by Ann Collins
She smiled, imagining a very young Alex caught in the act of drawing on the wall by his mother. Her smile faded though when she recalled that he had lost his ability to create, which he had seemed born to do. Perhaps his marrying her and living a stable life at the hotel would put his past trials behind him, even allowing him to design again.
A knock at the door nearly sent her skyward. She thought first of Alex, then of her assailant, and then of her lawyer and his reason for coming. Her heart beat too fast. Maybe tomorrow, after today and tonight were done with, she would be her unruffled self again.
“Who is it?” she managed to call.
“Alex.”
Her heart continued to pound, and she tried to calm herself with a deep breath. It didn’t help. “Come in.”
The door opened, and he entered wearing a clean work shirt and a pair of brown canvas trousers that had a few less patches than the pair he had worn on his arrival yesterday.
Julia tried another deep breath, but the air barely filled her lungs as thoughts of her imminent future flooded her head. Alex would be moving into her apartment tonight.
“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d check in with you before the lawyer arrives.”
“I’m glad you did.” She glanced at the wall clock her father had brought from Philadelphia. It read quarter to eleven. Mr. Byrnes would arrive soon, and she would be relieved to get the paperwork out of the way.
Alex eased himself onto the chair across from her, his lips pressed into a thin line as he moved.
She winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. You’re in even worse pain today than yesterday, aren’t you?”
“I’m stiff, but that’s to be expected.” He shrugged. “I’ll feel better as the day goes on.”
“You shouldn’t have pulled up that step.”
Another shrug. “Probably not, but we needed to see the underside to know what we were dealing with. I told Theo about it this morning. He hasn’t come up with any new suspects.”
“I wish we had a longer list of specific names to investigate.” She picked up her pencil and tapped it against the open account book. “Having grown up in hotels, I thought I was a good judge of character, but—”
“You are. You’re marrying me.”
She huffed at his attempt at humor, except that his expression was serious. Was he teasing her? “As I was about to say, apparently I am not a good judge of character because I have no idea who hates me so much he wants to harm me.”
“Well, you know it’s not me.”
“If only it were you,” she said, ignoring the lift of his eyebrows. “I would rather entertain the notion that a stranger was responsible for the attacks instead of someone I know and thought I could trust. To be honest, anyone, except you, could have been on that balcony.”
He slanted a questioning look at her. “Are you saying we shouldn’t have trusted Theo with so much information or asked for his help? He wasn’t with you at the hotel’s entrance, and he arrived at the scene shortly thereafter.”
She carefully set the pencil aside and shook her head, unable to imagine Theo as her assailant. “No. I misspoke. Not just anyone could have thrown that flowerpot with such force or sawn through that step. Theodore Mulligan is strong for his age, but he is not a suspect. I have known him since the hotel opened, and he is as close to a grandfather as I have ever had. He has never shown me any disrespect, either before or after I took charge of the hotel. He’s smart, efficient, and has a wonderful memory for the guests’ names and room numbers. Best of all, he always wears a smile.”
“I admire your loyalty to him and agree that he is an unlikely suspect.” A twinkle shone from Alex’s eyes. “You see, Julia, we already agree on something. I have a hunch we’re going to get along very well.”
She crossed her arms. “We’ll see.” She would concede nothing until she knew him much better. “Shall we continue discussing our limited list of named suspects?”
“It hasn’t changed.” He shifted in the chair, as though trying to find a more comfortable position for his ribs. “Theo took me up to the room where the flowerpot came from. I didn’t find any clues.”
She closed the account book. “The culprit could be anyone who’s been watching me closely enough to know where I might be at a given time.”
“I believe so. Until he, or she, is caught, I suggest you vary your schedule and routes around the hotel.”
“I will do that,” she said, though she wished she didn’t have to change anything, including her marital status. Though Alex seemed like the answer to her prayers, they’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. She hoped she would not live to regret her choice. And what if Alex regretted his choice? As far as she could tell, she was the one who would benefit most from their arrangement. She shoved her worries aside, reminding herself one thing at a time. “Have you been telling people about the wedding?”
