by Cat Cahill
Both Caroline and Penny shook their heads.
“My brother befriended the son of a fruit seller when we were children. It was allowed until he was about twelve, and then Father put an end to it,” Caroline said.
“My friends were all of the same station,” Penny added. She wrinkled her brow. “And when Mama and I fell on difficult times, we accepted some help from the church, but they certainly didn’t have enough to give everyone all they needed when they needed it. It was helpful, but it was hardly the answer to improving our situation. That only came with me leaving to work here.”
Dora twisted her hands together in her lap. Penny and Caroline had confirmed her suspicions. “I fear that Jake isn’t who he says he is.”
“Then who is he?” Caroline asked.
“Perhaps he’s a European prince in disguise,” Penny said, her eyes wide. “Come to live among the common folk.”
“He has no accent,” Caroline said. “Your imagination has taken off with you.”
“Or maybe he’s the son of a disgraced politician,” Penny said, ignoring Caroline. “Forced to make a life for himself after the downfall of his family. That’s quite tragic, don’t you think?”
She was so earnest that Dora couldn’t help but laugh just a little. It felt good, sitting here with her friends, even though her life had gone topsy-turvy. But there was something about what Penny had said that actually made sense. Given the reason Jake had said he was here, perhaps he was forced to pretend to be someone he was not. If that was the case, though, why hadn’t he told her? The thought riled up her anger all over again, even as a tiny voice reminded her she’d done the exact same thing to him.
“Dora,” Caroline said, rising from her chair and resettling herself on Adelaide’s bed across from Penny’s. “Why don’t you simply ask him?”
The very idea curled up like a ball in Dora’s stomach, weighing her down. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Penny asked. “You deserve to know the truth.”
Did she? Especially if she was equally culpable? She couldn’t reciprocate, after all. Not only would he most certainly suspect her of stealing the money after that, he might tell Mrs. Ruby and the McFarlands, and then she’d be cast out of her job here. And what if his opinion of her changed even more than it seemingly already had?
Dora covered her face with her hands. It was all too much. And yet if they’d gone on with . . . whatever it was they had together, when would she have told him the truth? Never?
The horrible guilt that constantly sat inside—the one that reminded her now and then that she was a terrible person for denying her own family—came raging up like fire in the dry season. Dora bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
“Dora?” Penny wrapped an arm around her. “Are you all right?”
Dora shook her head, her face still in her hands.
“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Caroline asked. She was on the floor now, her hand resting on Dora’s knee.
Dora took a great, gulping breath, pulling her hands away. She forced herself to continue breathing as normally as possible. “I can’t ask him.”
Caroline looked at Penny, who finally asked, “Why not?”
“I simply can’t. Because if he knew . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The fear of losing her friends was too great. Penny and Caroline couldn’t help who they were. They’d likely been raised to think ill of her people. And while it would feel marvelous to finally confess her true identity, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing their friendship. And if she couldn’t tell them, how could she possibly tell Jake?
“Knew what?” Caroline prodded.
But Dora straightened her back and forced herself to give Caroline a slight smile. “Nothing. Please, I don’t wish to talk about Jake any longer. I’d much rather hear about Penny’s wedding.”
“All right . . .” Penny said uncertainly as she exchanged glances with Caroline again.
And as Penny spoke, Dora half listened. She was realizing the only cure for keeping Jake from her mind and retaining her work at the hotel was to locate the thief. She could conduct her own investigation, only involving him in the most cursory way. If she put all her effort into that, instead of letting her mind go round and round about Jake, she might just be able to save the hotel.
She just wasn’t certain if she could save her heart.
Chapter Twenty-two
The mountains rose sharply to the west outside Jake’s window, arching toward the sky and glittering in the late afternoon sun under a pristine coat of snow. They were likely an hour or so outside of Denver, and his mind hadn’t stopped working since he’d left Crest Stone the evening before. Even his sleep in a hotel in Cañon City last night had been punctuated by dreams of Dora, facing his father, and returning home to live with his mother in New York. It was a bleak future, and not one he relished beginning any time soon.
The train rocked and swayed beneath him as it made its way north. He’d hoped it would lull him into sleep this morning, but he hadn’t been so lucky. It was impossible for his body to rest when his mind wouldn’t.
He focused on the unchanging peaks out the window, wondering what Dora was doing at this moment. Perhaps she was serving lunch to hotel guests. It was long past noon, so the train to Santa Fe would have already left the depot in Crest Stone. Had she noticed he was gone?
He’d only seen her from a distance yesterday before he left. She’d glanced his way a couple of times but didn’t acknowledge him. Her stony looks felt like they’d turned his own heart into rock. He kept telling himself it was inevitable, especially now that the investigation was over and he was leaving. What would he have done? Brought her with him into a life that was now filled with uncertainty?
Besides, she might be the thief.
No, he was better off leaving her behind and figuring out how to begin his life anew.
“Pardon me, could I trouble you for a match?” The man seated across the aisle now stood next to Jacob. He held an unlit cigar in his hand.
