“Na-uh. It mine.” Josiah yanked the wooden toy from Graham’s hand.
“Josiah, give that back to Graham. You have the cowboy. You can’t have them both. You boys need to learn to share.”
“But I want Indian. Gam can have cowboy.”
“Which one did you bring? The cowboy or the Indian?” he asked, not understanding why when they each had a cowboy and an Indian that they didn’t bring both of them so they wouldn’t fight.
Josiah dropped his head. “The Indian.”
“Well, if that’s what you brought, then you need to give Graham back his cowboy.”
Josiah pursed his lips and his brows puckered.
“Now, Josiah.”
The cowboy smacked against the palm of Graham’s hand when Josiah grudgingly handed it over to him. He crossed his arms and protruded his lips in a pout. For a brief moment, Harrison closed his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration.
Both the cowboy and the Indian had been carved to straddle the wooden carved horses they’d brought with them. Did the difference between the Indian headdress and the cowboy hat matter that much to his boys? A toy was a toy as far as Harrison was concerned. Then again, he’d never had to share any of his. What little he’d had as a child, anyway.
Harrison swatted a horse fly that had plagued them persistently on their journey down the mountain to Abby’s house.
He hated having to bring his sons to work. Over the past eight months or so, he’d had to do just that a few times because his nannies had resigned. Make that more like making a hasty retreat with only a moment’s notice. All he could do now was hope that someone would answer the ad he and Staimes had placed on the bulletin boards all around town late yesterday afternoon. And answer it soon.
“Whoa.” He brought the horse to a stop in front of Abby’s mansion.
Josiah leaped off his seat and took a giant step.
Harrison grabbed a handful of the back of his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going, young man? Sit down.”
Indecision tumbled across Josiah’s face.
“Now.” Harrison used his sternest voice, and it worked. “You will be spending time with Miss Denis this morning. I want you to mind what she says. If I hear any report that either of you have misbehaved, you will be disciplined. Do you boys understand?”
They both nodded.
“Very well. Now, wait there until I come around and get you.”
Harrison helped them down. Grasping their hands in his, the three of them walked up the steps to the front door. He raised the lion-head door knocker and tapped it thrice.
Seconds later, the door swung open. “Good morning.” Abby’s voice was bright and cheery and her smile appeared genuine, unlike the day before. Relieved to see her doing better, his own lips curled upward.
Her gaze went down to his boys. “How are Josiah and Graham doing this morning?” She squatted down and studied the toys in their hands. “What do we have here? A cowboy and an Indian? Oh, and horses, too. What are their names?”
“My horsey’s name is Little Eagle and this is Big Feather.” Josiah held up his wooden Indian. “Daddy helped name ’em.” His son smiled up at him.
“My horsey is Bucky. And my cowboy—” he held up the cowboy for her to see “—is named Daddy.” Graham tucked the cowboy to his chest, but his eyes were fixed on Harrison. “I name it Daddy ’cause I love my daddy.”
Harrison’s heart melted and swelled with love for his sons. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for either one of them.
“Well, I think your father and you two boys did a fine job of naming them.” She turned those smiling eyes of hers up at him, and theirs locked for a brief but meaningful moment. “Now, shall we go inside? Miss Denis has lots of fun activities planned for you this morning. Are you ready to have some fun?”
Their eyes brightened, and they both nodded.
“Very well, then. Shall we?” She rose and offered each of them a hand. Graham and Josiah slipped their hands into hers, and they preceded him inside. How well the twins looked with her. As if they were a family. That thought stopped him cold. They weren’t a family. And never would be. She had her life here, and he had his back in Boston. Love, and especially marriage, were not on his agenda here.
* * *
The night before while lying in bed, as she had so many times in the past, Abby struggled with her feelings of unfairness about how she could never bear a child of her own. She confessed her anger and asked God’s forgiveness for it and for her poor attitude concerning the whole thing. Josiah, Graham and Julie were all delightful children, and even though they were a painful reminder of what she could never have, right now they needed her, of that she was certain. So, putting her own feelings aside, she would be there for them as much as possible.
Making sure the boys were settled in with Zoé instead of going to the parlor as was their usual routine, Abby led Harrison to her office. The day before, before the furniture was delivered, Colette had cleaned it from top to bottom.
When she and Harrison stepped inside, she stopped and gazed up at him, wondering what he thought of the furnished room they would be sharing for three months. “Well, what do you think? It looks quite lovely with the new furniture, does it not?”
She followed his perusal of the room. The dark-stained oak desk with the three squares of a lighter shade of oak in the front and on each side outlined with a gold, leafy vine design looked regal in the bright, airy room. The three floor-to-ceiling, matching cabinets behind it and the matching bookshelf alongside the massive desk added to its appeal.
The sculptured oak chair with the black, padded-leather seat and arm rests behind the desk reminded her of Queen Anne furniture, as did the two chairs situated in front and off to the side of the desk. Only they were padded with a burgundy and gold material that resembled hundreds of miniature checker game boards.
