A mischievous sparkle lit her eyes, and she opened her mouth to speak, then slowly closed it, giving a small shake of her head.
“What’s wrong? Have I done something?”
“Mr. Lansing is coming. I suppose we should have continued our walk and not lingered so close to the house.”
Jeffery turned. Isaac Lansing stood at the top of the stairs and glanced around, then lifted his hand and waved. The man was fully decked out in a suit of clothing that appeared to have come straight from one of the East Coast’s finest tailors. Jeffery groaned. “Do we have to wait?”
Lansing’s feet hit the walkway, and he started toward them. Good manners forbade running away at this point, although Jeffery was sorely tempted.
A shout split the air. Micah Jacobs stood on the roof, holding the paint can and waving his other arm to keep his balance on the steep pitch. He landed on his backside and dug in his boot heels to stop from sliding. He came to a halt feet from the edge of the roof, but the can of paint catapulted from his grip. It bounced once on the eave of the house and flipped into the air, curving in a wide arc. As though frozen in time, the can hung suspended for a moment, then spun in a circle and landed upside down, directly on Isaac Lansing’s hat.
Beth stared at the comical sight and stifled a giggle. It was quickly apparent Mr. Lansing had suffered no damage, other than to his clothing and pride. The paint can rested upside down, leaving only the hat brim in evidence. Rivers of green ran over the brim and cascaded onto the man’s nose—and every other spot that protruded to any degree. In fact, the bright color ran over his shoulders and dripped onto his shoes.
Micah scrambled for the ladder leaning against the side of the house, and Jeffery darted over to hold it as he clambered down. “You all right, Mr. Lansing?” Micah’s words reached the man before he did.
Lansing stood and simply blinked.
Beth’s body shook as she worked to keep her mirth at bay. If it had been anyone else at all but stuffy, pompous Isaac Lansing … well, she couldn’t help it. The man had been a thorn in her side, and she found this deliciously funny.
Micah took a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to the man, then carefully removed the can from his hat, and then the hat from his head. Dribbles of paint continued to fall from his hair, and a large green drop landed on Lansing’s chin. Micah turned his head but not before Beth detected laughter dancing in his eyes.
Beth could stand it no longer. Even though she clapped her hand over her mouth, her giggle managed to break free.
Jeffery swung around and shot her a startled look.
Beth lifted the newspaper to cover her face. “I’m sorry. But it’s just …” She giggled again. “Too funny.”
Micah and Jeffery stared at her, then back at Isaac Lansing, whose frantic mopping with the once-clean kerchief had done wonders in turning his entire face green but little to correct the mess. All of a sudden Micah erupted in loud guffaws, his shouts of laughter ringing across the clearing.
The front door banged open, and steps thudded down the stairs. Beth looked up through the tears blurring her vision. Katherine, followed by Aunt Wilma and Mrs. Cooper, came to a stop with comical expressions of disbelief. Aunt Wilma was the first to break out of her trance. She plucked a damp cloth from Katherine’s hands and trooped over to the sputtering Lansing. “Hold still. You’re making things worse. Let me help get that cleaned off.”
He jumped back and waved her away. “Don’t touch me, any of you.” He swung toward Micah and glared with as much ferocity as a green man could attain. “You did that on purpose.” Then he pointed at Jeffery and Beth. “While you watched and did nothing to stop it.” He shook his fist at Micah. “I’ll be moving out as soon as I wash, change, and gather my things, but don’t think I’ll be paying for the past week. This suit cost more than two weeks’ lodging at this miserable edifice.”
Micah stiffened, and his face sobered. “It was an accident, and I apologize for laughing. I assumed once you got over the shock you might see the humor, but I see we’ve offended you. Let me help you around to the watering trough, where you can clean up.”
Lansing jerked his arm away. “I don’t need any help.” He stalked off, paint staining the grass with every step.
Katherine touched her husband’s arm. “What happened, dear? How in the world did Mr. Lansing get covered in the house paint?”
