by Judith Stacy
Delfina sat up. “What a marvelous idea.”
Caroline’s heart squeezed a bit seeing the smile on the older woman’s face. “It will be such fun fixing it up.”
“Well, yes, I think it would be,” Delfina said. “But we’ll have to wait until the decorator comes again to let him know what we’ve decided.”
“Wait?” Caroline shook her head. “No need. We’ll go to his shop.”
“Go there? Us?”
“Certainly. Right now.”
Delfina slumped again. “I don’t know…”
Caroline took her hand. “I have the whole afternoon open for you and your project. Come along.”
“Well…all right. If you say so, dear.”
Though the trolley line ran down West Adams Boulevard, right past the Monterey home, Delfina had Charles send for the carriage, and they set out on the short journey downtown.
With the next century approaching, Los Angeles was on the verge of becoming a metropolis, growing, inching outward, stretching.
New buildings had been recently constructed, with more being developed, their skeletal frames rising everywhere. The streets were crowded with delivery wagons, horse-drawn buggies and carriages, trolley cars, eight-mule teams pulling huge oil tank wagons. Pedestrians darted for the safety of the public walkways.
Delfina surprised Caroline by talking endlessly about friends in her circle, relating gossip and a little scandal. She talked about the city, how it was growing, how it still needed to grow. Though Delfina appeared indecisive, she didn’t miss a thing that went on around her.
The two of them pored over fabric samples, paint chips, colors and textures at the decorator’s shop on fashionable Wilshire Boulevard. Caroline did most of the deciding, with the decorator’s help. But Delfina had final approval on everything they picked out, and she liked it all.
Caroline was almost sorry when they pulled into the driveway again late in the afternoon. She’d had such a good time.
Vaguely, she wondered why it was that she’d never had a moment’s fun with her own aunt Eleanor, but felt so comfortable with Stephen’s aunt Delfi. Probably her own aversion to home and family, Caroline decided, climbing out of the carriage. It was so much easier to slide into someone else’s family for a while, then be on her way again when the time came. She’d done it for so long it was the only thing that felt right to her.
“Well, that was certainly a day,” Delfina declared as Charles greeted them in the vestibule. “Charles, some men will be arriving to begin work on the sitting room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charles said. “When shall I expect them?”
Delfina waved her hands, dismissing the whole issue. “Caroline will explain. I’m quite exhausted.” She made her way to the staircase, then turned to give Caroline a final smile and wave.
“Rest well, Aunt Delfi,” Caroline called. She turned to Charles. “The workmen will be here in the morning to begin renovations on the green sitting room. Please let me know when they arrive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charles said.
Caroline unpinned her hat and headed toward the rear of the house. As much fun as she’d had with Delfina, she really should accomplish some work today.
This morning, Richard had given her handwriting samples from a dozen men who worked at the Monterey warehouse complex, statements of each man’s whereabouts on the night of a theft that had occurred several weeks ago. Caroline had barely begun her analysis when Mr. Turley’s fit had left her without a desk, chair or place to peer through her magnifying glass.
As she approached Stephen’s office, the door swung open and Stephen and Richard came out with two other men. Dreshire and Morgan, Caroline guessed, though she hadn’t thought their meeting would last so long.
Dreshire and Morgan were robust men squeezed into business suits. Laughing and joking, they hardly seemed the barracudas Stephen had described earlier.
After a final round of deep male laughter, some backslapping and handshakes, Dreshire and Morgan moved on, nodding pleasantly to Caroline as they passed, then following Charles down the hallway.
“I take it the meeting went well?” Caroline asked.
Stephen and Richard exchanged broad smiles.
“I got their warehouse,” Stephen announced.
Richard grinned. “And for a price you wouldn’t believe.”
“Good job,” Stephen said to Richard, and shook his hand. “Great job. Go home. Relax. You deserve it.”
“I’ll have your attorney start on the paperwork in the morning,” Richard said. And with a proud, satisfied smile, he left.
The pride and accomplishment the men shared spilled onto Caroline. She’d never seen Stephen smile so widely before.
“Congratulations,” she said.
Stephen motioned her into the office and followed her. On a tea cart beside his desk sat a clutter of china dessert plates, cups and saucers, a silver coffee service and a few crumbs of rum cake.
“Dreshire and Morgan were more agreeable than you’d guessed?” Caroline asked.
Stephen grinned modestly. “Richard and I are both pretty good negotiators.”
Caroline glanced at the empty dessert plates. “I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“Anyway,” Stephen said, stacking up papers on his desk, “that’s another situation handled.”
“Richard’s a tremendous help to you, isn’t he?” Caroline said.
“Don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Why isn’t he a partner in your business?” Caroline asked. “He works hard, he’s smart and I can see that you value him.”
Stephen glanced up at her. “A partnership can’t be simply given away.”
“But he brings so much to your business.”
“And I pay him very well for that,” Stephen said. “Richard hasn’t any financial backing, unfortunately. If he wants to improve himself, the best he can hope for is to marry well.”
“Some woman whose family has money, you mean.”
Stephen nodded. “Yes. A wealthy family with an ugly duckling for a daughter.”
