Copper Sunrise

by Carol Cox

  Catherine stared at the lavish confections and caught her breath. Both were stunning. Both were stylish. And both were well beyond her means.

  “I may have gotten a raise, but I still have rent to pay and meals to buy. I can’t spend it all on new clothes.”

  “How about part of it, then? You’re always talking about needing something new, and these are so beautiful. See, they’re having a sale. Let’s at least go in and look.”

  “I shouldn’t.” Catherine eyed the notice in the window. “But I’m going to.”

  Inside the store, she stared at the modish apparel on display. Truth to tell, it hadn’t taken much for Mattie to persuade her to come inside. She’d spent enough time over the past week staring longingly at Goldwaters’ ads in the Arizona Republican to be able to recite most of their inventory from memory. It would be fun to see firsthand what they had to offer.

  Reality surpassed even the most effusive descriptions in the ads and served to underscore the contrast between her own garb and what well-dressed Phoenix women wore. The decision didn’t require conscious thought: She couldn’t leave the store empty-handed.

  She fingered the delicate fabrics and made some rapid calculations. Thanks to finding Mrs. Abernathy’s boardinghouse right away instead of prolonging her stay at the Bellmont, she still had a bit left from when she first arrived. With that, plus the increase in pay as Mr. Showalter’s private secretary, she could afford to splurge a little.

  With a wistful glance at the taffeta dresses—even at the sale price, they were still out of reach—she pulled Mattie toward the rear of the store. “Come on. Let’s take a look at those street dresses.”

  Mattie didn’t require a second invitation. She followed along eagerly. “That Mitch Brewer is every bit as good-looking as you said he was. I just about died when he walked into the office and gave me his name.”

  Catherine ducked her head to hide the flush she felt creep up her neck. “Forget about Mitch Brewer for now.” She sorted through the dresses on the rack and held up two selections. “I’m not sure which one I like better. What do you think?”

  Mattie held one dress at a time against Catherine and studied them with a judicious air. “This light blue one. It brings out the sparkle in your eyes.”

  “All right. The light blue it shall be.” She started to put the other dress back in its place then paused. “This gray is lovely, too, though.”

  “Hmm. Speaking of eyes, weren’t Mitch Brewer’s gray?”

  Catherine swatted Mattie on the arm. “Stop it!” She broke into a fit of giggles. “Just for that, I won’t take the gray dress after all.”

  “Then how about this pale green number with the tucks down the front?” Mattie correctly interpreted Catherine’s gasp as one of pleasure and handed it to her. “And speaking of eyes again, I’d like to see Mitch Brewer’s light up when he sees you in that outfit.”

  “Honestly, Mattie! Just for that, I ought to put this one back, too.”

  Mattie gave her a saucy wink. “But you won’t.”

  “No. I won’t.” The two girls laughed and headed for another display.

  An hour later, they emerged from the store with Catherine juggling two paper-wrapped bundles containing her new dresses, a deep purple dress skirt with two rows of French braid, and—tucked discreetly at the bottom of the smaller parcel—one of Thomson’s glove-fitting corsets, which the saleslady assured Catherine would give her new clothes the smartest possible fit.

  “Here, let me take one.” Mattie relieved her of the package on top. “I should have stopped you from buying that rose-colored waist for me, but I’ll pay you back come payday.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have spent far more than that on hotel bills with nothing to show for it. Now I have a wonderful place to live as well as a good friend. I’m the one who got the best of the bargain.”

  “Which one are you going to wear tomorrow?” Mattie’s eyes twinkled.

  “Hmm. I’m not sure.” Catherine let her mind linger on the delicious dilemma. “Maybe I’ll wait and save them for a special occasion.”

  “You mean like the next time Mitch Brewer makes an appointment to see the boss. . .or his secretary?”

  Catherine continued south along First Street. “Hardly. I was just going along with your silliness. I shouldn’t be thinking about Mitch Brewer at all right now.” She stopped at the corner of Washington. “I’m here to do a job, and I need to keep my mind on business.”