A blue, gold and burgundy Victorian rug, one of the few perfectly salvageable pieces that had been left behind, the two new carved burgundy bench settees, cream-colored sofa, two end tables and the coffee table that matched the desk filled the other side of the office.
Knowing he’d finished viewing the whole room, she looked up at him with eager anticipation.
“Very nice, Abby. I fear, however, that it makes my office back home look quite shabby. I must say, you have excellent, excellent taste in decor.”
Abby beamed under his praise. “How very kind of you to say so. Thank you.” She clasped her hands together. “Well, would you like some coffee or tea while we wait for Fletcher to arrive with our bid?”
“No, thank you. But if you do, please do not let me stop you.”
“I’m fine. I thought while we were waiting that we could start putting together our order for the things we will need for the business.”
“Very well.”
Abby grabbed everything she needed and motioned for Harrison to sit on the sofa. They went over everything they needed and had the list almost completed when Colette entered the room. “Excuse me, mademoiselle, but Mr. Martin is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Colette. Send him in.”
“Oui, Miss Abby.”
Abby smiled at how formal Colette, Veronique and Zoé were in the presence of others. Even though she’d told them they didn’t have to be, and that they were family, she had to admit, it made her feel as if they respected her—something she found quite nice.
Fletcher stepped into the room. “Morning.” Was it just her or did she detect apprehension in his voice and on his face?
Harrison stood and the two men shook hands.
“I wonder if I might have a word with you before we begin,” Fletcher asked Harrison.
That surprised Abby. What could the two men possibly have to talk about that didn’t include her? Well, whatever it was, it was none of her business. Or was it? Did it have something to do with the Royal Grand Theater, the name she’d finally decided on? Whatever it was, if they wanted her to know, they’d tell her
. No sense in getting fidgety over something that may or may not have anything to do with her or the business.
Harrison glanced down at her with a question on his face, too. Best not to read anything into that, either. “Excuse me, Abby. We’ll be right back.”
Abby rose. “No, you gentlemen stay here. I’ll run and get us something to drink. It’s warming up outside rather fast. Would either of you care for some cool tea?”
They both liked that idea, so she scurried out of the room, retrieved the tea from the cool cellar and headed back to the office. Two feet away from the door, she overheard, “I don’t know how to break the news to her.”
What news? She stood outside the door, waiting and listening to see if they would say more, but their voices were too low, so she stepped into the office and set the beverage tray on the coffee table. “Here you go, gentlemen.” She handed each of them a glass. “Would either of you like sugar or lemon in your drink?” Both declined. After adding lemon and sugar to hers, she sat down beside Harrison. “Shall we get down to business? Do you have your bid ready?”
Fletcher and Harrison exchanged a look, a rather disturbing one at that.
“Something’s not right. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Her stomach twisted into knots while waiting for them to answer.
“I want you to know—”
“Allow me.” Harrison cut Fletcher off.
Fletcher nodded.
“Remember when we talked about the repairs and the cost?”
She swallowed, wondering just how much they were going to be. While she had plenty of money, she still had a lot to buy, and she didn’t want to spend it all on this place. After all, she needed money to live on until the business took off. “Yes.”
“There is no easy way to say this, I’m afraid. The repair costs are massive.”
She tilted her head, furrowing her forehead. “I don’t... I didn’t see that much that needed fixing.”
“To the untrained eye, there isn’t. I mean no offense by that. But unless you were a carpenter, you wouldn’t notice certain things.”
“Like what?”
“Here, let me show you.” Harrison handed her Fletcher’s itemized bid.
Abby’s eyes trailed down the long list of repairs. With each one her eyes grew. By the time she got to the bottom figure, her eyes had all but popped out of her head. The amount was ten times the amount she’d calculated they would be, but that wasn’t what bothered her. She stood, walked over to the window and draped her arms around her waist.
Behind her, she heard Fletcher say he’d be back later. Without saying goodbye to him, she stared out the window.
* * *
Concerned for Abby, Harrison stepped up alongside her. “Are you all right?”
She gazed up at him. “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed.
“All right. I admit it was quite a shock.”
“I know it’s an exorbitant amount. One you probably weren’t expecting. Perhaps I can help.” How, he didn’t know. Until he received his inheritance, his funds were limited, and he couldn’t even take out a loan at his bank.
“It’s not about the money, it’s about the time. All those repairs are going to take much longer than I expected. It’s just disappointing is all. But—” she turned her beautiful face upward toward him “—God will take care of it. He always does. As far as I can tell, Fletcher’s figures are reasonable considering all that needs fixed around here. I think we should hire him. What do you think?”
The woman amazed him. She’d just had a huge blow and yet here she was as bubbly as ever saying God would take care of it. Well, he hoped for her sake that her God did. “I think you’re right.”
“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together. “Then let’s not delay another minute. Let’s go find him and see when he can get started. The sooner he does, the better. What should we have him start on first?” Not waiting for his answer, she continued. “The upstairs can wait. We need to have him work on getting the foundation fixed first. Then... Oh, why don’t we wait and see what he says? Then afterward, if you don’t have plans, would you and the boys like to have lunch with me?” He had never met a woman that could talk as fast as she could. Her excitement was contagious.
