"There's something outside our window!" Aurelia cried, pointing back into their room.
"What is it?" Violet asked, hurrying forward.
"It looks like a bat," Juliette said.
Violet didn't know why a bat should have flown into a closed window -- she couldn't remember one having done that before -- but it was nothing to worry about.
"Go downstairs," she said to the girls who had started to gather around the twins' doorway. "Beth has supper on the table."
"Can't we see?" Corrine asked.
"I bet it's nothing," Betty Sue said.
"Downstairs, all of you," Violet ordered. "You two as well," she said to the twins. "Whatever it is, I'll see to it."
"But it's our room," Aurelia protested. "Can't we stay?"
"No. I'm sure it's some trash blown against the window by the wind. Maybe it blew off your uncle's lift."
"I told you it was nothing," Betty Sue scoffed. "I wouldn't be afraid of a piece of trash blowing against my window."
"Don't either of you say a word to her," Violet ordered when she saw the twins' stormy looks. "Now scoot."
The girls departed with lagging footsteps. She knew the twins would find a way to retaliate against Betty Sue. She couldn't really blame them, but she hoped it would be something she could overlook. She liked the twins. They had spunk. And their protection had turned Essie from a nervous, withdrawn child into a happy, energetic one. For that alone Violet could forgive them a lot.
Violet entered the twins' bedroom expecting to see a piece of paper flapping against the window. She was aghast when she realized that the strange looking thing gently swaying in the breeze outside the window was the very brief pair of pants Mr. Randolph had been wearing that morning when she found him exercising. She would remember that particular piece of clothing as long as she lived.
Good lord! He'd be mortified if he knew. She'd have to go up and tell him at once. It wouldn't do for anyone to discover what they were.
She hurried downstairs to tell the twins it was just a piece of their uncle's clothing that must have blown out the window and caught on one of the lift cables. She allowed as how it did look a lot like a bat beating against the window. She stayed a moment to make certain Betty Sue wasn't going to say anything that would start trouble. Once the girls were occupied with their food, she left the room.
She made herself climb the stairs slowly. She refused to arrive on the top floor out of breath again.
She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the upper landing. Jeff was standing behind a set table, lighted candles, the chair he had pulled out, just as if he were waiting to help her sit down.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked.
Chapter Eight
Violet was too stunned to speak. The table, Jeff's near-smiling welcome -- everything was outside her expectations. The dangling pants went completely out of her mind. So did her resolve to have nothing more to do with Jeff Randolph. All she felt was pleasure he wanted her to dine with him again.
She walked forward and allowed him to help her with her chair.
Once she was seated, a little of her presence of mind returned. "I didn't think you'd invite me back after last night."
"My brother sent too much food again."
That's what she expected him to say. She certainly never thought he'd have asked for extra food.
"I could always send the twins up."
"Essie was up here all afternoon. I wanted company a bit more mature this time."
The table was set for two, and he had been standing there, just like he was waiting for her. He had been waiting for her. Those pants weren't dangling in front of the twins' window by accident. He'd done it because he knew it would send her running up the stairs. He had wanted to invite her to dinner. He just hadn't wanted to ask her in the usual way, though he would undoubtedly deny he had wanted her company enough to spend time thinking up that silly way to get her upstairs.
Violet was shocked. She would never have expected it of Jeff. But she was even more shocked at herself. She was feeling slightly giddy. She stopped herself just as she was raising her hand to see if her hair was still in place.
She was acting like a self-conscious young woman on her first date. She hadn't done that ten years ago. It was foolish to be doing it now. She was building nothing into something. Jeff might be crabby, but he was human enough to want company. And he was lonely enough to settle for a Yankee woman because she was all that was available.
Still the undercurrent of excitement continued to simmer and bubble. It was impossible to sit down to a candlelight dinner with a handsome man and not feel some thrill of anticipation. Besides, he had changed clothes. Apparently he didn't consider her a complete heathen. She was coming up in his estimation. Maybe one day he would actually want to have dinner with her.
Heaven help her! This went further than mere lust. She liked him and wanted him to like her.
He poured milk for both of them without asking.
"What did your brother cook tonight?" she asked. She needed to talk. It helped her gather her wits. "I have to admit I wasn't looking forward to eating shepherd's pie with the girls."
Jeff started lifting covers. "Beef in a pastry casing, whole potatoes in butter and herbs, peas in a white cream sauce, and asparagus in aspic. There's something chocolate filled with cream for desert."
"It's a good thing I don't eat like this every evening. No wonder you exercise so hard."
The mention of exercise brought back the picture of his virtually naked body. Violet hoped she didn't blush but was certain she had.
"Tyler's just sending all this food as a bribe to keep you from kicking the twins out of school," Jeff said.
She became aware of Jeff's nearness as he held a dish for her to serve herself. He was tall. Even when he bent over, he seemed to tower over her. She wondered if he was equally aware of her nearness. She glanced up. His eyes were empty of expression.
