“Give my regards to the pastor,” Esmeralda told the woman as she pulled on her bonnet.
“I will do that. See you Sunday,” Lettie replied, taking herself down the stone steps. “Oh, and don’t forget there’s to be a potluck dinner after church. I sure hope you’ll come.”
“I seriously doubt that I will,” Esmeralda replied. She offered neither explanation nor excuse, and Lettie didn’t press for one.
Esmeralda sighed in relief after the woman had gone, but even as she closed the door, she realized the sensation of emptiness that flooded the house. It was bad enough that Ivy had chosen to stay on at the resort. She had thought to bring the girl home and still allow her to maintain her ludicrous idea of waiting tables for the Harvey House, but that failed to work out.
She remembered their fierce argument when Ivy had learned of Esmeralda’s decision to remain in Morita. It hadn’t been a pretty sight because Ivy had felt certain they would return to her own native St. Louis or maybe even Chicago. But when Esmeralda had announced the coming of the resort and her decision to help Morita flourish, Ivy had been livid.
The girl had even refused to speak to her for days, but because she was underage, there was little she could do. Esmeralda was in charge, and without her approval, Ivy had little or no funds with which to make a move. She had hoped to guide the child into understanding how one could easily invest money and, if done properly, see a nice return for their efforts. But Ivy couldn’t care less. She wanted nothing more than a wealthy husband and a home of her own.
Esmeralda looked up the long staircase to the second floor. Ivy’s empty room stood just to the left of the top of the landing. The door was closed, reserved for that time when Ivy should choose to come home. Esmeralda didn’t waste time worrying about when that might be. The child was stubborn and headstrong. Her willful nature had destroyed much of her life, and though Esmeralda had tried to mold her into a responsible adult, Ivy missed the mark in many ways.
Walking back to the parlor, Esmeralda stared at an oil painting of her now departed brother, Carl. “I fear I’ve failed you. Ivy is hardly the child you would have taken pride in.” She drew a heavy breath and realized the futility of talking to the image. She was totally on her own in the matter of trying to rear Ivy in a responsible manner. That the child had no moral values and no interest in godly matters was alarming enough. But that she put her own aspirations and desires ahead of everyone else’s, even to the point of hurting those around her, was too much for Esmeralda to comprehend. Perhaps it was better to give her over to Rachel Taylor and the Harvey system. At least that redheaded manager seemed not to be intimidated by Ivy’s cunning and conniving ways.
“Perhaps this will help the child to change,” Esmeralda muttered to herself, having little faith in the thought.
SEVEN
AFTER IMMERSING HIMSELF in his new duties for over a week, Braeden realized the job of managing Casa Grande was going to entail a great deal more than he’d originally understood. He was not only in charge of keeping the hotel books and records, arranging for the supplies and staff, and seeing to the reservations for special events, but he was also responsible for bringing in entertainers, scheduling resort appearances, and continuing to improve the grounds. Dealing with entertainment, he quickly learned, was guaranteed to be enough to drive him positively insane.
Making his way back from the telegraph office at the depot, he felt only a moderate amount of relief from the two telegrams in his pocket. Both confirmed acceptance of performances for future dates, one by a well-known acting troupe and another by a renowned European opera singer who would divert from Denver to join them in Casa Grande on the twenty-first of October. He supposed he should feel happy about the news, but he found he couldn’t take pleasure in the matter when his thoughts were consumed with Rachel.
A mountain breeze blew across the valley, causing Braeden to raise his head. The dry warmth of the air felt good against his skin. The past few days had been unseasonably warm, and in spite of the modern convenience of electric lights and fans, Braeden knew Casa Grande would be rather stifling by midday. He speculated that once they were actually up and running with guests, most folks would take afternoon naps or spend quiet moments in the shaded gardens. For himself, he knew there would be more than enough work to occupy him through the heat of the day and didn’t relish the idea at all. Chicago could have its own blistering summers, but generally they were mild and easily tolerated. He had no idea what to expect from New Mexico. Nor did he know what to expect from Rachel.
