“I’m Eliza. Eliza Prentice” She said it as if Sophie should know the name. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me. Or my father?”
“I’m afraid you have the advantage, Miss Prentice. I don’t really know anyone in town except the Cuthins. Would you like to have a cup of tea?” Sarah had made sure Sophie had a caddy full of tea, enough for a month, and plenty of milk and honey to go with it.
“That’s very kind of you, Sophie. Is it all right if I call you Sophie?”
It’s a bit late to ask, she thought, but she said, “Certainly,” and led the way to the kitchen, gesturing for Eliza to sit at the table. After filling the kettle and lighting the stove, Sophie turned to see that Eliza had grabbed a kitchen rag and was wiping the bench with it.
Sophie smiled. She had done the same thing a couple days earlier, but had gotten used to the fact that this town was dusty; without the paved streets of Boston, the dirt seemed to track in at every turn.
Eliza saw her watching and returned a sweet smile. “My dress is new,” she explained.
Sophie nodded; it was a lovely dress indeed, all pinks and creams, and seemed the height of foolishness in this environment, but that was not her concern.
When the tea was poured and Sophie had taken a seat, a few moments of uncomfortable silence passed, but Eliza merely looked around and sipped her tea.
“It was nice of you to call on me,” Sophie offered, though she would rather be playing the piano . . . and brooding, as she found herself doing more and more.
“It has been many years since I was in Charlotte’s house,” Eliza offered.
Oh. Suddenly it was clear to Sophie. Eliza had to be one of Charlotte’s old friends and had come for news of her. She relaxed; it didn’t seem so odd at all.
“She is doing very well,” Sophie said. “It was an uneventful pregnancy and Emory came out healthy and hearty.”
“So she had a baby?” Eliza looked smug. “That’s what happens when—”
“Yes, Reed is over the moon happy.” She smiled at the memory of her brother’s extreme delight.
Eliza’s mouth pursed slightly for a moment. “Still together, then?”
“But of course,” Sophie said, her smile faltering. “I thought you would know that. They were married last year.”
“Before the baby?”
Sophie’s mouth opened in shock. Sophie started to get the first inkling that Eliza might not have been a friend after all.
“Mr. Malloy and Charlotte,” Eliza continued. “What a surprise that was. Right under all our noses.”
“I guess it must have been a surprise,” Sophie agreed. “And perhaps not entirely welcome, to have Spring City’s famous author whisked away to Boston.”
Eliza leveled her gaze. “Oh, I’m not sure she is all that famous. I, for one, have never read any of Charlotte’s writing. But her carrying on like that, in this very house.” She shook her head slowly, her blond curls swinging right and left. “With those two children nearby. Well, she nearly became infamous, if you ask me.”
“They fell in love,” Sophie said.
“They fell into bed,” Eliza snapped.
Sophie set down her tea cup. “You are speaking of my brother and my sister-in-law. They are good, upstanding people. They deserved—”
Eliza put up her hand and smiled a most beatific smile. “They deserved each other. I’m very happy for them.” Her happiness didn’t reach her pale blue eyes. “And what of Charlotte’s brother? Is he faring well?”
Sophie shrugged lightly. “I have no idea about Thaddeus.” It was clear that the woman was looking for more gossip about the Sanborn family.
“Miss Prentice,” Sophie began.
“Eliza, please.”
Sophie started again, “I don’t wish to be blunt, but did you come calling for a particular reason?”
The golden-haired angel seemed to take no offense. “When the first Malloy came to town, he made such an impression on everyone, I was eager to meet you. I’m quite curious as to why you’d follow in his footsteps. Also, I wanted to ask after Charlotte and her brother, too, of course.”
Sophie rose. This tea was over. The woman was a snoop and a busybody, and Sophie wanted her out of the house as soon as possible.
“Thank you for coming over,” Sophie said, stepping into the hall, so Eliza had to stand up and follow. “But I have to get back to the packing. I’m trying to get Charlotte’s things on the train in the next day or so.”