“Just Theo. He said, ‘Leave it to me,’ and went straight to the biggest gossips on your payroll. Ten minutes ago, he informed me our news has spread faster than bees pollinating flowers. It’s the hot topic in the housekeeping department, laundry, kitchen, engine house, dining room, and maintenance and gardening sheds. When I passed the registration desk, Chalmers even congratulated me, though his sincerity was questionable.”
“It would be.” Resigned to her fate, she moved her account book to one side of her desk, making room for the paperwork Mr. Byrnes would be bringing for their signatures. This evening, she would be saying her vows in front of countless members of her staff and whichever guests heard about the show taking place in the Garden Patio.
At least there would be no kiss for them to gawk at. Thank goodness she had made that clear to Alex last night, when she had very nearly lost herself and her resolve in his gaze and words. With genuine feeling, he’d spoken of the beauty inside her instead of what most people saw when they looked at her. He had wanted to kiss her. She was not so inexperienced that she didn’t recognize when a man desired her. Fortunately, she had taken charge at the critical moment, sending Alex on his way. The moment she closed the door, however, she had felt a sense of regret, as though she might have missed something special.
Julia massaged her temples. Once again, too many thoughts swirled and pulled at her like a dangerous undertow in the sea. Her head ached. What was happening to her? She no longer knew what to think or how to feel.
“Have you started the ball rolling for our big event?” Alex asked.
“Yes. Reverend Spencer will be here at the appointed time, and lights will be draped around the inside of the gazebo. Other than that, I’m keeping everything simple, with a minimum of fuss and fanfare.”
“All right. That’s better than no fuss at all, hidden away in your apartment.”
At a knock on the door, she rose. “That will be Jonathan Byrnes. He used to be my father’s lawyer. Now he’s mine.” As she walked to the door, her light green dress rustled with each step.
Alex got up, too, though with a grimace. He rubbed one side of his ribcage. Julia felt terrible. He was suffering because of what he’d done for her, and tonight he was going to save the hotel and her. She owed him more than she could ever repay.
She let the lawyer in. “Mr. Byrnes, thank you for coming.”
“I’m glad to be here.” He removed his hat, hooked it on the rack, and smoothed his hand over the limited amount of hair he still had. “And I’m very glad your fiancé finally arrived. I was getting worried you might not make the deadline.”
“So was I, but”—she motioned to Alex—“this is—”
“Mr. Williamson,” the lawyer inserted, his smile stiffening as he took in the sight of Alex’s face. Nevertheless, he stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, and very happy you could help Julia out of her difficult situation. You will be amply rewarded.”
“I expect I will,” Alex said, shaking his hand. A corner of his mouth quirked upward.
Julia tried to ignore the kind of repayment she assumed wa
s on his mind. “Mr. Byrnes, Phillip Williamson met with an accident and couldn’t be here. You will need to remove his name from the contract and replace it with that of Alex MacLean.”
“Alexander Devlin MacLean,” he said. “That’s what I use on legal documents.”
The lawyer pushed his spectacles higher. “Well, I suppose unforeseen setbacks do happen in these kinds of situations. I’m just relieved the deadline will be met. Shall we proceed?”
“Please.” She motioned for him to take her chair behind the desk. Once the contract was signed, she would move one step closer to legally owning the Hotel Grand Victoria. Her home would never suffer from neglect, and her employees would not lose their positions.
After unbuttoning his gray frock coat, Mr. Byrnes sat down, withdrew a set of papers from his leather portfolio, and laid them on the blotter. Next he brought out a shiny gold fountain pen. “I’ll just strike out Mr. Williamson’s name and replace it with Mr. MacLean’s.”
Standing next to her desk, she eyed his careful penmanship. Alex stood beside her, so tall she felt as if the room had grown smaller. If not for the little window that looked out onto the Garden Patio, she might’ve been inclined to claustrophobia.
