“I just stopped by to tell you I saw Belle earlier this morning, and she said she was coming in later today. She wanted me to pass that along so you wouldn’t go out.”
“Where else would I be? Only at Lavinia’s restaurant,” she said, sliding her gaze over to Mr. Laughlin, who was intently examining a pair of pants. “Do you have time for Mrs. Smith to take a few measurements?” she said.
He stretched out his arms. “The sooner I get these chores finished, the better.”
With deft experience, Elizabeth called out numbers and Emma jotted them on a sheet of paper. She was relieved Elizabeth was the one who had to run the tape over the expanse of his wide shoulders, over and under his arms, around his middle, from the nape of his neck down to his . . .
She jerked her thoughts back on track. In a matter of minutes, Elizabeth was finished.
Mr. Laughlin looked relieved.
“I’ll have three shirts altered to these specifications, Mr. Laughlin,” Emma said, “so there’ll be backup in case you find you need another one anytime soon.” She touched Elizabeth’s arm, knowing her friend could hardly say no to her coming question. “Can you take care of these for me?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I’d be happy to.”
Emma released a deep breath. “Wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Laughlin said. “And whoever I hire, I’ll send in for matching garments.” He paused for a moment. His gaze traced to Elizabeth and then back to Emma. “And I’d be pleased if you called me Rhett. If that’s proper by now. I feel we’ve become friends. We have the same ambitions.”
Emma didn’t have to look at Elizabeth to feel her questioning stare. Emma wasn’t choosing Rhett’s side over her sister’s, but that’s the way her actions would look.
“Thank you, Mr., ah, Rhett. And you may call me Emma, if you choose. We’re both business owners in Eden. It’s only right. If I find someone I think is suitable as an employee for you, I’ll send him or her down to your place.”
And hope I’m not in hot water with my sister.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Damn. Clint Dawson opened the third installment of the Brinkman sisters’ saga in the tattered San Francisco Daily Call, uneasy under the watchful eye of Rhetten Laughlin, who was observing with one shoulder against the wall. Clint wasn’t a deft reader. He hated feeling weak about anything—especially in front of the newcomer who had captured Cash’s interest. The man was practically all Cash talked about from the moment his son got home from the livery in the afternoon to the time he left in the morning to go to work. Him or the man’s dog, who now lounged on the small rug in front of the door, sprawled on his side. Laughlin had lived in San Francisco, and from what Cash had found out, he hadn’t been a restaurateur his whole life but wasn’t talking much about his past. Laughlin’s secrecy made him all that much more fascinating to Cash. Nicole, Clint’s much younger half sister, was almost as sick of hearing about the man as he was, if her expressions around the house meant anything at all.
I’m jealous!
Clint glanced up when Rhett straightened and looked out the window.
Finally finished reading, Clint closed the paper and wiped a palm across his moist brow. Feeling at a disadvantage, he stood. “Shocking. The amount of personal information in these pieces is beyond the pale. As far as I know—Henry too—there wasn’t anyone around after the girls arrived who could have ferreted out all this information. To tell you the truth, I’m mystified.” He glanced down at the paper and the name of the reporter.
Harlow Lennington.
“Do you know the reporter?” he asked.
“No.”
“You mentioned that these articles were popular, well read.”
“Extremely,” Laughlin said. “Everyone likes a good rags-to-riches story. It’s almost as if the sisters have followers. When I’d go for a meal, I’d overhear conversations. Women wanted to know more, what they wore, how they spoke, what they thought. Men had only one desire, and that was to marry one—didn’t matter which. The Brinkmans are a huge hit in San Francisco.”
Clint pushed back in his chair. “I don’t get the personal information about their guardians. How someone could have known about them. How they treated the girls as servants as soon as they were old enough to be of use. Even some personal conversations. Doesn’t make any sense. Unless some of what’s written is fiction.” He struggled to get a breath of air, thinking how Mavis would be affected. For two months she’d been working a few hours a week for him in his office. Keeping the filing straight, writing reports, and all the other chores he didn’t like to do. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t smitten, always counting the hours until she’d show up. They’d talk, laugh, and maybe a bit more, if you could call long, heartfelt gazes anything. He didn’t want to see her, or any of the sisters, be hurt by these articles. He’d hoped the articles would enlighten him as to why Mavis always wore gloves, whether it was propriety or something else—but, sadly, the writings hadn’t said.
