Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  “Are you back for good?” her mother asked.

  “How is . . . what is your sick friend’s name?” Evangelina asked.

  Calista didn’t miss the arch look that passed between her mother and brother. Disbelief. “The doctors think she’s completely recovered.”

  “Would you swear on a Bible?” Corban asked.

  “Don’t be vulgar,” Calista replied.

  “I received a letter from your school that says you are finishing up the final requirements,” her mother said. “Is that correct?”

  Once she’d secured a permanent spot in the agency, Calista would gladly tell them the truth. Until then, it was better to stay with the story they’d invented.

  “Just be glad I’m here,” Calista said. “When did we start destroying fine china?”

  The beauty of the York family was that when a conversation became inconvenient, there was usually a ready distraction.

  “Father’s investment group bought the Fremont Hotel, but they’re going to reopen it under a new name. He told me to dispose of anything with the old designation on it.” Corban tilted his head toward the plates. “Just doing my duty.”

  “We’re all helping,” Evangelina said. “Mother even thought to put down a tarp before we started, lest the ground become sown in shards.”

  “I so enjoy the grass on my bare feet.” Pauline Kentworth York had never succumbed to the niceties of her social class, a fact that both Calista and her father found charming.

  “Willow and Graham asked if they could pay a call this morning,” said Calista, “and then this afternoon I will be receiving a call from a man I know from Chicago. Light refreshments may be required.”

  “Willow’s coming?” Evangelina took another jawbreaker and loaded her slingshot. “We’ll save some plates for her.”

  But Corban had second thoughts. “Graham Buchanan has better things to do than break dishes in the garden. Come to think of it, so do I. I’d better get back to the office. Father is probably looking for me.”

  Their mother smiled. “Good idea, son. We wouldn’t want an important man like Mr. Buchanan to catch you shirking your duties.”

  Corban relinquished his slingshot on the tray next to the jawbreakers, took up his suit coat, and hurried out.

  Evangelina handed his slingshot to Calista. “Join us.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll go inside.”

  “Your room is fresh, if you’d like to retire,” her mother said. “You look like you could use a revival.”

  Calista agreed as she departed. Since daybreak, Willow had kept her company, asking about the case in Joplin and what Calista thought lay ahead. Willow claimed to understand the difficulty Calista was having in saying good-bye to Matthew, but Calista knew she couldn’t fathom the depths of her pain. How could Calista explain that she knew she was doing the right thing but wished it was anything but the right thing? In time, she should feel God’s peace and pleasure over her obedience, but right now all she felt was the loss. She could only ask if it was worth it. And it wasn’t only her own pain that grieved her, but knowing that Matthew was hurting as well.

  The sacrifice is an offering, she whispered as she climbed the stairs to her room. I’m offering my pain to you, Lord. Please accept it as the most precious gift I can give you right now.

  She was doing what was right, and she’d thought that when she left Joplin, she’d feel freer. That once the decision was behind her, she could rest in the assurance that it was the only decision she could have made. But instead, she ached more with every mile. This wasn’t going to be the decision of a moment but a decision she had to live with every moment, perhaps for the rest of her life.

  Reaching her lilac and lace bedroom, Calista flopped on the bed and allowed herself to drift to a troubled sleep. After her sleepless night on the train, she shouldn’t have been surprised that she slept so hard, but when her mother woke her, she was astonished to hear that she’d slept through Willow and Graham’s visit.

  “They told me not to wake you,” her mother said. “Since you rode with them, I assumed you wouldn’t feel cheated to miss out on their visit. But your Chicago friend has arrived, along with your cousin. They’re waiting downstairs.”

  Cousin? Who was with the detective?

  The bedclothes wrinkled beneath Calista as she rolled to the edge of the mattress and sat up. It would take a moment to get her wits about her. Her hair felt lopsided, and she could feel the seams of her quilt imprinted on her cheek. “I’ll be right down,” she said and reached for the carafe of water to pour herself a drink.