It wasn’t a lie, though Sophie had spent more time playing the piano and sitting on the porch swing than packing.
“So, you’ll be leaving soon?” Eliza persisted.
“Yes, I believe I already said that.” Eliza’s obvious interest in her imminent departure made Sophie want to stay longer, just to spite her. Why the woman provoked her ire, Sophie couldn’t really say. What a shame that she could look so lovely and yet seem so unfriendly at the same time.
“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time then.” With a wave of her hand, Eliza Prentice was gone, strolling out to her awaiting buggy with its blue hood that kept the sun off her unblemished skin.
“Hm,” Sophie said to herself. Had Charlotte mentioned something about Miss Prentice? Perhaps it would come to her. She turned and looked at the two open trunks, each partially filled, and sighed. Maybe tomorrow she would finish them. Right then, she wanted to lose herself in her music. And brood.
*****
With the late afternoon sun on her back, Sophie strolled into town, nodding at Dan, the feedstore owner, and then at Ely. She was headed to Doc Cuthins’ practice to find Sarah. They were going to eat at Fuller’s, Sophie’s treat for all that Sarah had done for her so far.
But when she pushed open the door, Sophie saw no sign of Sarah. She sat down to wait on one of the comfy seats for Doc’s patients. Sophie had discovered that he was very well-respected in town and had been ever since arriving as a young doctor over twenty-five years earlier.
Next to her chair was an old newspaper, and she was surprised and delighted to see that the article on the front page had the byline “Charles Sanborn.” What a smart sister-in-law she had! And, it was clear that Sarah loved Charlotte, like a daughter.
Picking up the paper, she started to read, then heard the door to the back examination room open.
“Sophie,” came a masculine voice that was definitely not Doc Cuthins.
Riley. Now, why did his voice cause some subtle reaction in her body and brain? She definitely felt her pulse quicken and her mind started casting around for something to say. Perhaps it was the same reason she’d taken care with her hair and clothing before walking into town, on the off chance she’d encounter him again.
Sophie slowly put down the newspaper, giving herself time to get a hold of any wayward emotions, then looked up, knowing she’d see his strikingly handsome face.
She gasped. “Sweet mother,” she said aloud, standing up. “What happened to you?”
He laughed. His face—and she assumed the rest of him, too—was scrubbed clean, and without his hat, she could see that his hair was as russet brown as Alfred’s mane and looked soft to the touch. And touch it, she wanted to do. Gracious—clean pants, bleached shirt, even clean boots.
“Are you finished looking me over?” he asked, arms crossed.
She blushed for the first time in years. She only hoped her mouth hadn’t been hanging open.
“I didn’t know you had it in you to tidy up so well.” She tried to sound nothing more than jovial.
She was rewarded with his dimpled grin that actually made her stomach flutter.
“Believe it or not, beautiful lady,” he said, “this is how I look every morning and every evening. It’s the in-between hours that give me a bit of trouble. At least, when I’m in Spring.”
She was thinking about how he’d called her beautiful and about seeing him in the mornings and last thing each night . . .
“And when you’re not in Spring City?” Sophie asked.
He shru
gged. “Then I look like everyone else, I guess. I don’t have a reason to get covered in dirt in San Francisco.”
She was just thinking that Riley Dalcourt could never look like everyone else, not with that face, those eyes, that smile, when his words caught up with her.
“San Francisco?”
“Yup. I thought Sarah might’ve told you.”
“Told her what?” Sarah asked, coming in the door with a package in one hand and her purse in the other.
“That I don’t live here full time, but am—”
“Riley, why would we be talking about you, son?” She looked at Sophie. “Men! They believe they’re all we think about and all we talk about.”
Sophie smiled. Actually, she would have liked to have heard more about Riley, but she wasn’t about to say so.
Sarah put her things down on her table. “Are you all done in the back?”
“Yes, ma’am. Bottles labeled, samples checked, instruments cleaned.”
