Mrs. Garret Stevenson. The name looked good. He smiled, slid his finger beneath the fold and broke the seal, unfolded the letter. A piece of paper fell out and landed on the desk. He ignored it and fastened his gaze on the letter. My friend Garret. His stomach flopped. Was that how she thought of him—as her friend?
He scowled and read on, skimming over the polite greeting and well wishes. I have come to realize that I have become a “stumbling block” to your future. A stumbling block? What did that mean? I am sure that one day soon a young woman traveling on the train will enter the hotel and draw your interest.
He stared at the words, a slow burn igniting in his gut. Why would she say that? How many times had he told her he was not interested in a romantic relationship with any woman! He threw the letter onto his desk, shoved his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. He’d thought that she cared about him as much as he cared for her—well, certainly more than just as a friend, anyway! How could he have been so wrong? Maybe he was misunderstanding her meaning.
He snatched up the letter and read on: You will, of course, want to be free to woo her. It is for that reason I am sending the enclosed letter.
Woo her? What letter? That piece of paper. He grabbed it and unfolded it.
To whom it may concern:
This letter is to state that I, Virginia Louise Winterman Stevenson, do not in any way oppose the annulment of my marriage to Mr. Garret Stevenson.
Mrs. Garret Stevenson
A band closed around his chest. His breath shortened. He didn’t believe it! She had been so adamant about staying married when she left for New York. This had to be because of her father. The man had convinced her that their marriage meant nothing—unless she had not meant what she said to him. He crushed the paper, thought better of it and smoothed it out, grabbed up her letter and scanned the last paragraph.
She was working as a shopgirl. She wanted him to give fond greetings to his mother.
And there it was again, in the final line:
With sincere best wishes, your friend,
Virginia
Friend. The muscle along his jaw twitched. The burn in his gut flamed into hot coals. It was the betrayal he had expected from the first day. She was joining with her father against him. But she wouldn’t get away with it. He grabbed his coat, slammed out of his office and stormed through the lobby and out the door.
* * *
“The green watered silk looks beautiful on you, Mrs. Walsh. And the alterations will be finished tomorrow afternoon—before you need it for your party this weekend.” Virginia smiled and hung the dress out of sight on the peg just inside the door to the back room. “And before you go, I would be remiss if I did not show you the lovely tatted Irish lace evening gloves Mrs. Lamb just put out for sale yesterday. They’re on the counter.” She led the older woman away from the path to the door.
“Oh, they are lovely!”
“And this ecru color would be perfect with the gown. Just look at that fine tatting.” She handed the gloves to the woman and stepped back. “Mrs. Peters bought a pair in royal blue yesterday.”
“Mrs. Ilene Peters?”
“Yes. Do you know Mrs. Peters? She bought the gloves to go with a blue-and-white-striped taffeta gown she purchased.”
“Humph. Ilene has no sense of style. She always buys stripes! She thinks they make her look less chubby.” The woman handed her the gloves. “I’ll take these, my dear. And also that mother-of-pearl hair comb you showed me earlier.”
“You have wonderful taste, Mrs. Walsh.” She picked up the hair comb and placed it and the gloves on the counter, made note of the purchases in the small, discreet leather book. “Why don’t you browse a bit while I wrap these for you? I don’t believe you have seen the new hats. They are sitting on the table in the back corner until I have time to put them in the window.”
She drew the tissue paper from beneath the counter, placed the gloves on it. She added the hair comb on top and folded the paper over them.
Have you ever wrapped a present? A smile touched her lips. Dear Mrs. Fuller. How wonderful it would be to see her again. She missed her so much.
She tied the package with a silver ribbon and attached one of Mrs. Lamb’s cards. “Your package is ready for you, Mrs. Walsh.” She smiled as the woman came bustling over to the counter. “Thank you for your patronage. I hope you will come to see us again soon.”
“Oh, I shall, my dear—I shall. And I will be waiting for my dress to be delivered tomorrow afternoon!”
Tomorrow. Her heart sang the word. Tomorrow was her last day as a shopgirl. And the next day she would spend packing her things for her journey back to Whisper Creek. Back to Garret. It wouldn’t be long now. She picked up the tissue paper and put it back into its place under the counter.
“Good morning, Virginia.”
She looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Lamb.” She walked to the back room and put on her coat, tied her hat in place. “Mrs. Walsh bought the green, watered silk. The paper with the instructions for the alterations is pinned to the sash. I promised her they would be finished tomorrow afternoon, so she could wear the new gown to her party tomorrow night.” She buttoned her coat and started for the front door.
“I see several other purchases were made this morning.” Mrs. Lamb tapped the book and sighed. “I’m going to miss you when you leave, Mrs. Stevenson. You have a gift for dealing with people.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lamb.” She tugged on her gloves and walked out into the flow of pedestrians. Snow began to fall, drifting down to cover the shoveled sidewalk. Small white clumps of flakes clung to her coat and the toes of her boots as she walked. Would it be snowing in Whisper Creek when she arrived? Would Garret be pleased to see her? Would they walk in the snow together?