  She’d never had to admit to this kind of failure before. But not only had she failed, she’d been recalled. She’d endangered the investigation and perhaps endangered the victim. She could only hope that her replacement could use the information she’d gathered to find Lila and lift the burden of her mistakes from her.

  Spritzing some perfume on herself, Calista took a final look in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, but her mouth had a determined set. No simpering or playing the ingénue for whomever the operative would be. This was business.

  Who had the office sent? She made her way down the stairs to the parlor. Jinxy Seaton would insist on the best, especially after her failure. Would it be Leon? Sampson?

  Upon entering the parlor, her mother gave her a quizzical smile. “There you are, dear. Amos and I had begun to wonder if you were going to make it.”

  Amos?

  “Surprise!” her cousin called, bounding off the sofa. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me. I sure didn’t expect to see you today, but Matthew prevailed upon me—”

  “Matthew?” How her heart twisted at the sound of his name. Why was Amos here? To agitate her wound before it had time to heal?

  Then she saw movement from the corner of the room. A figure pulled away from the drapes where he’d been looking out at the garden. Her lungs filled as Matthew came forward, holding her gaze. His collarless shirt and suspenders represented something solid and unaffected in a room full of gilt and veneer. He came near but kept both hands on his straw hat, clutched in front of him.

  “Hello, Miss York. I should’ve warned you I was coming, but there wasn’t time.”

  Her hands trembled. What was this about? When they’d parted, she thought they both understood the impossibility of a relationship between them. If he’d come with plans to persuade her to go back, he was just inflicting more pain. Both cruel and pointless. Why make her do this again?

  She could feel the blood draining from her face.

  “Amos,” her mother said, “let’s find Evangelina. She’s got a game in the garden that you’ll tear up. Come see if you can beat Corban’s score.” Pauline laid a hand on Calista’s arm as she passed with Amos, stopping only to shut the doors behind her as they left.

  “This isn’t right.” Calista couldn’t bear to look at him. She gripped the back of a chair like it was a shield against her weakness. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Nothing between us has changed, but everything else has.” Matthew took a deep breath. “I found Lila.”

  Calista gaped. “Where? How?”

  “Have you already talked to Mr. Pinkerton? Does he know the names Rush and Bowman?”

  “It wasn’t safe over the phone. That’s why we’re meeting here.”

  “Good. You can’t tell him anything.” Matthew said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the easiest decision in the world.

  “I can’t tell him? What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve met Lila Seaton. You’ve known her all along. She ran away from home after her sister was killed. Lila knows more about the mob than is good for her. She knows that her father’s boss is responsible for her sister’s death, and she knows that sooner or later she’ll meet the same fate.”

  “Baxter Perkins killed Florence Seaton? Jinxy doesn’t know?”

  “She doesn’t think so. But he wants to control her every move, just in case. Lila was under constant surveilla
nce. Her father thinks he’s keeping her safe from his criminal activity, but he can’t protect her.”

  “So she faked her own kidnapping?”

  “And she doesn’t want to be found. She wants to be free from the criminals he exposed her to. She wants to have her own life away from crime. A few years ago, she met Della and her brother in Chicago and started a correspondence with them. When she decided to flee, they offered her sanctuary. Not surprisingly, she married Mr. Bowman soon after. Since then—”

  “Bowman? Mrs. Bowman from the Children’s Home?” Calista paced the floor. “I was talking to Lila Seaton the whole time?”

  “And if she had known you were looking for her, she would’ve disappeared sooner. When Officer Rush arrested you, he suspected you were hired by her family. He was giving Lila and her husband time to leave town. For all they knew, you were with the gangsters trying to do Lila harm.”

  “And in a way, I was. However innocent my intentions, the end result would have been the same.” Calista was starting to breathe easier. Talking about her problems with Matthew was as natural as humming as she walked. “I’ll call Mr. Pinkerton and explain that we can’t give Jinxy the answer he’s looking for. I don’t know what we can do to keep him from hiring someone else, though.”

