by Arlene James
* * *
As it turned out, Garth did not need much convincing. After Petra informed him about the arbitration meeting with the BCHS, he immediately returned from Colorado. As soon as he glanced over the punch list, he instructed her to bring Dale in on it.
“Way ahead of you,” she told him matter-of-factly. “He arranged this meeting with the executive committee of the Buffalo Creek Historical Society.”
“More like the Buffalo Creek Hysterical Society,” Garth groused. “I suppose Bowen has to be there.”
Petra just quirked an eyebrow at him. Garth sighed. “Fine,” he snapped. “Such a fun way to spend a Saturday.”
She had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes as she began to fill in Garth on Dale’s plans, item by item. Afterward, he reluctantly praised Dale’s solutions, but Petra cautioned him that several tricky issues remained, and Saturday’s meeting proved her entirely correct. Only after long hours of discussion did they come to full agreement.
“Just to reiterate the final point,” Tansy Burdett, the BCHS chairperson said, “Mr. Bowen will personally oversee these issues and serve as liaison in all future communications between Anderton Hotels and this society.”
“While keeping all parties fully informed,” Garth added, looking directly at Dale, who nodded in agreement.
Petra could tell that he didn’t like having Dale back in the mix, but he had been surprisingly reasonable. She let out the first easy breath she’d taken all day, sure that all would now be well.
“Then I think we are done here,” Tansy decreed, heaving her sturdy body from the chair at the head of the table. The woman sounded as tired as Petra felt, and for good reason. Though approaching eighty years of age, Tansy had ruled the proceedings with an iron hand from the beginning. Dale, however, had patiently and adroitly steered her toward certain helpful conclusions, and Garth, to his credit, had allowed him to do it.
“I must say,” one of the other committee members piped up, “that I am encouraged by what we’ve achieved. The Vail—”
“Anderton Vail,” Garth corrected, on his feet.
“The Anderton Vail,” the woman said pointedly, “could turn out to be the crown jewel of our historical properties.”
“We’ll certainly work toward that goal,” Dale promised, walking around the table to help her out of her chair.
“Within reason,” Garth muttered.
Dale shot him a tight smile. “Absolutely. We do have a budget.”
“And a schedule,” Garth reminded him.
Acknowledging that with a bow of his head, Dale went to fetch a cane for another elderly lady at the table. Garth caught Petra by the arm and ushered her swiftly into the foyer.
“I hope you’re pleased,” she began, pitching her voice low.
“Under the circumstances, yes,” he said, stepping close and speaking softly. “You were right all along about this. I should’ve listened. Bowen has the old biddies in the palm of his hand. From now on, use him as you see fit.”
Petra didn’t much like the sound of that. Yes, she’d thought something along those lines herself, but hearing Garth state so baldly that he considered Dale to be nothing more than a tool irritated her. Dale had smoothed many ruffled feathers for them this day. Still, she did not visibly react. Neither did she step away as instinct warned her to. Instead, she murmured something designed to turn Garth’s statement as much in her favor as possible, even if she didn’t like herself for it.
“Thank you for that vote of confidence.”
“You’ve earned it,” he told her. “Wish I could stay around and watch you in action, but I’ve got to get back to Colorado.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He glanced behind her, smiled and slid his hands across her shoulders. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her!
Frozen in shock, she did nothing more than stand there with her eyes wide open and her lips clamped shut.
After a couple seconds, he lifted his head, stepped back and waved nonchalantly at someone behind her, saying loudly, “Thanks for your help on this, Bowen. Ladies, take care.”
Petra’s face flamed, but she still couldn’t seem to move. Several long seconds ticked by before she came to the inescapable conclusion that Garth had staged that kiss for maximum benefit. He’d planned to stake his claim in front of Dale Bowen all along. That, of course, meant that he, like everyone else apparently, realized how attracted she was to Dale. She knew with humiliating certainty that she should have expected something like this from Garth; he’d given in too easily to Dale’s involvement. Cringing inwardly, she tried hard not to let her dismay show on the outside, telling herself that at least her aunts hadn’t seen that kiss. On the other hand, with Tansy Burdett there to witness it, they might as well have! Still, what was done was done. She’d just have to make the best of it.
Gathering her courage, she cleared her throat and turned around. While she’d been wallowing in humiliation, the foyer had filled with those taking their leave. Not a one of them would meet her eye, and though she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole, she had to do, say, something. Now. Before it was too late. Dale stood at the door, waiting for the old dear with the cane to clear it. Petra immediately went toward him.
“Dale, if I could—”
“I noticed you were taking notes,” he interrupted lightly, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “I assume you’ll be typing those up.”
“Y-yes.”
“I’d appreciate a copy.”
“You can have mine as well,” Tansy volunteered, coming up beside Petra.
He smiled at the older woman. “Great. I’d like to have everyone’s.”
“Very wise,” Tansy pronounced, nodding in approval even as she frowned at Petra.
“Well, I guess we’re done here,” Dale said cheerfully. Now that the doorway had cleared, he nodded to no one in particular and left.