  Spotting a break in traffic, she dashed across Washington. “I really don’t have time to be daydreaming about some man.”

  Mattie hopped up on the curb beside her. Pausing to catch her breath, she nodded wisely. “That would explain why you were woolgathering at your desk when I brought those papers back to you this afternoon.”

  Catherine swatted at her again and nearly dropped the package in her arms. “Now look what you made me do. I almost lost this parcel.”

  Mattie laughed. “Better a parcel than your heart.” She scampered out of arm’s reach before Catherine could swing again.

  ❧

  Mitch strolled up the steps of Southwestern Land and Investments and entered the reception area with a jaunty air. “Good morning, Mattie. I thought your boss would like to see the way the article I did on him turned out.” He waved a copy of a Baltimore newspaper at her.

  The dark-haired receptionist grinned up at him. “Do you want to leave it here with me, or is there some reason you’d like to go on back to his office?”

  Mitch pulled a bag of lemon drops from his pocket and set it on her desk. Mattie drew herself up with an offended expression. “Do I look like a child you can bribe with candy?” She popped one of the drops in her mouth and winked. “Go on back there. And just for future reference, I like peppermints, too.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.” Mitch chuckled and headed down the hallway.

  Catherine looked up with a bright smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  Her turquoise eyes assured him of her answer even before she spoke. “Not at all.”

  Mitch let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and handed her the copy of the article. “I brought this for Mr. Showalter. I thought he’d enjoy seeing the finished product.”

  “Oh, good. He’ll be delighted to read it. Did you need to speak to him?”

  “There’s no need to bother him. You can give it to him later.” He handed her the paper. “Are you busy right now?”

  “Not too busy to visit for a few minutes.” She came around to the front of her desk and leaned against it.

  The scent of lilacs wafted over to him. “Thanks for coming to church with me last week. I enjoyed your company.” He took a step nearer, then another. She didn’t seem to object.

  “I liked the service. Your pastor made some good points in his sermon.” She smiled up at him. “Lunch was fun, too. I liked meeting your friends.”

  Emboldened, he gathered his courage to say, “One of the fellows at the paper told me about a concert Friday night. It sounds like it ought to be well worth hearing. Would you like to go with me?”

  The light in her face dimmed. “I’m sorry. I already promised Mr. Showalter I’d work late that evening.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s okay. I just thought I’d check. Let me know what your boss thinks about the article.” He sketched a wave and headed down the hallway, barely noticing Mattie’s cheery greeting on the way out.

  He’d done it again. When would he learn to quit moving too far, too fast?

  ❧

  “I’m going downtown after dinner.” Mattie slipped one folder into its place in the filing cabinet and reached for another one. “Woolworth’s is having a sale. Want to come with me? It’ll be fun.”

  “Not today. You’ll have to go without me this time.”

  “Oh, come on. You know how wonderful you look in the new clothes you got
from Goldwaters’. Even Miss Trautman approves of them, though she’d never admit that to you. And Woolworth’s prices are lower. You can afford to pick up another outfit or two.”

  Catherine shook her head. “I have to work late. I’m not even sure I’ll make it home in time for dinner.”

  Mattie slammed the file drawer shut and stared at Catherine. “You’re working late again? What is it this time?”

  “Mr. Showalter is meeting with some men after the office closes. He needs me to take notes and look up any information that’s needed. You know he can never find what he wants when he needs it.”

  “Is this the same bunch he met with the last time you stayed late? All those mysterious people you can’t tell me about?” Mattie huffed when Catherine evaded her gaze. “This is getting to be a habit. Why doesn’t he meet with them during office hours, anyway?”

  Catherine adopted a lofty tone. “They’re very important people, and they’re all quite busy. It’s difficult enough to get them all together at the same time. We have to do it when we can.”

  Mattie folded her arms. “So what are you doing that’s so important?”

