Hidden Forever

by Cat Cahill

  So much was wrong that Dora wanted nothing more than to throw herself into her friend’s arms and tell her everything. But she couldn’t, at least not until she’d found out the truth. She drew in a deep breath, and said, “I need to know if you are the one who has been stealing from the hotel.”

  Millie’s mouth fell open, but before she could speak, Dora rushed to say more. “If you are, I promise not to say anything to Mr. McFarland or Mrs. Ruby if you return the money, even if that takes time. I only need to know the truth.”

  Millie stood, her face as hard as the mountains that stood outside their window. She closed the ink bottle and didn’t look at Dora.

  “Millie?” Dora pressed, desperation leaking into her voice. “Please, just tell me the truth. The hotel won’t be able to operate much longer if the thefts continue.”

  “I thought you were my friend.” Millie finally looked at Dora, her hands on the back of the desk chair.

  “I am. I will still be your friend, even if—”

  “Even if I’m a thief? How could you think such a thing? What about me ever gave you the idea I might be stealing from the hotel?” Millie burst out.

  Dora wanted to curl in on herself. What had she expected Millie to do? Confess and ask for forgiveness? “You’re the only one . . .” She trailed off, not necessarily wanting Millie to know the true reason she’d been downstairs so late at night. “Both of those nights I ran into you downstairs were nights that money was stolen.”

  “So you immediately assumed I’m the culprit?” Millie had her hands on her hips now. “What about you? How should I know you aren’t the one stealing from the Crest Stone?”

  Dora squeezed her eyes shut. That was exactly what she feared Jake had thought, too. Emotions swirled up inside her, threatening to take over. No. She forced her feelings for Jake back down. Keeping the hotel open was the most important thing right now. “I am not.”

  Millie threw up her hands. “Neither am I!”

  “How come you stopped by the office door that night?” Dora pressed. “Had you lost that key?”

  “Of course not! I told you I’d lost the key to our room when I’d met up with Mr. Graham, which was foolish of me after all. He hasn’t so much as glanced my way since then.” Millie’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, Dora thought she might burst into tears. “I am terrible at choosing the right men. I should know that about myself by now. That’s why I never said anything to you or the others.”

  Dora opened her mouth to try to comfort Millie, but her friend seemed to push her feelings aside and press on. “I’d stopped to search for my key in the hallway that night. That’s all. What else do I need to say to convince you?”

  Dora looked down at her hands. She’d been wrong. She knew this as much as she knew her own heart. She’d found nothing in Millie’s things that had proven she’d taken the money, after all. “I’m so sorry. It’s only that you were the only suspect we had, and I got carried away with hoping I’d be able to put an end to all of this. I didn’t want it to be you, I promise.” She looked up at Millie now, her friend’s arms still crossed. “I’m grateful it isn’t you. I . . . I don’t know how I can make it up to you.” Guilt seeped through her words. What sort of friend suspected one of being a thief, after all? She’d likely ruined her friendship with Millie forever. “I’ll ask Mrs. Ruby if I can move in with Sarah, since she has an extra bed.”

  Millie shook her head with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m still angry with you, but there’s no need for you to move elsewhere.”

  Dora chewed on her lip. She dared not hope Millie might eventually forgive her.

  “What did you mean by ‘we’?”

  Dora’s heart sunk. She hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped and included Jake in her explanation. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Millie’s expression almost looked like Penny’s as she tilted her head and studied Dora. “Yes, you did. Did you mean your gentleman friend? Mr. James?”

  Dora squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about Jake. Not right now.

  “You did.” Millie’s voice had lost some of its cold edge. “You weren’t simply skulking about the hallways so late only to meet up with him, were you?”

  Dora shook her head, still not daring to open her eyes for fear of losing every ounce of control she was desperately clinging to.

  “You were trying to catch the thief.” Millie paused. “I haven’t seen Mr. James lately. Has he been ill?”

  And with that, Dora couldn’t hold back the emotions pressing on her from every side. They burst forth like the spring melt thawed all at once. Tears streamed down her face and great, wracking sobs shook her body. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing with everything she had that she was at home with her mother.

  Arms wrapped around her, and a hand pressed her head to a shoulder. Millie.

  Dora clung to her friend, the one she didn’t deserve. Not after she’d accused her of stealing.

  “Shh.” Millie held her until her sobs eased. And then Dora told her everything, unburdening herself of her feelings for Jake, their investigation and failure to catch the thief, the way Jake had seemed to suspect Dora, his coldness toward her, her suspicion that he might not be who he said he was, and now his disappearance without a word.

  “He’s a coward,” Millie said when Dora finished. “You can’t trust a man with a secret. I should know.”

  She was right, to an extent. After all, Millie’s first beau when she’d come to Crest Stone had turned out to be a conniving, selfish man who’d set the hotel on fire. But Jake was no Mr. Turner. Dora knew that with all her heart.

  “I wish you’d had the opportunity to confront him and ask him for the truth,” Millie said, her arm still around Dora’s shoulders.