Petra feared for a moment that she might cry, but then she squared her shoulders. This was best, she told herself sternly, at least so far as she and Dale were concerned. Things were getting far too personal between them. Really, she should thank Garth for effectively removing any possibility of a romantic entanglement between herself and the handsome builder. Later, of course, she would put her employer in his place. Meanwhile, neither Dale Bowen nor Garth Anderton could be allowed to throw her off her stride.
She’d searched and searched for an opportunity like this one, and as far as Petra was concerned, she’d just been given carte blanche to see this project through. She’d make the Vail the star in the crown of Anderton Hotels if it was the last thing she ever did. She’d do it if it killed her. She’d do it if it tore out her heart.
But that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to let it happen.
From now on, no matter what Garth staged, no matter how Dale smiled—or didn’t—she was going to become the manager of the Anderton Vail. Then the sky would be her limit. She was going to rocket straight to the top.
All she had to do was keep her wits about her, and she could do that, she promised herself.
Please, God, she prayed desperately, don’t let me mess up.
If she could just keep her goals in mind, it would all work out. Garth would eventually lose interest and look for easier prey, and Dale… He was a contractor doing a job. That’s all. He was a means to an end for her, and she for him. This was business, and there was nothing wrong with that, as long as everyone got a fair shake out of the deal.
If that thought did not bring her the comfort for which she longed, well, that’s what church was for, wasn’t it? She suddenly couldn’t wait for Sunday morning.
* * *
“Why, you’re as pretty as Walt said,” Hallie Bowen told Petra at church the next morning, her
cheeks bunching with a wide smile.
They’d met in the foyer, literally walked right into each other. Dale, who had been following close behind his mother, had made the introductions, his smile and tone impersonal. Which is just as it should be, Petra told herself, petulantly ignoring the little twist of hurt in her chest.
She thanked Dale’s mother for the compliment. “That’s a very nice thing to hear. Thank you.”
“And who is this lovely young lady?” Mrs. Bowen asked, reaching past Petra to clasp Dallas’s hand.
“This is my sister, Dallas,” Petra answered, careful to keep her gaze off Dale and on his mother.
Had Dallas not been pestering Petra for details about that kiss Garth had planted on her in the foyer of Chatam House the day before, Petra would not have bumped into Hallie Bowen and she and Dale could have passed with nods and nothing more. Instead, they were standing around making awkward conversation while looking anywhere but at each other.
Hallie Bowen suddenly called out to a young woman across the way, waving her over. “Sudie! Sudie! Over here!”
About Petra’s age, the young matron guided one little girl by the hand and carried another on her hip as she made her way across the foyer. The heavy highlights in her short, dark blond hair made her resemblance to Hallie Bowen all the more pronounced.
“Petra,” Hallie said enthusiastically as the woman drew near, “this is my daughter, Sudie. Sudie Baker. And these are my granddaughters. Nell is four, and Callie’s eighteen months.”
Even as her proud grandmother spoke, Callie reached for her uncle. Dale hoisted her easily into the crook of one arm and bent his head to rub noses with her, making her giggle and prompting her sister to claim her share of his attention.
“Hold me, Unca Dale.”
“Come on up,” he promptly agreed, clasping both of her little hands in one of his.
She literally climbed him, walking up his body as he pulled from above and her mother scolded both of them unconvincingly while brushing down Nell’s frothy skirts.
“Nell, you’re too big, and you’re going to ruin his dress pants. Dale, you spoil them both.”
“That’s what uncles are for,” he said, settling the girl on his hip. “Right?”
“Right!” She stretched up for her nose-rub then sniffed his cheek. “Mmm.”
The memory of his aftershave washed over Petra, leaving her weak in the knees—and she hadn’t realized that she’d even noted it!
He made goo-goo eyes at the girls and entertained them while Petra chatted with his mother and sister.
“They’re adorable girls.”
“Thank you. My husband, Don, says they’re just like me.” Sudie laughed, while Hallie pointed out all the ways that the girls were like their mother.
“These girls are sweethearts, though,” Dale interjected. “Sudie was a mean little thing.” He gave Petra the briefest glance, just so she’d know he was teasing, then winked at Nell, who giggled.
Sudie dug her finger into his chest while he laughed. “I was not! I was the best sister ever. I adored my big brother, and you know it.”
“You adored biting me,” he ribbed.
“I bit you twice. Three times at most!” Sudie exclaimed.
At that, Callie opened her mouth and moved toward either her sister’s arm, where it looped about Dale’s neck, or Dale’s collarbone, exposed by the open neck of his shirt. Sudie snatched her away, complaining, “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Me?” Dale protested, laughing. “I wasn’t trying to bite anybody.”
“You put the idea in her head.”
He leaned down and put his forehead to little Callie’s, saying firmly, “No biting. Okay?”
She popped a finger into her mouth and nodded, then she trailed it down his cheek. He turned his head and kissed that tiny fingertip. Petra had to look away, her chest suddenly so tight that it hurt. He had called himself a family man, and obviously he would make a great father. Petra suddenly felt struck by the idea of never being a mother, though she had long ago accepted that such would be the case if she followed through with her plans. Shaken, she tasted a hint of regret.