“Could be this”—he looked again at the byline under the headline—“Harlow Lennington is lying. Embellishing the truth to sell the articles. Fabricating something that he knew would titillate.”
Belle’s birthday letter, and what John told her about her being nursed by an Indian woman . . . Who would have so much information? Henry, Blake, the girls themselves—no one he could see gaining anything from exposing their private lives. Their former guardians, the Crowdaires, were out there somewhere, but they wouldn’t know the details of the girls’ lives in Eden. So who’s up to such mischief?
When Laughlin chuckled, Clint didn’t know what the man thought was funny. None of this boded well. The girls would have to be told—but not just yet. He imagined Mavis would be furious. Right when everything was going so well for them. Belle’s wedding, Emma and the rest settling in to Eden as if they’d never left eighteen years ago. The contract to inherit the ranch ready to be signed in fifteen days. He didn’t like this turn of events one bit.
“So you can see why I decided to come. I’m not interested in landing a Brinkman, just making a living from the others who are. Have you seen an increase in the town’s numbers?”
Clint hated to admit it, but they had. They’d been happy about Eden growing. That was before they had all the facts. “Yes.” He stood, strode to the window, and looked out. Two cowboys he’d never seen before rode down the street looking around with interest. Those weren’t the first. Almost every day he was being told about a newcomer and going to introduce himself. Available housing around town was at an all-time low, and Katie had seen an increase in orders at her lumber mill. Now he understood why. Surely John hadn’t anticipated this when he’d worked so hard to make the ranch a success, all so his daughters would have something to be proud of when they finally returned to Eden.
“Can I keep these for a few days?” He looked over his shoulder at Laughlin.
“Sure.”
Outside, Blake and Belle rode up to the office hitching rail. The newlyweds make their first appearance in Eden since becoming man and wife. They dismounted and, through the window, Belle nodded and smiled as she tied Strider’s reins. Blake was at her side.
Clint folded the papers and covered them with some old paperwork. He stepped outside, followed by Laughlin.
“You made the ride to town,” Clint said, feeling a bit embarrassed. The sight of Belle’s shy glance took him back years, to the time before Cash, when he and his own young wife had only been married a few days. Clint’s face heated at the memory, and he had to smile wide to keep Blake from guessing at his thoughts.
“We did.” Blake patted his chest and glanced around proudly as if he’d never seen the town before. “Time we get out, see what trouble the town’s got itself into without our guidance.” He laughed and sneaked a look at his new wife.
Belle was uncharacteristically quiet.
Little do you know. “Not much,” Clint said, not ready to burst any bubbles. “You remember Mr. Laughlin?”
Blake thrust out his hand. “Sure we do. Even though we never got a chance to meet on our wedding day.”
They shook a bit violently.
“Mr. Laughlin,” Belle said, holding back approval.
Clint was sure she’d heard everything from her sisters. A simple introduction was not going to win over her support. As asinine as that sounded, Clint was glad.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Harding. Congratulations on your marriage. I’d like to extend an invitation to my place as soon as I open for a free meal.”
“That’s generous,” Blake responded. “We’d be happy to take you up on that. When do you expect to be finished?”
Laughlin let out a deep sigh. “The place needs more work than I originally thought. Just bought some lumber from your sister. She said she’d have the order to me later today. After I begin the work”—Laughlin glanced at him and smiled—“shouldn’t take more than a week.”
All Cash talked about was his hope Laughlin would hire him.
“Roof needs patching as well,” Laughlin went on.
I’ll rue the day Cash is grown if he ever wants to move away. Can’t stop a young man, though. He’ll have his own dreams that won’t include me.
