A Mail-Order Destiny

by Janelle Daniels

  The ride to Ivan's home was a surprise. Peaceful, picturesque, exactly how he'd imagined the West would be. His busy life, the crowded streets, the congested air in New York seemed a million miles away. Out here, it was like nothing else existed.

  He took a bracing breath, enjoying the fresh, crisp air. He needed to take more time off to relax, to let go of the endless bustle. That was the only positive result out of coming here. He hadn't realized how close he'd been to a mental and physical collapse. His fast-paced, high-stress lifestyle was what he knew, but if he wanted to sustain it, he needed to make sure he took care of himself, as well.

  As soon as he was able, he intended to take a vacation. A real vacation. One where he could spend his time doing things other than gallivanting off to the edge of the civilized world, hunting down his runaway sister, and wishing she’d never left in the first place.

  He was blowing out a slow breath as he rounded a curve in the road, and the house came into view. Instantly, he knew this was Ivan's house. He wouldn't classify it as a mansion, but it was large, its two elegant stories putting most other houses he'd seen to shame.

  He urged the horse forward and dismounted once on the property, silently saying a prayer of gratitude they both made it in one piece.

  He patted the horse’s neck. "I promise, old girl, you'll get as many treats as you want once we get back to town. You've earned it." He briskly rubbed the beast's shoulder one final time, before turning toward the house.

  A man rested on a bench outside, and he eyed Rhys' approach. "Who are you?"

  Rhys straightened at the man's tone. "Rhys Winthrop. I'm here to speak with my sister, Abigail. And you?" His tone wasn't exactly friendly, but how was he supposed to react when a strange man was outside the house where her sister was staying?

  He inspected Rhys as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Finally, he stood. "I'm Jared Simpson, Miss Willow Packer's bodyguard."

  Rhys' posture immediately loosened. "I see."

  "I'll head around back and check on things while you visit." He tipped his hat. "Good day." He disappeared around the side of the house before Rhys could formulate a reply.

  Not wasting another moment, he strode forward and knocked briskly on the wooden door.

  An older woman opened the door, a warm smile on her face. Silver threaded through almost pure black hair, but her skin held few wrinkles. "May I help you?"

  Rhys made sure to keep his posture loose and unintimidating. "I'm here to see Abigail Winthrop. I understand she's staying here."

  Rhys was surprised when the woman frowned. "I'm not sure she—"

  "Sylvia? Who is that?"

  Rhys hadn't seen the woman who'd spoken, but her words filtered through the doorway and stroked him like a caress. Her voice was husky and rough, and instantly intrigued him. He caught movement over the servant’s shoulder, and his eyes immediately followed and held.

  The woman who approached was breathtaking. Fine strands of gold-spun hair curled and tumbled over her shoulders. Her garments were exquisite, cut to perfection to showcase her attributes. And those attributes were outstanding. He swallowed, hoping his tongue wasn't lost with the movement, and shook himself out of his stupor.

  The woman whispered to Sylvia, and although the housekeeper looked as though she wanted to argue, she eventually deferred and went back to her other duties, leaving the goddess before him. "How may I help you?" she asked.

  Rhys cleared his throat, jarred he’d lost focus. He straightened. "I'm here to see Abigail Winthrop." The woman eyed him from head-to-toe, and he wondered what she thought.

  "I don't know you. Are you new in town?"

  "I arrived today, on the train." She took a step closer to him, filling the doorway as if to keep him out. His lips twitched, finding her attitude intriguing.

  "Then what could you possibly want with Miss Winthrop?"

  He rocked back on his heels, unintimidated. "I believe that's between my sister and me."

  Willow's mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly. "Your sister?"

  He nodded. "Didn't she tell you about me?" She eyed him like a bug under glass, and it took everything he had to keep a straight face.

  "If you're her brother, then what's your name?"

