Dreamscape

by Rose Anderson

  Richard Mason was a charming, attentive man with the softest Southern accent. He picked up the serving bowl and offered, “Miss O’Keefe, would you care for more peas?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He spooned a helping and carefully set them on her plate. “There is nothing so fine as sweet peas from the vine,” he told her with a wink.

  Directly across from them, Bertha brayed, “That’s exactly what Papa used to say! Remember, Cathy?” Exaggerating, she took on a deeper inflection, “There is nothing so fine as sweet peas from the vine.”

  “Yes, I do.” Cathy laughed lightly. Turning to the man sitting beside her she said, “I’d love some more peas too, Richard.” Cathy smiled prettily.

  Seeing the false smile for what it was, Jason could tell Richard’s attention to Lanie was getting on her nerves, hence the request he serve her as well.

  “Of course, Nettie.” He served her as well.

  “Nettie? I’ve never heard that name for you before, my dear,” Jason told her. Let us hear how you barely know him again.

  “Oh.” Bertha jumped as if she’d been kicked under the table. “Papa used to call Cathy that little endearment, didn’t he, Richard?” She looked to her brother to corroborate.

  Richard’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight. “Yes, our father had affectionate names for the lot of us.”

  “Do tell,” Jason replied, taking a sip from his water glass.

  Before either sibling could answer, Cathy said to Lanie, “Miss O’Keefe, I’m sure your father had such an appellation for you.”

  Lanie nodded. “He did.”

  Bertha chortled. “Oh, do tell us.”

  “From my earliest memory, he called me Lanie.”

  “Why, isn’t that sweet?” Cathy said.

  “An adorable name, wouldn’t you say, Jason?” Richard lifted his brow.

  “Undeniably so,” Jason agreed. Having seen the emotional stress the attack had caused, he was well aware of her body’s silent language. She was grieving and didn’t need to put up with these callous animals a moment longer. He rose from his chair. “Miss O’Keefe, would you like to take our business into the study?”

  Bertha didn’t want Jason to leave, she said, “Oh, give Lanie time to finish eating, Jason.” The little squeak that followed suggested Bertha had been kicked again.

  “No, it’s all right. I am finished,” Lanie told her quickly, jumping at the chance to leave the table. Thinking of her father was making her very sad, and she was afraid she’d start to cry in front of her dinner companions. To Cathy she added, “The meal was lovely, thank you.” Then turning to Jason, she said, “Yes, I would like to discuss my father’s holdings now. I need only get my bag if you have the time now.”

  “I have all the time in the world. I’m sure my wife and her dear cousins have much to discuss without my being here as a third wheel to their conversation.” Yes, they had the plotting of his murder to do. By his estimation they had a little less than three weeks to do the deed.

  Lanie rose from her chair, and, with the impeccable manners of the old south, so did Richard. “Miss O’Keefe, I do hope you’ll join us for cards later.”

  Lanie only gave him a polite smile.

  “Richard, we shouldn’t place undue pressures on Miss O’Keefe. Her business with my husband may go long into the night,” Cathy said, her voice pleasant but her eyes shooting daggers.

  Richard smiled and bowed his head.

  “It may indeed.” Jason took Lanie’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us.”

  “Thank you again,” Lanie told her hostess.

  “My pleasure,” Cathy replied but somehow the seeming sincerity of her words missed her eyes.

  Closing the study door behind him he said, “No one will disturb us now.” He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Thank you. It was that obvious then?” She dabbed her eyes.

  “Just a bit.” Jason smiled gently. There wasn’t an expression or attitude of hers he hadn’t memorized in her time. He told her, “I know your grief is new, and perhaps there are more tears to let. I’ve a strong shoulder to cry on if you have need, Lanie.” Taking a seat, Jason patted the sofa beside him.

  She sniffed and sat without hesitation. Within seconds the large, silent tears began to fall.

