by Delia Parr
Traffic on the roadway increased as she neared the heart of the business district, but few shoppers were strolling out and about on the planked sidewalk simply because most people were too busy working to help the town recover. The sounds of construction and deconstruction filled the air with both sadness and hope. While some men razed buildings too damaged to be salvaged, other men were busy repairing those that were not, and wagon after wagon hauled away charred debris, some of which was still smoldering.
She stopped for a moment in front of town hall, where people were hurrying in and out with an assortment of donations. Draped in black bunting, the new town clock had been stopped at 6:24, the precise time of the first explosion.
Inside the two-story brick building, however, town leaders like Mayor Calloway and Sheriff North were still organizing volunteers to help the victims touched most directly by the tragedy and making plans for the town’s rebuilding and its economic recovery, as well. Women and their children were either accepting donated clothing and household utensils or sorting through them in the basement, while others on the first floor accepted donations of foodstuffs that were quickly delivered to those in need. Still other women were down the street at the Emerson Hotel, which had been turned into a makeshift hospital, where they cared for dozens of wounded workers.
Anxious to add her own efforts in that regard, Emma hurried her steps. When she finally arrived at the hotel, the lobby was crowded with other women volunteers who were standing in line, waiting to be directed to specific patients by Dr. Jeffers. Before she had a chance to take her own place in line, she spied a tall man with dark hair and soft gray eyes heading toward her.
She was so surprised to see her lawyer and financial advisor, Zachary Breckenwith, that she took a misstep. Somehow she managed to stay on her feet and waited for him to reach her, relieved he had to work his way across the entire room, if only to give her time to sort through the unexpected rush of emotion his presence created.
He was back.
He was really back.
Mr. Breckenwith had been summoned the better part of seven weeks ago to his aunt’s sickbed in Bounty, the next town north along the canal. She had passed away within hours of his arrival, and he had honored her wishes and brought her back to Candlewood to be buried beside her husband.
Breckenwith had left almost immediately after the funeral to return to Bounty and subsequently to New York City to fulfill his obligations as executor of his aunt’s estate, and Emma had not seen him or spoken to him since then.
She studied him as he drew closer. Taller than most men, he carried himself with an air of confidence just shy of arrogance. His stride was purposeful, his expression steady. When he locked his gaze with hers, her heart began to pound against the wall of her chest.
After sharing a professional relationship with this man for five years—in which he had challenged her business decisions more often than not—Emma had been more than shocked when he had stepped across the professional boundary separating them and expressed a more personal interest in her.
As it turned out, Breckenwith had been right to urge caution when she had first been approached by the executor of the estate that offered Hill House for sale. Instead, she had ignored her lawyer’s advice and immediately bought the property, only to learn this past fall, some four years after the fact, that the executor had absconded with her money and failed to file the transaction with the courts, as well.
Emma was forced to wait now for the legal owner, indeed the actual heir to the estate, to arrive in Candlewood at some point in the near future to inspect Hill House and decide whether or not to allow her to buy it again. But she had also been waiting for Zachary Breckenwith to either take the first formal step toward courting her or to redraw the professional boundary between them. Perhaps now she would finally know his intentions.
She caught her breath for a moment, still unsure which would be a more daunting task—working with him as a lawyer or developing a more personal relationship with him as a suitor.
In point of fact, she had not followed his advice during his absence to begin looking at other properties, if only to be prepared should she be forced to move out of Hill House. In that regard she was not anxious to see him on a professional basis, simply because she did not want to face the possibility that she might indeed lose Hill House, a reality he would be quick to point out to her.
She couldn’t face that yet. Not when she still hadn’t decided what she might want to do instead of operating the boarding-house. Not when she still had not decided how to tell Mother Garrett or Reverend Glenn that they would have to move again.
When Zachary Breckenwith finally reached her, he greeted her warmly. His hooded gaze, however, mirrored her own exhaustion. A widower of fifty-two, he was only a year older than she was, but the deep wrinkles across his forehead and the fatigue in his eyes dispelled his image of energy and optimism.
“You’re back,” she noted, dismayed she could only manage to state the obvious. “Have you finished your work on your aunt’s affairs?”
“I rode in late yesterday afternoon,” he replied and shook his head. “Although it’s good to finally be finished and return home, I’m still trying to come to terms with what happened here.”
She nodded. “As we all are.”
“I was told you’d probably arrive about now,” he offered. “Since I met here earlier with another client, I decided to wait for you here instead of walking all the way up to Hill House to talk with you.”
Her smile wavered a bit and her heart began to beat with both dread and hope. “You needed to talk to me?” she asked, wondering if perhaps he had news about the owner of Hill House coming to Candlewood.
He took her arm. “Let’s take a walk outside, shall we? I’m told they have more than enough volunteers here already today, and I have a personal favor to ask of you.”