  "Rhys." He folded his arms. "But that's an easy question. If I were a stranger, only posing as her brother, that would be an easy thing to find out." Rhys' name had been splashed about in papers throughout the country on a regular basis. "If you really want to know if I'm her brother, you'll have to ask me to reveal more personal details."

  Her lips pressed together as she studied him, and he wondered what exactly she’d come up with.

  "The animal you prized above all else when you were ten, and somehow ended up in Abby's bed, what kind of animal was it, and what was its name?"

  Rhys guffawed. First, what on earth had Abigail been thinking, sharing such information? Second, no one had ever called her Abby in her life. He shook his head in chagrin. "It was a horned lizard named Horney." He coughed. "Because he had horned scales."

  The woman held a straight face for a moment, before collapsing against the door in a fit of giggles. "I honestly didn't think you'd own up to that."

  If he thought the woman would've been offended, he was wrong. A grin broke on his face. "Had I refused to answer, you wouldn't have believed I was really her brother."

  Still laughing, she shrugged. "Not necessarily. You do look a lot alike. Same shade of brown hair," she said, tipping her chin toward the top of his head, "and the same intriguing green eyes." As if realizing she’d paid him a compliment, she cleared her throat, and the smile slipped from her lips.

  A spark lit within him, knowing she was attracted to him, at least slightly. "The eye color comes from our mother." Some of the awkwardness left at his words.

  "That's what Abby said, as well."

  "You keep calling her Abby. She's only ever gone by Abigail."

  Willow cocked her head. "Sometimes in life, we need a change. No one heads West if they are satisfied with their life. New life, new name." She shrugged.

  "And is that what you did?" He knew he shouldn't ask, should only focus on his sister, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. There was something about this woman, something that intrigued him and made him want to know more.

  She stiffened in the doorframe. "My story is my own. But from what I've already said, you can assume I had no choice."

  He nodded slowly. "I understand. But Abigail had a choice. She didn't need to come here, wasn’t forced. She has a life in Manhattan, a good one, one where she's taken care of. She's never wanted for anything."

  The woman's brow arched. "People need more than just money."

  If he were a weaker man, he would've flinched, her words hitting closer to the mark than he would've liked. Their father had been rough, ambitious, brutal—same as himself. But what their father had lacked, Rhys had developed. Those same traits, paired with compassion and fairness, had taken Winthrop hotels from ramshackle buildings to palaces. Rhys had done what his father had only dreamed, but Rhys knew the man wouldn't have even been proud, because he hadn't accomplished it himself. Their father had always thought giving his wife and children money would make them happy. How wrong he'd been. And Rhys would never make the same mistake.

  "It's true she would never want for money, but if you've been led to believe she wasn't loved and cared for, that was a mistake. Her mother and I love her very much, and we just want what's best for her."

  "And you don't think she can choose that for herself?"

  Rhys knew he should agree, that it would garner this woman's support, but he wouldn't lie. "My sister is smart, but in some things, it's better to lay out a path to keep the ones we love safe."

  The woman’s smile was slow, but deadly. "Wrong answer. I suggest you check into the hotel. I fear you’re going to have a long stay ahead of you, if you think to bully Abby into leaving with you. And as a matter fact, I
think you and Mrs. Clayton will get along just perfectly." She slammed the door in his face, before he could say anything in return.

  Chapter 3

  Willow waited behind the closed door, assuming Rhys would only knock again to continue the conversation. Surprisingly, though, he didn't.

  After a few moments, footsteps sounded as he walked away from the door, and she was surprised he'd relented so quickly.

  She relaxed, but she stood up a little straighter, pleased she'd chased him off. He was a bully, and if there was one thing Willow couldn't abide, it was bullies.

  Sometimes you had to lay out a path for people you love so they'd stay safe? Utter nonsense. If you loved someone, you let them have their agency, you let them choose for themselves.

  She blew out a long breath, and wondered what she was going to tell Abby.

  "Who was that?" Abby walked into the room, a soft smile on her face.

  Willow winced. She'd hoped to have time to think about what to say to her, but at least she hadn't walked in while her brother was there. "Maybe you should sit down."