Mrs. Cooper and Aunt Wilma stood with mouths agape as Micah shared the events that led up to the accident. Aunt Wilma’s lips twitched. “Can’t say I’m sorry to see him go.” The humor faded from her face. “But I hope he won’t cause you folks trouble. He was a pompous individual while living here, but no telling what he’ll be now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Beth stared after the paint-bedecked man as he traipsed around the corner of the house toward the watering trough, her aunt’s words ringing in her ears. “I shouldn’t have laughed. I know what it’s like to be laughed at by others. It’s painful and … unforgivable.”
Jeffery crossed his arms over his chest. “Rubbish. I agree it might be painful if the man were injured or if Mr. Jacobs tossed the can off the roof on purpose. On the contrary, nothing was hurt but the man’s pride—and his clothing, of course. It’s a shame it happened, but it was an accident. Mr. Jacobs did sincerely express his regret, and Lansing tossed the apology off like a bucket of slop.”
Micah rubbed his hands on the rag Katherine offered. “And if his duds cost more than a week’s room and board, we’ll stand the extra. I should have been more careful and not allowed that to happen. I’m to blame if anyone is, not you, Miss Roberts.” He shot Katherine an entreating look.
She placed an arm around Beth and squeezed. “That’s right. I’m sorry Mr. Lansing’s clothing was ruined, but he might have adopted a better attitude and accepted Micah’s apology.” A slight smirk revealed itself. “Besides, it was funny. If he’d been on the other side of things instead of under that paint can, he’d have felt the same way.”
Aunt Wilma placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the edge of the roof. “Well, whatever happens, you’ve got a mighty pretty splash of color on your shingles and another on the eaves, Mr. Jacobs.” She grinned and waved a hand. “And I imagine it’s going to stay there as I can’t see you scrubbing it off anytime soon.”
Katherine shuddered. “I certainly hope not. The dormer trim looks finished. I trust you don’t plan on going up there again, Micah. It’s too dangerous.” She beckoned toward the house. “We’d best get inside and see if we can calm Mr. Lansing down before he leaves—if he decides that’s truly what he wants to do.”
Mrs. Cooper followed close on their heels, muttering something about wanting to help.
Beth looked at her aunt. “Do you think we should go in too?”
“Probably not, dear. At least, not until Katherine and Mr. Jacobs have a chance to talk some sense into that man. If that’s possible, which I doubt.” She grimaced. “He’s rather odious, and I hope he does move, although I meant it when I said he might cause trouble for the Jacobses. Do you know what he was after when he came outside, and why he halted under the roof?” She peered from Jeffery to Beth.
Jeffery stepped forward. “I believe he was annoyed with me, Mrs. Roberts, and may have followed me outside.”
Surprise left Beth floundering for a moment, then she caught her breath. “That’s very kind of you, Jeffery, but he was angry with me.” She addressed her aunt. “He’s been looking for an opportunity to catch me alone—he said as much when he found me in the parlor. He seemed to think I’d be delighted to accompany him to town, regardless of what you might think, and, well …” She shot Jeffery a thankful look. “Mr. Tucker—Jeffery—was kind enough to rescue me. In fact, I rather put him in a position—”
Jeffery held up his hand. “Enough of taking responsibility, Beth. You did nothing wrong. To be quite forthright, the man is a cad.�
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Aunt Wilma’s mouth tightened. “I see. I’d say you did yourself and my niece proud, Mr. Tucker. Thank you. We are in your debt.” She turned to Beth and her face relaxed into a soft smile. “Aren’t we, dear?”
Beth hesitated, not entirely sure what her aunt might mean, but she decided to take the declaration at face value. “Yes.” She touched Jeffery’s sleeve. “Would you be terribly upset if we didn’t take a walk? I think I’d like to go to my room for a bit, if that’s acceptable?”
Jeffery bowed. “A trifle disappointed, but not annoyed. Another time, if you’d be so kind?”