  “Making plans for the future of Arizona, that’s what.” Catherine grabbed a handful of folders and sorted through them.

  “Hmph.” Mattie snorted. “I thought that was already being done by the legislature.”

  Catherine pulled out the folder she needed and sighed. “You don’t understand, Mattie. Achieving statehood is just the beginning. I can’t give you any details about what’s going on, but I can tell you that things are being set in motion that will bring about some great improvements for all of us.”

  And I’m a part of it. The thought kept dancing in her head. Who cared if she had to work extra hours? Going in early and staying late might seem excessive to Mattie, but it still didn’t add up to the kind of hours ranchers kept. And it would all be worth it in the end.

  She realized Mattie was speaking again. “What did you say?”

  “I said at least we’ll have some time together on Sunday. There’s a potluck after church, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I meant to tell you, I won’t be going to church this week.”

  Mattie lifted one eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Catherine slid the folder into her top desk drawer, careful to avoid Mattie’s sharp gaze. “Mr. Showalter asked me to come in and work on Sunday.”

  Both of Mattie’s eyebrows soared toward her hairline.

  Catherine felt herself flush. “He wants to get some extra work done when the office is quiet and no one is around.”

  She squared the remaining folders into a neat stack, resenting the feeling of being put on the spot like that. It had been hard enough to answer Mitch’s concerns when she had told him she couldn’t go to church with him. Now she had Mattie to deal with as well.

  Mattie planted her right hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure work is all he has in mind?”

  Catherine banged the folders down on the desk. “Quite sure.” And it was true. She had no doubts at all about her boss’s intentions toward her. Never once had he treated her with anything other than an easy camaraderie. No, her heart wasn’t in any jeopardy from Nathan Showalter.

  But if she wanted to be honest with herself, she couldn’t say the same about Mitch Brewer.

  “I don’t know,” Mattie said. “It just doesn’t seem right, working on Sunday.”

  Catherine looked at her friend and forced a smile. “Don’t fuss about it so. I know you and Mitch think it practically makes me a heathen, but missing church one Sunday isn’t the end of the world.”

  Nine

  Abner Schwartz hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets. “I’ll agree that projects like the spa are all well and good, but I’m not at all sure about this resort, the Phoenician. I personally know several men who are getting nervous and are ready to pull out. Frankly, I’m thinking of pulling out, myself.”

  “Wait a minute.” Seth Kincaid stood to face the naysayer. “Roosevelt Dam is giving them the means to do most anything requiring water, including filling the lagoons at the resort. The Phoenician is going to be a sight to behold.”

  “And don’t overlook the proximity to the railroad,” added Wiley McDermott. “Why, we can build our own station and bring clients right to our door.”

  “That’s right,” Kincaid agreed. “The city is expanding, which will only increase the resort’s value. That hundred acres will give us the seclusion and exclusivity our guests require, but they will have greater access to shopping and city amenities.”

  Catherine sat in the far corner of Nathan Showalter’s office, her pen racing across her notepad as she tried to keep up with the spirited discussion.

  Abner Schwartz grunted. “We don’t have the full hundred acres.”

  An uneasy silence fell over the room.

  Catherine tilted the notepad on her lap and flexed her fingers behind it. Not for anything would she want Mr. Showalter to think her incapable of doing a competent job. Cramped fingers were a trivial price to pay for the privilege of being a small part of history in the making.

  Today’s gathering, though, lacked the convivial air of previous meetings. She knew something significant was afoot when Mr. Showalter announced he had called a meeting on Sunday afternoon. Sure enough, tension seemed to crackle in the air the moment the group assembled. Catherine half expected lightning bolts to start flashing right there in the room.

  Ellis Todd cleared his throat. Catherine picked up her pen, ready to write.

