“I wanted your advice about the fishing expedition this afternoon.”
John smiled. “Just take them to Deadhorse Creek. The salmon are starting to run, and they will be so stacked in there that no one should have a problem catching at least one.”
“Yes, sir. I knew you would know exactly where to go.” He looked down at the envelope in his hand.
“Something bothering you, Allan?”
His head shot up. Just like Dad. The man could read him. “Well, yes, sir. As a matter of fact there is.”
“Since I’ve got nothing else to do, would you like a listening ear?”
Allan looked at John and then at Cassidy. Compassion shone in both their eyes. They really cared about him. The thought struck him. He didn’t deserve their friendship, but he was thankful for it. He nodded. “I would appreciate your insight, John.” He pulled the telegram out and handed it over.
John read it and sighed. “Not the news you wanted to hear.” He handed the paper back.
“No, sir.”
“Do you trust Louis? He’s your brother-in-law, correct?”
“Yes, sir. On both accounts. And my father loved Louis. Knew he could rely on him for anything. He’s always been honest to a fault.”
Cassidy leaned forward. “Is this something about your father’s company?”
Allan nodded. “Yes, and it’s my company now—along with Frank. My eldest sister, Ada, and her husband, Stanley Meyers, helped out a lot while I was at war. But Stanley’s family owns a grocery business, and a few years ago it came time for Stanley to step up into his role there managing the stores. Anna is married to Louis and he’s worked at Brennan/Irving for years. Dad trusted all of them implicitly. Louis is a good man. But I haven’t really taken ownership like I should have. I guess I was grieving the loss of my father too much and just left Frank to do what he pleased.” He handed the telegram to Cassidy.
She read it. “Oh my.” She turned to her father. “Frank is the other man from the expedition, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” John frowned and shifted a bit on his bed. He closed his eyes and grimaced. “Sorry, gotta get used to the pain.”
Cassidy stood and leaned over her father. She looked at Allan and then back at John. “Don’t you think he deserves to know your insight?”
Allan puzzled over that statement. He leaned toward John. “Yes, please, John. Tell me.”
“I’m not one to tarnish a man’s reputation. Especially since I know how being wrongly judged feels.” His eyes opened and he fixed his gaze on Allan. “I don’t want to cause problems where none should exist.”
“I know that, sir. But if there’s something you know that could give me guidance here, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
John shook his head. “I don’t really know anything. It’s just a gut instinct.”
“I’d still like to hear it.”
“I never felt like I could trust Frank on that mountain. And that frightened me. There was something . . . shifty about him that I couldn’t put my finger on.” John breathed heavily. “Completely different than your father. I would have put my life in Henry’s hands and felt totally comfortable.”
“But you didn’t feel that way about Frank?” Allan pressed.
“No. I’m sorry to say.” John held a hand up. “Now, I’m not saying that I saw him do anything wrong. He just always went for the easy way out. I’d ask him to do things—important things—and he’d only do them halfway. He always seemed distracted, like he was deep in his own little world. I got the feeling the most important person in Frank Irving’s world was Frank Irving. Seemed like a weasel to me, to be honest. Always manipulating things. But your father trusted him.”
Allan stood up and walked over to the window. “Frank is definitely a manipulator. We all know that. And he likes to have his way. But Dad always had a system with him. Could handle him.” He turned back to John and Cassidy. “As to the trust. Well, that goes back to when they were kids. Dad fell out of a tree and broke his arm. Frank gave Dad his coat and ran all the way home to get help.” He thought about it for a minute. “You know, Frank was the whiner, the doubter, while Dad was the positive, always optimistic dreamer. Whenever Frank would get down and needed affirmation, Dad would always remind him of that good deed he did. Almost like he knew Frank needed the encouragement to stay on the up and up.”
“Sounds like Henry.” John nodded. “Your father was encouraging him every step up the mountain. I doubt Frank would have made the summit if not for your father’s determination to see him there.”
“So now I need to ask for your advice. What do you think I should do?”
John and Cassidy looked at each other. Then John spoke. “Well, I think you need to follow your own gut. And if you have full trust in Louis and know he wouldn’t contact you unless he absolutely had to, then you need to find out what’s going on. The only caution I have is that Frank is a smart cookie. He probably already has a plan.” His mentor sighed. “It could just be that Frank never recovered from Henry’s death. People do strange things when they’ve lost someone they love.”
Allan clenched his jaw. But he had a feeling Frank knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe had been all along. “I’ll see to it after the fishing trip.”
He got up, then remembered what he wanted to say to John, and decided to forge ahead even with Cassidy in the room. He opened his mouth to share his heart just as Mr. Bradley bustled into the room.
“I’ve come to see our patient.”
“As you can see I’m on the mend,” John announced.
Allan slipped from the room. There would be another time.
The fishing trip only took two hours because the men were so excited to catch so many fish, they couldn’t wait to get them all back to the hotel. One man even pulled out two with his bare hands.