  “I couldn’t have,” Dora said, the old fear tingling up her spine. Her secret had always felt as if she was standing on the precipice between this world and the next, the slightest wind able to blow her into a future of nothing.

  “You could. You’re braver than you think you are.”

  “It isn’t that . . .” Dora took a shuddering breath. She needed to tell someone. Someone she could trust. If she could at least completely unburden herself to one person, perhaps she wouldn’t feel the need to hide all the time. She wiped her eyes and twisted to look at her friend. “Millie, tell me, what do you think of the Indians?”

  Millie furrowed her brow, seemingly caught off-guard at Dora’s change of subject. “I . . . Well, I suppose I don’t think anything about them. I’ve never met one. I imagine I’d make up my mind once I did.”

  That was all Dora needed. “You have.” She clenched the bedcovers between her fingers. “I’m of the Ute tribe. My mother is Muache. My father, I’ve heard, was a white man.”

  Millie blinked at her.

  And Dora feared she’d made the greatest mistake of her entire life.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Jacob stood in front of his father, his brother taking up his usual position in the chair to the right. The old man had been railing at him for twenty minutes straight, accusing him of wasting the company’s time and letting money slip through his fingers. Jacob had expected no less. He’d failed in his mission, after all.

  But as the one-sided conversation droned on and on, Jacob found himself caring less and less. Certainly, he still worried that the thief was at large and the hotel was in danger of closing. But as his father accused him of still being a careless college boy, he came to understand a truth that had been slowly awakening inside himself ever since he’d disembarked at the depot.

  He was no entitled young man in search of only the next good time. Not anymore.

  It no longer mattered what his father or his brother or anyone else thought he was, because Jacob himself knew exactly who he was. He had grown measurably since coming to Denver, and even more since spending that short time in Crest Stone. He was more than capable of finding his own way, somehow. And while he regret
ted he hadn’t been able to uncover the thief, he’d made his best effort. And he’d done that with Dora by his side.

  He’d been wrong, thinking she was a distraction. She’d helped him, and he’d cast her aside because he’d made an assumption that he was growing increasingly certain was untrue.

  He needed to be somewhere else, and that somewhere was not in his father’s office in Denver.

  “We cannot coddle you for the rest of your life,” Father was saying, his face as red as a holly berry. “How do you expect to survive once I’m gone? How do you ever expect to support a family of your own?” He paused and frowned. “Are you listening to me, Jacob?”

  Jacob stared at the door. “I need to return.”

  “Return? You’ll return to New York on the next train. I—”

  “No.” Jacob turned now to face Father. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother sit up just a little straighter in his chair. Neither of them had ever told Father no.

  The man placed a hand on his desk and blinked, as if he wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard Jacob correctly. But before he could speak, Jacob plowed on.

  “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how much effort I put into this assignment. Yes, I failed, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.” He shook his head. It was useless defending himself, and after all, what did it matter now? “I no longer care for a place in this company. I don’t know what I’ll do, and perhaps I’ll fail again. But I’ll find my own way. And that starts with returning to Crest Stone. I have some unfinished business I need to take care of there.”

  And with that, he strode to the door. But before he left, he turned quickly back to face his stunned father and brother. “Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of this business. I wish you success.”

  He thought he saw James smile just a bit before he made his way out the door and toward the depot. His future was uncertain, but only one thing mattered right now.

  Dora.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Dora felt as if she were one of the Sangre de Cristo peaks, waking up in the spring to find the snow melting away. Ever since telling Millie about her family and her true identity, she’d felt lighter and somehow less burdened, even though she still kept her secret from everyone else.

  Jake was gone. It pinched at her heart that he’d left so suddenly and without a word to her. She wished she could do everything all over again. If she had a second chance, she’d confess to him the way she had to Millie. Whether or not he accepted her, she doubted he would have told the McFarlands or Mrs. Ruby. Perhaps then she’d have asked him for the same, and he’d have told her whatever secret he was hiding. Because it was clear as the icicles that hung from the hotel roof that he’d also kept something from her. And then, if they’d needed to part, at least they could have done so with clear consciences.

  Dora tried not to dwell too much on the regret that it hadn’t ended in that way. She couldn’t go back and fix it; she needed to accept that it was over and he would not be returning. Her priority was her work—and finding the thief. She refused to give up on the hotel.

  Dora mulled over ideas as she worked, relaying the best ones to Millie. But so far, nothing they had come up with had been very good. She set down the stack of dirty linens she carried, piling them into a basket for the hotel maids to wash, then brushed back a strand of hair with the back of her arm before returning to the dining room.

  A few guests still sat at tables, finishing dinner or having cake and coffee. It was going on eight thirty, and all of Dora’s tables had emptied.

  “Dora!” Mrs. Ruby bustled up to her from one of the nearby serving stations. “Since your tables are cleared, I’m hoping you can do me a favor.”

  “Of course. What do you need?” Dora said, even though she wished to be dismissed instead. It had been a long, hard day, and all she cared to do right now was tumble into her bed for a good night’s sleep.

  “Edie is upstairs abed with fever. Could you take a small tray to Mrs. McFarland with coffee and a slice of cake?”

