“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
Pete chuckled. “Politics isn’t about winning. It’s most often about compromise and forging relationships with people you may not even like. People like Cedric who have their own agendas for everything they do. You’re not like that.”
“Was my father?”
Pete nodded. “He played the game well.”
“And you don’t think I can?”
“Actually, I think you would learn to and do it exceptionally well, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the cost of living a lie—probably because of this fraud case I’ve been working on. I want you to think about whether this is what you’re really meant to do. Maybe we’ve all pushed you toward it because of your father, but I want you to be true to who God made you to be and not compromise your values for anyone or anything.” His eyes took on a far-off quality for a few seconds, then he slapped his hands onto his legs and stood. “End of lecture. Are you heading back to the office?”
Why was Pete bringing up the subject of living a lie? He’d never met a more honest man. But did he have a point? Had they all pushed Lincoln in the direction of politics? Lately he’d been questioning that calling, praying God would lead him to do what he wanted. But surely having a godly man in politics was a good thing.
“Yes, I’m heading back. I have an appeal to work on. You coming?”
“I want to finish up here.” He picked up the top paper from the file. “Tell Hannah hi.”
“Pete.” He pressed his hand to his chest, feigning indignation. “She’s working right now. It’s impolite to bother a Hello Girl.’”
“But you’re going to do it anyway.”
He laughed. “Absolutely.”
The small pork sandwich Hannah had quickly eaten before returning from her walk sat heavy in her stomach. She still had a few minutes remaining of her lunch break, so she poured herself a cup of coffee and washed down the dry bread. She breathed in the coffee’s full-bodied roast and sighed. Should she tell Lincoln what Walt had told her? Since she didn’t reciprocate Walt’s feelings, did Lincoln even need to know?
She swallowed the last of her coffee and then rinsed the dregs from the bottom of the cup before returning to her station. Since it was now Jo’s turn to go eat, she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Anything I should know about?”
“We’re having a bit of noise on the lines. I’m wondering if the gunshot hit something upstairs. I’ll have to put in a repair call today if there’s been damage. Can you be a dear and check the lines when you have the time?”
“Certainly.” She slipped into place and adjusted her headset. “Did you hear who was injured?”
Jo chuckled. “Well, if I did, I still couldn’t tell you. Confidentiality, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.”
Jo pinned her hat in place. “I’m headed to the café. Would you like me to bring you back a slice of pie?”
“No thanks. Enjoy your lunch.” Hannah waved goodbye and turned toward the switchboard to connect a call.
As if he’d been watching, Lincoln appeared at the switchboard office’s Dutch door a few minutes after Jo left. His dove-blue eyes twinkled as he threatened to sneak inside and remind Hannah of how much he loved her.
“You do and I’ll lock the top half of that door too.”
He chuckled. “I’ve got two surprises for you after work.”
She flashed him a smile. “That will make three in one day. I don’t know if I can handle so many surprises.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” He slapped the doorjamb with his hand. “See you after work.”
A steady volume of calls prevented Hannah from doing the line check Jo had requested. Finally, things slowed down. She started at the top of her switchboard, inserted the plug, and listened for any clicking sounds. Hearing none, she rang the number.
“Hello,” a deep voice answered on the other end of the line.
“This is the switchboard operator. Is your phone working properly?”
“Can’t you tell for yourself?”
She forced a smile into her voice. “Thank you for your time.”
After pulling the plug on that call, she made her way down the first row on her switchboard. If a line was in use, she inserted her plug anyway and listened for less than a minute—not to the conversation but for crackling and popping on the line. In between placing other calls, she jotted down a couple of lines that warranted reporting.
She inserted her plug into the first hole on the third row. It belonged to an upstairs conference room—not far from the gunshot-plagued courtroom—where attorneys could meet with their clients or with other lawyers. Already in use, she listened in on the call. Faint static on the line. Was it enough to report?
Covering her earpiece with her hand, she listened harder.
“Elise, sweetheart, please don’t trouble yourself about this.”
Oh my. She recognized Pete Williams’s voice. Should she disconnect the call? But she wanted to get the task completed before Jo returned, and she only needed a few more seconds to determine if repairs might be needed.
“But what if he is involved?” Elise’s voice was high-pitched. “I can’t stop thinking of that poor family and those flames. You know his history.”
Who was she talking about? Did Elise suspect someone of starting the fires?
“He’s better now, so put your worries to rest, sweetheart,” Pete crooned. “His time in Germany cured him. You said so yourself.”
Heart pounding, she pulled the plug. Did Elise suspect her own son? Could Albert have started the fire at the Grennens’?
She shook her head. Surely not. Like Pete said, he’d been healed. Besides, if Pete suspected his son, as an officer of the court, he’d have to report him. But Pete loved his wife dearly, and Lincoln had said she struggled with melancholy. Would his fear of sending her into a blue period keep him from revealing the truth?
Without thinking, Hannah connected the next call that came in. She needed to finish checking the lines, but she couldn’t dismiss what she’d heard. If Pete was hiding Albert’s role in the fires, Lincoln would be crushed. Maybe Lincoln could speak to Pete and get a better feeling on the matter.