Jacob felt around his pockets until he found one and handed it to the man.
“My thanks,” he said, as soon as he’d lit the cigar. He puffed on the end of it a few times before sitting down again. “Fine morning for a ride up the rails, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Jacob agreed. He didn’t feel much like conversing, but perhaps this was what he needed to stop thinking about Dora. “What’s your business in Denver?”
The man grinned at him around the cigar. “I’m fetching my wife. She’s not my wife yet, but we’ll be married later today or tomorrow. And then returning home with her.”
“Congratulations,” Jacob said, wishing he’d never asked. But now curiosity had the best of him, and he asked, “Have you been engaged long?”
The man laughed this time, a hearty chuckle loud enough for every person in their car to hear. “Oh, no. I ordered her, you see.”
“Ordered her?”
“By mail. I wrote away to an agency back East that finds suitable women to marry men here in the Territory. And elsewhere, I suppose.”
Jacob nodded, trying not to show his surprise that anyone would do such a thing. He’d heard of such services, but had never met anyone who’d used one. The possibilities for something to go wrong seemed great, and yet it made some amount of sense, particularly in a place like the Colorado Territory, where women were few and far between. He wondered what Dora would think of it.
The man was looking him up and down now. “I don’t know what sort of business you’re in, but if you’re in need of a wife, you should order one too.”
“I’m in the hotel business, and I’m not in need of a wife,” Jacob said immediately.
“Ah, got someone you’re sweet on already,” the man said knowingly. “Is she here or back East?”
“Here,” Jacob said before realizing the word was out of his mouth. “I mean, there’s no woman.” He was likely no longer in the hotel business either, but he didn’t particularly
feel like sharing that bit of information with a stranger.
With that the man sat back, studying Jacob thoroughly now. Thankfully, he was too polite to ask more questions. “I’ll tell you, I’ve spent years in the mining business. Started it myself, from a lucky find outside Cripple Creek. Bane of my father’s existence. He’d hoped I’d fail and return to Charleston, my tail between my legs. Instead, I’ve got a business that rivals his in profit now. But I digress. I had a girl for a while in Denver, but she grew tired of seeing me only once every few months. And I was too preoccupied with my mines to realize that. She married another man, and I thought it didn’t bother me. Until about a month ago, when I sat down to a cold, stale dinner, all alone. Then it hit me how stupid I’d been.” He laughed before taking another puff of his cigar. “Don’t be like me. If there is a girl, don’t let her get away. And if there isn’t, well, order yourself one.”
Jacob didn’t know what to say to all of that. The man unfolded a newspaper and began reading, seemingly finished with conversation, and Jacob turned back to the window.
Was he being foolish, like the man said? Dora met new men every day, and although she wasn’t allowed to be courted, what was to stop one of them from capturing her heart anyway? The very thought made his fists clench.
But he couldn’t marry a thief, especially one who stole from his family’s own company. If he wanted to marry her, that is. And if he did, how would he support her? His father would probably still let him work in the office. Chief File Boy and Errand Runner. He couldn’t continue like that. He already knew he’d need to strike out on his own, somehow. And how could he do that with a wife in tow? Not to mention, Dora was hardly of his same station. That didn’t bother him at all, but what would his father think? He might not care; he was rather accepting of such things—at least when they were done outside of his own family. But why did Jacob care what his father thought, especially now that he was likely never going to move up in the company?
He glanced across the way at the man with the cigar. Jacob pegged him to be only about ten years his senior. He’d been so intent on his new business that he’d let the woman he loved slip through his fingers. Jacob rubbed his hand across his face, and tried—in vain—not to imagine himself in the same position. And there was something else . . . Not in what the man had said, but something entirely different that had been bothering him for a few days now.
It wasn’t in what his father might think, or in Jacob’s plans for the future. It had nothing to do with his family at all. It was Dora, that much he could figure out. But what?
He let his mind wander as the train slowed just outside of Denver. And as the whistle blew, he grabbed hold of the bothersome thought.
Dora was hardly of his same station. Yes, but he knew that. He’d pretended to be a working-class policeman’s son in Crest Stone. And she was . . . what, exactly? She’d never told him. She spoke little of Chicago, and now that he traced back through their conversations, it became clear she had only agreed with him about favorite places in the city or certain landmarks. She’d never once mentioned one herself. Except the lake, but everyone knew the city was on the lake.
She wasn’t from Chicago.
The realization was like a twig catching fire. If she wasn’t from Chicago, then why would she pretend to be? It fit in perfectly with his suspicion that she was the thief, except it could also mean something else entirely. It was obvious now that she was keeping some kind of secret. But whether it was that she was stealing money from the hotel, or something else entirely that made him think she was the thief because that was the closest and easiest answer . . . that was unclear.
He didn’t know what Dora’s secret was, but he needed to find out. He had to talk to her and ask her directly for the truth. And, he admitted to himself, he needed to tell her the truth about himself too. He couldn’t expect her to be honest with him if he didn’t afford her the same courtesy.
