The church organ’s last notes and the exiting congregation’s chatter kept Marianne from hearing Calvin’s cough, though it had distracted her plenty throughout the service. Had his insisting on walking home in the rain three days ago caused him to fall ill? Why had he come to church with a cough like that, anyway?
Though their last conversation had been a disaster, she had to know if he was all right.
After a glance back at Mother conversing with a group of society ladies, Marianne slipped into a gap in the crowd, weaved her way across the aisle, and sidled through an empty pew. She crossed to the far side of the sanctuary but couldn’t find his blond head anywhere. He couldn’t have gotten out of the building already. He might’ve sat as far across the church from her as possible, but he’d also been closer to the front. Was he intent on never seeing her again?
From somewhere behind her, two staccato coughs and one long one sounded.
She turned. There. He had indeed passed her and was slipping out the exit. She hustled through the crowd toward the heavy wooden doors the deacons held open to the gray, drizzly day.
“Calvin,” she called as loudly as she could without sounding improper.
He looked back over his shoulder for a second but didn’t stop.
And had he just shaken his head at her?
She slowed a bit. Though he might not want to pursue a relationship with her, they could still be friends, right? Surely they could still work together—even if their easy conversations were lost forever.
Calvin didn’t stop, but he did turn his head to look at her as she came up beside him. He pulled his hat brim a little lower and stuck his hand back under his coat. “Good afternoon, Miss Lister.”
She pressed a hand to the knot in her throat. He was addressing her formally now? “And to you. I wanted to check on that cough of yours. I felt bad for you all throughout service.”
As if on cue, he coughed again, his hand rubbing his chest. But being this close, she’d heard the strangest little whistle in his voice. “Shouldn’t you be home resting?” she asked. “It must be hard to—”
He coughed into his elbow, but this time the whistle sounded more like a mew.
She screwed up her face. “What did I just hear?”
“Nothing.” He sped up, coughing again.
Now there definitely was a mew amid those halfhearted coughs.
“What on earth?” She scanned the sidewalk around them but saw nothing. “Did I hear a cat?”
He shrugged and kept moving forward, but the lump under his jacket, which she’d assumed was his hand, started to squirm.
“What’s in your coat?” She couldn’t help the grin. If there was a man in Kansas City who’d take pity on a cat in this weather, it would be Calvin. But why take it into church?
“Nothing. I’m on my way to see Mrs. Danby, so—”
“Now hold on.” She cut in front of him and put her hand on the soft, wiggling lump. “This is nothing?”
He stopped short and his cheeks flushed. His other hand came up as if readying to cover hers, but he clenched his fist instead. “All right. . . . It’s a kitten.”
Laughter bubbled out of her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You had a kitten under your jacket during church?”
Though his lips wiggled up a notch, he tried to shrug it off. “I found the pitiful thing by the back door. Figured Mrs. Danby has been lonely, so she might want to nurse it back to health. I was already late for service, and I couldn’t just leave it there.”
“Let me see.” She moved to pull back his lapel.
His hand caught hers against his chest. “No.”
“Why not?”
His breathing hitched. “Just no.”
Her palm turned suddenly hot despite the chill in the air. Was she really pressing her hand against a man’s chest right next to a busy street where almost anyone could see?
And his heart was beating quite hard . . . unless all men’s hearts beat this hard?
“Oh,” she breathed. She let her hand fall, closing her fist tightly to banish the feel of his heart beneath her hand.
Though his having a heartbeat shouldn’t have surprised her, there was still a cat under his coat. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with a man who’d keep a kitten warm under his suit coat during church?
The creature in question let out another pitiful mew as it wriggled even more.
Calvin winced. “I’m afraid I need to get this cat to Mrs. Danby before its claws become a permanent part of my chest.”
“It’s because you’re smothering it.” She tugged his suit coat open, and the thin little face of a big-eared black kitten popped up, one tiny paw desperately trying to find purchase on the top of Calvin’s pocket.
A kitten in his pocket. Could anything be more adorable? She couldn’t help but smile up at him.
But he was definitely not smiling back. Oh no, this was the look she’d seen many times over the past year, the one she’d hoped would turn into an offer of courtship and a kiss.
His eyes held hers, and her heart thumped hard enough he could probably see it. A few more inches and their lips could meet. What if, despite his claims, he wanted a kiss, too? She leaned closer.
He pulled back. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She took a step toward him. “Why not?”
“You know very well why not.”
No, she didn’t. There was nothing wrong with the feelings between them. “I’m afraid I really don’t, or at least I don’t agree that my having money should stifle our feelings.”
The kitten mewed again. Calvin reached up to rub its little chin and took another step back. “And that’s why I think it best I excuse myself from this conversation.” He gave her a quick nod and started down the sidewalk.
She turned to walk with him, but he didn’t even acknowledge her. Perhaps he didn’t want to talk about their feelings now, but they couldn’t ignore them forever. Maybe he just needed more time to think. “I heard the men talking about going to Mrs. Phillips’s next Sunday instead of Saturday.”
“Yes.” He pulled his coat over the kitten when a couple turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward them.