Violet felt a twinge of disappointment. She told herself she was being foolish to want more, but she couldn't help it. Considering how strongly he affected her, it was only fair she have some effect on him.
"You should know a bribe won't work."
"I'm not the one trying to bribe you."
Violet decided not to point out he was the one who had invited her to dinner. She was still too surprised at her own feelings to start probing his.
"I'm very fond of the twins," Violet said. "They do get into trouble, but I like spirited girls."
"They got plenty of that."
His leg brushed hers when he sat down. He glanced up at her, a questioning look in his eye.
"Sorry," she said. "It's a small table."
She hoped her voice didn't betray the jolt of excitement she felt. She couldn't help but wonder if he had done it on purpose, maybe even to tease her.
They talked of the twins, of Violet's life at the Wolfe School, of the little headaches and triumphs that were part of her job. It was soon clear his touching her had been an accident. If Jeff Randolph felt anything, could feel anything, it was the best kept secret in Colorado
"Being a housemother must get boring sometimes," Jeff said.
"I don't mean to stay here. I expect to be coming into some money soon."
She reached for her glass. He reached for it at the same time. For a moment his hand covered hers. He jerked his hand back.
"I was going to refill it." His gaze was steady. Only his voice betrayed his reaction.
"No, thank you." He did feel it. It was nothing like his effect on her, but he did feel something. Just knowing that helped to steady her nerves. She didn't feel nearly so clumsy, so out of control.
"Will you have enough money to live on?" he asked.
"More than that. At least, I hope so."
"You'll need to invest it. Money will disappear if you just let it sit around."
The eternal banker. Mention money and everything else went out of his head.
"I'
ve got something I want to do with it."
"What?"
Violet hesitated but realized she'd been wanting to tell him about her project for some time. Maybe he could help her, even give her some ideas about how to bring it about.
"It was very difficult for me to take care of my father and brother and still work. There must be many women in the same position since the war. Many must have much less money than I did. I want to do something to help them. Only I can't figure out what."
"You must be expecting a large fortune."
"I don't know that it's a fortune at all," Violet said, still unwilling to tell him about the mine. "I'm just hoping I'll have enough to do something worthwhile. Now we've talked about me long enough. Tell me something about yourself."
She realized he'd spent the whole evening listening to her talk about herself. He had also been watching her closely. She had been too nervous to notice at first, too aware of his nearness.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Of course there is. I don't mean about your arm or the war. I don't imagine you want to talk about that. Jonas never did. That's why he wouldn't see people. That's all they wanted to talk about."
She saw the cloud pass over Jeff's face. She wondered if he would ever be able to think of the war or his arm without bitterness. He'd never learn to be happy until he did. But she wasn't about to tell him that. She was certain others had already tried.
"You're one of the wealthiest men in Denver, yet you do nothing but work. Why?"
She wondered about the women in his life. He couldn't be that rich and prominent and not draw interest. Besides, he was so attractive women would have chased him even without the money. There must have been at least one who had broken though that cold reserve.
"I explained that last night," Jeff said. He seemed almost anxious to talk tonight, as though he hoped it would shatter any feeling of intimacy. But he was too late. It had already faded.
"You must have had enough money to go back to Virginia years ago. Why haven't you gone?"
"It wasn't time."
"Why?"
There he went again, looking like the sun was about to set on his world. She wondered what it was about his home that still drew him twenty years later. Massachusetts would always be her home, but she could easily imagine never going back. She didn't think Jeff could.
"We were driven out of Virginia," Jeff said, subjecting his coffee to a minute inspection. "True, it was our pa they were getting rid of, but we felt like they were getting rid of us just as much. I don't think any one of my brothers would consider going back unless he felt he had been successful enough to wipe clean that disgrace."
Violet wondered what kind of man their father must have been, what he could have done to saddle his sons with such a deep-seated need for redemption.
"Is that why you work so hard at the bank?"
"It's my job," Jeff said. "It's what I do."
But Jeff's guard had slipped for a moment, allowing Violet to see his need to feel necessary to somebody, his need to belong. His work at the bank was just his way of feeling successful. She didn't know which was more important, his need to be successful because of his father or his need to be successful because of his arm. She wasn't sure it mattered. Both were unfair burdens. Both drove him hard.
"Then you need to find something else, something to do for fun."
"I like my work."
"Maybe, but you're too intense. It makes you short-tempered. It'll probably kill you before you're fifty. Now before I say anything else, I think it's time I left. Thank you for dinner. I hope I get to meet your brother one day to tell him how much I've enjoyed his cooking."
"He's always at the Windsor."
"I'm sure I'd feel very out of place there. By the way, chapel service tomorrow is at ten o'clock. They're going to close the balcony off so we can use it. You're welcome to join us."
"I haven't been to church in twenty years."
"Then it's about time you went. I imagine your voice is quite rusty."
"I don't sing."
"That's unfortunate. The girls love it. You'll be surrounded by an awful din."
