by Ann Collins
Trying to keep her disappointment to herself, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “I need to go. You don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to. Just leave them be. I’ll return them to Mrs. Russell later.” She started for the door.
“Julia, I—”
“Don’t worry,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Finding them wasn’t any trouble.” She strode to the parlor table and grabbed her key. “I’ll see you later. Don’t look for me at lunch, though. If I’m hungry, I’ll order something from the kitchen.”
He said nothing, and she didn’t turn around.
She let herself out, struggling to hold her emotions in check. Apparently Alex’s interest in the building’s architecture had faded. Maybe he wanted to punish himself more by taking to the road again, locking his memories of her away and moving on. She told herself she ought to be glad he might be leaving. That was what she had planned to have happen since the day Mr. Byrnes read her father’s will to her.
But Julia knew she didn’t want Alex to go. She wanted him in her future.
* * *
Shortly after one o’clock, Alex stepped into the hotel’s bar. The room smelled of good liquor, cigarettes, cigars, and pipe tobacco. It was a fitting place to try and forget how much he knew he had disappointed Julia with his lukewarm reaction to her surprise. The sudden appearance of the hotel’s plans had caught him off guard, even scaring him. He hadn’t looked at real architectural plans in years, and he wasn’t sure how he would feel if he studied these.
He still didn’t know.
For an hour, he had sat on the sofa, staring at the rolled-up papers. How could he enjoy looking at someone else’s work when he could no longer do that same work, work he had once loved?
Settling himself on a tall stool at the bar, he glanced around. A bearded man dressed in a dapper frock suit sat alone three stools away from him, nursing a beer. At the far end of the room, eight men dressed in hunting jackets and tall boots were seated at tables that had been pushed together.
One fellow exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke and slapped his nearest companion on the back. “Harvey, don’t lie. That rabbit jumped out at you so quick you nearly shot yourself instead of him.”
The group erupted in laughter and more backslapping. Harvey laughed as loudly as the rest.
Alex turned to the bar.
“Afternoon, Mr. MacLean.” The bartender, an older man with a waxed handlebar mustache as wide as his face, wiped his hands on a towel. “Welcome. I haven’t seen you in here except during Mrs. MacLean’s rounds.”
“I’m doing her rounds today, and this is my last stop.” He had also inspected sections of the hotel’s exterior for damage from the sun and salt air.
“Then you’ve worked up a thirst. What can I get you?”
“Beer, please.”
“Coming right up.”
“No rush.”
With plenty of time to spare, Alex admired the room’s clean lines and masculine decor, then ran his fingers over the handcrafted mahogany bar. It was a work of art, though he doubted many of the bar’s patrons ever thought twice about it. A pencil and several sheets of hotel stationery lay in front of the empty seat next to him. A previous customer had apparently been writing a letter.
Alex picked up the pencil. For something to do, he began drawing aimlessly—lines, squares, and cubes.
“Here you go.” The bartender placed a tall, brimming glass of beer on the bar.
“Thanks.” Alex took a deep swallow. “Mmm.”
“Only the best at the Hotel Grand Victoria.”
“So I’ve been told.”
A roar of laughter went up from the hunters.
Alex tipped his chin toward them. “Did I miss a hunting party?”
“Yeah, over on North Island. It happens pretty regular. The guests hunt rabbits and whatever else they can find in the brush over there. Then the kitchen chefs cook it up for them. Any extras go on the menu’s evening specials.”
“Not a bad deal.” With the pencil in one hand and his glass in the other, Alex drank again, enjoying the beer’s slightly bitter taste.
The bartender strolled away when the bearded man sitting alone signaled for a refill.
Alex scribbled while he drank, paying no mind to what he was putting on paper. Out of nowhere, a memory of himself and Danny flowed into his head. They were sitting together at a child’s small table in the nursery, both of them drawing on paper. Danny made artful scrawls that Alex incorporated into the façade of building. His son had laughed with delight.
Alex smiled at the memory, enjoying it, surprised not to feel himself engulfed by pain.
The hunters continued to rehash the glory of their kills and the disappointment of their near misses.
“Hey, you have real talent.”
Alex glanced over to see the bearded patron now sitting on the stool beside him.
The man pointed at the stationery. “Are you an architect?”
Alex stared at the paper, amazed to discover that a building had emerged from the geometric shapes he’d been absently sketching. The drawing mixed a decorative colonial Spanish design with the style of an Indian pueblo he’d seen in the New Mexico Territory. “Uh, no, carpenter.”
“You’re probably a heck of a carpenter, but with some architectural training, I suspect you’d be a real asset to San Diego’s building community.” The man stuck out his hand. “Liam Howard.”
“Alex MacLean.” They shook hands. “Are you staying at the hotel, Liam?”
“Not me, no. I’m only a ferry trip away. I live in San Diego. Originally, I’m from New Jersey. Today I’m meeting some friends who’re visiting from Chicago. They’re upstairs readying themselves for our outing. I decided to wait in here, which I haven’t minded a bit. Good beer and good company.”
“How true.” Alex tapped his glass against Liam Howard’s and they both drank. “What line of business are you in, Liam?”
