Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  The girl nodded, her eyes filling with tears of relief. “Thank you, miss. I won’t forget you.”

  “It’s God you should thank,” Calista said. “He’s the one who will see you through this. Now go, before someone else gets off that streetcar.”

  With a quick hug, the girl darted into an alley and headed toward the depot. Calista watched her depart, praying for her safety, and praying that she herself would be able to dodge misfortune as well.

  “Another incident I’m supposed to ignore?” Matthew asked.

  “It doesn’t involve you,” Calista replied.

  “If you can’t tell me what you’re doing, can you tell me why?” His gaze pierced her. “Please, Calista. Give me something I can hold on to.”

  She’d met some nice people on her other cases, people she hadn’t wanted to deceive, but no one had made it difficult like Matthew. Had Mrs. Warne, the Pinkerton agent who had worked for Calista’s parents, felt alone? Did she have anyone to confide in besides the other operatives at the agency? When Calista had applied for this job, she’d known she would be sacrificing safety and comfort. She hadn’t realized she’d be asked to forfeit love as well.

  “The why is easy,” she said. “I do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Lying is the right thing to do? Pretending to be a nurse? Whatever you were doing in the office at the Children’s Home . . . that was the right thing to do? And how do you know that girl? Where would you even meet someone like her?” Taking her chin in his hand, he lifted her face to his. “Are you doing anything illegal?”

  Calista felt bound by his gaze. She shook her head, aware of the heat radiating from his hand.

  “Are you doing anything that would bring shame on yourself?”

  This was harder to answer. She lowered her eyes, but with a tug, he forced her chin back up. There was no avoiding the question.

  “The only shame involved is if people don’t understand what I’m doing,” she said.

  “And how can they understand if you won’t tell them? Why wouldn’t they think you’re behaving shamefully?” It was a test—not an insult, not a stab. He wasn’t giving up on her, but he was demanding an answer.

  “I need to think. If there was a way . . .”

  She’d decided that she would tell her family once she was an official member of the agency, but what Matthew demanded was different. Even if she could tell him, to what avail? He could declare his love for her, but she wouldn’t be in Joplin long. She’d be traveling around the country, never home, never free to be the wife he was undoubtedly looking for. It was better to squash this feeling before it grew.

  “You know the Scripture, Parson.” She took a calming breath to bolster her resolve and override the warmth of his fingers against her skin. “‘A talebearer revealeth secrets: but he that is of a faithful spirit concealeth the matter.’”

  The air between them sparked. She felt weightless, flimsy, and like she was being pulled toward the solidity of him.

  But he didn’t draw her in. Instead he responded, “‘With her much fair speech she caused him to yield,’” he quoted, “‘with the flattering of her lips she forced him.’”

  “Forced him to do what?” she asked. The clanging of the trolley bell and other street noises were coming back into focus. How had the whole world gone silent a moment ago?

  He released her. “Forced me to buy you ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “I need something to cool me down,” he said. After a long look at her, he stepped away. “On the other hand, I forgot how enthusiastically you go after an ice cream cone. If you have a hankering to do that again, it might not help me at all.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  The cousins had talked long into the night, with Maisie asking a hundred questions about Calista’s siblings and wanting to hear about Calista’s expensive finishing school. As much as she was able, Calista turned the conversation back to Maisie’s family to avoid tripping up in her stories, and Maisie seemed eager to share. Just when Calista would think Maisie was winding down, she would pop back into Calista’s room with a quilted blanket around her shoulders, spouting another clever quote from Silas that she thought would amuse Calista. Duty-bound to respond positively, Calista would lift her head from the feather pillow just long enough to emit a convincing chuckle, then let her head fall back down and wonder how much longer Maisie could go without sleep.

  Finally the room was quiet, leaving Calista with her thoughts. For every smile Maisie had collected, Calista had earned a frown from Matthew. She shouldn’t care. She couldn’t. He was only a complication. Yes, he’d been helpful with his connections at the Children’s Home, but that hadn’t produced anything. If she had more time, she could accompany Mrs. Bowman to the hotels to give reports on the children, but the sand was slipping through the glass. She’d be better off chasing down her fresh discovery—actual evidence that Lila Seaton had stayed at the Grosman’s Inn. And since the young lady was not traveling of her own volition, the names Della Rush and Gerald Mason needed to be investigated immediately.

  Calista flipped onto her back and punched the mattress beneath her. Matthew was new to town. He wouldn’t know these people. There was no reason to keep him around. No reason except the fact that she was falling in love with him.

  Why couldn’t he see that Calista was poor company? Why wasn’t he content to let their relationship fade before it caused them both pain? She couldn’t be truthful. Not to him. If he knew who she was and what she was doing, would he be able to hide, pretend, and mislead to protect her story? No, he wouldn’t. Granny Laura was wily. Calista trusted her to keep their secret. It also helped that Granny was out at her ranch. But guileless Matthew wouldn’t be able to sit by and let Calista do what she’d been trained to do. He would interfere and jeopardize Calista’s career and Lila’s safety.

