A Tangled Web

by Jane Peart

  “Harvey House guests are all treated equally, with the same courtesy and careful attention to their needs. Water glasses are never left empty, nor coffee cups unfilled. Each course is removed only when the customer has put down his utensil, not before. Diners should not feel rushed, nor should they have to stare at a plate with uneaten food remaining upon it.”

  On and on her voice went, repeating all the rules that had been drilled into Darcy during her training. Her gaze kept returning to Clemmie, whose face was set, without even a flicker of friendliness. Darcy felt again the hurt of a lost friendship. She deeply regretted those few careless words she had spoken, words that had caused the unbridgeable chasm between them. This momentous event, which ordinarily would have been a shared occasion to discuss endlessly, now lay on Darcy’s heart like a dead weight.

  She didn’t have time to think of her own feelings very long. Through the French doors opening from the dining room onto the courtyard, where the old war comrades were gathered, came the sound of laughter and male voices. The reunion had begun in full swing.

  “Now, ladies, take your stations. Remember, Harvey House expects each one of you to make us proud,” Miss Cannon said in a hushed but firm voice.

  With a final hopeful glance in Clemmie’s direction, Darcy moved to her station, which faced the doors leading from the courtyard into the dining room.

  Even though for security reasons the guest list had not been disclosed, there was still a strong feeling among the staff that the flamboyant president might be among the attendees. There were rampant stories of how he often eluded his Secret Service guards to take unscheduled trips out of the White House or to play with his five rambunctious children on the lawns and tennis court. He just may have decided to join his former comrades-in-arms at this reunion. With this possibility in mind, Darcy searched the faces of the men flowing into the banquet room.

  Then her blood turned to ice. Among the jovial groups still talking and laughing as they took their places, she recognized Dwight Michaels, one of Willowdale’s county commissioners, a man well known to her Uncle Henry and a frequent visitor to the Beehive. That alone would have been bad enough, but worse still, in the group accompanying Michaels she saw Grady!

  NINETEEN

  Darcy’s mouth went dry, her breath shallow. All the symptoms of panic. What was Grady doing here? Then she recalled that Michaels had served in the volunteer cavalry unit led by Roosevelt. It had been in Michaels’ campaign flyers. However, she remembered hearing that Michaels had not come home a wounded hero but was discharged after contracting malaria.

  All this raced through Darcy’s mind while the dining room hummed with the noise of people conversing and finding their seats, giving her time to gather her wits.

  And none too soon. As she drew a long breath to steady herself, Grady saw her. Something like an electric current went through her as he did. He went chalk white, then red. His eyes widened in disbelief. His mouth, under a newly acquired mustache, fell open.

  He stood as if turned to stone, his gaze riveted on her. He stared at her, then made a jerky movement as if to come toward her. At that moment a man behind him touched his arm to speak to him, and Grady turned his head to answer.

  At least Darcy had not been assigned to serve that side of the table. She wiped suddenly-sweaty palms on her apron and drew another long, shaky breath. Of all people, Grady was the very last person she had expected to see here, of all places. But then, Carly had mentioned in one of her letters that Michaels was considering running for governor of the state, and if Michaels had come, it would be natural for Grady to come with him. Michaels had been one of the men urging Grady to run for sheriff.

  Now what? Guiltily she thought of the engagement ring still in the pocket of her valise, and the letter she had never written to him. There was no one to blame for this nightmare situation but herself.

  The almost inaudible snap of the head waitress’ fingers brought Darcy to attention. That was the signal to start serving the first course. She had to pull herself together, do her job. When the banquet was over, she would face whatever she had to face.

  Automatically Darcy moved to the service counter, where the chilled melon slices were slid through the kitchen window for the waitresses to pick up.