  “I have to go along with Abner, here. We’ve all heard the plans: one hundred acres of prime land to build a resort that will rival anything in the nation. All this talk about a palm-lined driveway and lagoons and even a golf course. . .no wonder people jumped at the chance to sink their money into it! But we’ve shilly-shallied for months, and what do we have to show for it? Ninety acres of barren desert.” He pointed a finger in Nathan Showalter’s direction. “What are you going to do to get this project moving?”

  Catherine gasped at the challenge. Nevertheless, she didn’t feel overly concerned. Her boss seemed to have an absolute genius for being able to turn the most acrimonious situation into one of camaraderie and good will. She had seen him apply his skill to similar occasions before. If anyone could defuse this tension, he could.

  And Nathan Showalter did not disappoint. He rose to stand beside the easel holding a large artist’s rendering. His unruffled demeanor exuded a calm that had an immediate soothing effect.

  “Let’s not let our feelings run too high, gentlemen. While I know all of us hoped to see the project nearer completion by this point, it is hardly a lost cause.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Showalter.” Ellis Todd glared at him across the table. “But I’ve scheduled meetings with some of our investors from California. They’re due here in just a few weeks. They’ll expect to see more progress than this when they arrive. How long am I supposed to tell them they have to wait?”

  A murmur of agreement rumbled through the assembly.

  Catherine waited for his answer with interest. She had written a report on the project herself, describing it in glowing terms gleaned from Mr. Showalter’s notes.

  “Hardly any time at all.” Mr. Showalter turned to the drawing and indicated a large, crescent-shaped area. “We’ve already begun excavation on the lagoons. Work in that section and on the golf course will begin immediately and should be far enough along to satisfy your investors by the time they arrive. I’m sure they’ll understand the slight delay.”

  “Not if they don’t see any progress on the hotel itself,” Todd persisted. “The project won’t be worth a cent if they expect to find it under construction and the only thing standing on the spot is a rundown shack.”

  “You can put your worries to rest on that score.” Mr. Showalter rested his hands on the table. “I fully recognize that the Phoenician is our most prestigious endeavor. I am not about to let any of us miss this auspici
ous opportunity. I intend to assume ownership of the property we require within the next couple of weeks.”

  A bark of laughter cut across the collective sigh of relief. Abner Schwartz stuck out his chin. “If you’re expecting the old geezer to turn loose of that land anytime soon, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “What are you talking about, Abner? Explain yourself.”

  “One of my men talked to him just yesterday. The crazy old coot refuses to sell.”

  Mr. Showalter’s fingers pressed into the surface of the table until their tips turned white. “What do you mean, he refuses?”

  “He says he’s been on that patch of land for half his life and he doesn’t intend to move off just to please some land-hungry latecomers. His term, not mine. This may put a crimp in our plans that even you can’t work your magic on, Nathan.”

  Mr. Showalter rubbed his hands together and smiled. “On the contrary. You know how I love a challenge. I think that’s all for today, gentleman. I’ll look into the issue Abner brought up and plan to have pleasant news for you at our next meeting.”

  Taking her cue, Catherine set down her notepad and went to unlock the front door to let them leave. When the last man exited, she locked the door and hurried back down the hallway. The sooner she put everything to rights, the sooner she could get home. She hoped Mrs. Abernathy had remembered to make a cold supper for her.

  “That got a little interesting, didn’t it?” Mr. Showalter’s smile looked genuine, if a bit strained. Little wonder, considering the wringer those people had put him through.

  Catherine smiled back and helped him return the easel to its place in the corner, then started putting the room back in order. She swept a stack of papers into a neat pile and riffled through the pages. “I don’t see the projected figures for expenses on the work on the golf course. I know it was with these sheets when we started.”

  Mr. Showalter closed the curtains and reached for his hat. “The golf course expense sheet? I probably slipped it under the corner of the blotter.”

  Catherine retrieved the paper from under the blotter and waggled it at him with a look of mock sternness. “No wonder you can never find what you need, the way you keep tucking things under there.” She slipped the page in place and put the lot back in the filing cabinet.