The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  Grace bit her bottom lip to contain a rush of laughter. She suspected Mr. Easton wouldn’t share her humor.

  “We’ve been invited to the Carmichaels’ for lunch,” Mr. Easton said. “Drop Miss Foley off and meet us there.” He continued down the aisle without a glance in Grace’s direction.

  Andrew laid a hand on her arm. “Please excuse my father’s rudeness.”

  “You needn’t apologize. His anger is merely a mask for his pain.”

  His eyes widened. “That is a perfect description. How did you come up with that after so short a time?”

  “I’ve lived with my mother’s version of it for over a decade.” She tucked the blanket under Christian’s chin as they made their way into the vestibule. “It doesn’t render the comments any less hurtful, but understanding the source makes it bearable.”

  “Why is your mother so angry?” Curiosity lit his blue eyes.

  But Grace had no intention of telling Andrew about her own horrible character flaw—one that had led to such tragedy and was a constant source of friction with her mother. He might not trust her with Christian if he knew, and she wasn’t willing to risk it. “That’s a story for another day. Come on. Your father will be livid if we delay any longer.”

  CHAPTER 14

  November 18, 1914

  Dear Grace,

  I don’t know when Frank will be able to send his pay home. Mail is sporadic at best. So in order to keep our little flat, I’ve had to take a job cleaning houses. I’m also doing some sewing on the side for one of my neighbors. I only hope I can make enough to keep living here until Frank returns.

  Much later that day, with Christian in bed for the night, Grace tiptoed to the door of the kitchen and peered inside. No sign of Mrs. Hopkins. Grace breathed a sigh of relief. As much as she adored the woman, if she were here now she’d want to talk, and talk, and talk. Usually Grace enjoyed her fanciful stories, but after a long day, all she wanted was a cup of tea and some solitude. Since she hadn’t been inclined to go anywhere in the downpours of rain, she’d relieved Andrew and Virginia from their offer to mind Christian. Perhaps next Sunday she would get her day off and visit Mrs. Chamberlain.

  Grace set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner, then rummaged quietly in the cupboards for the tea. In the process, she discovered a tin of homemade sugar cookies. Soon she settled at the staff’s table with two cookies on a plate and the warm cup between her fingers.

  Her thoughts immediately circled back to the undercurrent of tension at the dinner table that evening over a discussion of an upcoming event at the hotel, the one Cecilia Carmichael had been helping with. Grace didn’t understand the exact nature of the problem, but it was clear Andrew and Mr. Easton held vastly different opinions about it.

  She finished her tea, rinsed the cup, and set it in the sink to dry. Not feeling any more ready to sleep, she nonetheless started up the stairs to her room. As she reached the main floor, the sound of music drifted over to her. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the sound to the parlor. Someone was playing the piano.

  She peeked around the doorframe, surprised to find the room shrouded in darkness. Only a small lamp over the keyboard illuminated the area, creating a halo effect around the player’s head.

  Her heart hitched. She had no idea Andrew was musically inclined.

  Something about the soulful manner in which he played and the haunting quality of the melody riveted Grace to the spot. She waited, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the music.

  Finally his fingers stilled on the keys, and his shoulders slumped. He seemed worn down, defeated.

  Grace couldn’t leave without at least trying to help.

  “That was beautiful. I didn’t know you could play.”

  He swiveled on the bench, surprise and perhaps pleasure lighting his eyes. “Thank you. It’s all due to my mother, who insisted on mandatory lessons when we were young.” He rose and came to stand by the sofa. “Now I only play when trying to solve a problem. I find it frees my mind.”

  “I could tell something was bothering you at dinner this evening.” She took a seat in one of the armchairs. “I’m a good listener if you’d care to talk about it.”

  He studied her a moment, then nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “Thank you. That might help.” He turned on a lamp beside the sofa, which cast a warm glow over the area, then perched on the arm of a wing chair.

  “Does it have anything to do with the benefit at the hotel?” Grace asked. “It seemed a bone of contention between you and your father.”

  His lip quirked up. “One of many, I’m afraid.”

  If Andrew considered it odd to be having such a frank discussion with one of his staff members, he didn’t let it show, which gave Grace the courage to forge on. “I gather you don’t agree with him about hosting the gala.”

  “It’s not that. The idea for the benefit came from Paul Edison, one of my father’s executives. It’s supposed to be a tribute to the soldiers, a show of gratitude for their efforts in the war. But Edison’s doing this for all the wrong reasons. He’s using the gala to make himself look good in my father’s eyes.” Andrew rose abruptly and walked to the window where he pushed the curtains aside and stared out at the darkness beyond.

  The clock on the mantel struck nine, the chimes echoing in the stillness of the room.

  Grace folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to continue.

  At last he spoke. “Edison’s invited one token soldier as the focus of the event. The majority of people attending will be the usual upper class of Toronto, when it should be the veterans we’re inviting. Yet the cost of a ticket is likely too expensive for a returning soldier to afford, and the goal is, after all, to raise money for the hotel as well as the veterans.” He let the curtain drop back into place and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what the answer is, but the whole affair is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I’m sure Frank would be appalled at the idea.”