  He drew her into his arms in an attempt to bring her comfort. Her soft sobs tearing at his heart, his hand swept up and down her back. “That’s right, let it out. Don’t bottle your grief inside.”

  Surrounded by the comfort Lanie desperately needed, several moments passed before his warm steady heartbeat allowed her to regain her composure. It felt so good to held by him she was loathe to end it. She moved to straighten, but he still held her. Staying only a moment longer, she eventually sat up. As good as it felt to be held, she couldn’t forget he was a married man. “Thank you for that. I apologize for losing myself.”

  Jason took the handkerchief and dabbed her tears. Her nose and lips were very pink, and he found himself wanting to kiss her badly. Handing it back to her he said, “I would like to be your friend, Lanie, and as such, please never hesitate to come to me for any reason.”

  Lanie looked up and, finding his odd whiskey-colored eyes familiar, smiled shyly. “I would love a friend. I have very few actually.”

  Reluctantly he rose and rang the housekeeper’s bell.

  Addy appeared at the door nearly as fast as a genie from a bottle. “Yes, Doctor?”

  “Addy, be a dear and bring two sherries, please.”

  She peered around him and saw the young miss had been crying. She told him, “Right away, Doctor,” and hurried from the room.

  Jason smiled inside. Oh, how he’d missed that woman. Having been dead all these years, it was so good to see her. Addy had worked for his family since he was a small child. In that time, she called him Jacy until he was in pants. She went with him to live at his Aunt’s home when his mother passed away, and there she’d called him the young sir. Then it was Master Jason when he went off to school and Doctor ever since. The last, God love her, was always said with a hint of pride. She still wore the silver broach his father had given her when he returned from the war. It was his mother’s, and not a day went by when she didn’t wear it. He wondered then if she still kept licorice in her apron pocket.

  She returned a moment later with a tray, a decanter, and two short, diamond-cut sherry glasses.

  “I’ve brought a cool cloth for you, miss,” adding in a whisper, “Soothing to the eyes.”

  Lanie smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Addy.”

  “No trouble at all, miss. The Doctor would have sent me back for the cloth...”

  “You always anticipate me.” Jason handed Lanie a full glass and took the other for himself.

  “Is there anything else I can get for either of you?”

  Lanie nodded. “My bag sits on the lower shelf of the hall tree. Would you mind bringing it in, please?”

  “Not at all, miss.” Addy returned a moment later with Lanie’s bag of ledgers and papers. She’d seen just how her Jacy looked at the pretty young woman. Yes, Lanie O’Keefe was suited to him far better than the viper in the other room. Then and there Addy made up her mind. If there was a way to allow them privacy, she’d see to it.

  When she’d left again, Jason said, “How I’ve missed that woman.”

  Lanie dabbed at her eyes with the cold damp cloth. “Have you been away?”

  The fact he was alive in his own time with her at his side was all the better. “I have, for a very long time. And it’s good to be home.”

  He didn’t offer more, and Lanie didn’t ask. They made small talk while they sipped their sherry, and the vague sense of familiarity from earlier began to clarify. She had the distinct impression she knew him well, though she could hardly credit how.

  Rummaging through the ledgers, she pulled a small neat stack from the carpet bag. “There are two main businesses, a textile factory and a small millinery shop
that sells the textiles. As I mentioned earlier, the factory makes mostly ribbons and broadcloth.”

  “And those?” He motioned to the assorted papers tied together with string.

  “These are the lesser holdings—a tobacco shop in Raleigh, a small silk stocking business in Allentown, and a chandlery in Philadelphia. I’m thinking the chandlery should be sold first, as that was my father’s plan. He mentioned it wasn’t doing well because relying upon candles to light a home is a thing of the past.”

  Jason nodded. Indeed, oil lamps were more common and sootless gas lighting would gain popularity. He saw for himself how both came to be obsolete shortly after the turn of the century. The future was waiting on Mr. Edison’s invention, and in this time the man had no idea the changes he would wreak. The difference one hundred and twenty years made to technology was staggering. Looking over the paperwork for the chandlery, he agreed it was a snag that should be cut loose. He told her, “Yes, you’re wise to pull out of this one.”

