And then there was Mr. Reynolds. If he was anything like the judge himself, it would be a privilege to work with him.
Since Mr. Reynolds’s arrival date was uncertain, she’d make sure to meet every train coming from that direction until he arrived—the man deserved to be greeted properly.
In the meantime, she’d learn what she could about the hotel—perhaps she’d write a piece for the Gazette about the history of the establishment and the renovations taking place.
And the judge’s letter had given her an idea for how she just might solve all her problems.
“Well?”
Abigail glanced up at Constance, who was not so patiently waiting for an explanation.
A big grin slowly spread across her face. “I think I may have just found the answer I’ve been looking for.”
* * *
Seth shifted, leaning a shoulder against the train window, trying to get more comfortable. The conductor had assured him the stop for Turnabout wasn’t much farther, thank goodness. He was eager to get started on this new job—the sooner he completed it, the sooner he could finalize the deal on the Michelson property and get on with the rest of his life.
He stretched out his left leg as much as the space allowed. Sitting for such a long time tended to tighten up the muscles around his old injury.
He glanced across the aisle and noticed the boy perched there appeared fascinated by his cane. The lad reminded him of Jamie, at least in appearance—the same dark hair, brown eyes and sturdy build. But that’s where the similarities ended. This boy had that fearless air about him, that buoyant spirit reserved for the very young or very innocent. It was something Jamie no longer seemed to possess.
Losing your parents at such an early age did that to a child. As Seth knew only too well.
The shrill train whistle sounded. Finally!
Seth straightened in his seat as he waited for the train to pull to a stop. Then he grasped his cane, using it to lever himself upright. As expected, he found himself leaning on the silver-topped device more than he liked. Experience told him it would be hours before his cramped muscles eased. But he was used to such inconvenience and wouldn’t let it slow him down.
Grabbing his valise with his free hand, he headed for the exit. As he carefully stepped onto the platform, Seth assessed his surroundings. The depot was a midsized painted structure fronted by a wooden platform with three benches lined against the building. A freight wagon waited at the end of the platform, no doubt ready to take on cargo from the train.
There were people on the platform but it wasn’t crowded—nothing like the bustling throngs he’d waded through when he departed the Philadelphia station.
One person in particular drew a closer look—a young lady in a bright blue dress whose hair was an interesting shade of red. But that wasn’t what had snagged his attention—it was the bright, hopeful look she wore, her air of pent-up excitement, as if she was meeting someone she couldn’t wait to see. A family member? Or a sweetheart?
What would it be like to have someone waiting for him with such happy anticipation?
He impatiently shrugged off that fanciful thought and moved toward the depot. The first order of business was to acquire directions to the hotel. He’d just step inside and ask—
“Excuse me, sir, are you by chance Mr. Seth Reynolds?”
Startled, Seth turned to see the young redheaded woman focusing on a balding gentleman who’d just stepped off the train.
The man she’d addressed gruffly dismissed her. “Sorry, young lady, but you’re mistaken.” With a tip of his hat, he walked away.
The woman sighed and turned back to the train.
Why was she looking for him? She appeared too young to be Judge Madison’s granddaughter. But he must have arranged to have someone meet him. It was both unexpected and unnecessary. But he couldn’t just leave her standing there.
Seth steeled himself to ignore the pain in his leg and took a firm step in her direction. “Excuse me.”
She turned and met his gaze. The impact of her bright blue eyes startled him. A stray curl had escaped the confines of her pins and fallen over her forehead. For just a moment he had the absurd desire to tuck it back in for her.
“Yes?”
Her question brought him back to himself. Taken aback by the undisciplined direction his thoughts had taken yet again, he tugged sharply at one of his cuffs. “I couldn’t help but overhear you just now. I’m Seth Reynolds.”
“Oh.” For a moment, all she did was stare.
Which gave him time to study her. Hair the color of mahogany and blue eyes that held a touch of green. Her clothes were well made but not the height of fashion. She wasn’t a beauty in the traditional sense—her mouth was a little too large, her forehead a bit too broad. But there was something about her...
When the silence drew out, he gave a sardonic smile. “I take it I’m not what you expected.” Was it the cane that had tied her tongue? Had the judge not explained?
His words brought a touch of color to her cheeks. “My apologies. It’s just, Judge Madison said you were a friend of his, so I assumed you’d be nearer his age. But that was silly of me. I’m sure he has friends of all ages. Just look at me.”
Definitely not the man’s granddaughter then. “So, you’re a friend of Judge Madison’s? Did he send you to meet me?”
She waved a hand, smiling as if he’d said something amusing. “Not exactly. But I couldn’t let a friend of the judge’s show up with no one to welcome him. So I’ve been meeting trains ever since I got his letter.”
Was the woman always this chatty?
Then she gave him another friendly smile. “Actually, he’s hired me to help with the renovations at the Rose Palace. You and I will be working together—isn’t that wonderful?”