“We ought to get inside,” Hallie Bowen warned as gathering music began to emanate from the sanctuary.
The Bowen family turned toward the tall arched doors, calling farewells. Only then did Petra realize that Walton wasn’t with them. She wanted to ask if he was well, but she didn’t dare prolong the meeting. Instead, she hung back, smiling and waving until they were through the doors. Even then, she couldn’t breathe easily, for no sooner were the Bowens out of sight than Dallas caught her by the crook of the elbow and spun her about.
“Are you crazy?” she demanded, her amber eyes as big as saucers. “You’re cheating on Garth with Dale, aren’t you?”
Petra’s jaw dropped. “Cheating? No! For starters, I’m not with Garth.”
“But you kissed him right in front of—”
“He kissed me!” Petra interrupted, fighting to keep her voice low. “I did not kiss him, and I’ve never let him think that I wanted to, either!”
“Well, you’d better start,” Dallas warned, “or he’s going to get the idea that you like Dale.”
“Let him!” Petra snapped, even though she was quite sure that Garth had already gotten that idea. Otherwise, why try to get rid of Dale, and why so obviously stage that kiss?
“You don’t mean that,” Dallas argued, shaking her bright red curls. “Garth has everything—looks, personality, charm, money…”
“And Dale is what?” Petra hissed, painfully aware that she was more offended than the situation merited. “Chopped liver?”
Gasping, Dallas brought her head up sharply. “You do like him!”
Petra rolled her eyes. “Of course I like him. What’s not to like? But it means nothing. Dale and I…get along. Because we have to. In order to work together.”
“Then why not see where things go with Garth?”
“I’m just not interested in ‘seeing where things go.’ Not with Garth or any man.”
Dallas folded her arms. “Lying is a sin, you know. And lying in church, well, that’s even worse.”
She stalked off, her nose in the air. Petra sighed and cupped her hands over her eyes. So much for finding surcease from her problems in church! Good grief. Why couldn’t Dallas just leave this alone? If she thought Garth was so special, why didn’t she go after him herself?
That thought arrested Petra for a moment, but then she shook her head. Garth was wrong for Dallas for all the reasons that he was wrong for her. He was too much older, too sophisticated, too self-centered and she suspected that he was not a Christian. Dallas needed a strong, solid Christian man who would curb her tendency to meddle. Like Dale.
The very idea of Dallas and Dale chilled Petra all the way to the bone.
Dallas might need someone like Dale, but Dale needed someone like…
Petra couldn’t bring anyone to mind. Every time a face or a name slid close to realization, it slid away again. But then she didn’t really want to picture him with anyone else. Instead, she pictured him teasing his sister and cuddling his nieces. And barely even looking at her.
Her eyes closed with the weight of the knowledge that, if Dale had ever had an inkling of interest in her, Garth’s staged kiss had surely killed it.
And that, she told herself, slowly following her sister, was for the best. Even if it didn’t feel like it at the moment.
As for Garth Anderton, she thought grimly, she’d deal with him when he got back to town. She knew from experience that nothing could be done about Dallas, but her meddling sister would realize soon enough that her romantic intrigues were pointless when it came to Petra.
All she and Dale Bowen had
going for them was work, and that’s all they would ever have.
* * *
The amount of work that Dale could get done in a day amazed Petra. He always seemed to be at ease, never rushing or panicking; yet over the next two days, the items on the BCHS punch list began disappearing at an astonishing rate. Even more incredible, the rewiring of the hotel had been accomplished by late Tuesday, and blessedly cool air now blew from the hotel’s air units.
Petra held her hand in front of the wall vent and sighed with relief. “Thank God.” Even she had been uncomfortably warm when called upstairs for some reason or another.
“Amen to that,” Dale said, moving on down the upper hallway.
They’d spoken countless times since Sunday, but the conversations were always concise and impersonal. Petra missed the easy camaraderie they’d shared before Garth’s staged kiss, but she told herself for the umpteenth time that this way was best. Yanking her gaze from Dale’s broad-shouldered back, she fixed her gaze on the clipboard that she carried in one hand and wielded her ink pen with the other, checking off one more item and moving on to the next.
“How are we coming with the shower retrofits?” she asked, following blindly along behind Dale.
“Ordered the materials this morning,” he replied.
“Oh, good. You found a supplier, then.” She made a check mark on her list and picked up her speed. “How about—” She yelped as she stumbled and went down, twisting as she fell so that she landed hard on her rump, clipboard and ink pen flying. “Ow!”
An ominous tearing sound told her that her chili-pepper-red skirt had just been reduced to dusting rags. Maybe she could use it to clean the white dust that billowed up around her, making her cough. She tried to beat it out of her crisp white blouse with one hand while using the other to shift herself out of whatever she’d fallen into. It looked like a heap of broken, pulverized gypsum board or plaster, mixed with bits of lumber and other materials.