“Good, then you can take Sophie here along to Fuller’s. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
“Oh,” Sophie said, feeling immediately awkward at imposing on Riley. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait here with you.”
“Nonsense. I have a quick letter to write to catch the afternoon post. A bit of a supply issue,” she said, looking at Riley as she wrinkled up her nose. “You know that cramp bark from Eli Lilly. They keep telling me it’s on the way. Very frustrating.” She turned back to Sophie. “But it’s past lunchtime and I can’t have you wasting away. So get along, and I’ll follow right quick.”
“If you’re sure,” Sophie said and found herself being pushed out the door by Sarah, followed by Riley, who had grabbed his hat off the hat stand and closed the door behind them. But she didn’t take a single step along the wooden sidewalk.
“Really, I’m perfectly fine, happy even, going to Fuller’s by myself,” she insisted. “I don’t need a keeper or a babysitter.”
He fingered the brim of his hat, then rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. Obviously, he didn’t want to go against Sarah Cuthins.
“Well, how about a friend, then? I’m getting hungry myself.”
Sophie paused. What was the harm?
“Oh, well, in that case.” She started walking toward Fuller’s and he fell in to step beside her. They were silent for a moment, but not awkwardly so.
“You were right, by the way,” he said casually.
“I usually am. Right, I mean. That’s what my brother says. But about what precisely?”
He shot her a grin, apparently appreciating her sassy retort.
“About the cake. It was only a box of crumbs by the time we opened it.”
We . . .
“I ate it anyway, still tasted fine. But some people like things just so, I guess.”
“Some people . . . such as your fiancée?” Sophie bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have pried. But Riley chuckled.
“She’s particular, all right.”
“Most women are,” Sophie agreed, trying to redeem herself for snooping.
*****
“Sit anywhere you like,” Jessie offered, taking a second look when she saw Sophie and Riley together. She clucked her tongue and walked away.
“Why am I getting the feeling that this is not a good idea?” Sophie asked, tilting her head and looking at this umber-haired man who seemed to have the easiest smile of anyone she’d ever known. There it was again.
“No reason on earth,” Riley said, evidently not wanting to discuss his fiancée anymore. “Two friends having lunch, that’s all. And the only thing better than the turkey pie—”
“And the lemon cake,” Sophie cut in.
“And the lemon cake,” Riley repeated, “is the meatloaf. Better than my mother used to make, and that’s saying something.”
“Where are your parents?” Sophie figured since she had already asked him why he was filthy, she could at least ask him something a little more appropriate.
“I don’t rightly now.” He chuckled at her expression, but paused as Jessie took their orders. “My father’s a cartographer and my mother loves him very much. So when he’s out surveying, she’s by his side. But our house is out of town about a mile. Dad likes it quiet.”
Now it was Sophie’s turn to laugh. “Spring City seems quiet enough without needing to move out of town.”
“It wasn’t always this way. We used to have a gold rush going on, but that all died out years ago. Anyway, even then, it was probably nothing compared to Boston.”
So he knew where she was from. He must have asked Sarah.
“Or San Francisco,” she added, remembering their conversation that had been cut short.
“True. First time I got off the train there, whew, I was gawking like a greenhorn. The number of ships, the military contingents, the prostitutes—sorry, but I’m just telling you—so many people, Mexicans and Chinese and Chinese ladies dressed up as Mexicans, and the Barbary Coast. Sophie, you’d have to see it for yourself, but not at night. Gambling dens with two hundred men in them at a time.”
He stopped and took a bite of the hot food. Sophie couldn’t help but notice that his eyes had taken on a certain spark. Obviously, despite being born and raised in Spring City, Riley Dalcourt was taken by the excitement of a real metropolis.
Swallowing, he continued. “Less than a decade ago, with what they called the Big Bonanza, a million dollars a day for two months came flowing into the city. Can you imagine?”
She couldn’t. Everyone had heard stories of the gold rush and the Comstock Lode, but the amount of wealth was truly staggering.