The walk from the depot to the resort wasn’t all that far, but Braeden slowed his approach to the two-story hotel when his thoughts rested on Rachel. She’d been avoiding him as if he were the Grim Reaper. Many times he’d seen her in the dining room and had thought to approach her, only to have her duck out through the kitchen and into the private parlor for the Harvey Girls. Men were simply not allowed in that portion of the hotel, and infringing upon this rule would mean instantaneous dismissal. Braeden had little desire to be fired, but he had an overwhelming need to set the record clear with the only woman he’d ever really cared for.
He smiled, thinking of the months to come and how closely they would be expected to work together. Already there were a number of staff meetings scheduled, and he would have the opportunity to cohead the meetings with Rachel at his side. It promised to be entertaining, if not advantageous to his situation—if he played his cards right.
He paused on the bridge that spanned Morita Falls. Fed by the abundant hot springs and two other streams, the falls cascaded in a series of steps, dancing over rocky passages and splaying out in a churning pool some twenty feet below. Someone had thoughtfully placed park benches in the grassy area at the bottom of the falls for scenic enjoyment. No doubt it would also make for a lovely romantic interlude.
The picturesque scene drew him to reflect on how he might woo Rachel into agreeing to give their love a second chance. Moonlight, waterfalls, and the flowery gardens just might create the needed atmosphere. The hardest part would be setting the stage that would put them together in such a place. If Rachel had her way, she would never again be alone in his company.
Sighing, he turned away from the enchanting little falls and made his way up the drive and past the white marble fountain to Casa Grande. On his desk he had a stack of original inventory sheets to compare to the inventory recently taken by his housekeeper, and there was no telling how long it would actually take to reconcile the two. With this business in mind, he raced up the steps and plowed through the doorway just as Rachel was exiting the hotel.
He had to take hold of her arms to keep from knocking her to the ground, but the look on her face was his reason for maintaining his hold. She was surprised, to say the least, but there was a longing in her eyes that matched the emotion in his heart. She trembled at his touch, and Braeden felt encouraged by the fact that he was the reason for her reaction. She must have feelings for me; otherwise this wouldn’t affect her at all.
“Rachel,” he whispered, refusing to call her anything else.
For a moment, neither one of them moved. Braeden was afraid to move for fear of what might happen afterward. No doubt she would rush off and hide herself away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.
“I have to …” she tried to speak, then stopped.
She appeared to be battling within herself, and Braeden was even more certain her feelings for him hadn’t died. What could he do to help her realize that they could overlook the past and move forward?
“I’ve tried several times to talk to you,” Braeden finally offered.
“I’ve been busy,” she replied.
Gently, he rubbed her upper arms with his thumbs. “Too busy for a simple conversation?”
Rachel’s resistance returned and she stiffened. “With you, there is never a simple conversation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to at the depot.”
Braeden dropped his hold, seeing the ho
stility return to her expression. “You’ll have to talk to me sooner or later.”
Rachel smiled rather snidely. “I think you underestimate me, Mr. Parker.”
“You can’t avoid me forever.”
“Watch me,” she replied and hurried past him and down the steps.
Braeden said nothing more. It was hard to let her go, but he had no desire to force her to remain, only to have an argument. Instead, he returned to his office and buried himself in paper work. He felt more frustration now than in the six years since they’d separated. He tried to pray, but in truth his frustration extended to God. Why would God bring them back together if humiliation and anguish were to be Braeden’s only reward?
Finding no consolation in thought, prayer, or duty, Braeden finally gave up on his work. Glancing at his watch, he saw that two hours had passed since he’d encountered Rachel. Was time to be forever gauged by his last moment with her?