She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t do that. What she happened to overhear was confidential. Even Jo couldn’t be told.
But what if Albert was the arsonist and he set another fire?
Her chest felt as if someone had pulled her corset strings taut. She pressed a trembling hand to her middle. Maybe this was one time when that rule should be broken—just in case. But if she said anything, she could lose her position entirely. Could she do that to her sisters?
The Reo rumbled around the corner, and Lincoln cast another glance at Hannah. Unusually quiet since he’d picked her up, she seemed to be lost in thought. Although she claimed nothing was bothering her, he didn’t believe her.
Perhaps returning home to a disgruntled Charlotte was troubling her. The three Gregory girls had a bond that defied explanation. Maybe his surprises would take her mind off that whole situation.
They passed Schlampp’s Jewelry Store. He pulled to the curb and parked the automobile. Hannah jerked as if she’d awakened from a dream.
He helped her step down onto the curb. “Ready for your first surprise?”
She glanced at the jewelry store, her eyes wide, and he had to bite back a chuckle. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward the store next door. “That’s where we’re headed.”
“Anthony’s Cycle Company? Why are we going there?”
“You’ll see.”
The bell jingled as they entered, and the owner greeted them. “Mr. Cole, glad you made it. I have your purchase all ready to go.”
Hannah tipped her head to the side. “You’re purchasing a bicycle?”
“I am.”
“I didn’t know you were a wheelman.”
“I’m not.”
The owner wheeled out the bicycle and placed it i
n front of Hannah. “Hope you enjoy it, ma’am.”
Her breath caught, and she looked at Lincoln. “You know I can’t accept this.”
“The fact is you only own one-third of the bicycle, but it will be hard to return your third because your sisters own the other two-thirds. Charlotte’s going to need it if she gets a position until she goes away to school, and if I know Tessa, you won’t be able to convince her to give her part back, so I guess you’re stuck with it.”
A low chuckle came from the owner.
Hannah leaned close, and her breath tickled his ear. “It’s too much. It isn’t proper.”
“You need it if you’re going to do me the favor I have yet to ask you.” He ran his hand down the length of her arm. “Please, Hannah. I want you to have it so you can fly.”
39
Hannah blinked and bit her lip. Did Lincoln realize how much she’d wanted to ride a bicycle? She’d never mentioned it before, but she’d longed to try it.
After glancing from him to the bicycle, she ran her hand along the handlebars with a tender caress. The metal was cool beneath her fingertips.
Still, should she accept this gift? Lincoln liked to win, and he made an excellent case with her only owning a third of it.
She glanced into his hopeful eyes and smiled. “Well, if I need it to do you a favor, then I guess it would be all right. How do we get it home?”
The shop owner chuckled again. “Most folks ride it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I—I’ve never—I don’t think I could—”
“Relax.” Lincoln gripped the handlebars. “I think we can rig it onto the Reo.”
A half hour later, Lincoln tugged the ropes free and lifted the bike from the back of the Reo. Charlotte and Tessa had joined them as soon as they’d arrived, and both cheered when Lincoln told them the bicycle was a gift for the three of them. She’d never be able to give it back now.
He set it on the ground, keeping a firm grip on the handlebars. “Ready to try this out?”
Hannah pressed her knuckle to her lips. Everything inside her wanted to leap on the bicycle, but it was such a big gift.
He patted the seat. “Afraid?”
“No, of course not.” She tried to keep the bravado in her voice. It was mostly true, but an inkling of fear might be making her question the wisdom of this decision. As much as she liked taking chances, the idea of making a fool of herself in front of Lincoln was disconcerting.
“I think you’re scared.” His eyebrows arched in a dare.
Tessa stepped forward and tipped her chin upward. “I’m not. I’ll ride it.”
Charlotte tugged her back. “Hannah gets to go first. Then me.”
“Why am I last?” A crease formed between Tessa’s brows.
“Age order. It’s the, uh, bicyclist way.” Charlotte gave her a definitive nod, settling the argument.
Tessa turned to Lincoln and held out her palms. “But Hannah’s afraid to get on.”
“I am not.” Hiking up her walking skirt, Hannah slid into place and gripped the handlebars.
“That’s my girl.” A wide grin split Lincoln’s face. “And I’ll hold on to the seat until you get going. I wouldn’t want you to take a spill.”
She nodded. “How do I stop?”
“Put your feet down or pedal backward.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re going to love this.”
After checking the placement of her slick-soled shoes on the pedals, she began to press the pedals downward. Only when she started moving did she become aware of Lincoln gripping the seat behind her. Her cheeks heated, and it wasn’t from the effort she was putting forth.
“Concentrate.” He ran along beside her.
Did the man realize how hard that was to do, given the placement of his hand? She should ask him to remove it, but if she did, she’d fall for certain.
Focus.
The bicycle wobbled, but he held it steady. “Pedal faster. You need more speed.”
She pushed harder and felt the bicycle respond beneath her. She concentrated on her balance and keeping the bicycle steady.
“Hannah, you’re doing it!”
Lincoln’s voice came from a distance. She was riding it! When had that happened? The wind whipped her hair about her cheeks and filled her skirt, and she didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t even sure she could.