But first, he had to face his father.
Chapter Twenty-three
Dora hadn’t seen Jake at the front desk for days now. She hadn’t wanted to ask anyone where he was for fear of giving away the fact that she’d spent so much time with him. But the not knowing was constantly worrying her. Was he ill? Had he given up the investigation and abandoned his position? Had he—she didn’t want to think this, but had to acknowledge the possibility—returned to Chicago?
There had been no word of more money going missing in the past few days, and for that, Dora was thankful. She only wished she knew what had happened to Jake.
After finishing the dinner service one evening, she felt as if she couldn’t take the not knowing any longer. Her gaze was drawn, as usual, toward the front desk as she passed it with Penny and Adelaide.
Penny squeezed her arm. “Why don’t you go ask Mr. Peterson?”
Dora glanced back at her friend, who smiled in return.
“At least then you’ll know,” Penny added. Adelaide wrinkled her brow, looking back and forth between them.
Dora drew a deep breath and took a step toward the desk—then stopped. What would Mr. Peterson think of her for asking about Jake? Which was worse—not knowing or having Mr. Peterson think ill of her? She straightened and pushed her shoulders back. She needed to know.
“Good evening, Mr. Peterson,” she said when she reached the desk. Thankfully, it was late, and no hotel guests were nearby. She wrapped her hands around the edge of the desk to keep them from shaking.
He gave her a tired but friendly smile. “Good evening, Miss Reynolds. What can I do for you?”
Dora swallowed, then forced herself to speak. “I’m hoping you might know what has become of Mr. James. I—well . . . We, I mean, the girls and I—” She gestured at Penny and Adelaide. “We’ve worried he’s fallen ill and wondered if he might need anything.” The last words flew out of her mouth in a rush, and Dora held on to the edge of the desk even tighter.
Mr. Peterson gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry to tell you Mr. James has left his position here at the hotel. I believe he may have returned home. He said he had a family affair to tend to.”
“Oh.” Dora forced herself to nod and thank the man before walking back to her friends. It felt as if she’d been drained of everything that gave her life, and all she was now was a walking shadow.
Penny took her arm and guided her to the stairs, Adelaide hurrying behind them. Not until they’d reached the top of the stairs, far from prying eyes, did she speak. “It isn’t good news, I take it? Are you all right?”
Dora kept all her attention on Penny’s words and Penny’s hand around her arm. If she let her mind wander—if she thought about the meaning behind the words Mr. Peterson had spoken to her—she would fall apart. “I am fine,” she said carefully, although she wasn’t entirely certain she was. “Mr. James has returned to Chicago to tend to his family.”
They’d reached Dora’s room, and Penny stopped. “Why don’t you come sit with me and Adelaide for a while?”
“I’m fine, I promise you.” Dora even gave Penny a little smile. “All I need right now is a good night of sleep.”
Penny narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, Dora feared Penny could see the thoughts she was hiding. “All right,” Penny finally said. “But if you need anything at all, we’re just down the hallway.”
Adelaide nodded. Even though Dora hadn’t told her everything she’d shared with Penny and Caroline, Adelaide clearly suspected Dora had feelings for Jake.
Dora said good night to her friends, and then faced her door. Millie was likely inside, either getting ready to sleep or possibly already asleep. Dora needed to keep her feelings about Jake’s departure to herself, at least until she discovered whether Millie was the thief.
She turned the knob and stepped inside. A lamp burned brightly on the desk, where Millie sat in her nightclothes, penning what Dora guessed to be a letter. Shadows cast from the lamp’s light danced around the small but cozy room, and all Dora could think at that very moment was how mu
ch she loved living in this room at this hotel. She’d never had a home without her family before, and had feared she’d never be comfortable in a place without them. But even though she missed her mother and everyone else, she felt at home here.
A great sob rose in her chest as she thought about the hotel possibly closing. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t. Even if Jake had given up, Dora would not. She forced down the overwhelming urge to throw herself onto the bed and cry, and instead, fixed her gaze on Millie.
“How was the dinner service?” Millie asked as she dipped her pen into a bottle of ink.
“It went well,” Dora replied. She walked toward Millie and took a seat at the foot of her bed, which abutted the desk. She smoothed her skirts and tried to summon the courage she knew she’d need for what she was about to say next.
“Did Adelaide finally manage to clear her tables in a decent amount of time?” Millie asked. Adelaide had taken to being a Gilbert Girl quickly, but she adored talking with her guests more than anything else and had immediately become the one waitress at dinner who still had tables filled with guests after nine o’clock, when every other girl had already seen her guests out and cleared her tables.
“Not yet,” Dora said. “But she’s at least finally understood that the train passengers can’t linger.” Dora clasped her hands in her lap. “Millie? May I ask you a question?”
Millie paused in her writing and laid her pen down. “Of course you may.” She looked Dora up and down, her red curls escaping the braid she’d attempted to tame them into for the night. “Is something wrong?”