by Karen Kirst
She was carefully removing a stack of dinner plates when Kenneth’s hand shot out and, seizing her wrist, yanked so that she tipped the lot of them. The crash reverberated in the silent store. Stunned disbelief held her frozen.
An expression of false concern settled across his features. “Uh-oh. That’s going to be expensive to replace. Mr. Darling, I’m afraid your assistant got careless with the merchandise.”
Straightening from his crouch at the opposite end of the room, Quinn’s frown carved deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He came and surveyed the shards littering the floorboards. Beyond his shoulder, Pete and Timothy elbowed each other.
A resigned sigh escaped him as his gaze prodded Nicole’s. “Clean up this mess. And from now on, ask for help with the heavy stuff. Kenneth will be happy to help, I’m sure.”
“Anytime.” Kenneth’s smile held a hint of cruelty. Quinn couldn’t see it, because he was looking at her with something akin to disappointment.
Indignation seared her, burned into her cheeks. If she confessed the truth, Kenneth would only deny it. Her trustworthiness would be called into question.
Subduing the urge to stomp her feet, she croaked, “It won’t happen again.”
“Will she have to pay for the damage, Mr. Darling?”
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “That won’t be necessary this time.”
This time. An unspoken warning to not make the same mistake again.
When he’d returned to his work, she shot her nemesis a scorching glare. “How could you do that?” she demanded.
“I didn’t.” His upper lip curled. “You did.”
Leaving her to clean up alone, Kenneth went and pretended to help his friends. Nicole took out her frustration on the broom. Being blamed for something that wasn’t her fault left a bad taste in her mouth. Anger and humiliation warred for supremacy.
She could hardly bear to look at Quinn. Irrationally, she blamed him for not seeing through Kenneth’s act.
The remainder of the afternoon and early evening crawled by. Just as escape looked likely, Quinn waylaid her in the office. The trio had left ten minutes ago, and she was eager to get away from her boss’s assessing glances.
“It’s late, Quinn. I’m exhausted and hungry.” I need time to recover before doing it all again tomorrow morning. No telling what my enemy has planned for me.
“This won’t take but a minute.” He leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.
“If this is about the dishes, I—”
“No.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I detected something...off between you and Kenneth. Do you two have a history? Because if you’re uncomfortable working with him, I can send him on his way in the morning.”
“If you’re asking if we’ve ever courted, the answer is no,” she spluttered. “Absolutely not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Here was her chance to explain everything. To absolve herself and be rid of Kenneth and his buddies. But she was, above all, a private person. Exposing her problems to her boss didn’t hold an ounce of appeal.
“No problem.” Pushing an errant curl behind her ear, she rubbed a sore spot in her lower back. “If there are no more questions, I really do have to go.”
Quinn didn’t appear convinced. Still, he moved sideways to let her pass. As she was edging through the doorway and he was centimeters away, he said softly, “Good night, Duchess.”
Nicole stiffened at the brush of his minty breath across her cheek.
She didn’t like nicknames on principle. Caleb did it to tease her—good-natured, brotherly ribbing that nevertheless irked her. Kenneth’s intent was to demean her. What was Quinn Darling’s motive? And why did a little thrill zip up her spine?
Risking a glance at this close range, she didn’t detect a trace of cruelty in those light brown eyes, merely lazy curiosity.
She was an enigma to him, was she? Well, he was wasting his time trying to figure her out. She wasn’t about to divulge her secrets to the likes of him.
* * *
The locals weren’t adjusting to Quinn’s implemented changes as quickly as he’d hoped. Ever since they’d reopened three days ago, the customers had doggedly avoided him. Some went so far as to denounce his decisions to his face, unsatisfied with his explanations.
No amount of pleasantness or willingness to help had put a dent in their wariness.
Leaning against the shelving unit, he eyed the five-deep line of customers waiting for Nicole’s assistance.
He caught the familiar elderly lady’s eye and thanked the Lord he had a memory for names. His smile didn’t come as easily as it had that morning. “I can help you over here, Mrs. Kirkpatrick.”
Crinkling her nose, she shook her head, gaze skittering away.
The rejection stung. He, Quinn Darling, heir to the Darling fortune and a man whose very presence deemed a social gathering a success, could not convince the lady to let him wait on her. Weariness pressed behind his forehead, turning the slight headache he’d nursed since Nicole whopped him with that pot into a full-blown hammering against his skull.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Shoving off the counter, he strode to his assistant’s side. “I’ll fill orders for you. What have you got?”
Her face a polite mask, Nicole’s pencil hovered above the ledger and pointed at the row of red metal spice bins on the bottom shelf. “I need one ounce of cinnamon, four ounces of cream of tartar and one container of vanilla extract.”
“Throw in a pack of chewing gum,” the needle-thin man on the opposite side of the counter added.
“Coming right up, sir.”
Grinding his teeth, Quinn quickly gathered the items. Up until this moment, he hadn’t considered himself a proud man too good for lowly work. He hadn’t started out at the top. Edward Darling had thought it important his son experience all facets of the industry. He’d done everything from sweeping factory floors to operating ten looms at once.
