by Holly Bush
Jolene turned on her side and thought about the men in her Boston life. Turner’s outward appearances were of a handsome, confident, charming man. That hadn’t been the core of her first husband, though. Much like her father, he was weak and easily manipulated. Quite at odds with what girls and young women were told about men, that they were the powerful ones who made the decisions, who directed women’s lives, who ran the world with honor and wisdom, or maybe brute force. Her experience had been quite the opposite. She watched her mother control her father, and she, in turn, managed Turner, sometimes with little regard to what was best, she knew now.
Jolene doubted Maximillian Shelby would be easily manipulated. And there was something alluring about a man who was his own man, comfortable with making decisions and directing those around him. She knew women in Boston who were afraid of their husbands, afraid of their censure, or displeasure, or even a fear of being beaten. But she was not concerned that he would be abusive to her. Before signing her marriage license, she employed the Pinkerton Detective Agency to do a thorough investigation of Max, even so far as to question former employees. Not a hint of any hidden perversions or appetites. Even those whom Maximillian or his father had fired never mentioned or even insinuated that there was anything less than upright in the Shelby character. She was as confident as she could be that his behavior towards her would be gentlemanly, even if he was confident and sure of himself.
Max was appealing, too, sexually appealing, Jolene thought with some disdain. The kind of masculine appeal that drew both women and men and sexuality that made women swoon. She would have to be especially attentive to Maximillian when they entertained the McCastors as she needed the first impression of her and him as man and wife to be of doting newlyweds. It could prove to be awkward if she wasn’t careful.
By nine the following morning, Jolene was browsing patterns and the selections of ready-to-wear items at a dressmaker’s shop in Dallas. Once she was comfortable with her mount, she was able to enjoy the ride and the landscape. The air was fresh and still cool although she thought the afternoon ride might be stifling in her velvet jacket and skirts. She let herself relax and feel the rhythm of the horse’s gait that morning and felt oddly content.
Maximillian was a happy person, and she could see it was infectious among others. When they’d arrived, he escorted her to the street of shops she was interested in, and he was quickly surrounded by men asking questions about water rights. Before she’d opened the door to the dressmaker’s shop, she heard laughter and friendly chatter coming from his direction.
Mrs. McCabe took her measurements and helped her choose lighter-weight fabrics that would be more comfortable in the summer months. While not as sophisticated as Madame LaRoche’s Dressmaker and Milliner in Boston, McCabe’s Apparel had up-to-date patterns and a well-informed staff. Jolene chose fifteen garments from the ready-to-wear selection, including a few blouses and skirts meant to be worn without her corsets. She ordered another twenty-five to be made and found herself drawn to some of the newer fashion sheets with lower neck lines and little or no sleeves. Of course, she chose new shoes, many of which would have to be made in her size with fabric to match the dresses. She also arranged to have someone come to the Hacienda to measure and design light-weight clothing for Alice and perhaps for other staff as well.
Mrs. McCabe directed her to a seamstress who worked exclusively in table coverings and drapery. It was heartening to see the quality of the work and the variety of fabrics she was accustomed to as it meant there were enough prosperous homes in Dallas and the area to require the woman’s services.
Jolene lingered in a store that sold china and cutlery until it was time to meet Maximillian. She was standing in front of the Windsor Hotel and saw many women coming and going alone into the lobby and to other storefronts nearby.
“How did the shopping go, Mrs. Shelby?” Maximillian said from behind her.
Jolene turned. “Fine, thank you, Mr. Shelby.”
“Let’s have lunch before we make the ride home.”
The two were seated in the cool of the high-ceilinged dining rooms and ordered.
“Well, did you find everything you needed?”
“Yes. I did, actually.”
“And up to your Boston standards?” he asked with a smile.
“It is not the same as Boston, but . . . well, it is not wrong either.”
“Dallas folks will be mighty glad to hear that from the belle of Boston.”
Jolene looked up at him. “Are you teasing me?”
He laughed. “Yes. Yes, I am, Mrs. Shelby.”
“Oh,” she said. She was uncertain how to proceed. Maximillian was so, she wasn’t sure how to describe it, light-hearted, she imagined would be a good description. “Are you ever serious?”
Maximillian shrugged. “When the topic is worthy of being serious, yes, I am. But it is a beautiful day, and I am sharing a meal with a particularly beautiful woman. What is there to be serious about?”
Jolene’s face reddened. She was sure of it, and she was sure he noticed because he quickly picked up his roll and smeared butter on it. She’d been told all her life that she was beautiful. Those blowsy compliments meant to flatter and disarm a young woman, so insincere as to be comic. Jolene knew she was attractive, even maybe beautiful, as she’d compared herself to other women over the years. But this was different. Why?
“I’ve ordered quite a few items, some I would like to be delivered today, and some that won’t be ready for a week or more, Maximillian,” she said hoping to restore her equilibrium with a different subject. “How do I go about getting them to the Hacienda?”
“You’ll have to make quite a few trips,” he said, “unless you think you can carry it all in your lap on the ride home.”