  Between the courses, Darcy sent furtive glances across the table, studying her former fiancé. In spite of the severe shock he must have suffered upon seeing her, Grady looked very well indeed. His appearance had changed significantly in the few months since she had seen him. Besides the mustache, which added some maturity to his boyish face, he was nattily dressed. Quite the dandy in a well-tailored sand gray suit, immaculate white ruffled shirt. All the rough edges of the country boy she had grown up with had been smoothed and polished. Whoever had been guiding his political ambitions had wrought a new image, no doubt carefully designed to make him more electable.

  Darcy never knew how she got through the next hour and a half. Her movements were mechanical. She served course after course with trained precision, showing no indication that her emotions were in turmoil. When would Grady confront her? What was he going to do or say? Although he was sitting across from her section of the banquet table, she could feel his eyes continually upon her.

  Her training was so ingrained that outwardly she was the perfect waitress, the ultimate Harvey Girl. As the dinner progressed and during the speeches that came afterward, Darcy wondered how long she could hold on. She felt like a condemned criminal with the noose tightening around her neck. There would be no reprieve from this sentence. An accounting was unavoidable. She would have no defense against Grady’s furious interrogation.

  Finally the dessert and coffee were served. Afterward the men, replete with good food and drink, began leaving the banquet table, drifting out into the inviting coolness of the courtyard under a star-studded Arizona sky. There the conviviality would continue, with more war stories, promises to keep in touch, plans for another reunion. It would be at least another hour before they would all return to the station and board the special train that would take them back to their respective towns and cities.

  The busboys scrambled like ants as they cleared up, gathering the linen cloths, loading the trays with dishes and glasses, pushing the tables back into their regular formation. The weary waitresses, after receiving congratulations from Miss Cannon, were straggling out of the dining room, seeking well-earned rest.

  Darcy looked for Clemmie. The shock of seeing Grady had temporarily thrust their still-unresolved breach out of her mind. Everything seemed to be crashing down upon her. Not that she didn’t deserve it. Still, it left her feeling demolished and desolate.

  “Darcy.” The familiar voice struck the moment of doom into her heart. The dreaded moment had finally come. Straightening her shoulders, she slowly turned around to face Grady.

  He was standing at the open French doors, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  “Well, Darcy, do you want to explain? If you have an explanation.” The way he spoke, it sounded as if no explanation would be acceptable. His glance lingered on her uniform. He shook his head, bewilderment, anger in his expression. “Want to tell me what all this is about? What’re you doing waiting on tables in that getup?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, he demanded, “Does your mama know about this? The judge? What kind of a fool game have you been playing out here, Darcy? It just don’t make any sense.” He looked at her accusingly. “Your family don’t know anything about what you’re actually doing, do they? No, I didn’t think so. I went by to see them before I left on this trip with Mr. Michaels, and your mother told me you had a new teaching job here in Arizona. Your Aunt Sadie showed me the postcards you sent her, telling her all about the Indian children and the pottery and the rugs and all that. Now I know it was all made up.” His mouth twisted. “How could you do that to that poor old lady? To say nothing of your uncle and aunt—” He stopped. “How did you think you could get away with it? This don’t seem to be any ki
nd of joke. What’s goin’ on, I’d shure like to know?”

  “I can explain, Grady, if you’d give me a chance.” But then Darcy stopped. There really wasn’t an explanation. She’d done a stupid thing and now she was paying for it. “I was going to write and explain, but—”

  “Simply never got around to it? That just don’t make sense, Darcy. Somethin’ as important as being engaged, don’t that deserve more than—” Grady shook his head again, as if this deception were beyond understanding.

  “I’m sorry—,” Darcy began, knowing it wasn’t enough.

  But Grady was too angry to listen. His indignation was building up. “I told everyone my fiancée was a teacher in this town! Dwight Michaels himself, possibly the next governor of Missouri, even suggested that I ask her to join us for dinner—as a guest, not a waitress!”

  Frustrated even though she knew he had a right to be angry, Darcy interrupted. “Correction, Grady. Your former fiancée! Remember, I broke our engagement before I left Willowdale. You had no business telling him or anybody else that I was your fiancée.”