Why, then, was being reduced to Nicole O’Malley’s go-to boy so difficult to swallow?
Because this is my store. I bought it with my own money, gave up everything I’ve worked for—upsetting a lot of people in the process—to start over in an unfamiliar place where I know no one.
Neatly folding the paper sacks, he slid them across the counter. “Will there be anything else?”
Lord Jesus, help me not to be prideful. Help me to win these people’s trust.
The man squinted at his list. “Nope. That will be all.”
Nicole informed him how much credit he had left and moved on to the next customer. Together, they worked through the line until the last person had been served. The clock chiming three o’clock split the weighted silence.
Without a word, Quinn pivoted on his heel and stalked down the hall to the cramped, low-ceilinged quarters. He needed an outlet for his pent-up frustration. Since he couldn’t drop everything and go for a swim, going through the motions of making coffee would have to do. He was filling the kettle with water when Nicole peered around the door frame.
“Is it safe to come in?” she said, cringing when he thumped the kettle down with more force than necessary.
“Enter at your own risk.” Snatching the tin of coffee grounds from the shelf, he slammed it down.
“Even if I come bearing gifts?” Emerald green skirts skimming the polished floorboards, she approached and slowly lifted her hand. Two peppermint sticks lay on her open palm.
He looked deep into her luminous eyes. “Are you trying to tame my surliness with sweets?”
“I am.”
He glimpsed a flicker of compassion, almost imperceptible but there nonetheless, and the loneliness inside him receded a little. Two more attributes went onto the growing list. Unpredictable. Kindhearted.
The second one was just a hunch and would need to be confirmed.
Quinn accepted the offering only to hold one up to her lips, pressing gently. “I cannot be the only one to indulge.”
Startled eyes stared back at him, confirming she wasn’t used to his brand of teasing. You didn’t treat the women in Boston like this, though, did you? a voice prodded. Something in her manner provokes you to outrageousness.
When she reached to take hold of the stick, her cool fingers closed over his, the contact unexpectedly comforting. Lowering his hand, he popped the sweet in his mouth and resumed the motions of making coffee.
“They do not trust me,” he said, pulling down two blue enamel mugs from the shelf. “They lack confidence in me.” He hoped she didn’t recognize his underlying hurt.
“I don’t think Gatlinburg has seen anyone quite like you.”
Pausing in scooping the grounds, he cast her a sidelong look, smiling a little at her attempts to eat the peppermint without becoming a sticky mess. “What do you mean?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” She waved her hand up and down. “You exude power and privilege, wealth most people around here can’t even begin to imagine. Your slick ways and your funny accent sets you apart. It’s painfully obvious you are out of your element.”
“Don’t hold back, Duchess,” he said drily, “Tell me what you really think.”
His ego sure was taking a bruising lately. His father would say it built character.
“That doesn’t mean they won’t come to trust you eventually. Are you a patient man, Quinn Darling?”
Irrationally, his conversation with Shane Timmons came to mind. The sheriff was of the opinion that, while hard to get to know, Nicole would be worth the effort. He wasn’t sure he agreed. Nicole O’Malley was not even close to what he required in a wife.
She awaited his answer, calm and regal in her high-collared green confection of a dress, raven curls confined in a loose chignon at the base of her swanlike neck. How would she react if he were to sink his fingers in the beguiling mass?
“That all depends,” he said on a sigh.
“On what?”
“On what it is I’m waiting for.”
She didn’t have a response, merely watched him with that stoic expression.
“I have a question for you.” He imagined he could see her pulling her armor in close.
“Yes?”
He took his time pouring coffee into the cups. “Why aren’t you gloating?”
“Excuse me?”
“You warned me. I didn’t listen, and now—” he replaced the kettle on the stove “—they see me as the bad guy. I’ve been waiting for you to rub it in.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time.”
He held out the mug. She studiously avoided his fingers. Quinn had noticed she took pains not to accidentally touch him. Why was that?
She wasn’t shy. What, then? Did he make her uncomfortable? He frowned at the notion.
“You’re not the type to point out a man’s errors in judgment?”
“I clearly don’t need to. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already seen the effects of your decisions.”
“You think I should open my store to loiterers.”
“Folks will eventually get over you moving the merchandise around. The organization makes sense.” Against the blue mug, her fingers were long and slender, piano-playing hands, his mother would say. “Prohibiting folks from gathering for harmless fun and conversation, on the other hand, strikes them as callous and unfeeling. They won’t forgive you for that.”
“It was purely a business decision,” he defended.
“The wrong one.”
The ringing of the bell echoed through the store, and Nicole left his quarters to go and greet the new arrival. He refused to be disappointed at her departure, even if, for a couple of minutes in her presence, the magnitude of his problems seemed to have receded.