  The thought of being in danger with Matthew did have a romantic quality to it. She buried her head deeper into the pillow and imagined him rescuing her from the evil men who’d taken Lila. He’d rescue Lila too, but Jinxy would magically appear to take care of his daughter, leaving Calista and Matthew to share the victory alone. Matthew would take her in his arms, his heart full of how much she meant to him and how it terrified him that he might have lost her. Calista would reassure him that nothing would come between them anymore. Then they’d kiss, as Matthew finally put his restraint aside, and . . .

  She must have dozed off at that part, because when Calista opened her eyes from the best and longest kiss of her imagination, sunlight was peeking through the heavy drapes. Kicking her feet out of bed, she wrestled the blankets off and hit the ground at a trot. What time was it? Mr. Pinkerton was expecting a telephone call first thing this morning.

  Not thinking past the joyous news she had to report, she reached for her own wardrobe pieces. Now that she had a few names to track down, she didn’t need her working girl uniform. The important thing was to get dressed quickly, and her hand fell to her white blazer suit with yellow and blue trim. She hadn’t worn it yet in Joplin, but it was festive, and she felt like celebrating.

  She’d slept in her stays, so a few tugs pulled them tight enough for the fitted suit. She surveyed her face as her fingers flew up the row of buttons on the blouse. Lines marred her cheek, evidence of her pillow. Puffing up her face, she tried to smooth the creases while working her foot into her boot. A few more tugs and hops, and she had everything in place. She tiptoed to her bureau and found her brush. Maisie’s soft snoring continued unabated as Calista ripped the brush through her hair, only to back brush it so it would have the soft, pillowy pouf that completed her look. She patted the bouffant, then let her hand glide down her neck as she remembered Matthew touching her face.

  Was he thinking of her right now? Probably not. It was the day of the baby raffle. He had more important things on his mind, and so did she.

  Flipping open the lid to her jewelry case, she fished out the sapphire earrings
her father had given her. They matched the blue buttons and were modest enough for day wear. No matter what the day brought, she felt more prepared and more comfortable dressed as fitted her station.

  After her telephone call, she’d probably return to her room, but one never knew, so she grabbed her handbag on the way out of the room and headed toward the lobby.

  The clerk’s face lit up at the sight of her. “Good morning, Miss York. What are you celebrating today?”

  Oh dear. Perhaps she’d misjudged the difference between her undercover clothing and her usual wardrobe. She hadn’t meant to be remarkable.

  “No celebration, Wilton. I just aired out some of the outfits at the bottom of my trunk, that’s all.”

  “Saving the best for last, eh?”

  “If you say so. May I trouble you for the use of your telephone? My father is expecting a call from me this morning.”

  “Be my guest.” He stepped out of the way, clearing the path for her to access the office.

  Calista rattled the receiver and waited to hear the operator’s voice. Robert Pinkerton had long ago registered his phone in the name of Robert Bluingship, knowing that his operatives wouldn’t be able to call him otherwise. One whiff that someone in Joplin was calling the Pinkerton office in Chicago, and that telephone operator would have the juiciest gossip short of the mayor’s renegade son.

  “Connecting to Robert Bluingship in Chicago . . . please hold.”

  Calista looked over her shoulder to check the doorway, but no one was around. Mr. Pinkerton’s eager answer told her that he’d been anticipating news from her.

  “Daughter, so good to hear from you. Everything is well, I hope.”

  “Yes, sir. Very good. I was surprised to see that a friend of mine has been in town.”

  There was a pause. “That’s excellent. Have you seen her?”

  “No, but I found her on a guest registry at a hotel. She checked into the Grosman’s Inn on October twenty-fourth. I don’t know where she went after that, but it’s a start.”

  “That’s fantastic. The rest of the family will be interested to know.”

  It wasn’t fantastic, but it was something. Mr. Pinkerton over the wire was much more the enthusiast than Mr. Pinkerton in the office. When conversing over the line, everyone had a role they played.

  “Do you know if she was traveling with anyone?” he asked.

  “There were names above and below hers. You should tell her father and see if he knows them. The first name is—”

  “Wait,” Pinkerton interrupted. “Why don’t you wait to share that news in person?”

  Calista looked over her shoulder at the empty doorway. “Are you expecting me back in Chicago?” she whispered.

  “Your friend here has asked me to give you one more week for your vacation. You have that much time, and then you can share what information you have with your . . . brother, when he comes to fetch you.”

  Her stomach dropped. One week? He wasn’t giving her more time?

  “Yes, sir. I should have everything we need by then. I’m working diligently on it.” And she was. Having Matthew and Maisie around was like trying to run while shackled, but Calista was doing her best.

  “Let’s talk tomorrow morning,” he said. “Be careful, and your mother says hello.”

  That was always the last thing he said, just in case someone had forgotten the fiction that they were family. Calista’s mother hadn’t said hello in weeks. Not over the telephone. She’d always addressed her telegraphs and letters to a dummy office that Mr. Pinkerton had set up in St. Louis. Then the letters were forwarded to Calista to hide her location from her parents. That, along with the falsehood that the sick friend she was nursing didn’t own a telephone and there wasn’t one in the vicinity, had kept her activities well hidden. Now that Granny had told them that Calista was in Joplin and under her care, they had no further concerns. Her mother could turn her attention fully to Corban and Evangelina. Then again, her mother’s attention tended to flit around. But just as you thought she wasn’t attending, you’d find out you’d been under surveillance all along.