  Grace nodded. Owen would feel the same way. It would be different if this was a sincere attempt to pay tribute to the men who had sacrificed so much for the world’s freedom. But there was no reason why that still couldn’t happen.

  “Have all the tickets been sold?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Could you not, as a show of good faith, purchase a number of tickets on behalf of the hotel and offer the seats to some local veterans?”

  At his puzzled look, warmth bled into her cheeks. Perhaps he thought the idea foolish. “I don’t begin to know the amount of money involved, but if it were feasible, wouldn’t that be a fitting way of rewarding the soldiers?”

  “An admirable thought, but where would we find the names of these people?”

  She considered it for a moment. “At home, we have a Department of Veterans’ Affairs that keeps track of all the returning and deceased soldiers.” Grace pushed back the recollection of them coming to the door with tragic news about Owen. “There’s also the hospital where the wounded soldiers were taken. The officials there kept meticulous records of every man who came through their doors.”

  His eyes lit with sudden enthusiasm. “We have the Toronto Military Hospital right here in the city. I could start there.” He took a seat across from her. “Thank you, Grace. I think I can salvage this event and turn it into something positive. Something Frank would be proud of.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” She hesitated. “Might I offer another suggestion?”

  “By all means.”

  “I think it would be wonderful if you gave a tribute to your brother at the dinner. It would add a more personal touch to the event, and I’m sure the soldiers would appreciate hearing how the war has touched your family.”

  Andrew stared at her, a muscle working in his jaw. Had she gone too far suggesting such a thing? After all, his relationship with his brother had been strained at best. Still, Frank had given his life in service to his country, which had to count for something.<
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  “That’s perfect. It would be a way to tie the event to our family and provide a valid reason for hosting it.” Andrew’s gaze grew more intense. “You’re brilliant.”

  Pleasure flooded her system at his praise. “But will your father agree to it?”

  “I won’t give him the chance to refuse. I’ll add the tribute to the agenda myself—at the last minute, if necessary.” His face became determined. “And if I do get more soldiers to attend, I may have to keep that as a surprise as well. If not from my father, then definitely from Paul Edison.”

  Grace wondered if Andrew’s animosity toward this Mr. Edison was purely business or if it had anything to do with the other man’s supposed interest in Cecilia? But his feelings about Mr. Edison didn’t matter. Finding a way to make this gala more meaningful, instead of being simply about raising money, was the issue.

  Andrew reached out and took her hand in his. Warmth spread up her arm and her pulse quickened. Flustered, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firm between his own.

  “If I manage to pull this off, you must come to the gala. We both lost siblings in this dreaded war. My tribute to Frank will be a tribute to your brother as well.”

  “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said.

  “It would mean a great deal to have you there.” His blue eyes shone with sincerity, causing nerves to flutter in her stomach.

  “I-I have nothing to wear to such an event.”

  He grinned. “Never fear. Virginia will come to the rescue, I imagine.”

  “But what will Miss Carmichael say?”

  “She can hardly object to me inviting a friend.”

  A friend. Grace swallowed a sudden rush of disappointment. How silly to imagine she was anything more than that to him. “I’d have to see if one of the maids would be willing to watch Christian for me.”

  “I’m sure they will. And if they give you any trouble, I’ll speak to them.”

  Grace’s stomach sank. The last thing she needed was for Andrew to order one of her peers to do her work while she attended the ball. Visions of Cinderella came to mind, and while Virginia might be her fairy godmother and provide her with a gown, Cecilia Carmichael fit the role of the evil stepmother to perfection.

  This affair could prove to be a roaring success—or a complete disaster.

  When the day of the gala arrived, Grace still hadn’t found a way to get out of attending the event. None of her arguments had swayed either Andrew or Virginia—his co-conspirator—from their determination that she come with them. Grace could have simply refused, but if she were being perfectly honest, part of her thrilled at the possibility of attending such an exclusive function at the Easton Towers Hotel. When would she ever have such a chance again?

  And part of her looked forward to the chance to pay tribute not only to Owen, but to Rose’s late husband too. Even though Grace had never met Frank, she felt like she knew him through Rose’s letters.

  Besides, it seemed important to Andrew that she be there, and she couldn’t bring herself to let him down.

  “I’m so excited you’re coming,” Virginia had told her earlier in the week while she forced Grace to try on gown after gown from her closet.

  How did one girl possess so many beautiful dresses?

  “I won’t feel like such a lame duck at the table with Mother and her friends. Andrew and Father will of course be at the head table, along with all the other hotel dignitaries.”

  “What about Basil? Won’t he be there?”

  Virginia’s features clouded over. “As usual, he has business of his own that evening. Though he did say he’d try to come for an hour or so.”

  Grace hid an expression of relief behind the ruffles of the dress she was trying on. It would be good to have Virginia there as a buffer, not only between her and Mr. Easton, who would likely be apoplectic when he saw her, but between her and Andrew as well. She had to remind herself that he was not her escort, that he’d only invited her out of a shared interest in the veterans being honored. Nothing more.

  “I think this is the one.” Virginia fluffed the sleeves of the frothy blue creation, then propelled Grace to the mirror. “It’s fabulous, don’t you agree?”