Her stomach fluttered, tensed. She’d been so caught up in the excitement of returning to him, she’d forgotten he didn’t feel the same...regard for her. That he had made no protest to her returning home to New York. Indeed, that he had thought it best.
Perhaps she should write and tell him she was coming. No. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It would be better to just appear—as she had the first time. She couldn’t bear it if he told her not to come. And once there—well, once there she would see what would happen.
The snowfall had lost its charm. It was just cold and wet and dreary. She shivered, brushed off her collar and quickened her steps.
* * *
The train whistle blasted—blasted again. Twice in quick succession, the signal for departure.
Garret glanced out the window, stared at the train’s light piercing the darkness, then looked back at Pastor Karl. “The trains have started running! I didn’t expect that. It’s been standing so long, I thought they would stay in place until morning.” He took a breath, scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to put this on you, Pastor—especially on such short notice—but there’s no one else in town I can ask.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Garret. I’m only too pleased to help.” The pastor looked up from the registry ledger and smiled. “What sort of message would I be sending my family and my congregation if I refused to help a friend in need? And it certainly seems as if the Lord is blessing your plans. That is the first train moving through Whisper Creek today.”
He nodded, glanced toward the window again. The beam of light was shining down the valley, fading out of sight. “If the schedule runs as usual, that means a train heading east will be coming through in a little more than an hour. And—”
“And you have told me what I need to know to keep the hotel running until your return. And your mother will be here to help me, should I have a question. Go and pack your things so you will be ready to take that train to New York, Garret. And may the Lord bless you in your efforts to resolve your problem.”
“Thank you, Pastor. And
if you want to bring Eddie along with you to help carry the guests’ bags, I will be happy to pay him two cents for each valise he carries.”
“Eddie will be happy to carry the guests’ bags for the pleasure of helping a friend, Garret.” Pastor Karl grinned. “And, since his spiritual growth is less than mature at this point, for the opportunity to brag about it to his younger sisters. Now, I’ll just bank the dining room fire for the night, while you get ready for your trip to New York.”
Garret nodded and pushed through the door to the sitting room. He strode down the hallway to his bedroom and pulled a valise from the top shelf in his wardrobe. He didn’t need to take much, only his necessaries and a clean shirt or two. He wouldn’t be staying long. He couldn’t. He had a hotel to run. Virginia either meant what she’d said about staying committed to their in-name-only marriage, or she didn’t. The burn in his stomach intensified. He jerked his thoughts back to the business at hand. Two ties should be enough, one gray and one blue.
He carried the valise to the dressing room, filled a small wood box with his toiletries and shaving gear. That should take care of his needs. He closed the lid of the box, latched it and put it in the valise. He was ready.
The heels of his boots thudded against the oval rug in the hallway. He adjusted the heating stove in his bedroom for a slow burn, put on his vest and suit coat and crossed to his office. The crumpled letter and enclosure were on his desk. The muscle along his jaw twitched. He slipped the papers into his vest pocket, unlocked his desk drawer and put some money in his leather wallet. That was all he needed. He carried the valise out to the sitting room and set it on the floor beneath his coat.
The clock chimed. Still forty minutes until the train came—if it was running on the normal schedule. He took a long breath, blew it out and went to the kitchen.
His mother looked up from the dough she was kneading. “My, you look handsome! Are you packed and ready to leave? Do you need any help?” There was a sadness in her voice that tugged at his heart.
“I’m sorry to leave you like this, Mother, but I have to go to New York.” He rolled his shoulders to release some of the tension.
“Garret, I don’t mean to pry, but I’m concerned. Does this trip have to do with Virginia?” Her gaze searched his face. “Is she ill?” Tears glittered in her eyes.
“No, Mother, she’s not ill.” He scrubbed his hand over his neck, debated how much to tell her. “I haven’t time to tell you the whole story now, but my marriage to Virginia is not a...a normal one. We married for convenience, not love. And our marriage is tied in with my owning the hotel.”
He looked away from his mother’s steady gaze. “Virginia’s father is angry over the situation, and he is determined to annul our marriage. If he does, I will lose the hotel because of a contract I signed with the founder of Whisper Creek. And Mr. Winterman is a very wealthy and powerful man.”
“And what has that to do with Virginia?”
“She has agreed with her father to end our marriage.”
“That can’t be so.” His mother turned the dough and kneaded it, turned it again.
“It’s so, Mother.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “She sent me a letter with an enclosed paper saying she will not oppose the annulment.”
“Then perhaps her father forced her to do so.” His mother pulled her hands from the dough and fastened her gaze on his. “Listen to me, Garret. I know I haven’t any right to speak about your life, but I know how men can force a woman to do things she does not want to do. And I know your wife loves you—whether she did when you were wed or not, she loves you now. And you love her.”
He drew breath to protest, but his mother shook her head and smiled.
“Yes, son, you do.” She wiped her hand on her apron and placed her palm against the twitching muscle along his jaw. “Forgiveness destroys bitterness, Garret. And love is far more powerful than anger. You go to New York and bring your beautiful bride home.”
