by Cat Cahill
Mr. James pulled off his hat—a short top hat, much more formal than what most men in Crest Stone wore—and ran a gloved hand through dark hair. “Mr. Gilbert is my employer. I’m here to find a thief.” He let the words linger in the chill, the clouds of his breath dissipating as the words hung there.
It was as Dora had hoped. “Do you mean the person who is stealing funds from the hotel?”
Mr. James replaced his hat, fixing her with a surprised look. “You’re aware of the situation?”
“I overheard,” she admitted. “I’ve told no one else. But that knowledge is what made me question your telegram. I’d hoped you were on the side of right and not pursuing some sort of extortion from Mr. Gilbert.”
He shot that smile toward her again, warm enough she thought the snow might melt from the ground around her feet. “You were right to question me. I’m grateful the company has employees like you on its side, Miss Reynolds.”
She warmed under his praise, ignoring the warnings like signal fires in her brain. It was nice to be appreciated, particularly by a man like Mr. James. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
He took a step forward. “I’m glad to hear that, because I have a proposal for you.”
Chapter Eight
It would be taking a risk to ask Miss Reynolds for her help, and one he certainly hadn’t run by his father or brother. But the truth was, he needed help. The hotel was large with many employees. He couldn’t keep an eye on them all at once. Having Miss Reynolds on his side would be a blessing. If she agreed, that was.
“Would you assist me in my investigation? It needn’t be much. I only need someone to listen and watch, and let me know if there is anyone or anything suspicious about. You’re with the waitresses all the time, and often in the kitchen. If you could keep your ears open in that part of the hotel, it would allow me to do the same in the areas where I’m expected to be. We could both work toward the goal of uncovering the thief without arousing suspicion.”
Miss Reynolds kept her hands clasped together, her face serious as she seemed to think through his request. “I’ll help you,” she finally said.
Relief shot through all his senses. With her aid, he might just be able to accomplish what he’d set out to do. He rushed forward, taking her small, gloved hands in his own. “Please accept my gratitude. If the hotel loses too much money, my— Mr. Gilbert will be forced to close it. Together, we can prevent that from happening.”
Miss Reynolds stared down at his hands covering hers. With a start, he pulled them away, mentally berating himself for once again being far too forward with her. Such a gesture would have caused the girls he knew in college to smile and bat their eyelashes at him, but it seemed to discomfort Miss Reynolds so. He still couldn’t suss out exactly why. She was on the quieter side, for certain, but she wasn’t as shy as he’d originally thought. Perhaps she merely feared for her position here. Or she had a man at home waiting on her. The latter thought set him on edge, a bit of anger swirling through the enormity of the relief he felt at her agreement to help.
“Are you a detective then?” she asked, her soft voice nearly whisked away by the wind buffeting the trees.
“Yes,” Jacob said before pausing. He hadn’t thought through this, since he hadn’t planned on revealing himself to anyone here. “I hire myself out as such when people need me.”
Dora twisted her hands together, then asked, “How did you become a detective?”
“Well . . .” Jacob trailed off, quickly forming a story. “Back in Chicago, my father was a policeman. I always enjoyed his stories of catching crooks and foiling robberies. An opportunity opened up while I was working for my uncle, I pursued it, and now here I am.” It was as vague an explanation as he could possibly give.
“Your family must be quite proud of you,” she said.
They will be, he said to himself. “They are,” is what he really said.
She glanced toward the hotel. “I must return or my roommate will be wondering what became of me.”
“Thank you again for your help,” he said, forcing himself not to reach for her hand. The last thing he needed was to startle her again.
She lingered a moment, and as he wondered if she was waiting for just such a goodbye, she turned and left for the rear of the hotel.
Jacob leaned against the trunk of a spindly aspen. Miss Reynolds was a conundrum, and the more he spoke with her, the more curious he became.
He just needed to ensure his curiosity didn’t impede his work here. And perhaps it wouldn’t, now that Miss Reynolds was also working for him. A smile crossed his face at that thought.
Now if only he could remember his own company’s rules.
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Jacob carried a mug of steaming hot coffee to the hotel offices. McFarland didn’t ask for it, nor did he likely need it, but it served as a good reason for Jacob to be in the office. If he could establish this routine, perhaps he’d learn more about the funds that had gone missing.
He paused at the door. Voices came from inside, indistinct and muffled. Jacob leaned in closer. The hall was empty, but he could easily raise his hand and knock if anyone came around the corner. For now, he listened.
It was a man—McFarland, with that accent—and a woman. The woman sounded distraught, but Jacob could only make out bits and pieces of their words. It wasn’t enough. He needed to hear more.
Jacob knocked and without pausing, turned the knob. A startled Mrs. McFarland held a large, leather-bound book to her chest, while her husband glared at Jacob. And the door to the safe in the wall hung wide open.
He shouldn’t have barged in, but he’d surmised his action was of the rebuking sort and not the firing sort. It was certainly worth it to see that the conversation he’d been overhearing had everything to do with the hotel’s finances. Jacob held out the cup and saucer. “I thought you might enjoy some hot coffee, sir.”