She delivered that bit of information as if she thought it would make him happy.
It didn’t.
Chapter Two
Seth tried to make sense of her words. Did the judge think he couldn’t handle this job alone?
The redhead’s smile faltered slightly—his lack of enthusiasm must have shown on his face.
Before he could say anything, however, she pulled an envelope from her skirt pocket and held it out to him.
“My apologies for springing this on you—Everett says my mouth sometimes gets ahead of my thoughts. Perhaps you should read this letter from Judge Madison before we go any further. I think it will explain matters.”
He accepted the proffered letter, his mind trying to make sense of her convoluted story. Who was Everett and why did he have any relevance to this? “Thank you, Miss...”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, where are my manners? I’m Abigail Fulton.”
“Well, Miss Fulton, if you will excuse me?” He executed a short bow and managed to make it to a nearby bench without leaning on his cane too heavily.
So, Judge Madison had arranged for him to have an assistant. Having someone to help with matters concerning the locals would no doubt be useful. But Seth had always selected his own assistants if he felt he needed one. And this young lady would definitely not have been his choice. She looked like she would be more at home in a Sunday school class than a business office.
Besides, her presence could prove to be a distraction. He glanced her way again. Already she was claiming more of his attention than he usually gave strangers.
Because she was such a chatterbox, of course.
More troubling was the fact that Judge Madison hadn’t mentioned this to him personally. Had he thought Seth lacking in some way? Or did he have some other reason?
Perhaps she was a friend of his granddaughter’s, someone he was attempting to help in some way. He supposed that was the man’s right.
Whatever the reason, Seth decided he could be gracious
about it. Judge Madison had always been good to him, had been willing to take a chance on him when no one else would. He could extend the same courtesy to this young lady.
So long as she did her job adequately.
He unfolded the letter and scanned the opening. Then he halted and started over, carefully taking in each word.
I trust you made the trip to Turnabout in good form. As you have no doubt gathered, there are a few matters I failed to clarify before you left. This was partly because they were not yet definite, and partly because I thought it best you not form any preconceived notions before meeting Miss Fulton.
That being said, I have asked Miss Fulton to handle the decor aspects of the renovation and to partner with you on staffing decisions.
His jaw tightened. That could throw a hitch in his plans. Just how involved would she want to be in the staffing process?
It is my hope that this will be a mutually beneficial arrangement for you both. It will relieve you of the burden of making design decisions, allowing you to focus on overseeing the construction. And the combination of her knowledge of the local townsfolk and your understanding of the skills required should make for a highly effective partnership as you two work on the staffing.
You will receive your usual bonus at the project’s completion and Miss Fulton will earn the means to achieve one of her own dreams.
Seth frowned. What did that mean?
Working with Miss Fulton should not prove an onerous task. Despite her youth, I have found Abigail to be an imaginative, witty and charmingly spirited young lady. I believe she will be a fast learner and an able partner.
I look forward to seeing the results of your collaboration when I journey to Turnabout in December. If you should have any questions or concerns, you know how to reach me.
Sincerely,
Arthur Madison
As Seth read, he grew more and more incredulous. The judge wanted Miss Fulton to handle the decorating? He’d thought his employer wanted to give the hotel an air of sophistication and elegance. What did this provincial miss know about hotel decor? She’d probably never stayed in a truly elegant hotel in her life. If he had to keep a close eye on her choices it could actually lead to more work for him rather than less.
He realized he’d stiffened, so he deliberately relaxed. If this was what Judge Madison wanted, he’d just have to make the best of it.
She’d just better not get in the way of his plans.
* * *
Abigail watched Mr. Reynolds as he read the letter. He was certainly a different sort of man than what she’d expected. For one thing, he was younger than she’d imagined—he looked to be roughly thirty. And unlike the judge, who was so warm and forthcoming in his letters, this man seemed aloof and guarded.
To be fair, though, that might be due to travel weariness. And her announcement had seemed to catch him unawares.
His silver-handled walking stick had at first seemed an affectation. But then she’d noticed the slight stiffness of his gait as he moved to the bench and she’d realized the cane was more than a mere accessory.
Though his expression remained closed as he read the letter, she sensed he was displeased with the news. What was he unhappy about—sharing responsibility for the work, sharing it with a woman, or something else?
When he finally lowered the letter, he seemed lost in thought.
Abigail cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”
Mr. Reynolds glanced up as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Not at all.” He folded the letter and slid it inside his jacket as he leveraged himself off the bench with his cane. “My apologies. I suppose I’m tired from my travels.”
His expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Then he met her gaze. “May I ask how you came to know Judge Madison?”
She’d prefer to discuss their assignment, but she supposed it was a logical question. “Of course. We’ve corresponded regularly for going on five years now.”
He raised a brow at that. “Corresponded? So, you’ve never actually met.”