Slamming his ledger closed, Braeden realized he could just as easily mope over lunch. Hotel staff were allowed to take part in the Harvey dining room and were, in fact, an intricate part of the preparations. All of the girls had received their month-long training in Topeka, and most of the girls had worked for months elsewhere on the line, but Casa Grande was a new layout for everyone, and it was imperative that the operation run smoothly. Especially once they were dealing with hundreds of guests.
Grabbing his suit coat of worsted navy blue, Braeden made his way to the dining room. He had a chance of seeing Rachel here, but it was a slim one. She often saw him coming and would quickly exit to busy herself elsewhere. But sometimes he managed to catch her in the act of instructing one or more of the girls, and even watching her from afar made his meal more enjoyable.
Braeden slipped into the coat, hating the added burden as the day warmed considerably. Fred Harvey kept a hard, fast rule that all men dining in his restaurants would wear suit coats, and staff members for the resort were no different. Stopping at the door, Braeden could see that the black-and-white-clad girls were already bustling around the room, and in the corner Rachel spoke intently with two of the waitresses. Smiling to himself, Braeden took a seat at one of the empty tables and watched as Rachel continued her instruction. She intrigued him as she always had—partly because she didn’t see herself as pretty and therefore it only seemed to add to her beauty, and partly because she was an extremely intelligent yet tenderhearted woman. She had a way about her that bespoke of her confidence, but in managing this group of girls, he saw an almost motherly side to her.
He could see, however, that this moment appeared to present a confrontation of wills. The petite blonde on her left appeared anything but gracious in receiving direction. He could tell by the stance she took and the tilt of her chin that she was in complete disagreement with Rachel. The girl on Rachel’s right seemed far more interested in what the blonde had to say, and Braeden instantly felt sorry for Rachel.
As if she could feel his gaze upon her, Rachel glanced up. She stiffened notably and squared her shoulders as if preparing herself to do battle. She refocused her attention on the job at hand, but it wasn’t another minute before the blonde was pointing out that Braeden was going unserved.
Rachel nodded and instructed both girls to follow her to the table. Fixing her gaze somewhere above Braeden’s head, she said, “Welcome to the Harvey House.”
“Thank you,” Braeden replied, trying hard to keep a straight face. “I see today I will have three lovely ladies to wait upon me.”
“We’re in training,” the blonde replied with a flirtatious smile. “Miss Taylor says I need to improve my serving skills in order to better please everyone.”
“Hmm, that is a lofty task,” Braeden said, lifting his gaze to Rachel.
“The degree of difficulty depends on the customer,” Rachel replied curtly.
“But we have only the nicest customers,” the blonde interjected.
“There will be times, however,” Rachel said, turning her full attention on the young women, “when the customers will not be so nice. You must be prepared to deal with them in an open, friendly manner. That does not mean, Miss Brooks, that you mistake acting in a flirtatious manner for a courteous one.”
“I hardly see that the girl did anything wrong,” Braeden said, undermining Rachel’s instructions.
She turned to glare at him. “No doubt you see her actions as acceptable, but Mr. Harvey sets the rules in this house, and he expects his girls to act in a dignified manner.”
“I’m sure even Mr. Harvey enjoys the smile of a beautiful young woman. Miss Brooks, is it?” he asked, knowing he was infuriating Rachel further. Something inside him couldn’t resist agitating her in this manner. Perhaps if he continued, she would take him aside and speak to him about his actions, and then he could force her to listen to him.
“Yes,” Ivy said, beaming him another smile. She lowered her lashes coyly and added, “I’m glad someone can appreciate my charm.”
“You are here to serve meals,” Rachel countered while the other girl giggled. The blonde seemed unmoved.
Braeden thought they made a most unlikely trio and grinned. “Yes, serve me a meal, I’m nigh on to starving.” He grabbed the oversized napkin and snapped it out.
Rachel frowned and looked at Ivy. “Your service should be pleasant and friendly, but not improperly so.”