McFarland’s glare lessened into something more of a frown. “Thank you, Mr. James, but I must ask you to refrain from entering rooms without waiting for an answer first.”
“My apologies.” He nodded at Mrs. McFarland. “Had I known you were here, I would have brought a second cup.”
Mrs. McFarland gave him a weak smile. That confirmed it. More money had gone missing, and it must have happened very recently.
“I’ll . . . show myself out.” Jacob backed up to the door and slipped out.
The door clicked behind him, and Jacob leaned against it for a moment. The situation had grown more dire. He needed to know how much more money had been stolen. He’d need to telegraph James this afternoon, after giving McFarland the opportunity to wire the office in Denver with the latest bad news.
But for now, he needed to find Miss Reynolds.
The breakfast service hadn’t yet begun. He didn’t know whether she was scheduled, but one way or another, she’d likely make an appearance in the kitchen for her own breakfast. Jacob staked out a corner of the table, heaping servings of eggs, sausages, bread, jams, and cooked oats set out before him. He ate slowly, making small talk with the others who sat nearby, until—finally—Miss Reynolds appeared.
He caught her eye as she made her way to the table, and her cheeks instantly darkened. Just that small reaction warmed him to his core. So she didn’t find him nearly as distasteful as she pretended.
She sat directly across from him with her own plate of bread and jam.
“Don’t you care for sausage, Miss Reynolds?” he asked. There were far too many ears around to discuss anything serious.
“I’m not used to such things for breakfast,” she replied.
Jacob didn’t know what to say to that. Everyone he’d known in Chicago ate plenty of meat. Of course, they could afford to do so. Miss Reynolds’ family must not have been so wealthy.
They ate quietly for a while. The breakfast service began in the dining room, quickly clearing out most of the remaining Gilbert Girls from the kitchen. As soon as no one was too close to them, Jacob quie
tly shared the news of the stolen money.
Miss Reynolds drew in a breath. “It must have happened late yesterday.”
“Or at night.” That seemed the most likely answer. After all, who would steal money when there was a higher probability of being caught?
Across from him, Miss Reynolds sat with a slice of bread in her hand, but not eating. She looked lost in thought, her dark eyes staring but not really seeing. He wondered what it might be like to have those eyes on him all the time. To have her face light up the second she caught sight of him. It would be much harder earned than anything else he’d ever had in his life. He’d never had to work so hard to get a girl to smile at him. He supposed it almost made sense, considering he was here working harder than he’d imagined to obtain his father’s approval.
“What is your given name?” he blurted out.
She narrowed her eyes. He was beginning to believe suspicion was Miss Reynolds’ default emotion around him.
“I mean, you know mine. It seems only fair I learn yours too.” He threw in a smile at the end.
Her face relaxed some, although her eyes darted to the end of the table where a couple of the bellboys sat eating. “Dora,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s short for Eudora, but no one calls me that. It was . . .” Her eyes returned to the remaining bread on her plate. “The name of my father’s mother.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” Jacob said. “It suits you.”
Miss Reynolds—Dora—shifted in her seat, then replaced the slice of bread she’d been holding back onto her plate. “Thank you,” she said without raising her head.
Jacob had the distinct feeling she wasn’t used to receiving compliments. He had the strongest urge to change that, so strong he almost needed to bite his tongue. When he finally thought he could speak without comparing her hair to the night or her skin to silk or any other pathetic poeticism, he said, “You may call me Jake.”
She stared at her bread for a moment longer. “I can’t,” she finally said. And with that, she rose and gathered her plate and mug of coffee in one quick motion. She was all the way to the boy washing dishes before Jacob caught up.
“Might I ask why?” Jacob placed his own dishes on the counter next to the dishpan.
She whirled around. “It’s far too familiar. You don’t listen to the rules at all, do you, Mr. James?”
If words could have made him stumble backward, hers certainly would have with their force. But instead of shirking, he grinned at her. “I daresay I’ve already proven I don’t.”
She huffed, her hands on her hips.
Before she could say anything else, he added, “It makes no sense, all of this formality, when we’ll be working together to save this hotel.”
He’d reached her, he could tell. Her hands slowly fell from her hips, and her face softened. “Save? Is it that bad?”
“If the theft continues, then yes. The hotel will close if it runs too low on funds. The company can’t pour all of its money into saving a sinking ship.”
She clasped her hands together. “All right then . . . Jake.”
Even if Jake was a manufactured name, it sounded as if an angel from heaven had spoken it to him. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet. “All right, Dora.”
She gave him a tentative smile, and then immediately straightened and replaced it with her usual impassive, slightly suspicious gaze. “I trust you,” she said quietly, just as the door from the dining room opened.
Jacob turned. One of the waitresses, immediately followed by another, had entered carrying slips of paper. The first breakfast orders of the morning. “Your trust is not misplaced,” he said to Dora, his voice just loud enough for her to hear him, and no one else. “I must get to my post.”
The bitter air stung his face the moment he stepped out the door. It bit through the sleeves of his fine jacket, but Jacob barely noticed he wasn’t wearing a coat. That tiny smile Dora had given him. The trust she’d placed in him. That was enough to keep him warm through even a blizzard.