Disappointed that his business with her today seemed not to fit any of her expectations, she let him escort her outside and across the street to walk along the planked sidewalk. Underfoot, more than a few scorch marks from flaming debris dappled the wooden walkway. As they walked past the storefronts, she tried to sort through her feelings for this man, but failed. Filled with self-doubt, she wondered if she had misread his intentions where she was concerned, at least on a personal level.
Yet here he was, this confusing man, about to ask her for a favor. A personal favor.
She slid her gloved hands into her cape pockets for warmth as they walked. “If you have something you’d like me to do for you, please consider it done. It’s the least I can do, considering how supportive you were in helping us resolve Widow Leonard’s problems with Mr. Langhorne last fall,” she prompted, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself as well as her legal problems.
He chuckled. “That was easy work. All I had to do was stand by in case the plan you had all worked out ran into complications. I know Widow Leonard went home with her sons for the winter, but I trust your mother-in-law is well?”
Emma smiled. “She’s very well, thank you. But I’m afraid Mother Garrett’s been more than a little lonely without her friend and companion.” Her smile drooped. “Now that the boarding-house is full again, she’s too busy in her kitchen to have time to be lonely, although I wish it were for a different reason. Entertaining guests on holiday is far easier than providing for people who have lost everything they owned, and I must admit we were all looking forward to a bit of rest until spring when we would normally be receiving guests again,” she said. She dared not admit, however, that the strain of keeping her troubles from Mother Garrett was taking its toll on their relationship.
“You’ve been very generous to those who needed help,” he noted.
“Others have done the same or more,” she countered.
He drew in a long breath and shook his head. “I was worried that buying my aunt’s house last fall, before she moved to Bounty, might be a bit extravagant, especially with young Jeremy deciding not
to pursue his study of the law and returning home. Given all that’s happened, I’m just pleased to have room to offer to so many others who need a place to stay, even temporarily. I moved myself into my office yesterday to free up another bedroom, but I’m afraid there isn’t any more room for as much as a mouse at this point, which Mrs. Ellis has been quick to point out. To her credit, she’s come around quite a bit since the tragedy,” he added with just a hint of a smile on his lips.
Emma nodded but did not offer a comment. Rumors had painted a rather acidic picture of his housekeeper, Amanda Ellis. The sixty-something widow had been referred to him by a friend of his late aunt. Widow Ellis, reputed to be the most opinionated woman ever to put head to pillow in Candlewood, apparently did not confine her opinions to matters concerning house and home, which did not endear her to the men in town. Emma, however, had done little more than exchange pleasantries with the woman when they had been introduced last month, and she was not about to make any judgment about the housekeeper based on anything less than her own personal experience, although she had heard that the energetic widow had also alienated many of the women in town by openly criticizing a number of them.
He paused his walk, looked directly at her, and furrowed his brow. “Did you say Hill House is full?”
“Yes, it is,” she said, stopped abruptly as he did, and clutched her cape tighter at her throat to keep out the cold air. “At least for now. Everyone there is trying to make more permanent arrangements until their homes can be repaired or rebuilt, but I’m not sure how soon any of them will be able to leave.”
He frowned, and Emma cocked her head. “Why do you ask? I thought everyone who needed a place to stay had been given one.”
“Until Sheriff North came to see me again this morning, I thought they had. Unfortunately, he has a couple who need a place to live, probably indefinitely, and he’s just about out of other options. He’s incredibly busy handling other problems, so I told him I’d speak to you about it. Since I don’t have room for them, he was wondering if you might. Apparently not,” he added thoughtfully.
“Tell them to come to Hill House,” she suggested without hesitation.
His gaze lit with disbelief. “But you said you were full.”
“And you said the sheriff had nowhere else for them to go. We’ll make room somehow.”
He cocked his head. “In all fairness, I probably should tell you who they are before you agree to take them in.”
“Why? Should it matter?”
“It might,” he admitted with a frown.
She returned his frown. “Well, it shouldn’t matter at all. Hill House is open to anyone left in need by this tragedy. Tell this couple they’re more than welcome to come as soon as they can. I have one stop to make, but I can be home within the hour. I’ll try to see if we have anyone ready to leave. If not, I’ll just have to close off one of the parlors for them, like we did for the Founders’ Day celebrations last September. Actually, you can tell them Mother Garrett will be serving dinner at one o’clock, so they can join us. You’re welcome to come, as well.”
He rubbed his brow and started them walking again. “I’m afraid you’ll need two rooms, not one.”
“I thought you said this was a couple who needed a place to live.”
Sighing, he slowed his pace. “I thought I said I had a couple of people who needed a place to live. If not, I should have. At this point, I’m afraid I’m so far past being tired, I can’t even remember what I said exactly.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you did. I probably just misunderstood and assumed this was a married couple.”
“Either way, it’s not, but I still think you should know who they are before you agree to take them in at Hill House.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure we can manage two separate rooms. But now that you’ve pricked my curious side,” she added, “you may as well tell me who they are.”
He drew in a long breath. “It’s Lester and Orralynne Burke.”