“I haven’t been given friendly or pleasant service by you, Miss Taylor,” Braeden interjected. “I wonder, is the rule only for your girls or must you follow it as well?” The Harvey Girls giggled while Rachel turned crimson.
Through clenched teeth she managed to say, “Forgive me.”
“Now, there is an admirable suggestion. Forgive me,” Braeden said thoughtfully. “Forgiveness is an important aspect of a happy life.
Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Taylor?”
“Mr. Parker, we haven’t time to dally here. What would you like to drink with your meal?” Rachel questioned sternly.
“First, I want that friendly service,” he answered. “I think this is the perfect opportunity to show your young ladies here how to interact when you feel less than friendly.”
Braeden watched the curious expressions of the two waitresses while Rachel seemed to deliberate within herself as to how to continue. “There will always be days when you feel less than friendly, and there will always be irritating people who make you want to act less than cordial,” Rachel finally said.
“Yes,” Braeden added, “but everyone deserves kindness and consideration.”
“Sometimes that is true,” Rachel replied, seeming to forget the girls. “But sometimes people act in a way that causes you to feel less inclined to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“Sometimes people are simply misjudged—misunderstood,” Braeden answered flatly. He looked hard into Rachel’s eyes. “Sometimes people don’t bother to get all the facts.”
“I take the word of those I trust, and that trust allows me to believe in them regardless of circumstances.”
“Oh, and what would it take to build this trust?”
Rachel paled. “We’re getting off the subject.”
“We’ve never quite been on the subject,” Braeden retorted rather sarcastically. “Not unless Mr. Harvey has somehow included the subtleties of how to deal with your customers’painful past experiences and disappointments.”
“Only if it interferes with the future.”
“Mr. Harvey’s future or yours?” Braeden asked seriously.
For just a moment, Braeden saw a flash of something akin to sorrow pass through Rachel’s eyes. She quickly recovered, however, and smiled.
“Mr. Braeden likes coffee with his meals,” she said, then turning to the Harvey Girls, she added, “I’ll let you continue to serve him while I attend to other matters.”
Braeden watched her walk away, wishing he could go after her or at least call to her and force her to deal with the issues between them. No matter what happened, he had to find a way to get her to
open up to him.
I still love you, Rachel, he thought. I love you more now than I did then. If only you would listen to reason—forget the past—forget the lies that destroyed us.
“So where did you live before coming to Casa Grande, Mr. Parker?” Ivy Brooks asked, smiling sweetly.
Braeden looked up to see her face, wishing it were Rachel instead. “I hail from Chicago originally,” he replied. “But Morita is now my home.”
“Surely you don’t intend to stay on here forever?” Ivy questioned.
“It all depends,” Braeden replied.
“On what?”
“If there’s something worth staying for.”
Ivy watched as Braeden finished the last of his coffee and bid Faith good-bye. Faith giggled all the way back to where Ivy stood. Her eyes fairly shone in admiration.
“That man is so handsome,” Faith whispered.
Ivy nodded. “Yes, he is.”
“Miss Taylor doesn’t seem to like him much,” Faith continued, “and I don’t know why. He was perfectly charming the entire time we waited on him. And I thought him especially gallant when he admonished us to pay him no mind and to heed Miss Taylor at all times.”
“Heed Miss Taylor, indeed. I’d rather heed a rattlesnake. There’s something going on between those two,” Ivy replied. “It’s more than the simple fact that they knew each other before now. I’d bet my best petticoat that there is some reason why Miss Taylor treats him the way she does. And,” Ivy said with a smug smile, “when I find out what it is, I’ll use it to my advantage.”
EIGHT
“RACHEL, ARE YOU RECEIVING VISITORS?”
Rachel looked up from her desk and a smile immediately came to her lips. “Simone! Come in.”
The exotic-looking Simone O’Donnell entered the room attired in a very comfortable calico afternoon dress. The coral-colored flowers set against the cream background complemented Simone’s lightly tanned skin and black hair. Rachel envied the simplicity of her beauty.
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