  “And I never accepted that either. I thought ‘fore long you’d change your mind about marrying me. Everybody told me once you’d see what it was like out in the West on your own, you’d find out there’s a lot of things worse than being a sheriff’s wife.”

  “Which exactly proves my point. You never believed I meant what I said, that I didn’t want to be a politician’s wife. It didn’t matter what I wanted. You thought you could bully me into being what you wanted me to be!”

  Grady’s expression changed. The belligerent look faded into one of doubt.

  Darcy rushed on. “And I can see nothing’s changed. You want me to be something I’m not. It still doesn’t matter what I think or feel or want out of life.”

  Grady bit his lower lip, pausing as if to collect his thoughts before speaking. When he did, his voice was low and husky.

  “I’ve loved you for a long time, Darcy, for as long as I can ‘member. Since we were kids, actually. Why did you do this to me, make me look a fool?”

  “Make you look a fool? I couldn’t do that, Grady. If you feel a fool, that’s your own fault. I think you’re embarrassed to introduce me to your high and mighty friend, the possible governor. You’re not seeing me; you’re seeing this uniform. And you’re ashamed to have them know what I do. That’s what this comes down to. You don’t love me for who I really am, what I am. It was fine when you could introduce me as a teacher. That was acceptable. Now that you find out I’m a waitress, you’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?”

  Grady flushed. “It’s you who oughta be ashamed, Darcy! You’re the one who was ashamed to tell me and your family what you were doing. Shure, I was surprised to find out what you were really doing here in Arizona. But what I’m really shocked about is to find out you’ve lied.”

  That hit Darcy where it hurt. The truth always did. But she wanted the whole truth to come out now. “You’re right, I did lie—and I am ashamed of lying! But I’m not ashamed of being a Harvey Girl! It’s great. Harvey Girls are special and respected throughout the Southwest. Along the Sante Fe people say they are the best thing that ever happened to the West. And let me tell you this: I’m very good at what I do. Much better than I would have been as a teacher. And if you weren’t such a snob, Grady, you’d understand that there’s nothing shameful about it. It’s a million times better than being a toady to some cigar-smoking politician!”

  With visible effort Grady controlled his temper. “That’s not what I am. It shure isn’t what I intend to be, either. But I do want to be a sheriff, and for reasons that seem right to me, whether you agree or not.”

  Strangely, her indignation and anger began to simmer down. Darcy studied the man she had known all her life, the man she had considered marrying. Maybe she didn’t understand him, his needs, his goals, his ambitions, any more than he understood her.

  “Well, Grady, I think it’s a good thing we found out all this about each other before we made the terrible mistake of getting married. I admit I was wrong to lie. And I’m sorry I hurt you. But maybe we’re both better off in the long run.”

  Grady looked sad. “I don’t know what’s come over you, Darcy. I don’t know you anymore. You’re certainly not the girl I loved and wanted to marry.”

  Suddenly Darcy felt weary. There seemed no use trying to explain further. They had been apart too long. She had changed too much.

  Almost wistfully she said, “Well, you don’t have to marry me! You don’t even have to tell anyone you know me.”

  Grady flung out his hands in a helpless gesture. “What am I going to say to your folks?”

  “There’s nothing for you to explain,” Darcy said firmly, remembering Clara Bingham’s words. “It’s my problem and I’m going to take care of it.”

  An awkward silence fell. Grady started to ask, “Can’t we—,” then halted. Both of them knew it was too late. Even though they’d grown up together, they’d grown apart. Too far apart to find their way back to each other.

  “I’m sorry, Grady,” Darcy said and walked away without looking back, leaving him standing there looking after her.

  TWENTY

  Darcy started toward the dormitory steps, then stopped. She didn’t belong there anymore. She had only been hired for this banquet, had only become a Harvey Girl again for this one special event. Like Cinderella when the clock struck midnight, after the ball she had nowhere to go. Instead she turned and walked out to the now deserted courtyard between the restaurant and the hotel.

