The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  Andrew handed their tickets to the woman with a smile. “Good evening, Martha.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Easton.”

  He placed an envelope on the table. “These are the tickets for the VIP guests. They should be arriving soon. You’ll know them by their uniforms.”

  “Yes, sir.” She beamed up at him. “And may I say what a wonderful thing this is that you and your family are doing. Honoring the veterans this way.”

  “Thank you, Martha. Say a prayer that all goes well tonight.”

  “Oh, indeed I shall, sir.”

  Andrew held out his arms to Grace and Virginia, and together they entered the ballroom. His mouth fell open at the sight of the transformed area before him. Dark blue and silver strips of material swooped down from the chandeliers in the ceiling. The walls were draped in similar swatches of fabric, as were the tables and chairs. Candles glowed in containers at each table, creating an intimate atmosphere. Huge arrangements of flowers graced the head table, with smaller versions at each of the other ones, scenting the whole room with a heady perfume.

  Grace’s head swiveled as she surveyed the room. “It’s absolutely stunning.”

  “I agree,” Virginia said. “As much as I hate to admit it, Cecilia has outdone herself.”

  “Indeed, she has.” It rankled Andrew a bit to have to agree. Had he secretly been hoping the event would flop so Edison would look bad? Not a very Christlike attitude. He gave himself a mental shake. For the soldiers’ sake, he was glad the room looked so elegant. They deserved nothing but the best. “Come on. I’ll take you over to Mother’s table. Then I have duties to attend to.”

  A smattering of early arrivals milled about the room. Andrew held back a groan as he approached the table closest to the front. How could he not have checked the seating arrangement beforehand? He should have realized Cecilia would seat the Carmichaels with Mother. Now Grace would be at the mercy of Charlotte Carmichael’s caustic tongue. He’d have to hope Virginia would handle the disagreeable woman.

  “Mother, you look positively radiant.” Andrew bent to kiss her cheek. Then he aimed his best smile at her table companions. “Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael, good to see you.” He shook hands with Harrison and kissed Charlotte’s icy hand. “You look lovely, Mrs. Carmichael.”

  She gave him a slight nod, then peered past his shoulder. “You brought the nanny? Won’t she feel terribly out of place at this type of event?”

  Virginia took Grace’s arm and propelled her forward. “I hope you don’t mind, Mother, but I begged Grace to come with me. I didn’t want to be the only youngster at the table.”

  Mother smiled. “Grace dear, this is a lovely surprise.”

  Andrew blinked, almost as stunned as Grace appeared to be.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Easton. I’m honored to be invited and grateful for the opportunity to pay tribute to all those who served their countries in this war, my brother included.”

  “Well said, young lady.” Mr. Carmichael, ever the gentleman, came forward. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Harrison Carmichael.”

  “Grace Foley. How do you do?” She bobbed a small curtsy.

  “You’re English?” A light of interest brightened Mr. Carmichael’s face. “I adore the British accent. I could listen to you talk all night. You must sit beside me.”

  Andrew repressed a sigh at the obvious stiffening of the man’s wife. Charlotte did not need another reason to dislike Grace.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael,” Virginia said. “But Grace is my guest for the evening.”

  Harrison only laughed. “Fair enough, Miss Easton. I defer to your youth.”

  From the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Cecilia and Edison talking close together at the front of the room. “Excuse me, everyone,” he said. With a subtle bow, he crossed first to the head table where his father stood. His heart thudding in his chest, he braced himself for his father’s reaction to the changes he’d made.

  “Andrew. Thank goodness.” His father’s heightened color accented the silver threads at his temple. “Paul and Cecilia are confused with two extra tables that were added at the last minute, apparently at your request.”

  Andrew smiled. “I’ve invited some guests who will make this night even more special.”

  A frown creased Father’s brow. “Is the kitchen aware of these extras?”

  “Of course. I do know a bit about the hotel business.”

  “Well, you’d better go and appease Cecilia before she has a fit.”

  “Leave her to me.” A movement caught his eye. “Ah, here comes Harrison. Why don’t you two keep him company and relax. Let me handle things.”

  As soon as his father and Harrison headed across the room, Andrew made his way to the corner where Edison and Cecilia were poring over some papers.

  Celia’s head snapped up the moment he approached. “Andrew. What is the meaning of this change to the agenda? It says you’re giving a speech.”

  “That’s right,” he said calmly.

  “Since when do you give speeches?” Edison demanded.

  “Since now.”

  “And what about these extra tables? Why didn’t you tell us about this before now?”

  “Yes, Andrew,” Celia said. “Why the secrecy?”

  “I have a surprise for everyone. Trust me. It’s going to be wonderful.” He hoped.

  Both of them scowled at him.

  With great effort, he kept his smile in place. “Remember, tonight is all about the veterans.”

  CHAPTER 16

  August 1, 1916

  Dear Grace,

  I finally got a better job! In an office. I’ve also been volunteering with Reverend Burke at the church. He’s recruiting people to make care packages to send overseas to the soldiers. We’ve been knitting socks and scarves. With every stitch, I picture my Frank getting something clean and warm to wear in those dreadful trenches. I can’t believe he’s been gone nearly two years.