“I’m pushing out one wall a bit.”
“Thinking big,” Blake said. “I like that.”
The building was directly across from his sheriff’s office. There was room to go toward the Old Spanish Trail that ran out front. And on the opposite side toward the mercantile. The man had options. That was a good piece of property.
Belle snagged the newcomer’s gaze. “You’re expecting a lot of customers, Mr. Laughlin.”
Laughlin glanced at Clint, his expression saying a million things. “I am. I think Eden is a diamond in the rough. I’m banking on the fact.”
She tipped her head. “Positive thinking. That’s good for a new business owner.”
Clint liked the fact that Belle wasn’t warming. He lifted one shoulder, feeling the weight of the large chip residing there. He should try to remember that Laughlin hadn’t written those articles himself. He’d actually done them a favor by alerting them to their existence. Now Clint could be watchful for unscrupulous characters hanging around the sisters.
“I ordered some clothing from your other sister at the Toggery an hour ago, and am on my way to the forge and livery to speak with Mrs. Applebee about getting the stove in better working order. I’d hate to have to buy a new one with all these other expenses I wasn’t counting on.” He turned to Clint. “Who’s her man? Maverick Daves, I think? How good is he with metal?”
Her man?
“He can fix it, I’m sure,” Blake responded. “He’s handy. Some men would buck at having a woman to answer to for a livery and forge. He seems to have risen to the challenge.”
Belle blinked up at her husband. “Challenge? You make us sound incompetent, Blake. My sisters are doing a fine job.” She slanted her gaze at Laughlin. “Take Lavinia, for instance. She’s up at four most mornings, dressed and on her way to town. They don’t come more dedicated than that. Don’t you think? The hotel café is busier than ever these days. She’s even looking to hire another girl.”
Blake laughed and slung his arm over Belle’s shoulders. “I only meant in the instances where a man is the usual proprietor. Restaurant work is for wo—” He jerked his gaze away and then said, “Workers who are industrious, man or woman. But I’ve never seen a female in a forge, or a lumber mill, for that matter.”
“Or tannery?” Belle laid her hand on Blake’s chest and smiled prettily. “I guess us women should stay home and raise babies.”
“Now you’re being plain silly. You and your sisters have backbones of steel, and I don’t think there is a thing any one of you couldn’t accomplish once you set your minds to the task. I retract my narrow-minded comment, boys. Don’t listen to a thing I just said.” He smiled and looked between the men. “I sometimes forget I’ve married into a family of five women.”
Belle nodded, satisfied, and Blake added, “Heed my words, Laughlin. You won’t win in a competition. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “And it’s Rhett. I hope you all will consider me a friend.”
Blake smiled, but the veiled suspicion in Belle’s eyes wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
Good, thought Clint. They didn’t know everything about Laughlin. Harlow Lennington wouldn’t be the only person he’d look into. For all they knew, Laughlin could be in cahoots with Lennington, or anyone. Clint’s job was to be suspicious of everyone, especially someone who would be such a presence in Eden.
“You too, Sheriff, please call me Rhett.”
There was an edge to his voice, as if he’d been able to read Clint’s thoughts. If he had, he’d know he’d better watch his steps. Clint wouldn’t put up with anyone who might hurt Mavis in any way.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I just love your quaint little restaurant, Lavinia,” Lara Marsh gushed as she moved around the café kitchen, looking into every nook and cranny. “You’re an accomplished businesswoman, now! That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.”
Lara had gone to the same school as Lavinia and her sisters. Their acquaintance began when the sisters’ guardians, the Crowdaires, moved to a nicer neighborhood. Lara was Belle’s age, but was close friends with all the sisters. She was considered a sixth sister among them all, and at times, could argue as such. They hadn’t had a true goodbye when the sisters left Philadelphia, because everyone had believed they’d be returning in a week, so the reunion had been a delight.
“Thank you, Lara. Sometimes, I’m still amazed myself. Each morning I wake up and wonder what the day will bring.” Like a new café opening across the street. She gave a small laugh to disrupt her runaway thoughts.