Chapter Nineteen
Virginia placed the purple gown with the shawl collar in the trunk, tucked her shoes along the edge and closed the top. “You can carry it down and set it by the front door now, Thomas.”
The butler lifted the trunk to his shoulder and started for the stairs.
“Mind you don’t bump the door frame, Thomas.” Millie guided him out the door, then hurried back to help her mistress finish packing. She folded the mahogany-red velvet walking dress into the large leather valise and smoothed out the creases. “That’s all of the dresses. What more do you want in the valise? Your nightclothes and slippers?”
“Yes. Oh! And I mustn’t forget the paisley shawl I bought for Mrs. Fuller.” She hurried to her wardrobe and lifted the tissue paper–wrapped gift off of the top shelf. “And my book...” She pulled a copy of American Woman’s Home out of the drawer of her nightstand and tucked it in at the end of the valise. “I know Mrs. Fuller will give me all of the advice I shall ever need about caring for a home, but she might enjoy reading the book. And it might prove useful.”
She reached back into the drawer and pulled out a folder, brushed her hand over the top of it and smiled.
It sounds as if you need to buy a ranch.
It’s a good idea. If things go as well as I hope with the hotel, I might just do it.
She tucked the folder along the side of the valise where it would be protected and looked around the room. “I believe that’s all, Millie. You may go help Martha with supper.”
She snapped the valise closed and glanced at the clock. There was still an hour until her train left New York. What could she do until it was time to leave for the station? Her stomach fluttered at the thought. She pressed her hand against it. Obviously, eating supper was not possible. She was far too excited.
She walked to her pier glass, shook out her long, green damask skirt and tucked her Garibaldi shirt deeper under the small waistband. The glint of the gold metal buttons that paraded in a straight line from the blouse’s high stand-up collar down the front to meet the skirt gave the outfit a slight military look. She grinned, snapped a salute to her reflection and put on the skirt’s matching bolero jacket.
The door knocker echoed through the entrance hall and up the stairwell. She glanced over her shoulder toward her open door and listened for Thomas’s footsteps. The door opened and there was the deep murmur of male voices. One of her father’s friends stopping in on the way to their club, no doubt.
She turned back to the mirror, checked the loose pile of curls secured at the crown of her head and frowned. With all of the jostling and jolting she would encounter on the long train ride, perhaps she should just let the curls tumble down her back. She reached to pull out her hair combs. Light footsteps running up the stairs stayed her hand. She glanced over her shoulder. What—
Millie burst into view, stopped and grabbed for the door frame, her eyes wide, her face flushed. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but you’re wanted downstairs. He’s here!”
She could think of only one man who would so upset Millie. “Emory Gladen? I thought that he—”
“No, Miss Virginia. Him! Your husband!”
“Garret?” The strength drained from her legs. She grabbed for a bedpost. “I don’t understand. What is he doing here? Why isn’t he in Whisper Creek?” A dozen questions crowded into her mind.
“I don’t know, Miss Virginia, but he’s not pleased about it. Thomas said your husband and your father are having words.”
“Oh no!” She lunged for the door and raced down the steps, stopped short outside the parlor door to compose herself. A deep breath steadied her. Give me strength, Lord. Please help me! She squared her shoulders, tugged her jacket into place and walked into the middle of a weighted silence.
“Ah, there you are, Virginia.” Her father dipped his head her direction, then looked toward the fireplace. “You have a visitor.”
“Yes, I was told.” She turned her head, and there he was—tall, handsome and angry. Garret. She moved close to the chair beside the door, rested her hands on its back and held on to keep from collapsing in a heap.
“I am no visitor, sir. I am her husband. And I intend to stay her husband in spite of your efforts to annul our marriage.”
She jerked her gaze from Garret and looked at her father. “Annul our marriage?”
“Yes. It seems your...husband received your letter—”
“What letter?”
“This one.”
She looked at Garret, bit off her gasp. He held the letter and enclosure she had written. “How did you g—”
“I would have been here sooner, but the telegraph line was down a few days ago, and the trains weren’t running.”
“Oh. Oh-h-h...” She darted her gaze to her father. So that’s what had happened. His telegram hadn’t gone through in time to stop the letter.
“Your husband thinks that I have been up to some skullduggery to dissolve your in-name-only marriage, and that you agree with me. He has been reminding me that though, er...different, your marriage is perfectly legal.”
“But—”
“There’s no time to discuss our marriage or your betrayal now.” Garret stepped close, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “I’ve come to take you back to Whisper Creek with me. We’ll discuss our future on the journey.”
Our future. He’d come for her. Her pulse skipped.
“I have a cab waiting outside to take us to the station. Our train leaves in twenty minutes, so there is only time for you to pack the things you will need for the journey.” His gaze fastened on hers. “Hurry. Your father can have the rest of your things shipped to you.”
The rest of her things. He wanted her to stay. The skipping increased. Her throat tightened. “I—”
“There’s no need to wait. Virginia was just leaving for a prolonged visit and is already packed.”
Garret’s gaze shifted to her father, came back to rest on her. She caught her breath, nodded and pointed toward her trunk, with her valise sitting atop it, beside the front door.
Mail-Order Bride Switch Page 20