With her heart pounding against the stays of her corset, she pressed on—in control, free, and breathless. Lincoln was right. She was almost flying.
Lincoln’s heart swelled as he watched Hannah master the conveyance. He’d stopped holding on when he was certain she had the hang of riding it. Now she giggled like a schoolgirl as she drove down the center of the street.
Her speed slowed, and the two-wheeler wobbled. She lost her balance, and the bicycle toppled to the side.
Jogging down to meet her, he fought his concerns when she didn’t try to get up right away. Was she injured?
He stopped in front of her and lifted off the velocipede. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She laughed, her chest heaving. She accepted the hand he offered. “That was amazing!”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” He started to walk the two-wheeler back toward her house, and Hannah walked beside him. “It makes it easier to ask my favor.”
“You mean you really do have a favor to ask? It wasn’t a ruse to get me to try the bicycle?”
“’Fraid not.” He paused in front of Rosie’s house. Mrs. Murphy waved from the porch, where she sat sipping lemonade. “You see, my Aunt Sam is coming to town, and she’s an avid cyclist. I’m hoping you’ll accompany her on her rides.”
“Your aunt from Saint Paul? The one who raised you?”
Taking her hand, he smiled. “Don’t look like a scared bunny ready to bolt for the bushes. She’s going to love you.”
“I find that quite unlikely. Have you considered that someone of your aunt’s social standing may not approve of a young woman like me? Most wealthy ladies don’t spend much time with any Hello Girls, and they don’t expect their sons—or nephews—to either.”
“Aunt Sam isn’t like most ladies. You’ll see.”
“When will she be here?”
He flashed her a roguish grin. “Stop fretting.”
“I’m not fretting.”
“Tight smile. Worry lines around your eyes. Yes, Hannah, you’re fretting.” He glanced toward her sisters and chuckled. “And you’re so absorbed in your own thoughts, you missed Tessa yelling at us to hurry up. But before we head back to them, I want you to know I’m more worried about what you’ll think of her than the other way around.”
“Why is that?”
“You’ll see soon enough. She’ll be here on Friday the twelfth.”
“At least Charlotte’s speaking to you again.” Seated on the porch swing, Lincoln draped his arm around Hannah and toyed with the hair at the back of her neck. The whiff of peonies from the neighbor’s yard floated on the warm breeze, and fireflies flickered in the bushes. Only a dim lamp glowed inside the house.
“If you count ‘please pass the butter’ as meaningful conversation, then I guess I can agree with you.”
“She’ll get over it soon. Besides, I’m the one who told him to take the two-week break.”
“But she likes you.”
“Of course she does. I’m a very likable fellow.” He drew circles on the back of her neck. She shuddered beneath his caresses, and he smiled. “Don’t you agree?”
“Most of the time.”
He loved the teasing sound of her chocolaty voice. “So, are you going to tell me what was troubling you earlier today after work? Did something happen with Walt?”
She stiffened beside him ever so slightly. “Lincoln, tell me about Albert.”
Changing the subject. Not a good sign, but he’d indulge her. “I’ve told you about him. Pete and Elise had him later in life, so he’s about your age. He’s quite intelligent, as you heard, and he plans to return to Yale in the fall.”
>
“But why did he leave there in the first place?”
Lincoln swallowed hard. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Hannah, and Albert was a bit of a frightening character when one knew the whole story. “You remember I told you Elise suffers from melancholy, right?”
“Yes.”
“It seems that Albert does as well. Only when he gets down, he sometimes makes poor choices.”
“Such as?”
He sighed. Of course Hannah wouldn’t let him off that easily, but he didn’t have to tell her the whole truth. The two of them would be spending a lot of time at Pete and Elise’s, given where their relationship was headed. “He did a little damage at the college and threatened some people.” He cupped her shoulder and tucked her close. “So why all the interest in Albert? Do I have competition?”
“No, not in the least.” She laughed, and her skirts swished in rhythm with the swing.
“Then, a new subject. Let’s talk about your day.”
She glanced at him and smiled. “I’d rather talk about you.”
“Me?”
“Seeing Tessa and Charlotte both learning to ride the bicycle today was such a joy. I don’t know if I’ve told you how much I appreciate the way you treat them, almost like …”
She didn’t finish her sentence. Was she afraid to imply too much? Why did she always seem to have doubts or fears in the back of her mind? True, he’d not made any verbal promises or asked for her hand, but sometime between taking their farm and taking them to a Memorial Day outing, Hannah’s family had become his own.
“I treat them like family because they are.”
He heard a little gasp from Hannah. Unable to keep from taking advantage of her parted lips, he claimed them and kissed her, hoping to chase every doubt, worry, and fear from her heart and mind.
40
After once again checking the cast-iron mailbox in their front yard, Charlotte slammed the tiny door. It had been a week. Why hadn’t George written her?
She dropped onto the porch steps, crossed her arms over her knees, and buried her head. It was all Hannah’s fault. If she hadn’t interfered, then everything with George would be fine. And Lincoln—what right did he have to tell George not to come around for two weeks?
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