Hidden Forever

by Cat Cahill

  “It is?” The man’s gaze roamed the hallway, and Dora half expected one of the other girls to step out just at that moment. What would she do then?

  “Yes. The men’s quarters are in the other wing. I’m sorry, I’ve presumed you work here . . .” Dora didn’t dare phrase that as a question. In fact, her face went warm the second the words were out of her mouth. What must this man think of her? She hoped he wouldn’t think of her at all after this incident. Forgettable—that’s who she needed to be.

  He graced her with that smile again, and it felt as if she’d developed fever. “You presumed correctly. I apologize again—I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Jake James, the new desk clerk. And it appears as if you are one of the illustrious Gilbert Girls.”

  “Miss Reynolds,” Dora supplied. She had a million questions. Hadn’t Mr. McFarland shown him around? Hadn’t he told this Mr. James of the rules? What possessed the man to wander about the women’s dormitory wing? Where had he come from? And why, for all good things, could she not look away from those eyes?

  She remained silent.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Reynolds. May I escort you downstairs?”

  Dora pressed her lips together. How was it possible to want something and not want it at the same time? They both needed to go downstairs, though, and she supposed it would be rude to refuse. There was nothing untoward about running into another hotel employee while on her way to the dining room. After all, she’d traversed these stairs many times with other desk clerks, kitchen boys, and other men who lived in the opposite wing. Why should this feel any different?

  It isn’t, she told herself as Mr. James gestured for her to go first. As they descended, it became evident he was much more the conversationalist than she.

  “How long have you worked for the Gilbert Company, Miss Reynolds?” he asked at the top of the stairs.

  “Since May. I was among the first group of girls to arrive here.”

  “And how do you find your work?”

  “It’s fulfilling. This is a good company to work for.”

  “Do you have many friends here?” They’d reached the middle of the staircase.

  “I do.” Somehow, despite keeping to herself, she’d found friendships with several of the other girls. After all, they’d all been thrown into this new and uncertain situation together. She supposed it was only natural they’d seek each other out for companionship.

  “And where do you call home?”

  Dora paused. He was awfully inquisitive. Was this a natural trait, or was there something about her that had aroused his curiosity? “Chicago,” she said carefully.

  Mr. James’s bright smile grew even wider. “Chicago! I spent—pardon me—I hail from that fair city myself.”

  Dora’s heart nearly leapt out of her throat. She should have chosen someplace less populated. She’d already dodged acquaintance with a couple of the other girls who came from Chicago, and now there was Mr. James.

  “Tell me, how do you think the frontier compares to such a vibrant city?” he asked.

  “I prefer the Colorado Territory.” It was an easy answer, considering Dora had never set foot outside the Territory.

  “You have a wandering heart, then.” Mr. James must have meant that as a compliment, given his smile hadn’t diminished one bit.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he took her hand, kissed it, and said, “Well, it has been a pleasure to converse with you, Miss Reynolds. Thank you again for saving me from breaking the rules. Now, I must be off to my duties.” He left her standing at the bottom of the stairs, feeling as if she’d just survived a whirlwind.

  Dora gripped the banister and placed her other hand over her heart. She’d barely spoken more than a few words to the man, and yet she felt as if he knew everything about her. It was a ridiculous notion, of course. There was no reason for him to suspect that she wasn’t who she claimed to be.

  When her heart finally slowed to a respectable pace, she leaned around the staircase until the front desk came into view. There he was, now conversing with one of the other clerks, a Mr. Graham. Dora only knew Mr. Graham as a pompous sort who came from wealthy family somewhere back East. She would need to cross the lobby—and pass the front desk—in order to reach the dining room. What if Mr. James caught her eye again? Dora didn’t know the appropriate response. Should she greet him? Simply incline her head? The whole thing was overwhelming, and it almost made her want to return upstairs and claim to be too ill to work today.

  “I can’t be late if you haven’t arrived yet!” Adelaide Young, the newest Gilbert Girl, came flying down the stairs.

  Dora tried to push Mr. James to the back of her mind. She had work to do. “I . . .”

  Adelaide tilted her head. “Is everything all right? You seem distracted.”

  Dora shook her head, hoping the action would clear her mind of Mr. James. “I’m fine. Come, let’s get to the dining room, or we will be late!”

  Adelaide looped her arm through Dora’s. It was such a small gesture, and the other girls did it all the time, and yet Dora always felt strange about it. As if she didn’t truly belong here. Or perhaps it was guilt from the lies she’d been forced to tell in order to remain in the hotel’s employ. She tried to relax . . . until they passed the front desk.

  She couldn’t help but look, and just as she did, Mr. James turned that smile toward her again. Dora’s face flamed, and she ducked her head.

  Adelaide looked between them. “He’s a handsome one, and it looks as if he knows it too.”

  Dora said nothing, and thankfully, Adelaide didn’t press the issue. Instead, she chattered the rest of the way to the dining room about how she needed to work on serving her tables faster and how thankful she was that the breakfast service didn’t require her to do so.