  The smile slowly left Abby's lips. "It was him, wasn't it? Rhys?"

  Willow blew out another long breath, and then nodded. "It was."

  Abby glanced over Willow's shoulder to the closed door and wrung her hands. "Did he leave?"

  "He did. I told him to go stay in the hotel with that awful Mrs. Clayton. They'll be two peas in a pod."

  Giggles burst from Abby's lips. "I highly doubt that. More than likely, Rhys will take the woman to task."

  Willow wasn't convinced. "At least they'll make each other miserable."

  Abby frowned. "I think I gave you the wrong impression about Rhys. He truly is wonderful."

  "Uh-huh."

  "It's true. I never meant to make him out to be a villain. In all honesty, my brother is wonderful. I love him, and I know he loves me." She cocked her head. "He might be a bit overbearing at times, but I guess it's the job of a big brother."

  Willow moved forward and took Abby's hands. "I'm glad you feel as though he's been a good brother to you. But I want you to know you don't have to go with him. You can stay here, if you want."

  Abby squeezed Willow's hands, before lowering them and smiling regretfully. "I appreciate the offer, truly. But I don't know how that will be possible. My brother has always been loving towards me, but more than anything, he's determined and stubborn. He'll do whatever he needs to, to make sure I come home with him. Cut off my funds, remain here, anything. I should've stayed silent about where I was going, but I couldn't bear to do that to both Rhys and my mother. I didn't want them to worry."

  "That's because you're a good person. You shouldn't regret that."

  Abby smiled. "All the same, Rhys will end up getting his way."

  Willow just couldn't accept that, couldn't accept that the bully would win, here. "You don't have to let him. You have other options."

  Abby held up her hands. "Not really. I didn't even have enough money to sleep one more night in the hotel. If I end up staying, how will I eat, or support myself? Where will I stay? I should've prepared more carefully, but there's nothing I can do about that now."

  Abby's shoulders slumped, but Willow refused to give in. "You're not alone here. I'll help you, and I know Ivan's other brides, the women I told you about, will, too."

  "You're too nice." She shook her head softly. "But I don't think it will work, long-term. I mean to make my own way and not live off of anyone's charity."

  Willow waved her comment away. "I'm not talking about charity. I told you how I got here, how all Ivan's brides did. This town gave us a start, a haven we wouldn't have had otherwise. I'm offering the same to you, and I know the others will support me. You’re a woman on your own, and that's what this house is all about. Taking care of women who need help. Besides, I'm the last one. And this house is pretty big." She waved around at the massive two-story entry, as if demonstrating her point.

  Abby snorted. "It is rather grand, isn't it? I wish I could've met Ivan, to see what he was really like."

  Willow laughed. "People said he was crazy."

  "He'd have to be, to order ten brides." They giggled a moment before sobering. "I would really love to stay. But I need some way to support myself."

  Inspiration tingled through Willow. She looked at the gown Abby was wearing, another exquisite creation. "Your dresses are amazing. I'm assuming they were created by a very talented seamstress."

  Abby looked down at the frothy, yellow material. "Yes. The best, actually." She looked almost guilty.

  "There's nothing wrong with that. It sounds like you came from money."

  Abby bit her lip and nodded. "My family has always had money. My father built his business by purchasing inns, and then later, hotels. Since he died, Rhys has taken over the business, and has expanded beyond our imagination."

  Thunderstruck, Willow gaped. "Wait… Winthrop," Willow said slowly. "Winthrop hotels?"

  Abby’s smile held little amusement. "Those are the ones."

  Willow couldn't believe it. She'd assumed Abby was wealthy, but the kind of money it took to build an empire like the Winthrops' was astronomical.

  "Are you rethinking helping me?" Abby asked, when Willow's silence continued.

  "No. Absolutely not. I was just surprised, but none of that matters. What I was getting at, was that ladies of a certain social position—" she gestured to Abby's gown "—while they would never deign to sew their own garments, they usually have sewing skills."

