Written in the Heart

by Judith Stacy

  Joey was sleeping soundly on Richard’s shoulder when they arrived home. Everybody was worn out. Caroline was anxious to get into the bath and fall into bed.

  Delfina waited in the sitting room off the foyer when they came into the house. She met them wringing her hands.

  “Oh, dear, Stephen…” Delfina’s worry lines straightened as her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong, Aunt Delfi?” he asked.

  “Joey…” Delfina gestured to the boy still in Richard’s arms. “He’s here.”

  “Of course he’s here,” Stephen said. “We took him to the park, remember?”

  “But…”

  Caroline exchanged a troubled look with Stephen, then slipped her hand around Delfina’s elbow.

  “Joey’s been with us all day,” Caroline said. “I explained to you this morning that we were taking him. I invited you to go with us. Remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” Delfi said. “But…”

  “But what?” Stephen asked.

  “Nothing,” Delfina said quickly. She headed toward the rear of the house. “Caroline, do come, won’t you, dear?”

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Caroline whispered to Stephen.

  He shrugged. “I’ve never known her to have any mental lapse before, but she is getting older.”

  “I’d better see what she wants,” Caroline said. She followed Delfina down the hallway as the others went upstairs.

  If Delfina had suffered any confusion about Joey’s whereabouts today, none of it was evident when Caroline met her in the parlor.

  “I had the most interesting luncheon today,” Delfina said, easing herself onto the settee. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an expert at interpreting handwriting?”

  “I thought you knew,” Caroline said, taking the chair across from her.

  “I knew you did something for Stephen,” Delfina said. “You were the talk of the luncheon today.”

  “I was?”

  “A graphologist. My goodness. How exciting. And to think I had to learn it from the other ladies. You’re much too modest, Caroline.” Delfina’s lips pinched together and she lowered her voice. “Of course, I didn’t tell them you were actually working here in that capacity. No, no, that would never do. The ladies still think you’re my houseguest, which makes everything perfectly acceptable. I shudder to think what my brother Colin would have said. He was such a stickler for propriety.”

  Delfina went on. “Anyway, Virginia Cleary’s daughter is in a bit of a quandary right now. She needs your help.”

  “What sort of help?” Caroline asked. She didn’t know Virginia Cleary or her daughter.

  “Virginia’s daughter is in the enviable position of being courted by two men. Both fine, upstanding men, very well thought of.”

  “Virginia’s mother must be thrilled,” Caroline said, and thought of her aunt Eleanor.

  “Well, of course,” Delfina said. “But her daughter must choose one. That’s why she needs your help.”

  “She wants me to pick her husband?”

  “Well, yes. By analyzing their handwriting.” Delfina’s face lit up in a bright smile.

  Caroline shrank back in the chair. “I couldn’t possibly do that. I couldn’t advise anyone on whom they should marry.”

  “You don’t have to pick one or the other,” Delfina said. “Simply give Virginia’s daughter the truths hidden in her suitors’ handwriting. You’ve done it at parties, I was told. That’s what Stephen is having you do, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes,” Caroline admitted.

  “Then why not do it for Virginia’s daughter? You could help her avoid a grave mistake.”

  The whole idea troubled Caroline. Offering advice. Choosing husbands. It was all so personal. When she’d learned her skill she never reckoned she’d become so involved with the intimate details of other lives.

  And it was merely her opinion. She would be shaping other people’s futures based on her opinion of their handwriting.

  She’d worried the same way after she’d named Rudy Acres as the thief at Stephen’s warehouse and he’d turned the case over to Pinkerton. She’d caused a man to be sent to jail.

  Stephen’s words echoed in her mind. She’d done the right thing, and no one should feel bad for doing the right thing.

  This was what graphology was intended for. She’d acquired the knowledge, learned the craft and was now obligated to share it. If it helped, if it kept Virginia Cleary’s daughter from marrying a bad seed, then it would serve a good purpose. Caroline would be doing an injustice if she refused to help.

  And this was the job she wanted for the rest of her life. Wasn’t it?

  She rose from the chair. “Tell Virginia Cleary I’ll be happy to look at the handwriting of her daughter’s prospective suitors.”

  “Excellent. Virginia will be so pleased.”

  Caroline left the parlor thinking Delfina was the most pleased.

  Over the next several days Caroline thought she’d go cross-eyed looking at handwriting samples. She finished up the batch Stephen’s business associates had passed her way, only to have more appear on her desk. It seemed Stephen was singing her praises to everyone he knew.

  It pleased Caroline that he thought so much of her work. She spent hours writing detailed reports on each sample—each person—then moving on to the next. Several of the businessmen she did work for wrote her letters of appreciation and recommendation. Stephen kept a copy of each of them tucked inside a folder in his desk drawer—for her personnel file, he said.

  When she wasn’t working on the samples Stephen gave her, Delfina kept her busy with more of the same. Virginia Cleary’s daughter’s suitor problem was handled easily enough, but once word got out, more mothers brought samples for Caroline to interpret.