His tone remained neutral but something about his demeanor made her feel defensive. “Not in person, no. I’m looking forward to having that pleasure when he visits in December. But I believe we’ve gotten to know each other quite well in all the ways that matter.”
“I see.” He tugged on the cuff of his jacket. “With your indulgence, we can discuss how best to proceed with this...partnership after I’ve had a chance to freshen up a bit.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could direct me to the hotel.”
He seemed eager to be rid of her. But she had other ideas. “I’ll do better than that. After you make arrangements to have your baggage delivered, I’ll walk you there—it’s on my way.”
“On your way?”
“To the town’s restaurant. My sister-in-law owns and operates it and I promised to help her today.”
A few minutes later, as they walked down the sidewalk, Abigail pointed out the various businesses they passed. The man said very little in response so she did her best to keep the conversation going on her own. She noticed, however, that his gaze seemed to take in everything, so his silence apparently wasn’t due to disinterest.
Perhaps he just wasn’t the talkative type.
Finally, as they approached the hotel, she pointed straight ahead. “The Rose Palace is that red brick building up there.”
She could hear the sounds of construction above the other town noise, but since the work was taking place on the far side it wasn’t visible from their vantage.
She cut him a sideways glance, trying to discern his thoughts as he studied the building, but as before, his expression gave very little away.
When they reached the entrance, he gallantly opened the door and let her precede him. At least there was nothing wrong with his manners.
The curtains were open so the lobby had a cheery, sunshine-filled warmth to it. Abigail smiled—it was as if the place was putting its best face forward for his benefit.
“Can I help you folks?”
The question came from Mr. Crandall, standing at his usual post behind the guest book on the front counter.
Abigail led her companion forward. “Good day, Mr. Crandall. Allow me to introduce Mr. Seth Reynolds, the gentleman Judge Madison sent to oversee the renovations.”
She turned to him. “Mr. Reynolds, this is Edgar Crandall, the former owner of the Rose Palace.”
Mr. Crandall held out his hand. “Welcome to Turnabout and to the Rose Palace. We have a room all ready for you.”
Abigail took that as her cue. “I’m sure you’d like to get settled in, and I need to head to the restaurant. Perhaps we could continue our conversation over a late lunch.” She smiled. “In fact, you could meet me there. It has some of the best food you’ll find in these parts and it’s a short walk from here. Mr. Crandall can direct you.”
He leaned casually against the counter. “Actually, I’d prefer to eat here. I want to get a feel for the quality of the hotel’s current menu offerings.”
Even leaning against the counter, he managed to maintain his all-business air.
“Of course. Shall I return in, say, two hours?”
He nodded. “I look forward to resuming our conversation.”
Now why didn’t she believe that?
Abigail made her exit, trying not to lose heart.
Mr. Reynolds wasn’t the friendly, open person she’d been hoping for. Perhaps after he’d had time to rest from his trip he’d thaw a bit. Otherwise it might be difficult working with him for the next few months.
For all his standoffishness, however, there was something about him she found intriguing. And it wasn’t just that he was handsome, which he was, in a brooding sort of way. There was something she’
d seen in those cinnamon-brown eyes of his, something that tugged at her, that spoke of a buried vulnerability behind his guarded attitude. There was his limp, of course, but it went deeper.
One thing was certain, he hadn’t been pleased to learn she’d be working with him. How would he react when she told him she wanted the job of hotel manager?
She’d given it a lot of prayer and thought. In fact, she had thought of little else since she’d received the judge’s letter. She’d even discussed it with Constance, testing the idea with her levelheaded friend.
The thought of managing a hotel on her own was daunting but exciting at the same time. If she could convince Mr. Reynolds and Judge Madison to give her the chance, however, she was absolutely convinced she could do it. After all, Constance had responsibility for the pharmacy and she was the same age.
True, Constance had gone to school back east to train for her position. But it wasn’t as if Abigail hadn’t prepared in her own way. She’d spent every minute she could with Mr. Crandall, getting his insights into what the job entailed and what he saw as the main challenges. And Constance had agreed that she had a way with people that would serve her well in a job like this.
It was just a matter of convincing Mr. Reynolds of her suitability. And surely, if he was anything like Judge Madison, he would keep an open mind on the matter.
* * *
Seth ignored the urge to watch his would-be work associate leave. There was something about her that got under his skin. But he didn’t have time for such distractions—he had to focus on his almost-within-reach goal.
He turned back to the former owner. “Mr. Crandall, let me say on behalf of Judge Madison that he appreciates your willingness to remain until we can transition to a new manager.”
Edgar Crandall nodded. “It was the least I could do. It’s good that you showed up today, though. I’m not sure how much longer I could have stuck around.”
Seth frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t Judge Madison tell you? The whole reason I sold this place was because my sister needs special medical care. I’m taking her to a doctor in Chicago as soon as possible. I told the judge I’d stay until his representative arrived, but I was beginning to think I’d have to renege and leave before that happened.”
Once Upon a Texas Christmas Page 2