what he’s going to do. I need to determine how much available capital we’ll have coming in.”
“That sounds prudent.”
“And where do we stand on the Bennington property?”
Darius leaned forward in his seat. “I’ve arranged for a surprise inspection by the city in the hopes they’ll find something to shut the place down.”
“That’s it?” Walcott whipped the unlit cigar from his lips. “You’ll have to be more proactive than that. Find a way to stop this maternity home nonsense and make selling the house the widow’s only option.”
“Sir, you of all people know how stubborn Mrs. Bennington can be. Bullying doesn’t work or she would have given in to you by now. Let me continue this my way.” At least then Darius would have a small measure of control over how Walcott Industries handled the women. He feared that if his boss had his way, things could get ugly.
Walcott heaved out a breath. “Fine. I’ll
leave it up to you for now. But once I’m certain Peterson won’t pull his business, we’ll have to redouble our efforts.” He pointed his cigar at Darius. “Start thinking about another angle in case this inspection idea doesn’t pan out. It goes without saying that your job could depend on it.”
Olivia pulled the black netting over her face and stepped inside the vestibule of St. Michael’s Cathedral. Her heart pounded, and her palms were slick with perspiration beneath her gloves. Just standing in this holy place brought back waves of shame and guilt, reminding her how far she’d fallen from the innocent girl who used to attend here.
The solemn strains of organ music drifted out from the interior of the church. With the ordination of six new priests today, the building was filled almost to capacity. Olivia peered through the open door to catch a glimpse of their family pew halfway down the aisle. Mamma’s lace mantilla was visible beside her father’s dark suit jacket, their heads bent in prayer. Her brother Leo sat on the other side of her mother. Olivia’s heart squeezed, sending spasms of pain through her chest. Tony must still be away at war, but she should be with her family to celebrate Salvatore’s ordination. However, as the proverbial black sheep, she knew she would not be welcome.
She wondered what explanation her parents had given Sal as to why his sister wasn’t here for his special day. Or, for that matter, where she’d been for almost two years. Had they told him of her disgrace or would he simply think she didn’t care?
Oh, Sal, I hope you know I’d be there if I could. If only Papà would allow it.
Olivia moved quietly through the dimly lit church. She might not be able to sit with her family, but she could at least watch from the back as Sal was ordained. She hurried to an open seat in a rear pew, one on the aisle in case she needed to make a quick exit.
The ceremony had already started, the liturgy in Latin booming out over the cavernous space, the cloying smell of incense hovering in the air. After several minutes passed with no one recognizing her or questioning why she was sitting at the back of the cathedral, she allowed herself to relax and let the familiar prayers flow over her.
She stayed until Sal had been ordained, then slipped out the rear door. She found a spot by some bushes where she could watch the procession exit, hoping for a closer glimpse of her brother in all his finery. Papà would have his Kodak camera ready to capture photos of this momentous occasion, the day his son became a priest. For an Italian Catholic family, there was no greater honor.
Several minutes later, the enormous double doors opened and the officiants filed out, followed by the six newly ordained men. Olivia scanned the group for her brother’s face, the one she’d cherished since childhood. Unlike Leo and Tony, whose sole purpose seemed to be to torment her, Sal was the brother who always looked out for her and intervened when Leo and Tony’s teasing turned mean-spirited.
Dear Sal. How she’d missed him since he’d entered the seminary. Tears misted her vision, and she hastily blinked them away. She would not allow anything to spoil one second of her brother’s finest moment. There would be time for grieving later.
At last she spotted him, the second to last to emerge. His wide grin showed off his straight white teeth, and his dark eyes reflected a joy Olivia could only envy. The clergy formed a line to greet the congregants as they emerged, a bit of a breeze fluttering their robes.
If only Olivia dared to approach them to give her brother a kiss of congratulations. But Mamma, Papà, and Leo would be out soon, and she wouldn’t create a scene that would ruin Sal’s triumphant day.
As more well-wishers gathered round, Olivia dared to venture closer, drawn in by the exuberant greetings, the laughter and tears of the proud family members. For a brief second, Sal looked in her direction, and her heart jumped into her throat. Did he see her? Would he acknowledge her?
She lifted a gloved hand in silent greeting. The smile froze on his face, his eyes changing from joyous to sympathetic. He gave the barest of nods in her direction before the person in line claimed his attention.
Her father appeared next. Olivia shrank back into the shadows, but still, some force compelled her to keep watching. Papà wrapped Sal in a bear hug, practically lifting him off the ground. Then he took out a handkerchief and mopped his eyes.
“You made me so proud today, my son,” he said in Italian.
Mamma elbowed Papà out of the way so she could kiss Sal’s cheeks, then Leo came forward to offer a handshake. Sal said something that made all three of them laugh out loud.