  Grace had never before seen a building of such opulence.

  When they arrived at Easton Towers, the hotel lobby had taken her breath away, but it couldn’t compare to the ballroom. A multitude of overhead chandeliers illuminated the large space, the crystal orbs shooting sparkling rays over the tabletops. The heady perfume of thousands of fresh-cut flowers permeated the entire area. Grace almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t all a delicious dream.

  The one thing marring her total enjoyment of the evening, however, was the obvious hostility emanating from Mrs. Carmichael. If only the woman knew she had nothing to fear from Grace.

  Nothing at all.

  Despite the tension, Grace managed to enjoy the meal, which was one of the best she’d ever eaten. Filet mignon, roasted potatoes, asparagus, and glazed carrots, topped off with an amazing chocolate soufflé for dessert.

  Throughout the feast, Virginia kept Grace amused, murmuring little tidbits about the different people who stopped by the table to pay their respects.

  Grace took a sip of her tea, her gaze moving—as it had so many times that evening—to Andrew at the head table. He looked so official up there, so handsome and self-assured.

  And so very far out of her league.

  Just then he rose and walked to the microphone at the dais. Two brass stands held places of prominence on either side of the wooden structure. One contained a large red flag, presumably belonging to Canada, the other, a Union Jack, the flag of the British Empire.

  Andrew pulled out several sheets of paper and laid them on the podium.

  Grace’s heart raced. She gripped her hands together under the table, praying his speech would be as well received as the arrival of the soldiers had been.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ve enjoyed this delicious meal as much as I have. A big note of thanks to Chef Morrow, who did such a great job with the menu.”

  The audience applauded.

  “To begin, Mayor Church has asked me to extend his regrets that he couldn’t be
with us tonight because he had a previous engagement. But he has assured us of a large donation from city hall on Monday.” The people clapped politely. “As you all know, the reason for holding this gala tonight is to pay tribute to the brave men who fought so hard in the Great War. Without them, heaven only knows where we would be today. To that end, I would like to introduce one of our guests for this evening. I invite Dr. Victor Fullman, the director of the Toronto Military Hospital, to come up please.”

  More applause sounded as a dignified gray-haired man rose from the veterans’ table and made his way to the podium.

  “You may notice that I’m not dressed in a military uniform,” the man began. “That’s because the army deemed me a little too long in the tooth for combat.” Light laughter ensued. “I am, however, the director of the Toronto Military Hospital where hundreds of soldiers have come in need of healing. My esteem for these heroes has only grown since meeting such stoic patriots.” He paused to look over at one table. “One such man has become a good friend and colleague, a man who served as an army medic and who was himself injured while attempting to save a fellow soldier. This man recovered in England and brought back with him some innovative therapy techniques, which he has put into practice at the hospital. He’s a very private man, but I hope you’ll help me encourage him to come forward and share a bit about his experiences. I give you Doctor Matthew Clayborne.”

  Grace applauded while a tall, handsome man in uniform rose slowly from his seat. He walked forward with a slight limp to shake Dr. Fullman’s hand. From the way he stood staring over the crowd, focusing on no one, the medic seemed uncomfortable at being the center of attention. But then he began to speak, not about himself, but about the therapy techniques he used to help soldiers overcome their disabilities so they might go on to lead normal lives. His passion for his work shone through his words.

  If Owen had survived his injuries, Grace would have wanted someone like Dr. Clayborne to treat him. The man exuded sincerity and integrity.

  As did the man beside him. Andrew had done a fantastic job picking the men to honor tonight. Dr. Fullman and Dr. Clayborne took turns commending the soldiers at their table and highlighting their particular stories. Each one was more riveting than the next.

  Grace’s heart swelled. Andrew had done it. He’d turned this event into a real tribute for the soldiers. When he stepped forward to present Dr. Fullman with a sizable check for the military hospital, she could barely keep her tears at bay. She didn’t think she could be any prouder—until Andrew began his next speech.

  “The credit for this gala tonight must go to Mr. Paul Edison, who came up with the initial idea, and to Miss Cecilia Carmichael, who decorated this beautiful room.” He gestured for them to stand and waited while they acknowledged the audience’s applause. When the room quieted, Andrew shuffled the papers at the podium. “I would also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge a good friend who helped me when I was looking for a way to make this evening more meaningful.” For a second, his gaze caught Grace’s. “Her suggestions were wonderful and I thank her for them.”

  Heat rushed into her face. Surely he wouldn’t mention her by name.

  But he quickly turned back to his prepared speech, and Grace released a grateful breath.

  “Many of you here have been touched by the war in one way or another,” he continued. “The Easton family is no exception. When the war broke out, my older brother, Frank, was one of the first people in line at the recruitment office. Some called him reckless, some called him patriotic. Only Frank knew his true motivation, but as his brother, I suspect a big part was the lure of adventure.” He smiled. “Frank always did seem too big for this world. Too filled with excitement for it to contain him.” He halted, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  Grace glanced at Mr. Easton. He stared straight ahead, his mouth set in a grim line. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling except that she swore she saw the glisten of tears in his eyes.