“Building, as you might have guessed. San Diego is growing fast, and that means opportunity.”
“So I’ve heard.” Alex remembered Julia saying something similar. With their living situation up in the air, he considered the opportunities a growing San Diego could offer him. If Julia didn’t get a new loan, she would either lose the hotel or have to sell it immediately. In either case, they would have to find another place to live.
Liam nodded. “I can tell you understand what I mean. In San Diego, there are no limits to what can be accomplished.”
“I like that.” If Julia did find another bank to loan them the money, he’d be working for her, and that wouldn’t go down nearly as smoothly as this beer was. Working for a capable and proficient woman was one thing, working for his wife was another. He didn’t want to be dependent on her for his wages. Besides that, being married to the boss would put him in a difficult position with the other employees. He’d be better off working at a job away from the hotel. “Liam, I might be looking for some carpentry or construction work pretty soon. May I look you up?”
“By all means. I’m always in need of a good man, though you really ought to think about architecture.” He lifted his glass in the direction of Alex’s drawing, then glanced at the bartender, who waved at someone entering the room.
Alex peered over his shoulder and met Theo’s gaze. The bellboy made his way to Alex’s side.
“Mr. MacLean, sorry to interrupt, but I was instructed to tell you your wife needs to run an errand.”
“Thanks, Theo. I’ll be right there.” He slid off the stool. “Wish I could stay and chat, Liam, but my wife is waiting. It was good to meet you.” He started away from the bar.
“Wait!” Liam called after him. “What about your drawing?”
Alex glanced back at what had begun as nothing more than the scribbles of a man in need of a drink and distraction. Those scribbles had turned into the rough design of a new building, something he had never expected he’d be able to do again.
He stepped back to th
e bar, picked up the sheet of stationery, carefully folded it several times, and slid it into his pants pocket. “Thanks. Maybe I do have a future in architecture.”
He followed Theo out of the bar, his step lighter than when he had entered. He felt a bit like his old self again. His talent and ability hadn’t been lost forever. They’d only been lying dormant. He had thought about Danny without suffering stabs of pain. The sweet memory had made him smile and want to remember more of the happy times they’d enjoyed together.
Alex found himself wanting to share his news with Julia. Having her in his life was undoubtedly the reason for the headway he’d made. He imagined himself taking her in his arms, spinning her around, and telling her how she and Danny had helped him design again. She would smile and hug him back and …
Alex’s excitement faded. What was he thinking? She wouldn’t want to hug him after the way he had greeted her surprise for him this morning. Or after he’d been purposely pushing her away, just as he’d been doing with his memories of Danny for the last few years. Could Julia forgive him? Would she even want a guilt-ridden husband who continued to keep information about himself from her?
Since she hadn’t wanted a real husband in the first place, he had his doubts.
* * *
While she waited for Alex, Julia glanced around the Rotunda, making sure everything was in its usual good order. Her gaze bounced from the marble floor to the dark wicker chairs to the polished spittoon and three guests chatting near one of the Oriental sideboards. Everything looked fine. It was she who felt as if something were off. She attributed the feeling to this morning’s awkwardness with Alex about the Reid brothers’ plans.
He arrived from the direction of the hotel bar, looking pleased about something, but also troubled. When he stood in front of her, she noticed beer on his breath and the clinging smell of cigar smoke. She didn’t mind. He was a man, and he ought to spend time in the company of other men.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Alex, but I’ve finished contacting the banks and need to go to the laundry. I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances by going on my own.”
“I don’t want you taking any chances either, and it’s no bother. I’d be angry if you didn’t call on me.”
She had known that, and she didn’t want to cause or allow anything else to come between them. “Theo reported seeing Tyler Wolff roaming the grounds. We should perhaps be especially careful.”
The muscles in Alex’s jaw tightened. “Wolff’s family name fits him well, the way he keeps prowling around your territory, wanting to take it over.”
“I have to agree. I thought about telephoning Tom Landis and having Wolff removed, but the man wasn’t doing anything illegal. Since this isn’t a private residence, I didn’t think I could have him arrested for trespassing.”
“Marshal Landis would rather arrest me for trespassing on you.”
“I know.” She had heard from several people that Tom was still asking questions about Alex and making no progress at all in the investigation of whoever was after her. “I’m sorry he’s such a sore loser.”
“He’s a damn fool.” Alex grunted and started for the front door. “Tell me what’s happening in the laundry.”
She fell into step beside him. “One of the washing machines has broken down. A note was left on the registration desk.”
“Why are you checking on it personally?” he asked as they crossed the veranda. “Send one of the maintenance men from the engine house to fix it.”
“I could do that, but I wanted to assess the problem first and see how far behind the laundresses are in their work.”
They descended the stairs and emerged from beneath the portico into the sun. Julia breathed in the sea’s ever-present salt tang, glad to be outside.
Alex looked back and up at the hotel, obviously searching for potential signs of trouble. Despite their current difficulties, her husband continued to watch out for her, and she felt safe with him at her side.
“If the broken machine is the same one that has been acting up for some time,” she continued, “I need to decide whether to attempt another repair or order a new machine.”