“That sounds so cold,” Caroline said.
He laid his papers aside. “It is cold. But it happens all the time. The family would bankroll Richard in exchange for marrying off their daughter. The family gets a smart son-in-law who’ll make them more money. Richard gets the financial footing he deserves. The daughter gets a husband. Everybody’s happy.”
“Except for Richard.”
“And probably the daughter, eventually.”
Caroline walked to the window and gazed out at the grounds. Shadows stretched across the lawn as the sun slipped toward the horizon.
“What about love?” she asked.
“Love?”
She glanced back at him. “Yes, love. You know, when a man and woman have deep feelings for each other, feelings so deep they—”
“I know what love is,” Stephen told her. “Well, I’ve heard, anyway.”
“But it shouldn’t have anything to do with marriage?” Caroline asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Stephen walked to the window and stood beside her. They gazed out together at the side yard. Carriages rolled down the street. Pedestrians strolled past the wrought-iron fencing and low stone wall.
“Your father sent you here to find a husband. Is that why you’re so set on disobeying his wishes?” Stephen asked. “You’re waiting to fall in love?”
“No,” Caroline said. “I just don’t want to get married.”
“All women want to get married.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “I’m not like all women.”
“I’d already noticed.”
A little tingle vibrated in Caroline’s stomach. She looked up at Stephen and saw that he was smiling.
He moved a little closer. “So why don’t you want to get married?”
“Well…” Caroline suddenly felt as empty-headed as Aunt Delfi. All her good reasons, all the arguments she’d presente
d to her father before finally agreeing to the trip, all the logic that had sustained her since arriving in Los Angeles, were simply gone.
Stolen away by Stephen’s closeness. His good looks. His seductive voice. The heat that surrounded him. The trembling inside her that he caused.
“Yes?” he prompted.
But he didn’t expect an answer. Couldn’t want one. Not now. Not with the change she saw in his expression.
Stephen touched her arm and turned her to face him. Slowly, his fingers moved over her flesh. He lowered his head.
He kissed her.
With his mouth open. His breath hot. His lips moist.
He stole her breath. Her thoughts. Her bones.
Caroline latched on to him to keep from falling. Warmth swirled through her. He pulled her closer and she let him, helpless in his arms. Her breasts brushed his hard chest. Their thighs touched. Lost now, she kissed him back.
Stephen’s heart hammered in his chest, pumping his blood faster and pushing reason further away. He struggled to hold back, to keep from devouring her, as he wanted.
Then she opened her lips. The boldness of her invitation drove his blood faster through his heated veins. He groaned and eased his tongue inside her mouth.
Hot, sweet. Stephen pushed into this exquisite find, tasting her, losing himself in her. He crushed her against him, pushing deeper, taking more, then more, until she moaned softly.
He pulled away, startled that he’d been so blindly consumed by her for those few moments. Stephen never lost control—of anything. Certainly not himself. Certainly not over a woman.
He eased her away just enough that he could see her face. Her cheeks were pink, her lips wet. Her blue eyes burned with passion.
He’d kissed her as if she was a two-dollar whore and he a paying customer at the tail end of a three-week dry spell.
She wasn’t a whore. And his dry spell was going on two months, with no end in sight.
But how could he have lost control of himself so easily?
Stephen moved away, breaking contact with her, dissolving the aura that held them together.
“That shouldn’t have happened….” His voice hoarse, his brow creased, Stephen spun around and left.
Caroline stood at the window watching him stride across the office and out the door, taking a little part of her with him. She didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry.
Turning back to the window, she pressed her cheek against the cool glass, hoping it would clear her thoughts. It didn’t. All she could think of was Stephen.
Stephen…and the odd realization that the woman in the green scarf standing at the fence gazing into the yard was the same woman who’d been at the back door this morning.
Chapter Ten
“Stephen? Stephen, dear?”
Delfina rushed into the breakfast room, huffing and waving the newspaper. She stopped cold in the doorway.
“Where’s Stephen?”
Caroline looked up from her notebook and coffee. She’d been alone this morning since coming to the breakfast room, a cheery little room made octagonal by built-in cupboards and shelves, with a large window opening to the rear lawn. The table was set with mint green china and platters of fruits and pastries. She’d wondered the same as Delfina, but hadn’t asked the cook’s assistant who’d served her breakfast.
“Stephen’s not been down.”
“Not down? For breakfast?” Delfina frowned. “He’s always down for breakfast. And I need him.”
“What’s wrong?”
Delfina sank heavily into the chair at the end of the table. “Something dreadful has happened.”
By the way she clutched the newspaper, Caroline feared she’d read someone’s obituary.
“Aunt Delfi, what is it?” she asked.
“I can’t believe this.” Delfina had drawn in a big breath, ready to launch into her story, when Stephen came into the room.
“Oh, Stephen…thank goodness you’re here.”
“Good morning, Aunt Delfi…Miss Sommerfield.” He threw a glance Caroline’s way without actually making eye contact with her.
Caroline’s hand trembled at the sudden surge of emotion. She returned her cup to its saucer but couldn’t keep it from clattering.