“Mademoiselle,” he imitated the three French sisters, “lead the way.”
Abby laughed, a sound as pleasing and soothing as a fine musical instrument.
Without thinking it through, he reached for her hand and looped it through his arm. The connection sent a warmness flowing through him. He gazed down at her, wondering if she felt it, too.
Their eyes met and locked.
Since his coming here, this was the first time he had a strong urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He wondered what it would be like to love this woman who was beautiful both inside and out. What it would be like to... She blinked, breaking the connection, along with his trail of thoughts. Good thing. He couldn’t entertain what it was like to be married to her. Nothing good could come from that kind of surmising.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have very unique eyes?”
It was his turn to blink. Where had that come from? And is that why she was staring at him? That it had nothing to do with the connection he’d felt? Why that idea disappointed him, he had no idea, but it did, nevertheless. Brushing it aside, he answered, “Yes. I’ve been told that before. Has anyone ever told you that you do?” Watch it buddy, you’re flirting with trouble.
She tilted her head, and her perfectly shaped brows curled into an S. “Mine aren’t unique.”
“Oh, but they are. They’re always smiling.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Even when you aren’t smiling, you’re eyes appear to be. They’re very beautiful, you know?” And so are you. But that last part he didn’t voice out loud. Best to keep that to himself, as it was too personal of a thing to say to a single woman, and could very easily be misconstrued as more than the simple compliment it was meant to be. “Shall we go?” He changed the subject.
* * *
Harrison arrived at Abby’s minutes earlier than what had been discussed the day before. Zoé met him at the door, and after leaving his sons with her, he made his way into the parlor. He stepped into the room, and his heart jumped to his throat. There Abby was, standing precariously on a rickety ladder, leaning over the fireplace mantel at an angle, holding a huge picture.
“Abby, what are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said, rushing toward her.
Abby jerked her head in his direction, and when she did, her body yanked with it. The ladder flew out from under her and the picture went crashing to the ground along with the ladder. Her arms shot out but not before her head whacked against the corner of the mantel. Harrison caught her right before she landed on the hearth. With her still in his arms, he asked, “What on earth were you doing up there on that thing?” His blood pounded hard into his ears.
“What do you mean, what was I doing? What did it look like I was doing? I was hanging a picture.” Her blond hair covered one side of her face.
“That’s a good way to get yourself hurt.”
“I was doing just fine until you came in and scared me half to death,” she puffed.
She had a point there. It was his fault she’d fallen. Still, one look at the rotten ladder and he knew it was only a matter of time before that thing collapsed.
Abby yanked her head with a quick jerk to the side and winced. She reached up and brushed the hair away from her face. Her fingertips patted at her forehead. When she pulled them back, they were coated with blood.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It appears that way, yes.”
“Let me see that.”
“No need. I’ll be fine.” She tried to get up, but he sat on the hearth and settled her onto his lap.
“Mr. Kingsley, this is highly improper.” She arranged her purple day dress by tugging its skirt to where it hung farther over her ankles.
“Hang propriety. Right now I’m concerned about that knot on your head and the blood dripping down your forehead.” He pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it over the wound, making her wince away from it.
“You’re ruining your monogrammed handkerchief. And, I care about my reputation even if you do not.”
“What? Who said I didn’t care about your reputation?”
She glanced at the way he held her nestled on his lap, then at the parlor door, then back at him again with one raised pointy eyebrow.
She was right. The way he was holding her could easily be misconstrued. “I see your point.” He laid her hand over the handkerchief, quickly shifted her off his lap and stood.
He helped her up and led her over to the couch. “Sit.”
Her small hand perched at her waist. “Sit? Excuse me? Do I look like a dog to you?”
“A dog? You? Well, if you are, you’re a very cute one.” He laughed, but she didn’t join him. Realizing how that must’ve sounded, his laughter died in his throat. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were a dog. I only meant...” Good-night, how did he get himself into these messes, anyway? “I mean you’d make a cute dog. Not that I think you look like one or anything. I just meant...” He clamped his mouth shut, deciding he’d better hush up before he buried himself even further into the hole he’d already dug for himself.
Her nostrils expanded, her lips twitched. “Gotcha!” Laughter bubbled out of her. “You should have seen the look on your face when you thought I was upset with you. I knew what you meant, but it was fun watching you try to talk your way out of it.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. I’m not amused.” His lips compressed into a thin line, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh, don’t be so stuffy. Lighten up,” she said, giving a quick flip of her hand. “I’m just teasing you.”
He continued to scowl at her.
“Look, I was only—”
“Gotcha!” He smiled and uncrossed his arms.
Her mouth fell open. Then as if she finally caught on, her lips curled in that cute way that made her eyes smile, too. “You got me a good one, and I deserved it, too.”
Debra Ullrick Page 10