  When they arrived in the dining room, all thoughts about Mr. James flew from Dora’s mind when she spotted Mr. McFarland in conversation with Mrs. Ruby. They could have been speaking about anything, but the words she’d overheard a few days ago immediately came to mind. If the McFarlands hadn’t found the money missing from the account ledger, that could only mean someone had taken it. And from the dark look on Mr. McFarland’s face—and the frown on Mrs. Ruby’s—it appeared that might be the case.

  It was hard to imagine a thief lodging at the hotel. He had to be long gone by now, though. After all, who would steal from a place and then remain there?

  Chapter Four

  Snow swirled as Jacob walked from the hotel to the stable. The icy wind bit at his face, and he was thankful he at least knew how to handle the winter cold, even if he was still trying to figure out the customs and requirements of the Territory. He paused to admire the valley, which lay spread out before him, blanketed in soft white. At the bottom of the hill that sloped down from the hotel, the railroad tracks ran the length of the valley, a cut of black against the snow. The little depot and the handful of buildings on the other side of the tracks sat silent, gray smoke pluming from their chimneys. It wouldn’t be long until Christmas. What would celebrating that holiday be like in a place such as this? There were no carolers on the streets, no shopping to be done in busy stores, no bustling about to visit or be visited by relatives.

  He shouldn’t be here by the time Christmas arrived. Jake intended to find the embezzler in a matter of days and return victorious to Denver. He’d set himself the lofty goal of meeting as many of the hotel’s employees as he possibly could by the end of the day. He’d introduced himself to the kitchen help and had been promptly shooed out by the head chef. He’d met his three fellow desk clerks, the bellhops, some of the maids (most of whom had stared at him like rabbits looking at a shotgun), the hotel’s maintenance men, and a good number of the Gilbert Girls. The latter had been the most fun to meet, he had to admit, although most of them giggled far too much for his liking. He’d had his fill of girls with nothing but fluff between their ears back in Chicago and New York. But the woman he’d met upstairs
. . . she was intriguing.

  Miss Reynolds had been quiet, almost suspicious of him. He could have smacked himself for not knowing one of his family company’s own basic rules. Mr. McFarland had told him all of it upon Jake’s arrival, but he hadn’t paid much attention. He hadn’t thought he needed to. After all, his family owned the hotel, so what was there he didn’t already know? Quite a bit, apparently. No one here, not even Mr. McFarland, knew his true identity. And if Jacob wanted it to remain that way, he needed to take more care with his actions. Or else, observant people like Miss Reynolds might take notice.

  He had never seen hair that dark. His was a dark brown, but hers was most certainly black. It was almost as if she were born of the night in this wild place. He could hardly place her in Chicago—she seemed much more suited to the wildness of this valley. Her eyes were just as dark as her hair. She must be of Italian or Greek descent. If he got to know her better, he might ask. But as it was, he’d seemed to scare her off with his questions this morning. When he’d seen her twice more today, she’d skittered away in the opposite direction. He didn’t know what to make of that. Women generally responded to his congenial manner and the attention he lavished on them. To have one run away was . . . disconcerting. Perhaps she was shy? Although she hadn’t seemed to fear telling him the rules. She was quite beautiful, and that was all the more reason for him to leave her be. He had work to do here, and a distraction like Miss Reynolds would only find him packing his bags for New York.

  A horse neighed from the direction of the stables, shaking Jacob from his reverie. He’d been on his way to meet the men who worked in the stables when he’d been distracted by thoughts of the mysterious Miss Reynolds. He made his way through the snow to the door. Inside, a few windows lent feeble light. Jacob kept his coat on and let his eyes adjust before looking around.

  No one was in sight, but he followed the sounds of conversation to the rear of the building. Two men shoveled old straw into a cart.

  “Good afternoon,” Jacob said, removing his hat.

  “Afternoon,” the taller man said, while the shorter, rounder fellow merely grunted and went back to his work.

  “I’m Jake James, newly employed at the hotel.”

  “Good to meet you, James. I’m Will Adkins, newly employed myself. And that’s Frank Robbins. He’s been here a spell.” The tall man set his shovel aside and held out a hand. Jake took it, thankful at least one of the men was interested in speaking with him.

  “How do you find your new work?” Jacob asked.

  Adkins shrugged, adjusting his starched, well-pressed shirt. “It’s work. I’ve always been partial to horses, so I’m happy enough. What is your position here?”

  “New front desk clerk. Where do the two of you come from?”

  “Everywhere,” Adkins said with a laugh. “Robbins there . . . well, I don’t know where’s he from.”

  Robbins grunted again. Jacob talked a little longer to Adkins about horses, not that Jacob knew much about the beasts himself. They were good for carrying a person from one place to another, and exciting to watch in a race, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Adkins, however, was a veritable horse expert. The man was night and day from his colleague, not only in amiability, but in dress and—Jacob tried not to breathe too deeply—in hygiene. Robbins appeared to have slept with the horses, while Adkins could have easily walked into the Crest Stone Hotel’s dining room for dinner.

  Jacob left the stables feeling accomplished. He hadn’t yet met the blacksmith, the depot clerk, or the general store owner, but considering those individuals didn’t make their residence within the hotel, he supposed he could remove them as possible suspects.