But even the cheers and pats on the back couldn’t rid Allan of the black cloud he felt covered him. He didn’t want to think Frank could turn his back on the Brennan family, but maybe that is what happened. Maybe he had turned on them that day back in 1917 when his father was lost on the mountain. Maybe he was the reason his father died. It was a terrible thing to consider, but after listening to John, Allan knew he had no other choice. Frank very well could have the answers that Allan needed.
As he stowed the fishing gear in the shed, Allan thought through his response to Louis. How should he advise his brother-in-law?
Maybe he just needed to return home. But would that solve anything? It’s not like he’d been highly involved in the business at any point of his life. But how could he leave now? John needed him.
Shutting the door, he realized he just wanted to talk to John again.
Thomas rounded the corner. “Mr. Brennan, there’s a telegram for you.”
Another one? “Thank you, Thomas. Did it just arrive?”
“Yes, sir.”
Allan watched him run back to the main building. The young man’s eagerness to please was apparent. It’d been a decade since Allan was that age, but he couldn’t imagine going through those tough years without parents. It was hard enough to not have his dad now, and he was twenty-eight.
He opened the envelope and read the second telegram for that day.
4 August 1923Received letter (stop)Anxious for you to be a part of your father’s legacy (stop)Sad news to report (stop) Louis embezzling (stop)Fired him today (stop)No other way (stop)Frank
Fury burned in his gut. None of it added up, and Allan would find out the truth. No matter what.
He marched straight to the front desk. “I need to send a couple of telegrams.”
“Certainly, Mr. Brennan.” Mr. Clark, the railroad clerk, stood behind the desk and passed two slips of paper and a pencil toward him. “Write them out here, and I’ll get them out straightaway.”
“Thank you.”
He penned the first one to his mother’s brother—an accountant.
4 August 1923In need of your assistance (stop)Embezzling at Brennan/Irvin
g (stop)Need an audit of company books (stop)Rush (stop)Allan Brennan
The second one, he took a bit more care writing. Frank needed to know that Allan was serious about taking on a more substantial role, and that he wouldn’t be taking Frank’s word as truth. Not anymore.
16
Thomas watched for Cassidy down the hallway. She had to be coming out soon. Mrs. Johnson would have his hide if he didn’t get back to the kitchen, and he didn’t want to risk her anger just when she’d finally agreed to let him work for her full-time again.
But he wanted to be there for Cassidy. She was the only one who smiled and encouraged him no matter what blunder he made. Not only that, but she made him feel special, and no other girl had ever done that.
He brushed a dirt smudge off his pants and propped his foot up against the wall behind him. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but every time he tried it felt like he had a mouth full of cotton. If only he could talk to someone and get advice on how to court a lady. The only one he could talk to, though, was Mr. Ivanoff, and he was Cassidy’s father. So that made the situation impossible.
A door closed and it brought his attention up. There she was.
Carrying a tray, she blew a strand of hair out of her face.
He raced toward her, doing his best not to get his feet tangled. “Here. Let me take that for you, Miss Cassidy.”
“Why, thank you, Thomas.” She handed him the tray and smoothed her hair back with her hands. “My hair was making my nose itch and I best get it back under control before we reach the kitchen. There’s lots of food to prepare, and I don’t think the guests would like my hair to be in it.”
They laughed together as they walked. She always could make him laugh. That was one of his favorite things about Cassidy. It didn’t hurt that she was so pretty. He loved her dark eyes and hair. He didn’t even think he’d mind if her hair got in his food.
“Uhh . . . how’s your . . . dad doing?”
“A little better. He makes a poor patient. He wants to be up and back to work. It’s hard on him not being able to do what he loves.”
“At least he knows what he loves.” Thomas felt his face flush and hurried to change the subject. “I know the guests have asked about him.”
“I know. I’ve had several ask me as well. He’s definitely missed.”
She worked on winding her hair around and around, and Thomas forgot what he was going to say and just stared. Was her hair as soft as it looked? When they reached the kitchen, he was so fascinated with the knot she’d made at the back of her head that he must not have been paying attention, because all of a sudden, she turned around.
“Thomas, I—”
Too late he realized his mistake and the tray slammed into the front of Cassidy. The rest of Mr. Ivanoff’s soup and fruit now covered the front of Cassidy’s apron and dripped off her face.
Allan knocked on John’s door.
“Come in.”
He turned the knob and entered the room where his boss was recuperating. “Sorry to bother you, John.”
“Not at all.”
“I was hoping you might have a few minutes to talk.”
John pushed up with his fists. “No matter how hard I try, I keep sinking down into this bed.”
“Here, let me help.” Allan moved forward and lifted a pillow up while John situated himself.
“I didn’t realize how sore my muscles would be.” John rubbed his midsection.
“That mama landed quite a kick, so you better follow the doctor’s orders.”
He took a sip of water. “All right, now what can I help with?”
“It’s Thomas.”
John raised his eyebrows.
“I just came from a meeting with Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Bradley. Apparently, he had another clumsy moment and spilled a tray all over Cassidy. So Mr. Bradley thought he should assign Thomas to me, since you are laid up and I could use the help.”
John chuckled. “Go on.”