"No, I won't. I'll be working."
"Surely you can spare an hour from your work."
"I can't keep my clerks sitting around while I sing hymns. The competition would soon get ahead of me if I were forever taking mornings off."
Violet stared hard at him. "You said they got Sunday off."
"Something unusual has come up. I have to take advantage of it before it disappears."
"That's your choice."
"If they don't like--"
Violet slid her chair back so abruptly it scrapped the floor. "Don't you dare tell me if they don't like it they can go somewhere else. It's not that easy to get a good job, especially one that pays enough to support a family. They may want to throw your columns of figures in your face, but they have families to feed. I insist that you give them the day off."
"Why do you care about them? You don't even know them."
"I care about anyone who's being tyrannized, and holding a job over a man's head is tyranny."
His attitude was one of irritated puzzlement. He was probably looking for a hidden motive. Just the thing a cynical banker would do.
"Besides, Sunday is a special day for the girls. If we weren't under quarantine, they'd be having visitors. I plan to need the parlor. We'll build a fire and tell stories. I can't have it full of your minions and the lift creaking and screeching all day."
"Let them stick their fingers in their ears."
"I will not have their day ruined any more than it already is. Besides, you owe it to your clerks in compensation for being here at such ridiculous hours."
"It's none of your business what my clerks do."
"It is as long as they do it in my building."
"They can move to the lawn."
"There won't be any point in that if I dismantle your lift."
"How would you manage that?"
"I don't know," Violet confessed. "But I'll find some way to keep it from working. Not one paper will travel up that lift to your window tomorrow."
Jeff's face was a study in emotions. Violet watched in fascination. She could almost see the thoughts as they tumbled about in his mind.
"Okay," he said, "I'll give them tomorrow off."
He caught her completely off guard. She hadn't expected him to give in, certainly not so quickly.
"Thank you," she said, unable to think of anything else to say. "I'd better be going. I imagine the girls are through with their dinner by now."
Violet descended the stairs in deep thought. Nothing much during the evening had gone as she expected, least of all the last. He couldn't have given his men the day off because she asked him to, could he?
No. Still, something was different. She could feel it.
* * * * *
Jeff practically flung the dishes off the table he was so angry at himself. It had been his intention to give his men the day off all along. Only occasionally did he ask them work on Sunday, then only on a voluntary basis. He enjoyed the quiet and solitude of having the bank to himself.
So why had he virtually told Violet he expected them to work?
He'd never been obstructive just for the sake of being hard to get along with. So why was he doing so now?
And why was he calling her by her first name?
Probably for the same reason he'd invited her to eat with him. She had gotten under his skin, and he couldn't get her out. Though why she was there at all was a mystery to him.
He dropped a stack of dishes on the lift so hard one of the plates broke. He felt like throwing the crystal after it, but he was old enough to control his temper and try to solve his problems in a quiet, adult fashion.
Only he felt anything but.
He couldn't believe he was attracted to this woman. He might as well admit it. There was no other explanation for his behavior. Why else would he go out of his way to invite a
woman to eat with him who represented nearly everything he wished to avoid? Why else would he do it a second time when his every doubt had been confirmed? And why else would he say he was going to do something he hadn't planned to do just to annoy her?
He loaded the serving dishes on the lift. Fortunately they were made of silver, or he'd probably have broken at least one of them.
All during dinner he kept noticing how the candlelight sparked in her eyes. They were such a deep blue they seemed almost like bottomless pools. Against the white of her skin they were almost black.
Her hair fascinated him. He couldn't decide what color it was. In the sunlight it almost looked red. In the normal light it was a deep copper color. In candlelight it turned almost as dark as her jet brows and lashes.
Everything about her was a study in contrasts between strong, bold colors, even her dress of emerald green.
Why hadn't she said anything about the dangling pants? She had to know what she was looking at, that he'd done it. He'd expected her to get into a temper over it, yet she hadn't mentioned it. She wasn't acting as he expected.
Neither was she like the women who visited the prison in Massachusetts. She was more gentle, soft-spoken -- he had to say it -- more ladylike. And though she had very strong opinions which she held to despite anything he might say, he knew she would never have refused help a prisoner, even a Confederate.
That still didn't excuse his liking her. All he could figure was he had been away from Louise too long. He had always had a strong physical appetite. It must be that being around a beautiful woman without being able to satisfy his needs was causing him to do, say, and feel all kinds of unusual things.
He had less than two days to go. He could keep to himself until Monday afternoon. There was no point in asking for trouble. Women were unaccountable creatures. They could ensnare a man even when he thought he was safe. He had proved too vulnerable when and where he hadn't expected. He would have to watch himself more closely. He intended to return to Virginia a bachelor.
* * * * *
Violet woke to the sound of Jeff's weights again. At least this morning the clanking noises had started later and weren't so loud. He was obviously making some attempt not to wake the girls. Violet doubted he would be successful. He clearly didn't know how to live with other people.
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