  Dora nodded. It was Edie’s usual nightly chore, as Mrs. McFarland’s recipes were often used for dessert in the dining room and she liked to ensure they’d turned out well.

  Dora returned to the kitchen for a tray and a slice of cake, then stopped at a station on her way back through the dining room for hot coffee and milk in a delicate china cup. She carried the tray carefully through the lobby, forcing herself not to glance at the front desk. It had become a bad habit, looking to see if Jake had miraculously reappeared. It was high time she faced reality and stopped wishing for things that would not happen. And she almost succeeded.

  She had just reached the stairs when her head seemed to turn of its own accord. Of course, he wasn’t there. Dora sighed, partly from disappointment and partly from irritation with herself. She’d do better next time and not look at all.

  She passed a couple of the hotel maids and a few guests returning to their rooms as she walked down the hall to the hotel office. She knocked lightly on the door, hoping she wasn’t disturbing the McFarlands’ work. “It’s Dora, with your cake and coffee.”

  “One moment, please,” Mrs. McFarland’s voice said through the closed door.

  Dora shifted the weight of the tray in her hands, eager to finish this chore and get to her room for the night.

  The door’s lock clicked from the other side, and then it opened to Mrs. McFarland, whose face was drawn and whose strawberry-blonde hair looked lank instead if its usual vibrant color.

  “Pardon me, Mrs. McFarland, but are you well?” Dora stepped inside.

  “Oh, yes. I am. It’s simply all this mess with the missing money. Michael insists I keep the door locked when I’m in here alone. I believe he’s afraid the thief might force his way in to get to the safe. It’s a lot to handle.” She drew her hands across her face and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dora. I don’t mean to worry you about it. Where is Edie this evening?”

  “I’m afraid she’s fallen ill.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a delightful girl, if a bit on the skittish side. Thank you for bringing me the cake. That’s one of Michael’s favorite recipes. You can set it down on my desk.” She pointed to the light wood desk to the right of the door, the one that was delicately carved and covered with stacks of paper . . . and money.

  Dora swallowed hard as she took in how much was likely sitting on the desk. It had to be hundreds of dollars, the bills stacked and some neatly bound in various denominations.

  “I fear you’ve caught me in the middle of settling our accounts. It’s always something in a place like this.” She glanced at the stacks of money and paper, worry creasing lines on her face.

  “Do you—” Dora paused and took a breath, her heart thumping hard inside her chest as a new idea began to form in her head. “Do you settle accounts every night?” The question felt intrusive the second it was out of her mouth, so she added, “It seems like a lot of work.”

  Mrs. McFarland smiled. “Oh, it is. And no, thankfully. I’d like to make payments only once a week, but it’s often more frequent that that. There’s always someone to be paid for supplies, food, work. I don’t mind it—I enjoy keeping the books, after all . . .” She trailed off before shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Thank you for the dessert, dear. It’s getting late. I do hope Mrs. Ruby is done with you for the evening.” She held the door open for Dora.

  “Oh, I imagine she is,” Dora said, even though her mind was elsewhere. She cast a quick glance around the room before stepping toward the door. All else looked to be in place, Mr. McFarland’s desk neat and tidy, the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the safe . . . The safe was wide open.

  Dora rushed to the door and bade Mrs. McFarland good night. The lock clicked behind her, but Dora barely heard it. She walked as quickly as possible back to the dining room, her mind racing faster than her legs.

  They’d been wrong. The money hadn’t been stolen when everyone was a
sleep.

  It had been stolen right under Mrs. McFarland’s watch.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Jacob emerged from the train car into the bright winter sun. He blinked and shielded his eyes in the noon sun as he stood on the small platform. Other passengers disembarked around him, some moving toward the carriages waiting to drive them up the hill to the hotel and restaurant, and others walking that same direction on foot through the snow.

  He had neither the time nor the patience for a carriage, especially for such a short distance. A small case clutched in his hand, he made his way up the hill, quickly passing most of the other passengers who moved at a more leisurely pace.

  Once inside the hotel, he paused. He hadn’t expected this strange feeling—this feeling of returning home—at all. But there it was, reaching through him like a long-forgotten memory. The imposing and yet somehow comfortable hotel lobby seemed the place he was meant to be. He tried to clear his head as a few other passengers entered behind him and moved toward the dining room and the lunch counter for the noon meal.

  Jacob hadn’t planned much beyond simply returning to Crest Stone. And while he’d certainly run every scenario of his reunion with Dora through his head multiple times, he hadn’t thought through where he would find her. So, he followed the other passengers, figuring chances were good that she was serving lunch.

  Inside the dining room, he paused to scan the room for her. Girls in gray dresses and white aprons scurried here and there, and it took a moment before he laid eyes on Dora at the far end of the room. He quickly made his way toward her section of tables and found an open one near the wall. He sat and waited.

  But his first visitor was not Dora. Instead, a man about his own age had come bustling across the room, half out of breath, and stood before the table. “Pardon me, sir,” he said, adjusting a vest that seemed to enjoy riding up his round stomach. “But would you mind terribly if I joined you for this meal?”