“Certainly.” Beth held her hand out to her aunt and drew her forward. “Come along. You can walk me to my room in case Mr. Lansing is still about.” She tossed a smile at Jeffery. “Thank you again for being such a kind champion today.”
She moved up the path and around to the back door, in the event Mr. Lansing might choose that minute to depart the front.
Aunt Wilma leaned closer and hissed in her ear. “What in the world are you thinking, girl? Jeffery Tucker is as fine a man as they come, and it’s obvious he’s interested in you and desires your companionship. I can’t believe you dismissed his offer of a walk in such an out-of-hand manner. He’ll think you don’t care for him or his company.”
Beth drew to a halt and stared at her aunt. “And I can’t imagine where you’d get the notion he’s interested. He was simply being polite. I allowed Mr. Lansing to believe Jeffery and I had a prior commitment so he wouldn’t continue to plague me with his attentions.”
“Humph. If you think that, you aren’t as bright as I believe you to be—or you’re choosing to shut your eyes to the facts. Either way, dear girl, you need to wake up.”
Beth clamped her lips shut, unwilling to argue. She loved her aunt dearly, but sometimes her persistent attitude in voicing opinions could get a bit exasperating.
They walked to her room without speaking. Beth gave her aunt a quick hug. “Thank you. I’m going to sit and read. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.”
“I suppose if I can’t convince you otherwise, I shall do the same. This day has been rather trying.” Aunt Wilma strolled down the hall to her room.
Beth shut the door and leaned against it, remembering Jeffery’s disappointment when she’d dismissed his suggestion of a walk. Had she been unkind? Or missed an opportunity that her aunt recognized and she didn’t? That was foolish. Jeffery was simply being considerate after the unpleasant time with Mr. Lansing. She’d never seen any real evidence that Jeffery was interested in her as a woman—maybe as a subject for his book, but not personally. Besides, after Brent had disappeared, she didn’t care to trust a man quite so easily again.
She settled into her chair and spread the paper on her lap. Flipping to where she’d left off in the ad section, she absorbed the colorfully worded missives that lured patrons into various businesses to sample their wares. Not that she needed many of the frivolous items, but it was fun to look. Maybe she should take a couple of hours and browse the shops. A new hat or shoes might be in order.
She ran her finger down the column and started to turn the page when a notice arrested her attention. Leaning forward, she read it again. Someone had found a tablet.
Chapter Fifteen
Wilma glanced up from the paper she was reading in the parlor. She’d tucked herself into a corner hoping no one would bother her. Was someone tiptoeing toward the front door? Wilma craned her neck forward, making sure not to rustle her newspaper.
Beth was dressed in one of her best gowns, a matching hat crowned with an ostrich feather, and a pair of white gloves. Strange, Beth rarely dressed in such fine attire even for church. Wilma opened her mouth to call out to the girl but snapped it shut. Why was her niece acting in such a mysterious manner?
The only thing out of place was her hair, which was pinned at the side of her head with curls cascading down her back. Beth should have fastened it at the nape of her neck or piled it high, not let it hang loose like some schoolgirl. Wilma shook her head. Those scars again. The one on Beth’s neck was barely visible anymore, but she’d never convinced her of that.
Wilma waited for close to an hour, and when Beth didn’t return, she could stand it no longer. Time to get to the bottom of this nonsense. If the girl were shopping, she would have invited her, or at least not been secretive—or so well dressed. That good-for-nothing Brent Wentworth must have come to town, and Beth had an assignation with the scoundrel.
Fear drove her to hasten her own toilette. She paid scant attention to her hair or clothing but grabbed her parasol on the chance it might rain—or to use as a prod to the man’s backside, if the need arose.
Had they planned this since that mysterious letter had arrived that Beth had been hiding? Had her darling girl deceived her all this time? She prayed it wasn’t so.
Jeffery sat at a table in the café and drummed his fingers against the table. The person coming to claim the tablet was late. He’d gotten a reply to his ad via the mail two days ago identifying the tablet, and the owner requested they meet at this restaurant. Strange the letter wasn’t signed, just initialed E.R. Why all the secrecy? He’d assumed the individual would be proud of his work and not ashamed to sign his name.