Chapter Nine
The noon meal service started with a frenzy, as it normally did. Dora flew between her tables, the serving stations, and the kitchen, all in an effort to get the train passengers served in under thirty minutes. The hotel patrons knew to wait until the train had left the station before arriving for their own dinners, if they wanted a leisurely meal.
As she worked, Dora watched the other girls. She’d told Mr. James—it still felt too familiar to call him Jake—that she would, but truth be told, Dora couldn’t imagine any of these girls doing anything so awful as stealing from the hotel.
And so her thoughts turned to Mr. James. His striking dark hair, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the easy manner he seemed to exude as if he knew the world was his for the taking. How did he go through life like that? Dora didn’t know much about life in the city, but she presumed his father might make a decent wage as a policeman. Not enough to join the ranks of the wealthy, but certainly enough so a family wouldn’t need to worry about surviving. Perhaps his manner came with that certainty. In a way, it reminded her of some of the young men she’d grown up with, although much of their fire had diminished upon being confined to the reservation. Yes, she decided, Mr. Jake James was very much like a young Muache Ute, ready to face down a bear or raid another tribe.
“What is that silly grin?” Millie asked when Dora wandered toward one of the serving stations. “You look as if you just woke from the most wonderful dream.”
“It’s nothing,” Dora said, falling back to Earth from the sky. “Only a joke from one of my customers.”
Millie leaned out to look at the tables that made up Dora’s section. “That dour-faced matron and her sleepy husband?”
Dora followed Millie’s gaze. Sure enough, only those two remained at one of her tables. Everyone else had returned to the depot.
“I believe you were daydreaming about that handsome man I saw you walking with yesterday. You know, the one you haven’t yet told any of us about?” Millie filled a water pitcher but kept her eyes on Dora.
“What man?”
“Oh no, you don’t get out of it this time.” Millie set the full pitcher down and placed her hands on her hips. “We have a moment before we’re flooded with hotel guests. Tell me everything. Please.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Dora just as Adelaide and Edie joined them with empty water pitchers.
“I fear we missed something fun,” Adelaide said to Edie.
“Dora here was just about to tell me all about the gentleman who carried table linens for her. He is quite handsome. I believe I’ve seen him working the front desk,” Millie said.
“Oh! The new desk clerk.” Adelaide’s eyes lit up. “Dora! You didn’t say anything about him when we walked by a few days ago.” She swatted Dora lightly with her hand.
Edie said nothing, but her smile told Dora that she, too, was waiting. For what, exactly, Dora didn’t know. It wasn’t as if the man was her beau. And she couldn’t tell them about his investigation.
“It’s nothing at all,” she finally said, her voice a little wobbly. “He saw me struggling to carry the tablecloths and offered to help.” That wasn’t the entire truth, but at least it wasn’t a lie. If she had to spin another falsehood, Dora thought she might lose her mind.
“I’d hoped it was more than that.” Adelaide looked as if someone had told her she could never go home again. Millie raised her eyebrows, disbelieving, while Edie shot Dora a sympathetic smile.
She had to give them something, or they’d never let it go. “He is awfully handsome,” she finally said.
That was enough to make Millie grin and Adelaide giggle.
“I don’t know about you,” Millie said, clutching the water pitcher to herself, “but if a man with a smile like that took an interest in me, I wouldn’t let him go. Can you imagine never needing to work again? Never having to worry about money or wanting for anything?” Her eyes took on a dreamy look.
“I doubt desk c
lerks make that much in wages,” Edie said.
Dora didn’t much care about Jake’s—Mr. James’s—wages. But she had to admit that his gray eyes and bright smile made her feel as if she’d never be unhappy again.
“Dora Reynolds, you’re blushing!” Adelaide said. The girls giggled while Millie gave Dora’s arm a squeeze.
“You must promise to tell us if anything else happens,” Millie said.
“Nothing will be happening!” Dora stepped back with her pitcher. “I must return to my customers.”
That only made them laugh more, and once she’d stepped away from the station, Dora could see why. She still only had the couple, who she suspected were hotel guests that had come down early for the noon meal. The rest of her section was empty.
Undaunted, Dora marched up to their table and poured minuscule amounts of water into their already-full glasses. Then she smiled at the woman’s frown and the man’s dozing form and asked for their order.
And she prayed the girls’ thoughts on Jake could be kept quiet. Being the subject of a rumor was not the best way to remain unseen at the Crest Stone Hotel.
Chapter Ten
The depot door slammed shut as Jacob stepped out into the snow. Rays of sunlight reflected on the white powder, turning it into diamonds, and people streamed down the hill from the hotel toward the waiting train. He stepped aside, watching as they chatted and laughed. Normally when he felt down, all it took to lift his spirits was surrounding himself with people who were happy. They’d distract him, and once he was alone again, whatever had turned his mood earlier had never seemed as bad.
He didn’t have the option to become distracted now. He had to solve his own problem rather than ignoring it. As the train blew its whistle, Jacob climbed the hill. He was due back inside to finish his work shift in twenty minutes’ time. Perhaps he’d be able to come up with a solution before then.