  “I’d like to trim my father’s holdings to the easiest to manage. Take the tobacco shop in Raleigh for example. It took me nine hours to get there by train.” She shook her head. “I’d rather limit any excess travel. I’ve a medical practice you see. Is trimming that investment a poor decision on my part?”

  That she was a physician in this life as well didn’t surprise him, as rare as it was. Lanie was an accomplished professional in her time. Having watched her suture a worker’s leg with the practiced hand of a seamstress the other day, he knew he couldn’t have done better himself. He looked at those delicate yet capable hands folded in her lap, and his mind wandered to what it might feel like to have her caress him. He found every fiber of his being hungry for it.

  She turned the page to show the details written in the ledger. When he didn’t reply, she looked up and noticed that he appeared lost in thought. “Jason? Do you think eliminating the tobacco shop is a poor decision?”

  The question brought him around. “I’m sorry…”

  She repeated her question.

  “No, not at all. Eventually such travel would impinge on your practice. You’d lose patients were you to become unavailable when you’re needed.”

  “Yes, of that I have no doubt.” Her hands began to worry the fabric of her skirt. “I’m thinking perhaps it best to sell it all.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Surely a few of these holdings are close to home. Let me see…”

  Leafing through the stack to be sure, he found the textile mill and the millinery shop in close proximity to one another, making both easy to oversee and draw income from. “Yes, these two, the millinery and the mill, are less than three blocks apart.”

  She pulled a large cardboard ledger from the carpetbag and handed it to him.

  When he opened it to the last month’s entries, she placed a finger on the middle column. “See here? There appears to be an increase in machinery breaking down since my father passed away. I find I’m at a loss as to what to do. I see no other recourse than to sell to a more competent businessman. As you are the major shareholder, I was hoping you’d be interested in buying. This was my father’s…” Her throat got tight, but she went on to explain how her father and his older brother had been all that remained of the O’Keefe family in Ireland, the rest having died in the famine. “They landed penniless with nothing but their hands and backs between them, but worked hard and eventually became men of means. The Restoration was in full swing at the time, and they convinced enough investors to build their factory, your father among them. When Uncle Seamus died, my father turned his brother’s portion of the earnings into the millinery shop.” The prospect of selling either made her feel terrible inside. She swallowed. “That my father came to this country with nothing, it seems a poor tribute to sell it all away. But you’re experienced in matters of business. Under your guidance the mill and the shop may thrive.”

  The weight of the issue reflected in her bright blue eyes. Jason refilled her glass and said, “Lanie, as we share several investments, I’m more than happy to help oversee your holdings but I sense there’s more to this story.”

  Feeling tears coming on, she took a large sip.

  He told her gently, “Please, let me help you.”

  Lanie sniffed, her emotion desperately trying to get the better of her. “I’ve tried to deal with the problems via telegraph, but I believe Mr. Paxton takes issue with a woman at the helm now.”

  Jason read the ledgers and grew angry. Since James’s death there had been an unmistakable increase in expenditures. It appeared this Mr. Paxton was bent on sabotage.

  “Mr. Paxton feels I don’t know enough of the business to be able to turn a profit. And perhaps he’s right. I’m thinking I should sell rather than have my ineptitude tear my father’s life’s work down to the bricks. At least in another man’s hands there’d be a chance the mill would continue on successfully.”

  With her intelligent, well-ordered mind she was hardly inept. Paxton was obviously trying to get her to believe that she was. Jason tapped the ledger, annoyed. “Your first order of business should be giving Mr. Paxton his walking papers. The man is deliberately trying to make it appear you’re in over your head.”

  Lanie thought, But what if I am in over my head? How could she ever explain to Jason the conversation she’d overheard at the factory today when she didn’t understand it herself?

  Jason knew her well enough by now to sense when she was holding something back. He pressed, “I can help you, you know. No matter what the issue. No matter the question.”