  “But Lila won’t have to run again. That’s all she’s asking—that I bring home your assurance that the search will be called off and she’s free to stay in Joplin. As for you, you won’t lose any more sleep worrying about her misery.” He was keeping his distance, but his care for her was as intoxicating as any caress.

  “That’s why I do this job,” Calista said. “I could be here, shooting jawbreakers at china plates, but that wouldn’t be fulfilling.”

  He looked confused by her example but nodded with her conclusion. “Here’s to work that we love,” he said.

  It was starting again. The regret, the wishing, flooding over her. Pure torture, but now that she knew why he’d come, she didn’t hold it against him. And from the look of it, he was suffering as much as she was.

  “Well, I’ve said what I’ve come to say. There’s nothing else.” For the first time, he looked around the room, taking in its extravagance.

  “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Calista laughed. “Father hires a decorator to keep us in fashion because Mother has no interest in it.”

  “You left all this for your job? That makes me feel less slighted.” His grin was bittersweet.

  “Miss York.” It was the butler. “Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sampson are inquiring if you are home.”

  Pinkerton himself had come? Ever since his father’s passing, Robert Pinkerton had done his best to live up to his example. If the circumstances had been different, Calista would have been flattered by the attention.

  Matthew cleared his throat. “I’ll be going.”

  “There’s not another train south for an hour.” She had to say good-bye, but not yet.

  He lowered his chin. “You’ve got a job to do. Take care, Calista. You’re forever in my prayers.”

  And he walked out the door.

  She could only pray that the searing of her heart wouldn’t pain her for long.

  Matthew’s visit had been unexpected, and so had his news. Calista also hadn’t expected Mr. Pinkerton to come, but it was for the best. Arthur Sampson didn’t have the authority to change the mission without Mr. Pinkerton’s permission.

  Mr. Pinkerton came to the threshold of the door, then paused as he scanned the room.

  “There’s no danger here,” Calista said, although she knew danger wasn’t the only thing he searched for. He also looked for information that might come in handy later. Clues that would reveal something of her family’s character, her own upbringing. Perhaps having the meeting at her house wasn’t a good idea after all. “Please have a seat.”

  “We don’t have much time.” Mr. Pinkerton removed his hat and sat at the edge of the chair, his weight still over his toes. “Your next assignment awaits.”

  Even though Calista had slipped up by involving the police, he wasn’t terminating her contract. “Thank you for giving me another chance,” she said.

  Who knew what the next case would be? Another family looking for resolution? Recovering funds that had meant opportunity to a business? Calista glanced at the window from which the sound of shattering china could be heard. Getting back to work would be for the best. She needed the reminder of why she was doing this. She’d go to a new location, and this time she’d have a new identity, and the new person she was pretending to be wouldn’t be in love with someone impossible.

  “We only have a few minutes for you to brief Arthur, then I’ll take you as far as Phoenix while we create your documents and story.” Mr. Pinkerton removed a handkerchief from his pocket and patted his forehead. “Now, what can you tell Arthur to help him find Lila Seaton?”

  “She doesn’t need finding,” Calista said.

  Her boss’s head jolted. “You found her?”

  “I found out about her. She wasn’t kidnapped, and she isn’t in danger, at least not from any strangers. Lila Seaton ran away from her father and from Baxter Perkins. She doesn’t want to be found.”

  Why did he look more annoyed than relieved? “Did you find her in Joplin?” he asked, as if Lila’s safety wasn’t the first priority.

  Calista blinked. Her fellow operatives had always been the only people entitled to hear the full story. They were a team who understood the stress of the falsehoods and the elation of the victories. She had never hidden anything from them.

  Until now.

  If Robert Pinkerton thought he was going to force Lila’s location from her—well, Calista answered to a higher authority. If the two were in conflict, she knew where her loyalty must lie.

  “No, despite all my searching, I didn’t find her in Joplin.” Her eager-to-please, naive persona had served her well with suspects. Now she was using it on her boss. She would have thought Mr. Pinkerton would see right through it, but even the cleverest of men were liable to see what they wanted to see.