They crossed the carriage drive and stepped onto the lawn. A small brown rabbit hopped across the grass and disappeared beneath a cluster of shrubbery bordered by yellow marigolds. Though the gardeners wouldn’t be happy about the rabbit, Julia smiled.
“Well, I wouldn’t go spending any money on a new machine until you know if the hotel is going to remain in your hands.”
Her smile faded. “You needn’t remind me of my dilemma. It’s very much on my mind.” Locked in her office for the last four and a half hours, she’d thought of little else.
“Did you have any luck with the banks?” he asked, his gaze roving the grounds. A sea gull squawked above them and wheeled away.
“I contacted the biggest banks in the Midwest and the East. Several turned me down flat, but two loan officers knew of the hotel and asked for more information. They are considering my request.”
“That’s something anyway.”
“I told them I was the owner. I didn’t tell them I was also the manager.”
“Oh.”
She kicked a wayward leaf as they approached the circular fountain in the center of the lawn. Water spurted out of the mouths of three sizeable copper fish. A green patina covered their scales. “I should have told them, shouldn’t I?”
“Not necessarily. The hotel is a reasonably good investment for any bank. If their officers want to make certain assumptions about the manager, that’s up to them.”
She was relieved to hear his opinion. She was also pleased about freely and comfortably discussing hotel problems and issues with him. If only conversations about their relationship and his past could be as easy. She suppressed a sigh.
“Enough about my morning,” she said. “How was yours?” She deliberately didn’t mention the hotel plans.
Alex peered over at her, his brown eyes gleaming with pleasure. Her heart skipped a beat. When he smiled, her stomach seemed to somersault. He appeared genuinely happy.
“The morning didn’t go all that well to start with,” he answered. “I chose not to look at the Reid brothers’ plans. I just couldn’t, not when I thought I’d never be able to do that kind of work again.”
“Oh, Alex. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.” No wonder he had avoided them. Seeing what others had done so successfully, what he could no longer do, would have been unbearable.
“Don’t be sorry. All that has changed.” His eyes gleamed more brightly. “Take a look at this.” From his pocket, he extracted a folded sheet of paper and handed it to her.
She opened it, revealing a simplified sketch of what looked to her like a handsome Spanish-style building on hotel stationery. “It’s very nice. Where did you get it?”
“I drew it. It’s my own design. Julia, I can design again. Even better though, I didn’t slam the door on a happy memory of Danny and me drawing together.”
“Oh, my goodness! That’s wonderful news.” He was beginning to heal. She held up his sketch and twirled around with it. “We’ll frame this and put it up in the apartment.”
He laughed. “It’s not that good.”
“I think it’s beautiful, but what it represents is more important. That’s what we’ll be honoring.” Just as she brought the sketch back down, a gust of wind snatched it out of her hands. “Oh!”
The paper didn’t fly far. Hurrying after it, she danced a quick little sidestep and—
A shot rang out, reverberating off the hotel. Birds took to the sky. A horse entering the drive spooked, nearly unseating its rider.
Julia registered it all as a burning sensation ripped into her side. She twisted, tripped, and fell, pitching forward. Her hands broke her fall. Lying on the grass, she turned her head, saw Alex’s sketch, and reached for it before it could blow away.
“Leave it!” he shouted, the rampant fear in his voice frightening her.
She grabbed the paper anyway, curling her fingers around it, triumphant until the pain in her side worsened and stark realization penetrated her senses.
Her assailant had finally hit his target.
Chapter Thirteen
Alex’s heart beat like a sledgehammer swinging against his ribs. He dove for Julia, grabbed her under her shoulders, and dragged her to cover behind the fountain.
Blood blossomed on the left side of her waist, terrifying him. His wife had been shot, but instead of considering her own safety, she had rescued his design. What the hell had she been thinking?
She lay on the grass beside him while he crouched below the rim of the fountain’s solid cement bowl. The dark red stain on her white shirtwaist grew. He needed to get her to Dr. Dolan fast. “Julia—”
“Here. Take this.” She tried to press the sketch into his hand.
“Forget the drawing! It’s not important.”
“It is,” she said through a grimace of pain. “Put it away. Keep it safe.”
“Dammit.” They were pinned down by a sniper, Julia possibly bleeding to death, and she was more concerned with his sketch. He seized the paper and shoved it into his pocket. “There. It’s safe. Now I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“No! Alex, it’s too dangerous. He could still be out there.”
Alex knew who she meant, the anonymous man he was tempted to kill with his bare hands, if the snake had the courage to come out of hiding.
“I don’t think I’m badly hurt,” she said. “We can wait.”
“No, we can’t. I won’t take that chance. You’re bleeding.”
He risked a look around the fountain to try and spot where the gunman might be, if he was still in place, but several towers, assorted rooflines, and hundreds of windows and flowerboxes offered too many possibilities for concealment. Hopefully he was gone. The shot had already attracted a group of people to the front veranda, including Theo.
“The note,” she said. “It must have been a ruse. Chalmers was in the gents’ room when it was left on the desk, and I know the handwriting wasn’t Mrs. Benedict’s. I assumed one of the other laundresses had written it.”