  She gave him a small smile.

  Trying another approach, he said, “I have a proposal for you, Lanie.”

  “A proposal?”

  “I want to help you to maintain your father’s holdings. I believe if we work together as partners these investments will prosper.” She didn’t comment. “I see your heart has no desire to sell, therefore I believe there is more than meets the eye. I’ll venture a guess. You have a concern about your father’s foreman.”

  “You’re right, Jason. It does concern Mr. Paxton. I overheard something today, something that I don’t quite understand.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “I’m not really sure. It was something Mr. Paxton told another man when I left his office. I was just outside the door.”

  “What did the man say?”

  “He said something about tipping velvet.” Shrugging, she shook her head, confused.

  Jason blinked. “Could you recall it word for word?”

  Drawing the memory, she repeated, “He said, ‘You watch. I’ll be tipping her sweet velvet before that chit’s gone from here.’ I don’t understand what it is he’s talking about. As the conversation took place in the mill, my natural conclusion was he referred to cloth. But it was the way he said it. Then, too, he added ‘when the chit’s gone from here’ to his statement.” That he’d referred to her as a chit, a child, told her he’d never respect her authority.

  Jason was incredulous. “He said that?”

  She was really confused now. Jason looked furious. “Yes, what does it mean?”

  “It’s not for a lady’s ears.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “What does it mean?”

  Jason seethed. He himself had done what the bastard foreman had hinted at, but as marvelous an act as it was, it still wasn’t polite conversation between a man and a woman who’d only met that afternoon in her dream view of his era. “Lanie, I…”

  “By your reaction I can tell his was not a polite comment. If we are to be partners, Jason, I insist I’m kept informed. Please, I really dislike being in the dark.”

  “Lanie, really…”

  “I insist. I assure you, as I’m a doctor, very little shocks me.” Her lovely sky-blue eyes beseeched him. “Please, explain it?”

  Seeing an opportunity at redirection, he lied. “I had no idea you were Doctor O’Keefe.”

  Lanie laughed. “Yes, you did, and you are stalling
, sir.”

  He smiled.

  Her heart tripped at his very handsome smile, and with the flutter came a confusing emotion. She pushed it away. She couldn’t possibly feel that for a married man. “Jason…” She narrowed her eyes.

  He chuckled, thinking Good lord you’re lovely. Seeing the determination in those impossibly blue depths, he explained, “Very well. As you know there are many ways a man and woman may couple…”

  Having never been married, Lanie’s cheeks pinkened. She did know, in theory. “And?”

  Jason searched her face. God help him, he wanted her, wanted to kiss those soft, sweet lips, wanted to lay her back and lift her skirts, wanted to spread her thighs and lose himself in the heat he knew smoldered there. He wanted to taste her again, all of her. The thought made his words came out warmer than he meant them to. “To tip the velvet is to couple in the style of the French.”

  She sipped her sherry again. His voice held a compelling tone but she had no idea of what he spoke. “The French?”

  Jason’s cock was starting to feel huge in his trousers. He chose his next words carefully. “A man places his mouth to a woman’s sex and there he kisses and licks her flesh to bring her pleasure.”

  She choked on her wine and struggled to breathe. Taking the glass from her hand he immediately patted her on the back.

  “Why that loathsome man…” she sputtered, a keen wash of embarrassment making her feel overly warm.

  “Another reason to send him on his way.”

  “Absolutely.” She looked at him then, her cheeks still very warm from his explanation. “I accept, Jason.” Holding out her hand for him to shake, she added with a smile. “Partner.”

  Taking her small hand in his own, he gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes dancing, he replied, “Partner.”

  Somewhere, an odd song was playing. She looked at him, confused.

  Her conscious mind coming aware, Lanie’s hand swung out to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. The melodic ringtone she had set for Lexie had woken her from a very interesting dream. “Hello, Lex, what’s up? Good God, what time is it?”