Her throat went dry, and she nearly stopped walking. He’d not even planned to tell her? Had he only pretended she was worth something before? “Can I not come help you at Mrs. Phillips’s?”
He stopped again, his hand still under his coat pocket, probably petting the kitten if the telltale stuttered rumble beneath his coat was any indication. “Perhaps it would be best . . . if you didn’t.”
Her heart stopped cold, and she tensed to keep from drooping. She’d not turn into mush.
His face softened a bit. “I—I was thinking about it yesterday and . . .” He scanned her dress, a cascade of turquoise flounces and gray trim beneath her black fur cape. His gaze didn’t linger long before meeting hers again. “Well, you don’t own an outfit suitable for such work.”
That was going to be his excuse? “I have work dresses. I’ve done chores since I was little—my parents didn’t pamper me that much.”
“Your parents—”
“Forget about my parents.”
“They’re coming.”
“They’re what?” She turned to see Mother bustling toward them, with Papa paces behind.
Calvin took a step away from her and dipped his head in greeting. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Lister.”
Mother gave him a dignified nod and then cut her eyes toward Marianne. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I was just checking on Mr. Hochstetler’s cough. Did you not hear him during service?”
Mother deigned to glance at him, but her gaze quickly riveted to the wriggling lump near his heart. “I’m sorry to hear you’re sick.”
He slid his hand under his coat and coughed, covering up a mew, but Mother’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as if trying to see under his coat.
“He says he’s not sick, so I wondered if we might have him over for Su
nday dinner.”
Calvin held up his other hand. “Um, no, that’s—”
“I’m sorry to say that’s not possible.” Mother put on her best abashed expression as Papa ambled up beside her. “We’ve got to eat quickly if we’re to make the train.” She tilted her head toward Calvin. “We’re going to visit some good friends in St. Louis. I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps another time.”
“I had no aspirations to a dinner invitation, ma’am.” He dipped his head. “And now I must be going.” And without a look at Marianne, he turned and continued walking down the sidewalk.
“I swear, Marianne,” Mother whispered close to her ear, slipping her arm around hers. “That man is going to catch on to your silly infatuation with him and believe he has a chance with you.”
“But he does.” Though it seemed he was determined to let the chance go by.
If he’d assured her he had no feelings for her, she’d have melted into an embarrassed puddle, but he hadn’t. Not today, and not three days ago.
Mother squeezed her arm as she pulled her toward their carriage, which had stopped beside them on the brick-paved street. “You heard Mr. Hochstetler. He hasn’t even an aspiration to dine with us. He knows his place—which is not beside you.”
Marianne huffed. “He doesn’t have ‘a place,’ Mother. He’s our brother in Christ, like everyone else in the congregation. There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free.”
“That’s in the Lord’s house, Marianne.” Mother took Papa’s offered hand and, with his assistance, disappeared into the vehicle.
Papa turned for her hand next, his expression at least holding a bit of sympathy for her plight. “The Bible is full of rules on treating the lower classes well, and we do that, but that does not mean we marry them.”
She preceded Papa into the carriage. “But you were once lower class.”
“Were, dear. Were.” He pulled himself up beside Mother and shut the door. “And we don’t plan to return. You don’t realize how well you have it.”
She braced herself as the carriage veered into traffic. “I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not completely oblivious.”
From across the carriage, Mother frowned at her. “If you weren’t, you’d have noticed that all the other twenty-one-year-old ladies are already in charge of their own households. I thought you had agreed with me months ago that David is the one you talk to when you’re hurting, who knows you better than anyone else, and is the perfect choice for you. Weren’t you writing him a letter last night?”
She’d started one the day Calvin had turned her down, but it was nothing more than a mess of feelings and tearstains. “Yes.”
“Did you send it?”
No, she’d have to rewrite it if she wanted him to be able to read it. “I realize David’s a safe choice for a husband, but I don’t—”
“Well, you can’t marry Mr. Hochstetler.” Mother sniffed as if his name carried a stench.
She threw back her shoulders. “Why not?”
“The question isn’t why not, Marianne; it’s why would you?”
She turned to look out the back window, but they were too far away to see Calvin. “Because he spends his spare time helping the poor and hurting. Because he thinks of me as more than a doll to be put on display. Because he makes me laugh, cares about my ideas, and truly listens. For goodness’ sake, he saved a kitten and kept it in his pocket during church so he could cheer up an old widow. How could I not fall for him?”
Papa leaned across the space between them to put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Being a good man and being the right man are two different things, dear.”
Marianne clasped her hands together and stayed her argument.
“Trust me, Marianne. You will be much happier with David. You might not be able to see it now, but you will.” Mother took Papa’s hand and intertwined their fingers. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled up into his eyes. “Please tell me you’re leaving all work behind. You promised me this vacation would be nothing but a few weeks of you and me and relaxation.”
So that was the end of the conversation? Her feelings weren’t worth talking about for more than five minutes?
“Of course, love.” He kissed Mother’s temple. “I’ve been just as eager for time alone as you.”
“But with the Peterson account being so difficult . . .”