Jolene blinked. “I . . . there is no way . . . I.”
He laughed again and leaned forward across the table and picked up her hand in his. “I’m teasing you again, Jolene. We’ll stop and see Jonas Shaw before we head home.”
“Oh.”
How disconcerting this was! How uncomfortable he made her with his laughter and teasing. It was if he expected her to be happy.
They stopped at Shaw’s before leaving town and arranged for all of her deliveries. They walked or cantered their horses home, and Maximillian pointed out native trees and milestones on the trail. Not fifteen minutes into their ride, he announced they had crossed onto his property, hers as well, he had said, and earned a sideways glance from her. The Hacienda property must be massive, she thought. He pointed out oil wells she could see in the distance and cattle grazing on massive ranges. The riders attending them, tipped their hats to him, and most likely to her as well. She nodded and thought about the difference between her father’s and Turner’s wealth that was all in banks and investments. She could touch Maximillian’s fortune.
* * *
Jolene spent the rest of the week meeting staff and making herself acquainted with all the workings of the Hacienda. She’d never dealt with a kitchen that had to feed upwards of sixty people three meals a day. One thing she knew for certain was that Maria needed staff and a more organized way of managing them.
“May I come in?” Jolene asked Maximillian that Friday evening.
He jumped up from behind his desk. “Of course,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Jolene seated herself and opened the ledger she held in her hand. “I don’t know what budget you have set aside for staffing of the house, but I believe more is needed.”
“Maria said she needed more help?”
“No,” Jolene said with a shake of her head. “I said she needs more help.”
“I didn’t realize there was a problem. But if she needs staff, then fine. I don’t understand why she didn’t say something to me, though.”
“Because she does not want to fail in your eyes, Maximillian. She will continue on working fourteen or even sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, rather than admit to you that she needs help.”
“She’s working fourteen or sixteen hours a day? That’s ridiculous!”
“Yes, it is, and she is unable to double check on other’s work, such as the laundry and the maids because she starts in the kitchens at four in the morning and does not go home until eight in the evening.”
“I had no idea,” he said. “That’s far too much work for her.”
“She also needs help managing her staff. Setting the expectations and then leaving them to succeed or fail. Instead, she does all the work herself.”
“How did you figure this out?”
Jolene arched a brow. “I examined the ledgers she keeps, and I watched the cleaning routines of the upstairs maids. It wasn’t that difficult. I spoke to her earlier this week about bed linens that needed repaired or mended. I went to the kitchens a few nights ago near midnight for some milk when I couldn’t sleep and found her sewing away by the light of a lamp.”
Maximillian wiped his face with his hand.
“If you don’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t know, Maximillian,” she said. “I do know what to look for although it will take me some time to get accustomed to the size of the food budget here. It is extensive, even with a sizable kitchen garden and chickens. You still must buy sugar, salt, pork, fruit, coffee, and large amounts of it all, as well as many other items. Maria does a very good job with her inventories, but I am going to help her in that area and would like to also hire an older, more responsible person to manage the household staff outside of the kitchens.”
“Do whatever is necessary, Jolene, and if there is something for me to do, just let me know. The house expenses have stayed relatively even for years, but the ranch has expanded, meaning more mouths to feed and more laundry and more work for the inside staff. I didn’t think about until now when you pointed it out.”
“We will get things straightened out quickly, Maximillian.”
“The budget is yours to manage,” he said.
Chapter Eight
Jolene came down the staircase shortly before seven when the McCastors were due to arrive. Her dress was a blue color that made her hair look blonder than usual and matched her eyes. She swept past Max into the dining rooms and had a quiet conversation with the staff standing there. She came out to the foyer where he stood and fussed over the massive crystal vase filled with cut flowers that now sat on the large round table. Some of the flowers were four feet tall and he wondered how much that had set him back. He had to admit, though, that the arrangement was a finishing touch that he would have never thought of.
“Hey, Boss,” Zeb said as he joined them. “Mrs. Shelby.”
“Good evening, Mr. Moran,” she replied as she looked around the rooms.
“No need to be nervous, Jolene,” Max said. “The McCastors have been here many times. They’re friends.”
She looked at him strangely. “Nervous? I am not nervous in the least.”
“I think what she’s saying is why should she be nervous over a Dallas business owner,” Zeb said.
“No, Mr. Moran,” she said as she turned with some fire in her eyes. “I could entertain Queen Victoria and would not be nervous. It matters little who the guest is if one is prepared.”
“Here they come,” he said as he heard a carriage roll under the portico. He walked to the doorway and stopped as Jolene slipped her arm through his. He looked down where her bare arm with some silver bracelets clinking together wrapped around his. She was slender without looking sickly, her skin a pale pink. She motioned them forward.
He raised his hand in greeting. “Timothy. Emma Jean. How was the ride out?” he asked as they were helped down from the closed carriage.
“Fine,” Timothy said and walked forward to shake his hand. “Good to see you, Max.”
Emma Jean joined them, and she leaned up and kissed him on both cheeks. “It’s been forever and a day, Max. Still handsome as always,” she said and reached up to rub her lip rouge from his face.