“You sound as if you don’t mean that.”
“I do. Not every day a woman is a proprietor at nineteen.”
“Almost twenty,” Lara replied, wagging a finger. “Your birthday is swiftly approaching. I’m so happy I’ll still be here to help celebrate.”
The rectangular kitchen, separated from the dining room by a swinging door, was not much larger than their old bedroom in Philadelphia. Everything one might need was crammed into the small space. The two long counters were a blessing. Working space was one thing they had a lot of. Her stove was reliable and never gave any trouble since the thing had been replaced some five years ago. Karen had many humorous and not-so-humorous stories about the previous appliance, and Lavinia hoped she never experienced any such calamities. A deep sink and water pump under the window took up the end of the kitchen, and trash bins set close to the back door made an easy job of lugging out the waste. There was an additional, much smaller stove on the other side of the room that they lit in the cold winter months to help keep the place warm. Three windows along the back wall gave plenty of light. A mirror for checking one’s appearance was tucked away on the far wall where floor-to-ceiling shelves kept the aprons, tablecloths, and napkins organized after they’d been pressed. Lavinia yearned to feel it was home.
“My dining room is small and somewhat rustic, nothing like the eateries we’re used to in Philadelphia, but, day by day, the place has grown on me. Knowing my father once walked these floors, and touched the same china, linen, and utensils, gives me much comfort.” She lifted a small china creamer, feeling his warmth. It bolstered her happiness. “He and Karen were close friends, from what she tells me. She has many anecdotes about him to share, and she does often.”
Lara turned to face her, one of the café’s flowered teacups in her hands. Tall and willowy, anything she wore looked stylish. She had an easy smile and dark brown eyes that matched her hair. She was soft-spoken, smart as a whip, and funny. Best of all, she was a staunch supporter of the sisters, and if ever there was a disagreement at school, she’d rush to their defense. “That is so nice, Vin,” she replied, using the nickname she’d given Lavinia, saying the four syllable
s of Lavinia were cumbersome on her tongue.
Lavinia hadn’t minded at the time, and actually felt special at being singled out. Lara had that special thing, that allure, that natural magnetism that attracted people like honey did bees. Her appeal wasn’t about being beautiful, although Lavinia thought she was, but more the special look in her eyes. All she had to do was glance your way and the room lit up. The fact that Lara was closer in age to Mavis and Belle meant Lavinia had secretly pined for her attention. Now she had their friend all to herself for the afternoon. The attention felt delightful.
Lavinia, who had been in the café since early morning, felt a bit bedraggled, especially compared with Lara, who was clean and shiny with not a hair out of place. “How was your ride in from the ranch? Did you see anything unusual?”
Lara’s eyes lit with pleasure, and a smile bloomed on her face. “The scenery is just breathtaking, Vin. How could anyone ever tire of seeing those mountains? Or the rushing river, the animals, just the wide-open sky free of soot is amazing. Trevor and KT purposely kept me laughing, I think. The ride was extremely enjoyable. I can see how you’ve fallen headfirst into Eden, never to come up again. I’d never want to return to Philadelphia either, if I were you.”
Lavinia blinked and looked away. She’s right. But I can’t forget about my dream of making hats. That’s been my desire my entire life. I feel steadfast to the vision. I can’t be wishy-washy. “And the buckboard wasn’t too rough?”
“Not at all. The bumpier the better. I can ride a smooth buggy any old day of the week, but a ranch wagon?”
Her brows lifted with delight.
“And Moses came into town as well, correct? Friday is when they usually do their heavy supply run.”
Lara put her hands on the counter and glanced out the back window. “He did. He rode his horse most of the way beside the wagon.” She turned and leaned back. “Just think, a year ago you all were wondering what you would do with your lives. Mavis was a newlywed, and Katie was talking about becoming a teacher.” She wagged her head. “Look at you now. Heiresses, all of you. When I heard the news, I couldn’t have been happier.”
True Heart's Desire (Colorado Hearts Book 2) Page 8