Olivia’s shoulders drooped under the weight of her sorrow. It was torture watching her family and not being able to join in their happiness. She pressed gloved fingers to her lips to keep a sob from escaping.
Was this how her life would be from now on? Relegated to the shadows, stealing glimpses of her family from afar? Would anything change if she ever made something of herself and achieved respectability once again? Would her parents then be able to forgive her and welcome her back into their hearts?
Her gaze fell to the ground. If that ever happened, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. She lifted her eyes for one last glimpse of Sal in his vestments, then, with a heavy heart, turned and walked away.
Olivia arrived back at Ruth’s to find the house in an uproar. Three of the residents were huddled in the front sitting room, chattering like nervous magpies—a highly unusual activity for the women, who usually remained sedate.
Had one of the residents gone into labor? She mentally ran through each of the women. No one was really near their expected delivery date. So, what could it be?
Olivia skirted by the parlor, intent on making a bracing cup of tea before finding out the cause of the drama. But in the kitchen, she found Mrs. Neale in a tizzy as well. The cook’s brown hair had escaped her cap, which sat askew on her head. She muttered to herself as she pulled pots and pans from a lower cupboard.
“Mrs. Neale?” Olivia halted in the doorway. “Is something wrong?” Please let it not be another leaky pipe. She scanned the floor for any evidence of water, but everything seemed dry.
“You could say that. An inspector from the city turned up. Here to conduct a surprise inspection, or so he claims.”
Olivia frowned. “But we had an inspection done before our official opening. Why would they need to do another one so soon?”
“I haven’t a clue. You’d best ask Mrs. Bennington.”
“Where is the man now?”
“In the basement. He wants me to clear out these cupboards because he’s coming here next.”
“Try not to worry, Mrs. Neale. I know you keep an immaculate kitchen.”
Olivia headed down the back corridor to the basement stairs. Her emotions still raw, she purposely channeled her sorrow into anger to give her courage.
Picking her way carefully down the stone stairs, she entered the musty basement, cool air wafting around her. “Hello,” she called. “Are you down here?”
“Over by the water heater,” a male voice answered.
If she had any idea where the water heater was, that statement might have been useful. She headed across the dirt floor in the direction of the voice, ducking to avoid cobwebs, and finally spotted a light in the far corner.
“I’m Miss Rosetti, the co-directress.” She pulled herself up to her full height as she approached a man dressed in dark overalls, a cap covering his head.
“Barney Cameron, city inspector.” He held out his badge for her to see.
“May I ask what brought about this visit? A full inspection was done before we opened.”
“We had an anonymous complaint. Probably a neighbor. Said there were some serious plumbing issues and possibly rats in the cellar.”
“Rats? That’s absurd.” Olivia scanned the dark floor, resisting the urge to climb on one of the boxes against the wall just in case.
Mr. Cameron crouched down and aimed his flashlight at the corner. “Not really. There are fresh droppings here.”
Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “Wel
l, I’m sure we’re not the only house with this issue. Can’t you set a few traps to take care of the problem?”
The man shoved a pencil behind one ear. “That’s not my job, miss.” He rose and went to write something on a clipboard. “I think I’m finished down here. Let’s head up to the next level.”
Seated in her wing chair in the parlor, Ruth did her best to quell her annoyance and maintain an air of calm. The inspector had been here for hours and was still poking around in her attic. It had been years since she’d ventured into that space. She could barely remember what items she had stored up there.
What rankled her most about the situation, however, was the fact that someone had phoned in a complaint to the city about them. It had to be Mr. Simmons from across the street, since Ruth couldn’t imagine anyone else having a concern about their home. He had made his displeasure known as soon as he’d read the article in the newspaper.
“Should we delay dinner until the inspector’s gone?” Olivia entered the room, her question breaking into Ruth’s musings.
Ruth looked at her watch. “I believe that’s wise, unless the man’s bent on staying the entire evening.” She shook her head. “I simply don’t understand why anyone would have called in a complaint. It doesn’t make sense.”
Olivia took a seat on the sofa. “Mr. Cameron mentioned the plumbing issue,” she said slowly. “Yet no one knew about the leak except the residents, the staff, and . . .” A frown wrinkled her brow.
Ruth sighed. “Mr. Reed. He was here at the time, wasn’t he?” She hated to think the pleasant young man could be behind this setback. Still, a charming exterior sometimes hid a devious heart. And he did work for the loathsome Mr. Walcott.
“But Darius seemed so kind.” Olivia leaned forward, her eyes troubled. “He jumped in to contain the leak and then helped me hang up the wet towels.”
A Haven for Her Heart Page 11