  Abby's eyes brightened. "I do! I can stitch very well."

  "Good! That's what I was hoping for. You see, I have a business selling dresses, and the demand is higher than I can meet. It would be better if I could take someone on to help me," she said, allowing Abby the opportunity to think it over.

  But she didn't need any time. Abby grabbed Willow's hands. "Yes! Yes, I would love that. I could help you sew the dresses, or even give some ideas for design." She bit her lip, looking uncertain. "If that's all right."

  Willow laughed. "Of course! I need all the help I can get. Creatively and otherwise. There might not be as many women in town compared to men, but believe me, there are more than enough clients who need our services."

  Excited, Abby clapped her hands. "This is perfect. Thank you so much. I've been so worried, but this is exactly what I needed to make it. I still don't know about staying long-term, but your employment offer makes it so I can stay for now."

  Willow huffed. "I already told you. You’re staying here as long as you want." After saying that again, Willow wondered yet again why the woman had run away. She wanted to ask Abby, but they were just starting their friendship, and as such, it wasn't Willow's place to ask such a thing.

  "There's something I have to do," Abby said, her face falling into determined lines.

  "What is it?"

  Abby exhaled a large breath. "I need to speak with Rhys. I need to help him understand I'm not returning. As I said, he's stubborn. He could end up staying here for years, if I don't nip this in the bud."

  Willow understood what Abby meant, but she was worried if she spoke with her brother too soon, she would be persuaded to leave. "I'm worried he might push you to do something you don't want to," she said honestly.

  Abby chuckled. "I am, too. But I still have to do it."

  "Would you like me to go with you?" Willow may not be able to help in the conversation, but she could be there, silently supporting Abby's decision.

  "Would you? That would help so much."

  Willow could hear the relief in Abby's voice. "Of course. We're friends now, and friends stick together."

  And no matter what, Willow was determined to help Abby through this situation.

  Rhys was a driven man, and usually thinking of several things at once. So, he wasn't surprised when he walked into the hotel in Promise Creek, instantly thinking of all the ways he could improve it.

  It needed a remodel, some new paint. It also needed plants. Lush and gre
en, to bring in both a sense of luxury and peace.

  The entry wasn't grand, but it had character, and character was more intriguing than opulence. This place was so far beneath what he normally acquired, but the desire to purchase it was surprisingly strong.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. He must be more tired than he realized, to have such fanciful thoughts. This hotel wasn't a wise financial choice. It was on the smaller side, and Promise Creek wasn't exactly bustling with visitors. Honestly, he was surprised it turned a profit at all.

  As he stepped farther into the lobby, a portly woman in an unfortunate pea-green dress started toward him.

  She eyed his clothes, the fine chain that led to the pocket watch hidden in his vest. Her eyes lit, and he could see the way she calculated how much money she could relieve him of.

  Pure greed. His lips thinned. He'd seen this type of behavior before, and was prepared for an increase in lodging fees due to his perceived funds.

  "Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to the Promise Creek Hotel. Are you looking for a room?"

  "I am. I don't know how long I'll be staying though."

  "Well—" she flicked the fan on her wrist open "—as long as you have payment for the room, that should be just fine, Mr…?"

  "Winthrop."

  The fan snapped closed, and all veneer of friendliness vanished form the woman's face. "By any chance, are you related to Abigail Winthrop?"

  Rhys didn't like the woman's tone. "I am. She's my sister." She tapped her fan on his chest in an unfriendly way, and Rhys was impressed he didn't snap it in two.

  "If that's the case, I'll need your full payment upfront. I don't care how well you're dressed, I don't allow beggars in my establishment."

  Her words were so ludicrous, he coughed to hide his astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Oh, don't act all high and mighty with me. I see right through you. Same as your sister. You might have enough to dress yourself well, but I'm no fool. You pay your funds upfront, or you'll be thrown out just like her." Her lip curled. "Miss Packer was a fool for taking her in."