  The next task he had devised for himself was to seek out the office in which the hotel funds were kept. James had shown him the original blueprints for the building, indicating the safe was located in the manager’s office. Jacob only needed an excuse to be in that room to see it firsthand.

  He entered the hotel through the kitchen door in the rear, just in time for the employees’ supper. Gilbert Girls, maids, handymen, and anyone else who worked at the hotel came and went from the kitchen, eating as their work allowed. Jacob’s shift had ended that afternoon, and so he lingered at the table, talking and listening to those around him, hoping to pick up some necessary bit of information. But nothing he overheard or was told struck him as important.

  He stirred his soup as an image of his father dismissing him back to Manhattan came to mind. It was imperative that Jacob find the thief. Banishment to the family home in New York ensured he’d be cut from the business. And unless he wished to live with his mother and unmarried sisters for the remainder of his life, he’d need to find another place for himself. While his family name might open doors for him, he’d be starting from the bottom. That would mean years before he earned an income decent enough to persuade a woman to marry him. Years before he could afford a home of his own.

  The spoon stilled in his soup, and Jacob could have laughed. Here he was, Jacob Gilbert, life of the party in college in New York and all the most popular establishments in Chicago, worried about being unable to settle down and start a family. He had changed, even if his father couldn’t see it.

  McFarland entered the kitchen from the dining room and took a seat at the table. The timing was perfect. Jacob finished his soup, returned the dirty dishes, and left through the back door. Re-entering the hotel from the garden door that opened into the north wing’s hallway, he found the hotel office only a door down. It was shut.

  Glancing around to ensure no one was in sight, Jacob tried the knob, hoping no one was inside. The door was locked. He stood there for a moment, contemplating his options. Was it necessary for him to lay eyes on the safe if he knew where it was? Perhaps he only needed to keep watch around the area for . . . what, exactly? It wasn’t as if the thief would stroll right by him and break into the room. No, whoever he was, this embezzler was much more devious.

  James had given him all the information he’d learned from McFarland before Jacob had left Denver. The stolen sums had occurred over the course of ten days, and the best they could figure, it had happened approximately three separate times.

  The thief clearly knew when the office was unlocked and knew the combination to the safe. Jacob would need to find a way to set up a hidden watch, without anyone being the wiser.

  He turned to make his way back to the kitchen, where he figured he might as well sit and attempt to gain more information. The last door in the hallway on the right opened just as he moved past it. He darted quickly out of the way, only to find himself standing directly in front of the one person he’d thought about most that day—the dark-eyed beauty he’d spoken with first thing that morning.

  Chapter Five

  A little shriek slipped from Dora’s mouth when a man suddenly appeared in front of her. She clutched the freshly pressed tablecloths she held to her chest and willed her heart to slow down.

  “We meet again. I apologize for startling you. Again.” Mr. James’s soft gray eyes traced her face, and Dora thought she’d melt into the floor. Only a heap of perfectly unwrinkled table linens would be left behind.

  “You seem to need to apologize fairly often,” she said, then clamped her mouth shut. Where had that come from?

  He laughed. “Apparently, I do. At least when I’m in your vicinity.”

  Dora nudged the laundry room door shut with her elbow. “I must get these to the dining room before the start of the dinner service.”

  “By all means. I’ll carry them for you.”

  “That isn’t necessary. This is part of my work.”

  “Nonsense. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer to carry a lady’s load?”

  Dora paused a moment, then let him take the linens. His eagerness reminded her of some of the boys she’d known in winter encampments, before her family had been forced onto the reservation. The thought made the corners of her mouth rise.

  “Your smile is
quite becoming,” Mr. James said.

  His words made her go warm from head to toe all over again. She immediately resumed her usual stoicism and tried in vain not to wonder why he’d said such a thing. It wasn’t something she was allowed to wonder. “Were you going out of doors?” she asked, hoping to avoid the subject of her smile.

  “Yes. You’ll be pleased to know I was following the rules this time.”

  Dora raised her eyebrows in question.

  “‘No walking through the dining room during meal services.’” He imitated Mr. McFarland’s brogue.

  Dora clutched her lip between her teeth to keep from laughing. “You do know there is a door from the kitchen to the south wing hallway?”

  “I did not. And so therefore, I risked freezing to my death by walking through the garden to return to the kitchen,” Mr. James said.

  Just as they reached the end of the hallway, Millie appeared from the staircase. She passed them, grinning at Dora. Dora sighed inwardly. Millie would want to know everything later that evening.

  Mr. James continued talking, as if Millie hadn’t even passed by with that knowing look on her face. “Although, as cold as it is out there, it has nothing on the wind whipping off Lake Michigan.” He looked at her as if he expected her to agree.

  Dora had only heard of Lake Michigan in passing, and if he’d shown her a map, she wouldn’t have even the slightest idea where it was located. She’d chosen Chicago on a whim because she liked the way the name sounded, but she knew nothing at all of the city. She presumed Lake Michigan must be near Chicago, and so she nodded in agreement. That seemed to appease him.

  “I don’t miss the wind at all, I must say. Although my uncle’s business—where I worked when I lived there—was located far enough away I didn’t need to feel it on a regular basis. Did you live near the lake?”