“There we go. If you’ll both initial the change on each copy and sign at the bottom on the second page, we’ll be done.” He held the pen out to her.
She didn’t take it. “Several more changes must be made as well.”
“Oh?”
Alex shifted closer to the desk and to her, making her mouth go dry. He spoke to the lawyer. “The terms Mr. Williamson agreed to are different from what Julia and I have settled on.” He outlined the new terms that specified he would be staying, giving their marriage every chance to succeed. The clause pertaining to her ownership of the hotel would not change.
Mr. Byrnes’ eyes blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. The lawyer peered up at her with a troubled expression. “Julia, are you sure this is what you want?”
She almost laughed. Of course it wasn’t, but what choice did she have? People were depending on her, and she loved the hotel. “Yes. I’m going to marry Alex.”
“As you wish. I’ll make the appropriate changes.”
After more strikeouts, additions, and initialing, he presented them with two copies of the final contract.
Alex signed first, his signature bearing a creative flourish.
She signed next. Though her hand shook and the ink smeared slightly, Julia was relieved to get it done and move forward. After handing the pen to Mr. Byrnes, she pulled a velvet pouch from her skirt pocket. “Here.” She gave it to Alex. “You’re going to need this.”
“What is it?”
“My wedding ring.”
“Oh.” He poured it into his palm. A small diamond set in gold winked up at them both. “Nice. Simple, but elegant. It suits you.”
“Thank you. I’ll be wearing that ring for a long time, so I thought it should be something I liked.”
“I don’t suppose you got one for me, too.”
She opened her mouth, but a moment passed before any sound came out. “No. Do you … want a ring?”
“Nah. I rarely wore the one Elizabeth gave me. When I worked with my drafting tools or the tools and materials on a building site, it always seemed in the way. It’s gone now.”
She relaxed. Running to one of San Diego’s jewelry stores at the last minute was not on her agenda for the day. She did wonder about Alex’s first wife, though. How had Elizabeth felt about his not wearing the ring she had given him?
He put her ring back inside its pouch and pushed it into his pants pocket. “So I guess that leaves us with the ceremony.”
Mr. Byrnes slid his copy of the contract into his portfolio. “You’ve already procured the marriage license then. That’s good.”
She gasped. “Marriage license! Oh, no! I completely forgot.” She had been so worried about finding a replacement for Phillip, she’d forgotten about the license.
Alex laid his hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy. Everything will be all right.”
She spun away from him, and his hand dropped to his side. “No, it won’t,” she said, dismissing the expression his eyes, first of hurt, then of nothing, as though he had drawn a curtain in front of his feelings. She avoided thinking about the woman in Oregon who had rejected him so cruelly. “Things are already going wrong. We have to go to San Diego for it, and today is Friday. The County Clerk’s office is always busy. If we don’t get in today, there’s no hope. They’re closed on Saturdays.”
Mr. Byrnes looked between them, pinching his bottom lip together. “Julia, I agree that Fridays are notoriously busy in the clerk’s office, but you have time. All is not lost. Not yet.”
She felt like screaming. Why did this have to be so difficult?
Her lawyer stood up and looked between them again. “Well, don’t just stand there. If you don’t get going, there will be no wedding.”
Chapter Seven
Eight minutes. Eight minutes until she would be late for her own wedding. While the sun neared the horizon and Mary and Kate Dolan bustled around her bedroom, Julia stood in front of the full-length mirror and tried to position her small bridal hat on her head, but she couldn’t get it right. Her hands trembled so badly the pin slipped in her perspiring fingers.
Her nerves were beyond frazzled. Though the marriage license had been safely procured, the County Clerk’s office had been worse than a Saturday night in August on the Grand Ballroom’s dance floor. Then the ferry had been delayed due to engine trouble. On top of that, Alex had barely spoken to her the entire time.