  Grace could only stare at her reflection. She’d never worn anything so fancy in her life. With a slight movement of her hips, the fabric swung about her legs, the whole dress shimmering with reflected light. “It’s beautiful. Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?”

  “Absolutely not. This color looks great on you. Andrew won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

  Grace stiffened. The last thing she needed was her friend’s continued attempts at matchmaking. “Virginia, you have the wrong idea. Andrew only invited me because we’ve both lost brothers in the war. Don’t forget, he’ll be escorting Cecilia.”

  Undaunted, Virginia only grinned. “You can’t blame me for wishing someone might take his focus off her.”

  “Well, that someone won’t be me,” Grace said sternly. “Can you imagine your father’s reaction?”

  Virginia sighed. “You’re probably right. But one can always dream.”

  Dreams, Grace told herself now as she dressed for the event, were a ridiculous waste of time. Especially dreaming of something that could never be.

  Lord, I ask for your help tonight. Keep my focus on what the evening is really about, and let me not fall into temptation.

  She waited nervously in her room until Virginia tapped on her door, the signal that her parents had already left and that they should meet Andrew in the foyer. He was to drive them both over and pick the appropriate time to usher them into the ballroom. She had to trust him when he claimed his father would never make a scene in public, and, as he assured her, with the extra veterans arriving, as well as the speech Andrew intended to give, she would be the last thing on his father’s mind.

  Grace opened her door to find Virginia resplendent in a fuchsia silk gown and matching shoes.

  “You look wonderful.” Grace smiled at her partner in crime and closed her bedroom door behind her.

  Virginia gave a mock curtsy. “Why, thank you. So do you. My maid did a fabulous job with your hair. You, my dear, will be the belle of the ball.”

  Grace patted the intricate sweep of curls on top of her head, still marveling at the way the other staff members had jumped in to help her. “I never imagined I could look like this. I’m not sure I’m at all comfortable with it.”

  Virginia wound her arm through Grace’s, pulling her along the hallway. “Better get used to it. You’re bound to have all the men swooning at your feet.” She came to a sudden stop and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Starting with my brother.”

  Grace’s gaze flew up. Andrew stood several feet away, staring at her with his mouth open. Her pulse tripped at the sight of him. He looked incredibly handsome in a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back to one side, and his beard impeccably groomed.

  She swallowed hard, but no words made it past her dry throat.

  He took a few steps forward, meeting them at the top of the stairs. “Grace, you look positively stunning.”

  Heat stole into her cheeks at the unaccustomed compliment. “Thank you.”

  “What about me, Drew? Am I stunning as well?” Virginia’s teasing tone brought a slash of red to Andrew’s face.

  “You’re beautiful as always, Gin.” He kissed her cheek, then cleared his throat. “I’ll bring the car around. Meet me out front in five minutes.”

  “We’ll be there,” Virginia promised.

  Grace took a deep breath as Andrew headed down the stairs. Already she’d failed to guard her heart. She’d have to try extra hard for the rest of the night to keep all romantic thoughts of Andrew at bay.

  CHAPTER 15

  Andrew’s unexpected nerves were a result of the surprises he had planned for this evening. They had absolutely nothing to do with the way Grace looked in that dress or the fact that the mere sight of her made his heart bea
t double time in his chest. He continued to try to convince himself of that as he escorted the women into the lobby of the Easton Towers Hotel.

  Once inside, he stopped to check his pocket watch, relieved to find they were a good thirty minutes early. With all he had in store for his father and Edison, Andrew wanted plenty of time to make sure everything went smoothly.

  The first hurdle to cross—Grace’s presence. He prayed his father would not embarrass her in front of Toronto’s entire elite set. Another reason he was glad to be early. Most of the upper class tended to arrive late, wanting to make their grand entrance in front of as many people as possible.

  When he reached the elevator, he found himself alone. He looked back to where Grace and Virginia had stopped in the middle of the lobby. He frowned and crossed the floor toward them. “Is something wrong?”

  Grace’s brown eyes were wide with awe. “Oh, Andrew. Your hotel is magnificent. I’ve never seen anything so grand before.”

  Andrew’s chest swelled with pride—and a little remorse. He’d been so consumed with tonight’s event that he never stopped to think this was Grace’s first time to see the hotel—maybe her first time ever in such an opulent place. “I’m glad you like it. We’re very proud, of course.”

  “Wait until you see the ballroom.” Virginia looped her arm through Grace’s. “It’s even more impressive.”

  Grace seemed to hold her breath as they entered the elevator.

  Andrew pushed the button. The cage jerked into motion, and she gasped. She gripped his arm with steely fingers, until they came to a stop and the doors slid open.

  “I’ve only been on an elevator once before,” she said. “That was . . . exhilarating.”

  He laughed. If only everyone was so easily impressed.

  Andrew led the way to the ballroom entrance. A large sign reading Veterans Ball, June 28, 1919 stood beside the open double doors. One of the hotel employees sat at a small table, ready to take tickets, and if anyone wanted, to check their coats. A bellboy would take all the wraps to the coatroom farther down the corridor.