  “Then, where is she?” Arthur asked.

  “What’s it matter? She isn’t in danger. She never was,” Calista answered.

  Mr. Pinkerton folded his handkerchief carefully as he studied her. She knew what he was doing—deciding which approach would give him the information he sought. She’d been trained by him. She knew his methods.

  “Sometimes we get so involved with the cases,” he said, “that we begin to sympathize with the objects of our investigations. When we set aside our identities and make new ones, those moral safeguards don’t always appear when we need them. At times like those, we go back to the foundations of the case. What was the purpose of this job? Who is the customer? When we look at those facts—not feelings, but facts—we see that we owe Jinxy Seaton an answer.”

  “We owe Jinxy Seaton a return of his fees.” Calista sat up taller to meet the gazes of the two men straight on. “That’s all we owe him.” Her heart raced. If he would only listen to her . . .

  Mr. Pinkerton shook his head. “Don’t do this, Miss York. You were paid to do a job. If you refuse to turn over the evidence you uncovered during your tenure, you’ll have to return your wages.”

  “Gladly.”

  “Don’t forget the expenses,” Arthur said. “A month in that swanky hotel? You can’t afford to pay that back, not on your salary.”

  “You don’t think so?” Calista raised a fine eyebrow.

  Mr. Pinkerton took another look around the elaborate room and then heaved a sigh. “You’ve been an asset to the firm, and I’m prepared to offer you an official spot on our roster. Don’t ruin your career over this one unorthodox case. We’ll come to some compromise.” He pounded his knee as he pounced on the solution. “We can arrange a meeting between Jinxy and his daughter. They can work out the details. It’s probably just a family spat. . . .”

  As he continued, Calista could feel the rending taking place, and unlike the last separation, this on
e was filled with light and joy. This, then, was her answer. She’d known God had provided this job for her when she was searching for purpose. Her dissatisfaction with her life in Kansas City had been a gift that had led her to more challenging tasks. Every day, in every way, she’d known that working for Pinkerton was the right thing to do. She hadn’t doubted that until she’d met Matthew. But now she saw that God had called her to set things aright, to bring healing to people’s deepest pains. Her purpose hadn’t changed, but the way she followed it would.

  Calista wasn’t one to fold up shop at the first hardship, though. She would have endured. She would have sacrificed. But suddenly the path she’d known God was leading her on veered sharply, and she couldn’t have felt a greater relief.

  She stood, and Mr. Pinkerton and Sampson’s conversation halted.

  “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me,” she said. “I’m grateful that I was able to work on the side of justice and disclosure, but this is something else altogether. I will not aid you in disclosing the whereabouts of Miss Seaton if it jeopardizes her safety.”

  “We were just discussing our options,” Pinkerton said. “There’s no need for you to act against your conscience. You’ll move on to the next case, and Sampson will pick up where you left off. Since you never left Jasper County, we can assume that Miss Seaton is somewhere nearby. I’ll track down the clues you left, and we’ll continue from there. I can appreciate your dilemma and will do my best to work around it while still fulfilling our duty to our client.”

  “That’s not acceptable,” Calista said. “I’m not going to leave Miss Seaton”—how hard it was not to call her Mrs. Bowman!—“at the mercy of the agency. If she needs any further obstructions to stay out of her father’s clutches, I’ll be happy to provide them.”

  Arthur scoffed. “That’s pure contrariness. What could you possibly gain from such a course?”

  “Knowing that I did the right thing.” Calista breathed deeply, feeling the weight of her worries lifting. “If I may advise you, Mr. Pinkerton, the best course of action from here would be for Mr. Sampson to accompany you to Phoenix and begin working on the next case. As soon as you have him settled and you return to Chicago, you can inform Mr. Seaton that his daughter is well and good and wants no further contact from him. Should he try to find her, I’ll arrange for her to serve as a witness against him concerning his business dealings with Baxter Perkins.