  Avoid relationships with those men whose t-bar is missing, she advised, and those with hooks on capital letters. Be wary of a strong diagonal starting stroke for any letter, or a g with a plain, straight stem. The list of unfavorable handwriting traits went on and on.

  As did the favorable traits. A slight right slant was a good sign, along with rising lines, y’s with a very full loop, and small, round i dots.

  It still bothered Caroline that she was affecting the outcome of the lives of other people. Stephen seemed to sense that and encouraged her to keep going. He didn’t even mind that she worked on the samples of Delfina’s friends at her little table in his office.

  Of course, that left her with little time free to organize teas and luncheons for Delfina. The spring cleaning had been completed to her satisfaction and the pink sitting room was almost finished. Caroline kept a notepad beside her and jotted down things in the house that needed her attention. The list grew and grew until she found herself devoting as much time to it as the handwriting analysis.

  “Here are more samples,” Stephen said, dropping an envelope on her work table.

  She looked up. “More?”

  The late afternoon sun was obscured somewhat by a layer of clouds outside, but a smattering of light managed to brighten Stephen’s office. She’d been working since early morning and was just finishing up for the day—or so she thought.

  “Yes,” Stephen said. “I’d like you to get those done as quickly as possible. I’ve something more important for you to handle.”

  Glumly, Caroline pulled the stack of samples from the envelope. Some days—like today—when she sat at her little table, peering at ink strokes through her magnifying glass, she wished she could be with Delfina instead, preparing for a luncheon, organizing the staff or decorating another room in the big house. Her chosen profession was proving a bit confining.

  “Well, all right,” Caroline said, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

  “Don’t you want to know what the more important project is?” Stephen asked.

  “Of course,” she said, hoping she sounded interested.

  “I’ve decided what to do about my Johannesburg problem,” Stephen stated
.

  Caroline brightened. This was more interesting than what she’d spent her day working on.

  “I’m replacing Clayton Girard,” Stephen said. “He’s no longer in charge of the operation there.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure. Richard and I discussed it at length. Richard knows the area as well as I—probably better—and we agreed it’s for the best. Girard will be gone as soon as I find a replacement.”

  Caroline’s heart sank a little. “I guess you’d like me to analyze the handwriting of prospective replacements?”

  “Of course.” Stephen smiled down at her. “All the other businessmen I’ve referred to you are very pleased with what you’ve done, Caroline. You’re responsible for hiring nearly a dozen new employees for four different companies. You should be proud.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should.”

  Stephen tapped the samples on her desk. “Better get busy. I’ll be interviewing for the Johannesburg position tomorrow and I’ll want your analysis right away.”

  Caroline sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll get right on it.”

  At that moment Delfina steamed into the office.

  “Stephen, dear, I must have Caroline immediately,” she announced.

  Delfina didn’t wait for his answer, just marched directly to Caroline’s worktable and stood there until she got up. Caroline didn’t waste a minute. She hurried out with Delfina, not even looking at Stephen.

  “You must see this,” Delfina said.

  She led the way to the pink sitting room, which was, in fact, now pink.

  Delfina gestured grandly into the room. “Isn’t it lovely? The workmen just left. Isn’t it perfect?”

  The room still smelled of paint and wallpaper paste when Caroline stepped inside. The ceiling now boasted a scene of pinkish cherubs on a pale blue background frolicking among white, puffy clouds. The new tile floor gleamed. Drapes, furniture, rugs, paintings were scheduled for delivery later in the week.

  “Just as we imagined,” Caroline said. “Are you happy?”

  “Thrilled,” Delfina said. “Which is the reason I wanted to talk with you, Caroline. Something very important just occurred to me as I was watching the workmen leave.”

  “What’s that, Aunt Delfi?”

  “Since your arrival I’ve noticed how much more efficiently the house has run. You’ve taken over everything so well, Caroline. The staff, the cleaning, the menus. And you’ve organized so many wonderful events to enhance the Monterey name in the community. It’s all so grand.”

  Caroline smiled, glad to hear Delfina’s first words of gratitude for all she’d done in the Monterey home.

  “So,” Delfina said, “I’ve decided this must be made a permanent arrangement.”

  Caroline’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Permanent? How?”

  Delfina drew in a deep breath. “I’ve decided Stephen should get married.”

  “M—married?”

  “Yes. And you, Caroline, will help pick out his wife.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Caroline slept late, then languished in the big tub in her bathroom for nearly an hour. Delfina had provided a maid for her, but Caroline shooed her away after she’d helped with her hair, and now sat staring at her reflection in the mirror above her vanity table.

  Stephen. Getting married.

  And what was worse, she had to help select his wife.

  Of all the times for Delfina to come up with an idea of her own. Absently, Caroline picked up a silver hand mirror and gazed at herself more closely. Oh, it was a good idea, all right. A poetry contest sponsored by the Monterey family, with the prize a donation to the orphanage in the winner’s name.

  Except that, actually, Stephen was the prize.

  Using the poems, Delfina intended to have Caroline analyze the handwriting and select the best wife. What a perfect plan. Delfina had been beside herself with excitement. Caroline had sunk to despair.

  She laid the mirror aside and rose from the satin-covered stool. Why did it bother her so much? Why did she care if Stephen married?