Max turned to Jolene and was speechless momentarily. She was looking up at him with a lovely smile as if he were the only man in the world. “This . . . this is my bride, Jolene.”
She turned her attention and charm to Timothy and Emma Jean then. “Maximillian has told me so much about you! I’m glad to finally meet you.” She held Timothy’s hand and then stepped between the men to hold both of Emma Jean’s hands in hers. “I just know we’re going to be fast friends,” she said as she slipped her arm through Emma Jean’s and turned them to the foyer. “Please come in.”
Zeb was staring at him. Max clapped Timothy on the back. “Let’s follow the women folk. They know where the food and the liquor is,” he said with a laugh.
Jolene led them to a sitting area on one of the shaded side porches where honeysuckle climbed thick on trellises, blooming and fragrant. Candles were lit, and a cart was filled with decanters and glasses. The furniture had been moved together so a settee and three chairs were gathered around a low table. Jolene led Emma Jean to the settee and sat down with her.
“Maximillian? I would love a lemonade. I believe there is a pitcher there on the cart. Would you like one, Emma Jean?”
Max poured the drinks and took them to the women. Jolene was laughing softly at something Timothy had said. It was a throaty, sexy sound. She looked up at him and pursed her lips in perfect little pout. So Jolene’s intention was to show Timothy and Emma Jean that they were a love match. He understood her reasoning. He’d wondered what people would think, knowing that he and his wife had never met and that the only reason she agreed to marry him was that her husband had left her next to nothing after his death.
Max handed Emma Jean her glass and put Jolene’s in her hands and held them there. He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips and heard her sharp intake of breath. He straightened and brushed his knuckles across her cheek.
“Oh, the newlyweds,” Emma Jean said and reached for her husband’s hand. “They are so sweet. You must tell us how you met.”
“Well,” Jolene said and touched a finger to her lips. “I’m a widow and have known Maximillian’s sister, Eugenia, for years. She suggested we correspond, and we did. And then Maximillian asked me to marry him. And I said yes.”
“How romantic!” Emma Jean said.
Over dinner, Jolene steered the conversation to him and his ambitions to run for the Senate. She had orchestrated the rooms, the meals, the staff, and even their relationship. Timothy and Emma Jean were clearly charmed.
After brandy, Jolene offered to show Timothy and Emma Jean to their room, and he and Zeb sat alone together at the table sipping the end of their drinks.
“She is quite the actress,” Zeb said.
“She is at that.”
“Best be careful,” Zeb replied as he stood and left the room.
A few minutes later, he turned when he heard someone come in. Jolene walked up to him, and he couldn’t help but look her over from top to toe. That kiss had lingered in his mind.
She stopped short and whispered. “Do not ever dare again to make use of my person as you did tonight.”
He could see she was spitting mad. “Well, hell, Jolene, you’re the one that started it, looking up at me and smiling and hanging on my arm.”
“Slipping my arm through yours hardly compares to what you did,” she said as she poured a glass of brandy. She turned to the door carrying her drink.
“Jolene,” he said. She stopped but did not turn back. “You were masterful tonight. The room, the flowers, the dinner, everything. You made everything perfect.”
“That’s why you married me. That’s why I’m worth the money you parted with.”
* * *
How dare he! How dare he kiss her, and in front of guests when she could not respond! She could barely answer when Emma Jean asked her how they met. She’d gone over the explanation in her mind, but she was flustered as she spoke and wondered if the McCastors noticed. Jolene took a long drag of the brandy and closed her eyes while it burned its way down her
throat. She thought back to Turner’s death and how she’d wished she could start again and had begun to think that her new life here in Texas may suit her, may actually be a soothing change that would allow her to calmly face the years to come. But now she could see Maximilllian’s face coming closer to hers and felt her breath quicken just as it had early in the evening. She would not allow complications in her new life. She would not.
And Maximillian Shelby would be a complication. He had some innate charm that made those in his circle hang on his every word. He was so very comfortable with himself and had such an easy confidence in who he was, with no pretention or regrets, it seemed. It had been natural to laugh with him and smile back at him while they entertained the McCastors. For just a second it felt like what she thought happy people must feel like. It had been a charade for her, but what had he thought, she wondered.
There was a knock at her door, and she rose from the chaise and pulled on her pink satin robe. She wondered why Alice hadn’t come through the door in her dressing room to check on her one more time before she retired.
“Come in,” she said and picked up her brush from her vanity. She wanted to think, and she didn’t want to make small talk or even acknowledge that someone else was in the room. “You may go to bed, Alice,” she said as she turned.
Maximillian Shelby stood in her doorway. She gasped. “What are you doing in here?” she said as she cinched her satin robe. “What do you want?”
But he just stood there staring at her. It was disconcerting and strangely provocative. She was covered but felt as if she was naked in front of him. She could feel the cool shimmery satin against her breasts. One strap fell away from her shoulder under her robe, and she forced herself to let it alone. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and walked within inches of her until she had to look up at him.