  Her cousins were much the same way. Calista had just replaced the receiver when Amos spoke up.

  “The clerk told me you were in here. Who were you talking to?”

  Calista spun around before answering, “My friend.” She crossed her fingers behind her back, a habit she’d developed at Granny’s. “It’s been a misery leaving her to convalesce alone, but her recovery is progressing.” She stepped around Amos to escape to the lobby. “What are you doing in town? Is Maisie going back to the ranch?”

  “Pa said he could spare me today, and Ma admired the idea of me checking in on you girls. She said Aunt Polly would do the same for us if we were up in Kansas City.”

  And that was the problem with loving, responsible, extended family members. A Kentworth didn’t have only one set of parents, but a whole tribe of elders looking out after them. And when the elders weren’t doing the job, the cousins were more than happy to make nuisances of themselves.

  “You’re welcome to go upstairs and get Maisie.” Calista was glad she’d brought her handbag down already. “I was just going out to get some breakfast.”

  But the elevator doors chose that moment to part and reveal Maisie. She clutched her skirt and took an exaggerated step over the threshold. The elevator operator smirked until Calista shot him a dirty look. He hurriedly pressed the button and closed the doors, causing Maisie to dart forward and tuck her hips beneath her.

  “Did you see that?” she crowed. “Those doors nearly caught my tail feathers.”

  “You don’t have to jump out of it,” Calista said. “It stops for you.”

  Maisie’s round eyes grew even rounder. “Have you looked down the crack between the floor and the elevator? It goes down deeper than a well.”

  Her brother laughed. “You aren’t going to fall through that crack. You wouldn’t fit even if we pushed and shoved. You’re more substantial than that.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t want to chance it. No use lingering.” For being dead asleep and snoring less than half an hour ago, Maisie was remarkably chipper.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Amos said. “Calista was on her way to breakfast. Do we want to join her?”

  “I haven’t had a decent breakfast since coming to town.” Maisie pinched her waistband and stretched it away from her stomach. “No eggs, sausage, or Ma’s biscuits and gravy. It’s no wonder I’m afeared of falling through cracks.”

  “Actually, I was going to the bakery,” Calista said. “Their croissants are so light and fluffy—”

  Maisie snorted. “Heavy and solid beats light and fluffy every day. It’s time you took me to a real restaurant.”

  But Amos wasn’t sold. “Do they have cinnamon rolls? I’ve got a hankering for a cinnamon roll.”

  “Follow me,” Calista said, and before Maisie had stopped pouting, they each had a warm baked good in hand and were back on the sidewalk.

  “Where to now, ladies?” Amos ripped off a steamy layer of his buttery roll.

  “We’re going to the Carnegie Library,” said Maisie. “That’s where Silas is going to be. You just have to meet him, Amos.”

  The Carnegie Library? What business did Maisie have there? But then dread settled in Calista’s stomach as she remembered. The baby raffle. That was at the library. If left up to her, she wouldn’t want to be within a hundred miles of that place, but something compelled her. This event burdened Matthew. The decision today would weigh on him, and she didn’t want him to suffer alone. Although he’d been an inconvenience—underfoot and overbearing at every turn—he had good intentions. He’d been the best friend she had in Joplin, and something told her that he felt the same way about her. Against his better judgment.

  “Who is Silas?” Amos asked.

  “He’s a miner,” Maisie answered. “Gonna be rich ere long. Already has a house built and a lease of his own. Just waiting for the right time to settle do
wn.”

  Calista arched an eyebrow. They’d had some productive conversations, if Silas had already spilled the beans on his plans. Not that Calista should be surprised. Maisie was as guileless and enthusiastic as a puppy. When the right man came along, she’d waste no time making him beg, but Calista wasn’t sure that Silas was the right man. He didn’t hold a candle to Matthew. Matthew was Silas’s superior in every area, except maybe for agreeableness. But what did it matter? She had too much sense to dwell on him. Didn’t she?

  According to the advertisement nailed on the notice board, the raffle was being held at ten o’clock, but when they reached the Carnegie Library at half past nine, there were already people flocking toward the building.

  “What’s going on?” Amos pushed the brim of his hat back so he could get a better look at the variety of people gathering.

  “They’re raffling off a baby from the Children’s Home,” Calista said. “Someone is going home with a child.”

  Amos gawked at the nervous crowd as Maisie giggled. “Can you imagine?” she said. “Wouldn’t that be the worst surprise ever? ‘Congratulations, ma’am. Here’s the baby you won today.’”

  “As Granny Laura would say, ‘I never did hear tell the like,’” Amos said. “What is the world coming to?”

  Rather than go through the explanation of what made it unsavory and the financial benefits that it would bring regardless, Calista looked for Matthew. She really didn’t have time for this. More than anything, she wanted to sleuth out the two names on either side of Lila Seaton’s entry in the registry. That was what she should be doing, but once this was behind her, she could spend the rest of the day looking after her case.