“And you notice how quiet it is here?” Riley asked.
She nodded. She’d noticed little else since she got off the train.
“Well, in San Francisco, it seems as though music is on every corner as soon as the sun goes down. Everything from accordions to violins and everything in between, including bagpipes. Sometimes you just have to stop and listen and toss coins in cause you can’t believe how beautiful it sounds, all mixed together, the hand-organs and flutes, the banjos and even pianos.”
“Pianos! On the street?” She nearly choked on her last bite of meatloaf.
“No, no,” he said and laughed. “The pianos are in the saloons, but all the windows and the doors are open and it all floats out, along with some of the saddest looking folk you’d ever care to see.”
“Who could be sad with all that music?” Sophie wondered.
“Well, the gambling is bad, the drinking is worse. And the women!” He stopped abruptly, and she detected a flush under his tanned skin. “In the Barbary Coast, everyone seems addicted to something and can’t help themselves.”
“And what about you?”
He smiled. “The only thing I’m addicted to is riding as far and fast as I can when I’m here where there’s space to do it. I don’t have a lot of space in San Francisco.”
Sophie felt a sharp desire to see this coastal city, to compare it to her own beloved Boston, and to explore its differences. Maybe she would make that her next destination. But before she could say anything more, Sophie realized the restaurant had grown exceedingly quiet, the stillness broken only by sharp footsteps rapping quickly across the floor, until they came up directly behind her chair and stopped.
Chapter Four
“Riley,” the voice was soft but it made the hair on the back of Sophie’s neck stand up.
Sophie swiveled her head around to see who it was. The seemingly angelic Eliza Prentice stood there, her face flushed, her lucent blue eyes flashing. She looked down at Sophie, who found her own mouth had fallen slightly open though no words would come out.
“Hey, Eliza,” Riley said, seemingly unbothered by whatever scene the rest of the diners were anticipating.
“Don’t you ‘hey, Eliza’ me.” Her voice was still so soft and low that Sophie was sure only the three of them could hear. Then it rose considerably: “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Miss Prentice,” Sophie began as the shoe dropped and she realized that Eliza must be the formidable fiancée. “I hope you’re not imagining—”
“Why is she speaking to me?” Eliza said, still looking solely at Riley.
“Now, Eliza. Don’t get all ruffled. Sit down, if you want. We’re merely having a meal.”
“You are not to sit down and have a meal with another woman. Do you realize what that looks like? What people are already saying? Do you realize how that makes me feel?”
Sophie saw Riley’s face change at that, some unnamed emotion that ending up looking like regret.
“Sit with us Eliza,” he said, with infinite patience, “and then it won’t look like anything. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
He shot Sophie a quick rueful glance that made Eliza stamp her foot. Luckily, since chairs hadn’t been thrown or a table immediately overturned, the other customers had returned to their food and conversations.
“There’s room for only one woman at this table,” Eliza insisted.
Sophie did not want to be the cause of an ultimatum that could surely end in damage to Riley’s engagement or humiliation to herself when Riley was forced to ask her to leave. She found her voice.
“Miss Prentice, I was just leaving.” She pushed her chair back, causing Eliza to take a step sideways. Riley stood as well.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” she said to Riley, and she meant it. She turned to Eliza, “Thank you for your graciousness in letting me borrow your fiancée.”
Eliza sucked in her breath, about to let loose with an expletive, Sophie imagined.
“There you are,” Sarah Cuthins said, hurrying over. “I’m sorry I took so long.” Astutely, she took in the scene. “John Worthen brought in his boy and luckily Doc had just come back. But that young’un wouldn’t stop crying and it was only a boil on his foot.”
She took hold of Sophie’s elbow. “I know you’ve probably eaten already, but stay and keep me company.” She looked back at Riley. “Thanks, for escorting Sophie to lunch.” To Eliza, she said, “Good day, Eliza.”
An Irresistible Temptation Page 3