Emma froze in place, forcing him to stop, as well. The favor he asked of her was too much to even consider, despite her earlier assurances to the contrary.
She stiffened her back. She had already taken in fifteen people who had been touched by this tragedy, and she would find room for another fifteen before she would even consider taking in that troublesome pair.
She simply would have to refuse.
Politely, of course.
Bracing her feet, she looked up at him. She was prepared to argue against anything and everything he might say to convince her to change her mind, but Emma felt she owed him at least the opportunity to try. “Give me one good reason that I should even consider taking in the Burkes, other than the fact that I’m indebted to you.”
He shrugged and offered her the one reason she could not argue against. “Because I truly believe the sheriff when he tells me they have no other place to go.”
2
EMMA MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO QUESTION the sheriff’s concern or her lawyer’s sincerity, but given the Burkes’ reputations, she did question the notion that they actually needed a place to live.
She quickly challenged her lawyer’s claim. “I haven’t heard a word about them or their cottage being damaged. Their cottage is a good distance from all of the fires, after all. Has anyone bothered to check and see if there actually was any damage, or are you just taking the Burkes’ word for it?”
He looked down at the planked sidewalk and stubbed a scorch mark with the toe of his boot. “I can’t tell you why their home wound up being severely damaged by fire any more than I can tell you why some of the buildings closer to the match factory are still standing. All I know is that Sheriff North has had to find a different place for the Burkes to stay for the past three nights. Apparently no one who was kind enough to agree to take them in the first place can tolerate them for more than twenty-four hours. Since, one by one, they all refused to take them for another night, Lester and Orralynne have got no place to go tonight or any other night to come.”
“I’m not surprised,” Emma said. “Neither one of them bothered to attend services for the people killed in the explosion and fire. They’re probably the only ones who live for miles around who didn’t come.”
With a snort, he shook his head. “Short of offering them a jail cell for lack of anything else, which might make more than a few people smile for the first time in days, the sheriff thought I could ask you first. As a favor to him. And to me,” he added. “As soon as I have room in my house, they can move in there with me. I . . . I just can’t promise how soon that would be.”
Her reaction was both immediate and instinctive. She stiffened her back and clenched and unclenched her jaw. “That’s one very big favor,” she quipped.
He locked his gaze with hers. “I wouldn’t ask you if I thought the sheriff had a real chance of finding any other place for them to stay. I may not have lived here all my life, as you have, but I’ve made Candlewood my home for five years now. That’s long enough to know what I’m asking on the sheriff’s behalf. I know that taking even just one of the Burkes into your home would present a few problems for you, let alone both of them, but they refuse to be separated.”
Emma huffed. “A few problems? I can think of several,” she countered, her complaints tumbling out in a rush. “Everyone at Hill House will be affected. Mother Garrett will be beside herself. Liesel and Ditty, who are still on punishment for sneaking out to meet with their friends without permission, if you’ll recall, will probably be reduced to tears by supper. I’ll be lucky if they don’t quit by this time tomorrow or at least ask to go home for a spell. And once he finds out, Reverend Glenn might just be tempted to stay at the parsonage indefinitely.
“As for the others who have come to Hill House because they’ve been forced out of their homes, I prefer not to imagine the looks on their faces when they see Lester and Orralynne Burke arrive. I don’t want to think about what they might actually say when they realize the Burke
s have come to stay indefinitely, either.”
Emma paused for a moment, then addressed more personal concerns. “And what do you suggest I do if the owner of Hill House arrives in the meantime and witnesses the chaos bound to erupt? Any chance I might have had to convince him to sell the property to me again will be ruined. Unless you’ve heard from him and know he’s arriving later, perhaps in the spring?”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard from him or his lawyer. I spent a lot of time last night sorting through the correspondence that arrived while I was gone, but no. I can’t tell you when he’ll be arriving,” he admitted.
Breckenwith glanced down for a moment. When he looked up at her again, his gaze had softened. “You’re right. You can’t take in the Burkes. There are too many people at Hill House already, and I won’t ask you to risk losing Hill House should the owner arrive. I’ll tell Sheriff North that you don’t have any room. Maybe I can think of somewhere else for them to stay. But I thank you for considering the idea. Apparently that’s more than most people did when the sheriff approached them earlier today,” he offered.
He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to discuss something else. Instead, he simply tipped his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Sheriff North to let him know that the Burkes still need a place to stay,” he murmured before walking away.
Emma gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand perfectly still. Offering a temporary home to Lester and Orralynne Burke would be more than problematic. It would be pure disaster.
These two people had made enemies with nearly everyone in Candlewood who had lived there for any length of time. She did not have the official town records at her fingertips, but Emma would venture to guess there were very few people who had not been taken to court to face some sort of complaint filed by one or both of the Burkes. By their very presence at Hill House, Orralynne and Lester would destroy whatever peace they all had been enjoying during the quiet season more than the other fifteen townspeople ever could.