  Andrew cleared his throat. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was jealous of my brother. I tried three times in three different recruitment offices to enlist, but unfortunately due to some physical limitations”—he pushed his glasses up higher on his nose—“they deemed me unfit for combat. Frank made it seem like he’d won another contest, and this time his prize was a uniform and a helmet. If only his winning streak could have continued.”

  Mrs. Easton let out a quiet sob and pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. Virginia too was weeping softly. Grace reached over to squeeze Mrs. Easton’s arm. She hadn’t counted on the toll Andrew’s tribute might take on his mother.

  “Our one consolation,” Andrew went on, “was that Frank died a hero. During a particularly bloody skirmish, he went back to help an injured comrade, and in the process, was hit himself. He managed to get the man to safety, but unfortunately Frank succumbed to his injuries.” He stopped and took a quick sip of water, while the room murmured their sympathy. “Too many young men lost their lives in this conflict, but without them, we probably wouldn’t enjoy the same liberties we do now. So tonight we remember their sacrifice.” His focus moved to the table of veterans. “Once again, gentlemen, on behalf of the Easton family and everyone here, we thank you most sincerely for your service to our country.”

  The people surged to their feet in a standing ovation. Mrs. Easton rose as well, clapping enthusiastically. Virginia and Grace followed suit, Virginia seeming unashamed of the wetness staining her cheeks. When Mr. Easton shook Andrew’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, Grace bit her lip to contain a fresh surge of emotion.

  “Thank you for that fine tribute, Andrew,” he said in a gruff voice. “And now let us continue the evening with a celebration of victory and the end of the war. The orchestra is ready and waiting to entertain us, and those of you who wish to dance are invited to. And please help yourself to the dessert table, which shall remain available until midnight. Now, maestro, since everyone is already standing, let’s begin with the royal anthem.”

  After the last strains of “God Save the King” faded, the orchestra began a waltz, and Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael were one of the first couples to join in the dancing. Grace sat back against her chair, content to watch all the colorful pairs swirling around the floor. The whole evening had been something out of a dream for her. She truly felt like Cinderella at the ball—except the handsome prince would never come for her.

  Virginia nudged Grace from her musings. “Don’t look now, but I think Mr. Edison is heading your way.”

  Grace glanced up. “He’s probably coming to speak to your mother.”

  “Judging by the gleam in his eye, I’d say not.”

  Mr. Edison strode up to the table and gave a small bow. “Good evening, ladies. I trust you’re enjoying yourselves.”

  “We are indeed, Mr. Edison,” Mrs. Easton replied. “You and Cecilia have done an excellent job.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed to Virginia. “Miss Easton, you look beautiful as always. Where is your esteemed fiancé this evening?”

  Virginia’s smile dimmed. “I’m afraid business has kept him away, although he may show up yet.”

  “If I had such a lovely fiancée, you’d be hard-pressed to keep me away.” He turned his intense gaze on Grace. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction to your friend.”

  The man was charming enough, but because Grace knew Andrew’s dislike of him, she didn’t allow his attention to sway her.

  “Forgive my manners,” Virginia said. “Paul Edison, this is Grace Foley.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Foley. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

  Grace’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to be rude, but how could she get out of this situation without insulting him?

  “I’m afraid she’s spoken for.” Andrew’s cool voice came from behind her shoulder, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine.

  She turned slightly to see his blue eyes trained on Mr. Edison in what could only be described as a chall
enge.

  Mr. Edison’s features hardened. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with the woman you hope to marry?”

  “Cecilia has a queue of partners waiting for her. And besides, I owe this lovely lady a dance since I was the one who convinced her to come tonight.” He held out his hand to her.

  The tension between the two men stretched like a slingshot.

  Beside her, Virginia coughed, hiding a grin behind her napkin.

  Grace repressed the urge to smack her arm. “Thank you, Mr. Edison,” she said, “but I must take advantage of Andrew while he’s free.” She smiled and placed her hand in Andrew’s. “However, I’m sure Virginia would love the opportunity to dance.” She winked at a flustered Virginia as she stepped away from the table.

  With a hand at her elbow, Andrew led her toward the dance floor.

  “You never told me you have a wicked side,” he whispered in her ear.

  The warmth of his breath sent goose bumps along her arms. She turned to him with a light laugh. “I’m full of surprises once you get to know me.”

  “Then I look forward to discovering all the intriguing facets of your personality.”

  With a flourish, he whisked her onto the floor, placing one hand at the small of her back. Her breath caught in her lungs, his nearness doing crazy things to her pulse. As they moved to the melody, Grace gave thanks that her father had taught her to dance, even if it was only for the parish socials they used to attend. It meant she could at least keep pace with an accomplished dancer like Andrew.

  She gazed up into the warm glow of his eyes and smiled.

  “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he said. “That the evening hasn’t been too tedious.”

  “Not at all. I’ve loved every moment, especially your wonderful speech. I’m so proud of you, Andrew. You’ve made this night very special for everyone involved.”

  A hint of color infused his cheeks. “All thanks to you. Your suggestion was the spark I needed.”

  His praise expanded within her, filling the hollow spaces with warmth.