No one seemed to notice, thankfully, as Delfina waved the Times in the air.
“Stephen, this is an emergency,” she declared. He lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table as a servant in a gray uniform and crisp white apron poured coffee into his cup.
“What sort of emergency, Aunt Delfi?” he asked. He rubbed his eyes wearily.
Caroline chanced a look at him. When he’d first walked into the breakfast room she hadn’t seen past the charcoal suit, white shirt and yellow necktie that made him look so handsome. Now she noticed that he seemed tired, as if he’d slept little. Perhaps that explained his poor selection of necktie this morning.
Absently, Caroline hoped her own appearance wasn’t as bad. She’d eked out only a few hours sleep during the night herself. Stephen was probably tossing and turning over his warehouse deal. She’d lost sleep over other things, namely the kiss they’d shared yesterday afternoon.
“Stephen,” Delfina said, “you need some war veterans.”
That edict made his eyes open wider. Stephen stared down the table at his aunt. “I need what?”
“War veterans,” Delfina said. “At least a dozen.”
Stephen returned his coffee cup to the saucer without tasting a drop and swung his gaze to Caroline, silently asking for an explanation. All she could do was lift her shoulders.
“Stephen, you simply must find some,” Delfina said.
He dragged his hand down his face as the servant placed a bowl of oatmeal at his place. “Aunt Delfi, why do I need war veterans?”
“Because of that Aurora Chalmers.” Delfina thrust the newspaper toward Stephen. “It’s right here on the front page. The front page, Stephen, the front page.”
Caroline took the newspaper and passed it along to Stephen. He scooped up a bite of oatmeal but didn’t eat. He looked over the paper instead.
“Mrs. Chalmers had a reception in her home for some war veterans to recognize their sacrifices for our country,” Stephen said.
“I think that’s a wonderful gesture,” Caroline said.
“It’s terrible,” Delfina cried. “Don’t you see? This is just the sort of thing Colin would have done here, in our home. That should be your name in the paper, Stephen, not Aurora Chalmers’s.”
Stephen shook his head. “I don’t feel the need to compete with Aurora Chalmers.”
“But Stephen—”
“She made an admirable gesture helping our veterans and that’s that,” Stephen said. “I see no reason to—”
“What’s happening? What’s happening?” Panic tinged Delfina’s voice as her gaze darted around the breakfast room.
Stephen sighed wearily. “Nothing’s happening, Aunt Delfi.”
“The room is fading,” she wailed. “Fading.”
“No, it’s not,” Stephen said patiently.
“It’s getting darker, I tell you.” Delfina pressed her palms against her temples. “Darker…”
Stephen braced his elbow on the table and rested his forehead in his palm for a moment. Finally he lifted his head.
“All right, Aunt Delfi,” he said, without any enthusiasm. “I’ll find some veterans, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not what I want,” she declared, her fading vision apparently restored. “It’s what we must have. Oh, Stephen, you know we have a position in this community.”
“Yes, Aunt Delfi, I know.” He raised the spoon to his mouth again.
“And we must maintain that. Certain things are expected of us—of you.”
Stephen lowered his spoon, still not eating. “Yes, Aunt Delfi, I realize that.”
“Then you must do something,” she insisted. “We simply cannot allow our reputation to slip any further.”
; He dropped the spoon beside his bowl and tucked the napkin beside it. He sighed heavily and pushed himself out of the chair. “Fine, Aunt Delfi, I’ll handle it.”
“Oh, but Stephen, dear, what about your breakfast?” Delfina asked.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll be in my office if you need anything else.”
Stephen left the breakfast room rubbing his forehead.
“Well, thank goodness that crisis is handled.” Delfina helped herself from a platter of pastries on the table.
Caroline had intended to have a sweet roll with her coffee, but now couldn’t eat a bite. She slipped through the door and down the corridor to the kitchen.
“Have Mr. Monterey’s breakfast served in his office,” she said to the cook.
Mrs. Branson seemed mildly surprised but began the task as Caroline crossed the kitchen and went out the back door.
Morning sunshine was bright and warm, the air stirred by a little breeze. The weather in Los Angeles was always beautiful, just as the handbills that had drawn people from across the country had advertised. Caroline picked a jonquil blooming in the bed along the edge of the house.
She paused at the doorway, thinking of the woman in the green scarf who’d been at the back door yesterday asking for food. Caroline lingered on the steps for a moment, wondering where the woman was now.
Did she have a home? Children somewhere she was trying to feed?
Kellen Monterey flashed into her mind. Kellen, whose life was effortless here in the Monterey home, had abandoned her child so easily, while the green-scarfed woman was forced to beg to support hers.
Caroline wished she’d seen the woman’s face clearly. Standing at the front fence last night, she’d been too far away for Caroline to see clearly. If the woman came around again, maybe she could do something to help.
Caroline went inside, put the flower in a bud vase and filled it with water.
“Mrs. Branson,” she said. “If you see that woman out back again, let me know, please.”
“What woman would that be, ma’am?”
Caroline gestured toward the back door. “The one who was here yesterday. In the green scarf.”
Mrs. Branson shook her head. “Didn’t see no woman yesterday.”