  She’d enjoyed her day at the park with him so much. He’d been relaxed, actually talking about something other than business, which consumed most of his thoughts. Caroline doubted he would ever run barefoot through the backyard and dip his toe in the fountain as she’d suggested that night on the balcony, but he’d loosened up that day in the park. He’d made her laugh.

  And he’d looked so confident and in charge when Joey had gotten lost. Stephen was a strong man. He didn’t wait for anyone else to make decisions. She liked that about him.

  Caroline sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her toes. There were lots of things she liked about Stephen. The way he looked in his undershirt. The way he kissed her. The way he made her feel about herself.

  But how could that be? Caroline sprang off the bed. Why would she even think such things about Stephen? Or about any man, for that matter?

  She didn’t want a husband. She didn’t want marriage. Her sole reason for agreeing to come to Los Angeles was to work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency, despite what her father and aunt had planned for her. Marriage was too confining. Staying in one house forever, overseeing its mundane chores. Never going anyplace new, or seeing anything different.

  What had changed? Somehow, she’d involved herself in every aspect of the Monterey household—and found she loved it.

  Caroline paced the floor, her footsteps silent on the floral carpet. When had she changed? When had it happened?

  She stopped then and thought again of the afternoon in the rowboat with Stephen. He’d suggested that her father had seen a change in her and had sent her off to find a husband. Could that be right? Had she changed and not realized it?

  At the moment, Caroline wished her father were there for her to talk to, confide in, take comfort from. Aunt Eleanor and Sophie had been to the Monterey home for tea, but Caroline didn’t feel close to them. They were family, but strangers just the same.

  Caroline pressed her hand to her lips, fighting back the tears that burned her eyes. If that were true, then what she’d felt all along, what she’d tried to ignore, was the simple fact that she’d fallen in love. With Stephen Monterey.

  It was nearly noon when Caroline went downstairs. The lights were burning because of the cloudy sky, which matched her mood. She’d dressed the part, as well, in a gray shirtwaist with white lace collar and cuffs; she’d wished for black instead.

  The ache she carried in her chest had now been identified as her love for Stephen. She’d cried over it and finally pulled herself together with the realization that just because Delfina wanted Stephen to marry, that didn’t mean Stephen would grant his aunt’s wish. Poetry contest winner or not.

  At any rate, Caroline had to discuss it with him. She had to know how he felt about marriage…about her. Even though she wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable at the moment, it was the reasonable thing to do.

  Stephen’s nose was deep in a ledger when she walked into his office. Thankfully, Richard wasn’t there.

  “Congratulations,” Caroline said.

  He glanced up. “On what?”

  “You’re getting married.”

  “Oh, that.” Stephen turned back to his ledger.

  Caroline stopped at his desk. “You know about it?”

  “Aunt Delfi informed me this morning.” He opened another ledger, flipped through the pages and compared figures to the ledger already opened.

  “And that’s all right with you?” she asked, feeling herself start to tremble.

  “Actually,” he said, without looking up, “I’ve thought about getting married for a while now.”

  “You have?” Caroline almost shouted the words at him.

  Stephen grunted an answer, then pulled a set of documents from a stack on the corner of his desk. “Look these over, will you?”

  She took the papers from him. “Did your aunt tell you abou
t the poetry contest?”

  He wagged his finger at the documents. “These are important. I want to know if both were written by the same person.”

  “Stephen, did you hear what I said?” Caroline asked. “Your aunt intends to—”

  “The documents, Caroline. Now.”

  His frown deepened and she realized he was in no mood to listen to her. Well, she wasn’t in the best of moods, either.

  Caroline planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t order me around!”

  His expression hardened for a half second, then softened marginally. “Caroline, would you please look at those documents? I want to know if they are both—”

  “—written by the same person. Yes, I know. You told me.” Caroline stomped over to her little table and sat down.

  She was being unreasonable and knew it, but under the circumstances, she felt entitled. She’d just realized that for the very first time in her life she was in love. In love with him. And she couldn’t even tell him because his aunt intended to marry him off to someone else, and that seemed to be all right with him.

  Thunder rumbled outside. Caroline forced herself to concentrate on the two documents she’d just been handed. She was too upset to discuss it rationally with Stephen. She’d be better off keeping her mind on her job for now, gathering her thoughts, then discussing it later.

  That proved easier than she’d imagined. Caroline read the documents over. One was a personal letter, dated twenty-two years ago, from a George Monterey to Colin Monterey. The other was a business contract, dated twenty years ago.

  The personal letter was just that, personal. News of the family, business, the weather.

  The contract was for a piece of property promised by George Monterey to another man in exchange for farming the land for twenty years. That other man was Russell Pickette.

  Caroline laid her magnifying glass aside. Pickette was the farmer whose family Stephen had left in their wagon during the heat of the afternoon with no refreshments. The farmer who’d made Stephen so angry. The farmer he’d refused to discuss.

  Caroline rose from her chair. “Who is George Monterey?”

  Stephen’s gaze came up quickly. “Don’t concern yourself with the details. Just write up your report.”