  She hugged her arms and walked slowly around the edge of the patio. As she walked, she could hear the soothing splash of the water in the circular fountain.

  It was quiet, not a whisper of wind. The dark-blue sky was filled with stars. She sat on the brick edging of the fountain. From somewhere in the distance she heard the plink of guitar music. It was a familiar melody. A serenade, possibly. A romantic song she could not name, just feel in her heart, evoking a sweet melancholy.

  She had lost Clemmie, her best friend, and Grady, her old beau, her childhood sweetheart, and once the truth of her deception was known, probably the respect and trust of her family and most of the people she knew in Willowdale. As if on cue, one of her Grandma Bee’s sayings taunted, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” If she only had it to do over…

  Lost in her own thoughts, she did not see the tall figure who stepped out of the shadows, approaching slowly. Thinking she was alone, she was startled to hear her name spoken. “Miss Welburne? Darcy?”

  She turned to see that it was Ted Shepherd.

  “Ted! I didn’t know you’d come back.”

  “I finished my work in Washington and took the first train back here I could get. I came in on the evening train. There was some delay along the way, a special train coming through or something. When I got here, I asked about you at the desk, and they told me you had worked a special banquet tonight.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Yes, indeed, I did work a special banquet.”

  “Is there something wrong? You seem—I don’t know—sad somehow. Or am I being intrusive?”

  “No, not at all.” How sensitive he was to detect the irony in her voice. “I’m—well, not sad exactly, but…” She smiled ruefully. “It’s just that I’m hearing the sound of the doors of my past banging shut one after the other, and I’m not sure if—” She paused. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all this.”

  “You’re wrong. I do. I want to hear whatever it is that’s making you unhappy.”

  “Closed doors are not reason enough?”

  “It depends on what they’ve closed on. My grandmother used to say, ‘When one door closes, another one opens.’”

  Darcy was amused. “Your grandmother again?”

  Ted laughed. “I guess all grandmothers are quotable. Maybe they all keep the same book of sayings, bring them out whenever it’s appropriate.” Ted came closer and sat down besid
e her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Darcy hesitated. If the veil of her deception was being ripped away, leaving her branded a liar, she might as well add Ted Shepherd to her list of lost friends.

  “They say confession is good for the soul. So if you can stand it, I’ll tell you. I’m warning you, though, it may change your wanting us to be friends.”

  “Nothing you could tell me would do that.”

  “Wait till you hear. I’m very ashamed of what I did, but it’s all out in the open now, and I can’t believe that I once felt the way I did.”

  Darcy began, “I come from a small town where values are pretty narrow. You are born into a certain place in society, and you’re expected to stay there. I did come out west to take a teaching post, and…” Darcy told him about meeting Bertie and how she had decided to apply for a job with the Harvey system. “I really liked it right away, but knowing how my folks back home would feel about it, I made the mistake of not telling them. It was silly, stupid, and I know better now, but I was too much of a coward then.”

  She sighed. “I just kept putting it off, and then—the proverbial ax fell.” Darcy told Ted about talking to Clara Bingham and the article appearing in the Ladies’ Home Gazette.

  “Actually, it was a very positive story about how well-thought-of Harvey Girls are, but it exposed me as a snob and a liar.” She looked at Ted to see his reaction.

  He didn’t look shocked, just interested and sympathetic. “We all make mistakes, do things we regret,” he said. “But if we learn something valuable from them, I guess that’s what counts.”

  “Oh, I’ve learned something, all right.” Darcy sighed again, thinking of Clemmie’s and Grady’s reproachful expressions.

  She stood up. “Well, confession may be good for the soul, but that’s enough for one night. Thank you for being such a good listener.” She took a few steps away, saying, “I’d better go.”

  “See you tomorrow?” There was a hopeful note in his voice.