“Well, last time you took him on when Mrs. Johnson had had enough of him, and while we weren’t without mishap, he did do so much better for you. That’s why I need your advice. I don’t want to lose my patience with him.”
“Ah, I understand.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“How did you do it?”
His mentor looked out the window and then smiled at him. “You might not like hearing this, but I try to look at Thomas like God looks at me.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” He scratched his head. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“It means that I know I’m a messed-up sinner. I make lots and lots of mistakes. And yet God loves me so much, He looks past all of that and sees what I am underneath—washed clean. Without any of those mistakes.”
“I’m not sure you’ve hit on all sixes today, John. Has that medic given you some medication that’s made you a bit . . .” He lifted his eyebrows and wiggled them.
John laughed. “Oh, don’t do that. Don’t make me laugh, that hurts too much.” He patted his middle again. “No, this isn’t any medication talking. It’s just plain ol’ truth. The point is, how dare I think that I’m better than anyone else? No matter if I’m clumsy or beautiful and graceful, no matter the color of my skin or where I was raised. No matter if I have lots of money, or if I have none. God loves us all. Exactly the same. Not one of us can earn our way into heaven.”
“I remember hearing my dad say the same thing. But how do you not get frustrated with him?”
John smiled. “With God or with Thomas?”
Allan shook his head and couldn’t help but smile. John seemed to be able to read his mind. “Well, both, but for now—Thomas. It’s hard to have patience when someone is making another mess while you’re still busy trying to clean up the last one.”
“We make a mess of things from time to time. When I err, when I make a mess of things, I want to be forgiven. I figure others feel the same way.”
The words hit Allan and he knew he could no longer avoid the topic of forgiveness. Not that he even wanted to.
“John . . . I’ve been wrong to hold Dad’s death against you.” He looked down at his hands, uncertain he could continue. “I was . . . angry. When I heard about Dad, I was angrier than I’d ever been. I was angry that the war had kept me from going with him on the climb. I was angry that you had somehow failed to keep him alive, and I was angry at God for taking Dad away from me.”
When John said nothing, Allan forced himself to look up. There were tears in John’s eyes. “I want to do the right thing regarding my family and the business, but I’m almost afraid that what I’ll uncover will be worse than what I ever imagined.” Allan drew in a deep breath. “But I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible for anything that happened. And . . . I hope that you’ll forgive me.”
John smiled and wiped at his tears. “Son, you’ve always had my forgiveness.”
“I appreciate that—even if I don’t deserve it.”
Allan got to his feet, but John wasn’t finished with him. “You know, you’ve got God’s forgiveness too. You just need to seek it.”
Allan looked past John to the open window. This man was so full of knowledge. Just like his father. And he missed his father. More than he could even say. But John was asking for more than Allan could give. He was asking for Allan to say it was okay for God to take away his father. And to admit that he couldn’t handle any of this on his own. Ever since coming home from the war, he’d done a pretty good job of taking care of himself—at least he’d built a pretty good fortress to hide inside.
He drew a deep breath and let it go. “I know.”
So young Allan Brennan was getting wise.
Frank was livid. He’d done everything he could to gain complete control of the business—the business that was his. His! Henry had been the one in the way, but he’d gotten rid of him. Then that stupid will had to show up. He’d never forgive himself for that giant mistake. Then the son
-in-law, Louis, started poking around and meddling. Like he had any say whatsoever. And now Allan thought he could just defend his family and take sides with John Ivanoff. Who knew what stories that man had planted?
Frank threw the glass bottle in his hand up against the wall and watched it shatter and fall. He glanced back down at the telegram. No doubt, the kid had hired his uncle’s firm to audit. But Frank had another card up his sleeve. All he had to do was make a phone call.
“Two can play at this game.” The words drifted on the air.
17
The crème brulées were just about done. Cassidy prepared to take the water baths out of the oven so the custards could finish cooling and setting. Then they would have several hours to chill before dinner.
Checking the clock, she realized she had just enough time to pull them out and then to whip the dressing for the salad before luncheon.
Mrs. Johnson strode into the kitchen. “Cassidy, those custards look lovely.”
She couldn’t help smiling under the praise. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.”
“I wanted to speak to you a bit before lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am?” The rest of the kitchen staff might have been afraid of the head cook starting off with that statement, but Cassidy had gotten to know the woman little by little.
“First, I think you probably need to have a conversation with Thomas soon.”
“Oh? About what?”
“I’m pretty sure the poor lad has a crush on you. And the sooner you nip it in the bud, the easier it will be for him to recover.”
That was unexpected. Cassidy blinked. “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. Which makes you even more likeable. But you should be aware, half the male staff has a crush on you, my dear. And with you smiling and encouraging and laughing with everyone, they all probably think they have a chance to win your heart.” Mrs. Johnson looked at her. “That doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong. It just means your sunny personality is attractive.”
“Oh.”
“And I’m thinking that you’re okay with the thought of one Mr. Allan Brennan being one of your admirers?” She tossed some flour onto the worktable and went to work on her roll of dough.
In the Shadow of Denali Page 16