Marianne turned her head away from her snuggling parents and watched the mix of horses and automobile traffic out her window. For her entire life, she’d seen them look at each other as if they’d married the best person in the world. But right now it made the thought of sending David that letter, where she’d wondered if they should revisit the idea of marrying despite their lack of romantic interest, a touch too painful.
She knew David loved her, and she loved David, but more in the manner of siblings. They’d grown up together, lived on the same block, and knew each other’s secrets. But could she feel more for him?
Closing her eyes, she just couldn’t imagine David and herself cuddled up in a carriage. Rather, she might dare him to try a handstand in the moving vehicle while he teased her about getting tongue-tied around Calvin.
She could imagine David standing at the front of the church beside Calvin as his best man, but to switch them around? Could she give up her feelings for Calvin when she wanted the same kind of love her parents had?
Though if both Calvin and her parents remained opposed to any type of suit, she might not have a choice.
Chapter
3
Behind his desk at Kingsman & Son, Calvin flipped through the requisitions, making sure all were in order. Mr. Kingsman was in quite the lather this morning. Not that his boss was ever the happy sort, but he’d already barked at Calvin twice, and he’d only been there for fifteen minutes.
A knock sounded on the outer door, and Calvin winced. Whoever was out there would regret his timing. Days like today reminded Calvin of what a godsend Mr. Kingsman’s son David was. If he weren’t off on a business trip right now, he’d come out to shield the unlucky visitor from his father’s thunderous attitude.
But the visitor would not be saved by David today, not unless Calvin could convince whoever was behind the door to return later. He shoved his seat back, but only raised himself an inch before he stopped.
Marianne.
She turned to shut the office door, her rose-colored dress swirling with the action, and then she whirled back to look at him, a tentative smile upon her lips. Just a mere shadow of the grin she’d flashed at him the first day she’d walked into this office.
Of course, on that day, he’d grinned right back.
Two years ago, he’d stood and come around his desk, boldly taking in her frothy yellow dress and the bit of red in her cheeks. How lucky was he to get to talk to a woman this fine? “How might I help you?”
The woman had looked him up and down, as well, then smiled even bigger.
He grinned right back. Strange how she’d made it hard for him to breathe just by walking in—but he wasn’t going to complain too much.
A woman this lovely could steal his breath any day.
Now, if she were just as nice as she was beautiful, he might be tempted to give up his commitment to bachelorhood. “Do you have an appointment?” He tried to recall if there were any women’s names on the calendar, but he’d been so overwhelmed with his new job duties he’d not looked at the schedule.
In the three weeks he’d been working there, no women clients had come in. He took another glance at the intricate details of this woman’s dress, her fancy handbag, and the jewels at her throat. His insides took a tumble. What had he been thinking to smile so boldly at a woman who was clearly out of his reach? Of course no woman of his social standing would have reason to venture into the office of Kingsman & Son.
“No appointment.” She looked over his shoulder toward the younger Kingsman’s office, then at Calvin’s desk. “What happened to Mr. Davis?”
Seemed she was a return cli
ent. “He works for Peterson’s Hotels now.”
Her delicate brows knit in the most adorable manner. “Mr. Kingsman fired him?”
“No, he was offered more money.”
She cringed as if she’d just stepped on a hornet. “Oh dear, I can’t imagine Mr. Kingsman took that well.”
He shook his head. But considering her expression, she knew “not taking it well” was an understatement without him saying so.
“Mari!” The door behind him opened, and David walked out of his office. He threw a file folder onto Calvin’s desk, then walked straight over to their visitor, swallowing her in an embrace. He stepped back from her a second later yet kept one hand on her arm. “How was your trip to California?”
Calvin returned to his desk, shaking his head at himself. He’d never had a chance with this woman.
“It was terrible. Spent most of our time on Uncle’s yacht.”
“Yachts aren’t that bad.”
“They are when Aunt Martha’s on it. You’ve met her enough times to know.”
Calvin stifled a huff. He’d never been outside of Missouri, let alone on a yacht. And he couldn’t even begin to imagine being on one enough times to find it tiresome.
“I’m sorry. Calvin?”
He looked up at David, who truly did look sorry for something. “Yes?”
“I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just hadn’t seen Mari for over a month.” He held out a hand toward each of them. “Calvin, this is my friend, Marianne Lister. Mari, this is my new secretary, Mr. Hochstetler.”
Calvin couldn’t help but let his mouth gape—whether more from David feeling he had to apologize for failing to introduce his lowly secretary to a woman of her station, or the fact that he’d nearly flirted with the heiress to the Lister fortune.
“Would you like to join us for lunch?”
“Wh—what?” Surely David hadn’t just asked him to join them. These were two of the wealthiest young people in Kansas City, their fortunes well-known and well-discussed. Did David think he could afford wherever they were about to go?
“Lunch?” David smiled as if making an ordinary request. “Mari’s birthday was last week. Since she was out of town, I didn’t take her out for her lemon meringue birthday pie. I’ve made sure she’s gotten one since the year she turned twelve.”
Tied and True Page 2