Three different parties had since entered and scanned the room. He’d been certain each had been coming to see him, but then each had spotted his party and joined another table. Jeffery pulled out his watch one last time. If the owner of the tablet didn’t appear in the next ten minutes, he’d head home. This was a foolish waste of time. He’d even sat close to this window as requested.
The letter didn’t give any clue of what the owner would wear or how to spot him when he arrived. It was all too mysterious in his way of thinking. He picked up the letter and studied it one more time, making sure he was frequenting the proper restaurant.
A trim figure in a dark blue gown, wearing gloves and holding a folded newspaper, stepped into view and swept her glance around the room, coming to rest on him. Beth Roberts’s rosy cheeks paled. Her hand went to her throat, and she appeared frozen on the spot. Jeffery couldn’t imagine why seeing him there should cause such obvious distress. He set the letter facedown on top of the tablet and stood. If the gentleman who owned the tablet didn’t plan to make an appearance, he might as well offer a chair to Beth. He stepped forward and inclined his head toward the table. “Would you care to join me?”
Beth wanted to dash from the room. She’d requested this restaurant since, to her knowledge, no one at the boardinghouse frequented it. Why Jeffery should be here she couldn’t imagine, but it appeared there was no avoiding him. She hesitated a moment, surveying the other patrons, but no one appeared to be waiting for her. And Jeffery was sitting at the table near the window she’d requested. Oh dear. Maybe the person who’d run the ad had given up and left when he couldn’t secure the table. She moved forward and stopped beside the chair he held. “Thank you. Were you waiting for someone? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Not at all. It appears the gentleman isn’t going to keep our appointment, and I’d much prefer to spend the time with you, regardless.” Jeffery seated her, then settled into the chair across from her and smiled. “What brings you to town? Shopping with your aunt?” He peered toward the entrance. “Will she be joining you?”
Beth’s heart jumped to her throat. He’d been expecting someone, and the table he’d chosen was situated under the window. It couldn’t be. “No. I came alone.”
“You don’t appear well,” he said swiftly. “Should I call someone?”
Her gaze rested on the corner of a tablet partially covered by a sheet of paper. “I’m fine.” She reached out and almost touched it, then drew her hand away. “What do you have there?”
Jeffery shrugged and placed his hand on the letter, moving it aside. “Something I found, but it appears the owner doesn’t care to claim it.
It must not be too important.”
“Of course it is!” Beth’s words were sharper than she’d planned.
Jeffery’s brows rose.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I should go home.”
Jeffery placed his hand on the tablet and started to rise. “I’ll walk you. Or better yet, I’ll hire a buggy.”
“No. Please don’t.”
He sank down, keeping his eyes steadily on her. “What’s wrong, Beth? Tell me, please.”
She sagged back in her chair, her mouth dry. “It’s mine.”
“I beg your pardon?” He leaned forward.
She forced the words out, stronger this time. “The tablet is mine.” She motioned toward it. “I answered your advertisement.” Holding up the paper she’d been clutching, she added, “I even brought along a copy. You have been waiting for me.”
Chapter Sixteen
All Jeffery could do was stare. Beth knew about his post in the newspaper and that he had the tablet. He tried to gather his thoughts. “I may have misunderstood. I assumed I was waiting for a gentleman. You say it’s yours?”
She gave a short nod. “Yes.”
He fingered the pages. “But your initials aren’t E.C., as shown on the drawings. For that matter, the person who sent the response signed their letter E.R.”
“Elizabeth Roberts.” She touched the necklace at her throat.
“And the initials on the drawing? Are you claiming the pad for someone? A friend perhaps?” A recollection niggled, and he worked to unearth the nugget he knew must be buried. A memory crystallized. “Corwin. The check you dropped was made out to someone named Corwin. That wouldn’t by chance …?”
Wishing on Buttercups Page 9