Chapter Six
For the remainder of the afternoon, Quinn didn’t attempt to wait on anyone. Instead, he focused on assisting Nicole and interacting with the customers in a nonthreatening way. He mulled over their conversation. She was right—in order to gain their favor, he was going to have to think less like a businessman and more like a member of this community. He was going to have to invite the checker-playing, tobacco-spitting gossip-sharers back.
Around five o’clock, an hour before closing, Kenneth and Timothy swaggered in and headed straight for the counter. Neither man observed him in front of the notice board. Remaining where he was, Quinn switched his attention to Nicole, curious to see if her behavior altered. He didn’t buy her denial that no issues existed between her and the cocky blond.
What was she hiding? And why?
In the middle of helping a young mother with a fussy toddler clinging to her hip, Nicole’s smile wavered the moment she became aware of the young men’s presence. Her shoulders went rigid. When her gaze sought out Quinn across the store, widening when she encountered his steady perusal, his feet carried him straight to her side. Somehow, he sensed she needed him.
“Kenneth. Timothy. What can I do for you?”
“Afternoon, Mr. Darling.” With smooth cordiality, Kenneth tapped a battered hat against his leg. “Came in for shaving soap. But Nicole knows what I like. I’ll wait for her.”
Nicole didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge their conversation in any way.
“I wouldn’t want you to wait needlessly.” Quinn moved to the case holding shaving supplies and opened the rear panel. “What brand?”
The flaring of his nostrils was the only sign of his displeasure. “Colgate.”
Quinn wrapped up his purchase and took the payment. “Thank you, gentlemen. Have a good afternoon.”
“If you have any other jobs around the store, we’d be happy to help out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Glancing surreptitiously at Nicole, Kenneth tucked his purchase beneath his arm and left with his friend.
Quinn approached, lightly touched her wrist. “Do you mind watching the store for a couple of minutes? I’ve an errand to see to.”
“Of course not.”
Out on the boardwalk, the intense midsummer heat immediately closed in. Boston hadn’t been nearly this humid. Wouldn’t be long before his skin was slick with perspiration and he wished he didn’t have to wear so many clothes.
There was no sign of Kenneth. Striding in the direction of the jail, Quinn was relieved to find Shane behind his desk, seemingly free to talk.
The man’s features lit with mild surprise and the paper he’d been perusing hit the desk. “Trouble at the mercantile?”
“No.” He gestured to the empty chair. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”
Dropping onto the unforgiving chair, he rested his ankle on his knee. “What can you tell me about Kenneth Jones?”
He thought a moment. “Not much to tell. Like most folks in these mountains, his family farms the land. Decent, hardworking people. Regular churchgoers.” He tapped the desk surface. “Why do you ask?”
Quinn explained about the job he’d hired Kenneth to do. The tension he’d picked up on.
“You aren’t aware of any romantic links or friendship between him and Nicole?”
Shane huffed a laugh. “Afraid I can’t help you there. Keeping up with who courts who in this town is not in the job description.”
Pushing to his feet, Quinn stalked to the barred window overlooking the street. While he recognized some of the passersby, he didn’t know their names, reputations or their histories. “I’m at a disadvantage here. It’s like trying to piece together a puzzle without first seeing the whole picture.”
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br /> “All I can tell you is Nicole isn’t one to frequent festivities. I can’t recall her name being linked with anyone. If she attends a church social or dance, it’s with her family.”
Shoving aside the intense curiosity and twisted pleasure those statements evoked, Quinn turned. “To be clear, my motives for coming here are strictly professional.”
The look Shane directed at him silently challenged that statement.
“I’m concerned because she’s my assistant,” he persisted. “If she has a problem with a customer, I need to know about it.”
The tapping on Shane’s desk increased. “Have you broached the matter with her?”
“I did. She wasn’t forthcoming.”
“Meaning, she denied there being a problem, and you don’t believe her.”
“Yes.”
Shane slouched against the chair back. “Your only option then is to keep your eyes and ears open. You can’t force her to confide in you.”
If only he could. He stuck out his hand. “Appreciate the help.”
Standing to his feet, the sheriff shook his hand. “I know how it feels to be the new man in town. Takes time, but eventually folks will open up to you.”
Thanking the other man and feeling as if he’d made a trustworthy friend, he returned to the store in time to lock up and flip the sign to closed. When he spotted Nicole hunched over a small book and scribbling furiously, Quinn’s gut tightened. He knew exactly what he’d see at her feet.
Acting as if nothing were amiss, he strolled past and headed into the office, suspicion burning his mouth like acid. For several days, he’d watched her surreptitiously place items in a large basket that she endeavored to keep hidden from him. It appeared his assistant was keeping more than one secret.
Was it possible she had been stealing from Emmett? The notion sickened him.
There was no other choice but to confront her.
Quinn stalked around the corner, scowling when she jolted in surprise and trepidation rippled across her features. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back. “May I ask what you are doing?”
“I—” Thick lashes sweeping down, she pointed to the book. “I—I’m entering my purchases. Emmett detracted the cost from my wages.”