She realized now that she owed him an apology. In her office with Mr. Byrnes, Alex had attempted to soothe her worries by placing his hand on her shoulder, but she had essentially snubbed him and his efforts to reassure her. Too wrapped up in her problems and deadline, she had continued to keep him at arm’s length during the trip across San Diego Bay. Despite her thoughtless behavior, Alex had remained nearby, looking out for her every minute, as if trouble might have followed them from the hotel. This was not how she wanted to start her future with him. He deserved better.
She tried again to pin the hat in place, without success.
“Mary, will you please help me with this?” She heard the pleading tone in her voice. Pressed for time and needing support, she had changed her mind and asked Mary and Kate to help her dress. After returning late from San Diego, she needed all the help she could get.
Mary clucked her tongue and took the pin. “Julia, if you’re not careful, you’ll prick herself and ruin your beautiful dress.”
“Do you really think it’s beautiful?” She touched the Brussels lace that was sewn over a modest white satin bodice. It reached from her waist to her throat and was tucked into a smooth, white, unadorned satin skirt. “It’s only ready-made, and I never expected to wear it in public. I’m not sure why I bothered buying a dress at all, but I did, and I wanted something simple.”
“Simple on you looks exquisite, so stop fretting. Now bend your knees so I can reach your hat.”
Only moderately relieved about how she looked, Julia tried to think clearly as she watched Mary in the mirror. She knew she was forgetting something, but what?
“There,” Mary said. “All set. Is there anything else?”
She attempted an inventory. “My shoes! Where are my shoes?”
“They’re right here.” Kate picked them up from the floor in front of the bureau. Her eyes shone brightly from her freckled face.
“Julia, please,” Mary said, “you must calm down.”
“I can’t. I’m going to be late. I just know it.”
Mary patted her forearm, where the pompadour sleeve of her wedding dress narrowed. “It’s perfectly normal for a bride to be late, so stop worrying.”
“But there’s nothing normal about this wedding.” She held out one foot as Kate crouched like a lady’s maid and slipped on her shoe. “The guests and staff might think I’m not com
ing at all because everything was arranged so quickly.”
“They will think no such thing,” Mary said as Kate slid the other shoe on Julia’s foot.
Julia chewed on her thumbnail. “I should have checked on the patio and gazebo when I got back. And so many other things. Oh, Mary, I completely neglected the hotel today.”
“Julia, my dear girl, stop. Tonight, you are off duty.”
Kate giggled. “Tonight Julia’s duty will be to her husband.”
“Kate,” her mother admonished, “don’t be silly. Even though Julia said Mr. MacLean is not going to leave her immediately after the ceremony, this is still a marriage of convenience. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”
Uttering a groan, Julia considered locking herself in the apartment and never coming out.
Kate stood and pressed her hands to the waist of her light blue dress. “She might want to, though. I saw Mr. MacLean this morning, and he is to swoon for.”
“What are you thinking, Kate?” Mary smoothed a wrinkle in Julia’s skirt. “The man’s face is horribly scarred.”
“Only on one side, and it’s not horrible. In romantic novels, all the best men have been scarred in some way or another. A scar like his is a badge of honor. I wonder how he got it. Perhaps he saved a woman from being stabbed by her jealous lover. Or maybe he was injured in a terrible war somewhere.”
“Sweetheart, you read too many novels. I believe the doctor and I will have to pay more scrutiny to your choice of books.”
Kate ignored her mother. “Julia, how did Mr. MacLean get his scar?”
“I don’t know, but he is self-conscious about it.” She remembered when Dr. Dolan had attempted to examine the scar. “Your father asked him what happened, and he wouldn’t say. I didn’t want to distress him by bringing it up again.”
“Maybe he’ll confide in you after you’re married.” Kate slid a glance at her mother. “My parents tell each other everything.”
“Which is as it should be,” Mary said, in spite of fanning her rapidly coloring cheeks.
Since the moment Alex chose to stay, Julia had hoped he would confide in her. She wanted to know everything about him.